#BUT that shall not stop me @:P

[syncrovoid-presents]

I am back from more Adventuring into Digital Art! I have today prepared a doodle I practiced making line art and some styles of colouring (? I am still learning the terminology)

Flat colours + line art:

And two tyles of rendering. First with painting style and second has a flat colour base with a mix of overlay layer and some tiny scribbles onto of the overlay layer:

(why is line art so hard...)

#welcome home #wally darling #art.txt #syncrovoid.txt #the pose is off and theres things that i'd change looking at it like this BUT it is what it is #my respect for digital artist has increased greatly for the sheer unfiltered Mass of Options makes it a lot more difficult #and not easier like i once thought #i am best at pencil and paper. shading only in tones of grey and not colour like this #BUT that shall not stop me @:P #it is a learning process (do people have tips? i watched some videos and played around with it but i feellike i am doing some things wrong) #anywho i have rambled enough!! and procrastinated much as i am fallen into a deep hyperfixation with my drawing tablet #<- is also very sleep deprived haha #have a lovely day/night !! #@:o) #syncrovoid.art

[deus-ex-mona]

real talk: lxl should continue to explore romance fantasy concepts in their songs. it’s clearly working for them~

#typical prince aesthetics in romeo/julieta and nonfan… and now historical rofan in meoto… #(and there’s also whatever’s going on in tsuki no hime but that has no mv :( sadge) #sorry guys i still have meoto on the brain pls suffer with me~~~~~~~~~ #but mannnnn. i was struck by sudden inspiration for a meoto au a n d #well. ig now i understand why they skipped over the falling in love phase. romance is hardddd #i want to subscribe to the meoto expansion pack p l s i need to know what their deal is~~~~ #bc man. how in the world did they go from complete indifference to promising to stay together forever hello #what happened???????? excuse??????????? #man. m a n. ok i think im done for the night. i hope #LXL MEOTO CRISIS 2K24 #(but if anyone here wants to get into the otome isekai genre in general… i recommend starting off with ✨s u r v i v i n g r o m a n c e✨ #(it’s a great story and it’s still modernised enough to ease into the genre. and after that…) #(you can just go for the series with the most interesting premise/prettiest art/both tbh) #(though i personally recommend ✨the perks of being an s class heroine✨ ✨the villainess’s stationery shop✨ for milder content) #(and there’s also some series with both isekai and regression.) #(like they isekai after their 1st life in 20xx-> live out their 2nd life in the fantasy world -> regress to a point in their 2nd life) #(for that type i kinda like ✨i shall master this family✨ though ngl i’m mostly reading it bc i think the aunt is very pretty) #(a nd there’s the occasional modern regression story but that’s pretty soap drama-esque and the one i read got ridiculous at times lmao) #(but ofc the ones with less romance focus are fun too~~~~ like stories with multiple isekai-ed people for one) #(b u t i digress i think i’ll stop here before i lose the plot any longer ahaha~~~~)

[peterlorres21stcentury]

but wait! there is more

everyone: noooooo she's thinking about amusing situations for her stupid character Torg again me: It is your own fault, you did not tell me to stop. To do that, you must send me anon hate (but that is a lie too, I won't stop) 😘

Anyway, I was picturing the following possible settings, as Georg wanders the city in search of prey food:

Georg appears once more in the Weimarer Republik era, this time in Vienna, where he falls in with the theater crowd after he accidentally eats somebody in the coffehouse and his appetite is mistaken for performance art. The actors love him, especially when he devours the scummy landlord, and they write him into a series of stage plays about social reform. Georg has no idea what he is doing but he's glad to be working (and eating). His "art" creates a sensation that comes to a tragic end after the authorities slowly realize that people are actually being eaten, what the hell

Mid-to late 1950s. George finds work in a restaurant, but is predictably terrible at his job. Things get out of hand when he mistakenly thinks the all-you-can-buffet is free for employees... and that it includes everyone who happens to be standing at the buffet. 😳

After that fiasco George somehow finds work in a cheap movie theater, but creates a panic during a showing of a bad monster movie, "The Thing that Ate [noun]" and he took it too literally. At first everyone thinks it's part of the movie, until it isn't. The unscrupulous promoter is actually thrilled about the publicity and creates a whole new ad campaign around him ("SEE audience members get devoured alive!!") He is eventually run out of town, again.

Against all logic, George's growing notoriety lands him and his vorish appetite on live TV, completely against the will of all standards and practices everywhere. This is truly the final straw after the studio is flooded with angry phone calls (and some obscene ones, from people who want to see more of that). 😏

#after that I suppose he is captured and taken to area 51 :P #torg #writing #notes to myself #this is just me having fun but who knows it may be incorporated into something later #I shall torment everyone with such stories until I either run out of ideas or you beg me to stop #whichever comes first #my code for these: Torg is the entity's true name. Georg is his European incarnation and George is his anglicized name

[unhlnged]

closed psych ward escape starter for @into-deep-waters (Rona Sullivan)

Running, all he did was running. All he could do was running. Running in circles like a panther in a cage.

And he was in a cage. No, they didn’t like it when you called it that. Nor when you called it a prison. But they didn’t like it when you wanted to get out either.

At least they let him outside now, allowed him to run around the prison yard – sorry, the park. They didn’t like it when he left the path though. Didn’t like it when he got too close to the walls. The walls that were caging him in – or “protecting him from the influence of the outside world”, as they said.

Rafe hated being in a confined space. He hated not being able to go where he wanted to go. To do what he wanted to do. He hated all that bullshit activities and therapy sessions they forced him to attend. He hated that there was literally nothing to do in the time in between them. Except running. Running in circles.

He knew there was a kind of gym that some inmates earned the privilege to use. They had a key that would let them into that room where they could use equipment to work out. Unsupervised. Not him though. No one trusted him with a key. And he sure didn’t like the concept that you had to earn such a privilege.

He’d been in here, in this institution for quite some time. He literally couldn’t tell for how long and that was probably the worst part of it all. Time didn’t really work the way it worked outside. Oh, but time was important in here. Extremely important. Everything ran according to a schedule. A very precise schedule that allowed no deviations, because somehow a tight schedule was the most important thing for recovery, getting back on track or whatever they called it. Yeah, well he stayed on the fucking track right now and hated it. He hadn’t earned the privilege to use any electronic device unsupervised, so no airpods for him. No music while running. The only soundtrack being the thud-thud-thud of his sneakers on the gravel path.

He felt the first drops of rain on his face, but he wasn’t ready to get inside. He didn’t mind the rain anyway. The rain was different here, wherever here was, different from rain in the obx.

Not knowing where he was, was also fucking messed up.

The first days after he had arrived were a blur. He had been heavily sedated and kept under surveillance. Apparently he had been a menace to himself and everyone else. He sure still was. But with all the pills they gave him, they trusted he was too dazed most of the time to be a menace any longer. Yet, they still didn’t trust him with that damn gym key.

He actually never had a problem with taking any pills offered, but the meds they gave him just fucked him up. Not that he had a say in whether to take them or not. Not that he had a say in anything since he had been here. He fucking hated it here.

He didn’t have a watch – apparently that was considered a weapon or just a too personal item and he hadn’t earned the privilege yet to have any of those – but he always knew exactly what time it was. Because everything was always following that damn schedule: getting up at 6.30, nurse measuring his blood pressure at 7.00, breakfast at 7.30, afterwards meds, 9.00 a bunch of doctors taking about three minutes tops to examine and diagnose him and prescribe new meds, 10.00 some stupid crafts therapy, 11.30 meditation, 12.00 lunch and more pills, 14.00 group therapy, 16.00 more crafts therapy, 18.00 dinner, 19.30 movie or games, 21.30 more pills, 22.00 lights out. And in between lots of time to kill. And nothing to do but running in circles.

As if this structured schedule would make what was going on in his head any better. It just made every day the fucking same, and all those faces looked the same. The doctors with their frowns, the nurses with their fake smiles, the other inmates with their dead eyes. Everything and everyone moved so slowly, that was why he had started running, running faster now, just in the small prison yard. No, this wasn’t prison. It was a sheltered place to get healthy – so you could face trial and then go to prison.

He passed redhead for the third time now and for the second time she made eye contact. Outside he’d suspected she was trying to hit on him. In here, she was probably trying to kill him. Either way, he knew that she was one of the privileged ones. She had the key to the gym. He had seen her going into the room the other day. So the next time when he was running to pass her, he slowed down.

His hand ran through his hair, damp from the light rain and from his own sweat. He was panting, his chest heaving, the white shirt clinging to his muscular torso. He put both his hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants as he walked up to her.

“Hey, redhead. You got the keys to the gym, right?”

Even before he never was one for chitchat, but preferred to cut all that shit and come right to the point. In here with all those crazy heads you had to express as clearly as possible what you wanted, and if you were lucky, they weren’t too high on meds and would understand you to some extent.

#with rona #with redhead ;p #into-deep-waters #thou asketh and i shall oblige #someone please stop me from writing such long starters #somehow it's part of my hc for rafe now that he runs a lot but hates it

[msgexymunson]

Soft Touches

Description: you and your dealer Eddie get a little closer than anticipated.

Warnings: acquaintances to lovers, reader is AFAB, weed smoking (both parties so no real dub con), fem oral receiving, praise kink, p in v unprotected sex.

A/N: It's my birthday! And I'm high, and horny, so happy birthday! If you've read my work you KNOW I'm a sucker for the first time y/n fucks Eddie. When I'm a benevolent dictator it shall be a universal holiday ;)

4k words

Masterlist

“Eddie, what the hell was in that?” 

Floating in a cloud of your high, the entire room seemed to glow in pink and orange, senses tinged in a sunset glow. You were definitely stoned out of your tree if you were comparing Eddie's stuffy, cramped room to a breath-taking sunset. 

“It's a new strain I got from Rick. You feeling it?” 

“Oh, I'm feeling it alright. I can hear colours.” 

Eddie's rich laugh echoed off the walls of his trailer. He laid on the bed casually, one arm slung beneath his head making his tight t-shirt ride up slightly. Just a peek of his happy trail was on display, which you tried, and failed, not to stare at. 

It was proving difficult, especially since you sat criss-cross apple sauce on his floor. His body was eye level, handcuff belt shining softly in the low light. The glint of that drew your eyes even lower, concentrating on the bulge you could see in his jeans.

You thought you were being sneaky. You absolutely were not. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you gonna answer me or just stare at my dick?” 

“Huh?” 

Shaking your head as if to clear it, you finally met his gaze. 

“I said, you can come lay up here if you want.” 

Halfway between getting up and still in a weird little crouch his words finally filtered through your addled brain. 

“I wasn't staring at your dick!” 

“Whatever you say, baby girl.” 

Frozen, mind empty of comebacks, you clambered out of your goblin stance and stood up, when the blood decided to rush to your head. 

“Oh Holy shit.” 

Your knees buckled, and you would have ended up face first on Eddie's carpet if he hadn't caught you. 

“Easy there, I've got you.” 

Eddie's firm hands held your upper arms tightly as he manoeuvred you to sit on his bed. The room was spinning, everything was drifting out of focus. 

“I need to lie down.” 

Eddie pulled you towards his pillows and laid you down gently, picking your legs up and settling them on the bed with you. Staring up at his off white ceiling, things began to drift back in. Once the room finally stopped swooping around in your vision, you started to come to your senses. 

You are on Eddie Munson's bed. You knew him, sure, only in a ‘can I come round so you can smoke us out and listen to music’ kind of way. You'd hardly call him a friend. This though, feeling the heat of his body next to you, him leaning on his side staring at you worriedly seemed entirely outside of your current arrangement. 

Suddenly the air was stifling, Eddie's warmth only exacerbating the matter. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, just really warm. And fucking high.” 

Eddie laughed, relieved.

“Thank fuck, I was scared for a minute.” 

You fumbled at the hem of your oversized sweater, attempting to wriggle it up your body but all motor skills were beyond you right now. 

“Eddie.” You pouted at him, flapping the edge of your sweater with frustrated hands. 

“You want this off?” 

“Please.” 

He flashed you a mischievous grin and pulled up upright, beginning to draw the offensive sweater up and over your form. 

“Didn't think you'd be begging me to undress you sweetheart.” 

Rolling your eyes in response, you held your arms over your head like a petulant toddler. Sweater removed and tossed to the foot of the bed, you risked a glance at Eddie. He was entirely preoccupied, staring at your bare midriff that was now on display. 

“It's a crop top Eddie, get over it.” 

Flinging yourself back down on the pillow, Eddie coughed, looking a little flustered, and settled in next to you. 

“Sorry, I didn't expect it. You always wear baggy shit.” 

“Comfortable shit, thank you. I come here to smoke, it's not New York fashion week.”

Eddie ran a finger across you, just below your belly button. The barely there touch blazed across your skin. 

“I didn't know you had your belly button pierced.” 

Looking down, you watch as his fingers circle it, then flick the little jewel dangling off the end. Thighs clamping together out of sheer necessity, you attempt to ignore it. 

“Yeah, got it done when I was like 15, two towns over. Probably my least painful piercing. Apart from ears, of course.”

Apparently, Rick's new strain also makes you run your mouth, as well as being insanely warm and horny. It seemed you had captured Eddie's attention. He turned further towards you, one hand holding his head up. The other, much to your relief, stayed on your stomach. You're not sure he was even aware he was still stroking your skin. 

“Least painful? What other piercings do you have?” 

You seriously considered dodging the question, but it's difficult to be devious directly to those big wet eyes of his. It's like trying to lie to a baby cow. 

“Well, I got my nose done, but the piercing fell out and I didn't bother to get a new one. That one stung. But the worst had to be my… my nipples.” 

The whole bed lurched as Eddie jumped up and sat cross legged facing you. He practically flew into action, grabbing his cigarettes and a lighter as if you were about to tell him some epic tale. 

“Right, tell me everything.” 

Whilst laughing at his wide eyed expression, you realise he's being completely serious. 

“Well, they er, they like, sanitise the… area, draw a dot where they're going to pierce you and tell you to take a deep breath in and it's done. It's super quick actually. It's more the after part that hurts. Why are you interested?” 

Eddie pushes his hair behind one ear, the tip of it is glowing scarlet, you notice. 

“I was thinking about getting it done my last birthday but I didn't have the cash.” 

He's staring at you, nervously chewing on a hang nail. You can practically see the unasked question dancing on his tongue. You weren't going to offer, hell no. If he wants to see he has to ask. The thing is, the way your tummy is bubbling right now, you don't think you could say no to those eyes of his. 

The question remains unsaid. He merely offers you a drag on his cigarette which you take gratefully, before he's stubbing it out and laying back down next to you. 

“How you feeling now? Bit less baked?” 

“Oh I'm still fucked, but I can see straight and I don't feel sick.” 

His fingers begin their dance again, skating over your exposed flesh, stroking down your side to your hip, across your stomach, and back again. You want to mention it. He's never touched you like this before, but you also don't want him to stop. 

“Good. Not inviting you over again if you hurl on my bed.” 

Giggling, you turn and face him. You're both on your sides now, knees close to knocking. His shirts ridden up again and before you can even register what you're doing you've placed a delicate hand on his hip. His eyes widened briefly, but that's it. Both of you are touching the others bare flesh, whispers of touches. Little, tentative things, like the bursting of soap bubbles on skin. 

“I wouldn't hurl on your bed. I'm sure I'd at least make it to the bathroom. I'm not an animal.” 

Eddie just grins in response, and you look at each other, really look. His dopey smile is the same as yours, and it seems neither of you want to mention how this seems to be rolling into very unfamiliar territory. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why are you touching me?” 

He pushes infinitesimally closer, his knee now slotting between yours. It's a small gesture, but suddenly the situation feels even more intimate than before. 

“Because. Because it feels good. You're soft, and warm. And you keep making little noises.” 

“I do?” 

He smooths his hand higher, thumb dragging along the underside of your breast, and you let out a tiny, quivering whimper.

“See? Like that.” 

Opening your legs slightly wider, Eddie's knee pushes naturally further forward, his thigh now wedged between yours. His breath is fanning your nose; cigarettes, weed, and sweet snacks. 

“So sweetheart, why are you touching me?” 

Your hand presses a little more firmly, snaking underneath the hem of his shirt. With no complaint forthcoming, you reach further up, stroking his side, up over his ribs, and back down again. He responds in kind. Every kiss of fingers is electrifying, filling the room with a soft, dense tension. 

“Because it feels good. Because I saw a bit of skin and I couldn't resist.” 

“Yeah?” He's smirking as he says it, but you're beyond playing games at this point. 

“Yeah.” 

“I didn't know I was irresistible.”

You pinch his skin a little and he stares at you like you just betrayed him. 

“I didn't say that, you're twisting my words.” 

“Pretty sure I heard-” 

Cutting him off with a tickle to the ribs, he grabs your hand to stop you. 

“OK, OK! You were right, I was wrong. Nice touches again please.” 

His hand swiftly makes its way back to your skin and you continue to stroke him. 

“Nice touches?” 

“Yeah, it feels really good.” 

Running your hand up, you graze his nipple, and then bring it back down, down, until you reach the top of his jeans. You graze a finger, just one, under them, sweeping across his tensing abs. Then, you move up to more innocent flesh. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Eddie's chest is heaving, fingers pressing indents into your flesh. 

“Nice enough?” you're the one smirking this time, pleased at the effect you're having on him. 

“Yeah.” 

It's barely a word, more of a breath. You scoot closer toward him, just a couple of inches, but it's close enough to feel his thigh start to press against your heat. Gasping at the pressure, you rub subtly against his thigh to try and relieve your mounting feelings, no matter how slightly. 

Eddie's hand starts making a trembling journey up your form, fingers twisting underneath your top. Feeling the underside of your bare breast, you both gasp. Eddie undoubtedly because you weren't wearing a bra, you because, well, the obvious. The slightest graze had your nipple hardening instantly, hips rocking forward without your control. 

“Is this OK?” 

“Yeah. Please.” 

Fingers stretching further, Eddie finally brushes your nipple. The feeling is magnified by your piercing; they've felt more sensitive since you got them done.

The moan that escapes is louder than you meant but it couldn't be helped. This simple touch is igniting through your nerves and rushing to your high brain. 

“Shit, they are pierced.” 

It seems to be a thought that Eddie said out loud by accident as he rubs his fingers over your ruddy nipple, slowly circling the silver balls of the jewellery. 

Another moan breaks from you, even louder this time.

“Fuuuuck Eddie.” 

“Yeah?” 

His touches become firmer, rubbing your nipple between thumb and forefinger, mapping the way your face scrunches up with his eyes.

“Yeah, jeez. They're really sensitive.” 

Practically panting in each other's mouths, your noses rub together. 

“Can- can I kiss you?” 

His words are so hesitant that it makes you giggle. Pressing your lips in a swift kiss to his full bottom lip, you respond. 

“I'd be mad if you didn't.” 

Eddie wastes no more time, pressing a hot open mouthed kiss to you that you reciprocate in kind. You keep it slow, leisurely traversing new territory with soft, exploring tongues. Naturally your arms encircle him, pulling him closer, closer. His arm snakes around your back as your bodies press together, like puzzle pieces slotting together and finding their perfect match. Eventually you break away to take a gasping breath as Eddie presses kisses to your collarbone.

“I don't know why we waited so long to do that.” 

“We? I thought you just wanted me for free drugs!” 

You giggled loudly at that, so loud it came out as a snort, but it didn't matter. The moment was so honest that being cool had nothing to do with it. You were bare, in a way, and so was he. 

Eddie chuckled with you as he slowly but surely pushed you onto your back, slipping both of his legs between yours. Pushing your hips up, you feel his hardness graze your pubic bone. 

“Eddie?” 

He hums a response, lips and tongue busy loving on your neck. You tug at the hem of your top and pull upwards. Eddie gets the message, moving out of the way briefly so you can strip it off. 

There you are, bare chested in front of him. You'd be nervous, if you hadn't seen the longing in his eyes. He's kneeling, one arm leaning on the mattress whilst the other compulsively strokes your side. 

“Jesus Christ your tits are perfect.” 

The moment stretches just a little too long for comfort; you're a hair's breadth away from crossing your arms over your chest when Eddie leans down and runs his tongue around and around one nipple. Mewling pathetically, you lace your fingers in Eddie's soft waves and tug. In response his teeth graze you as he sucks softly; then he gives the other just as much attention. 

Shuddering and wriggling under him, you can't do anything but whine, your hips undulating upwards to chase some friction, some release, anything. 

“Eddie, please, I need you.” 

“Umph,” He responds, muffled by your chest, “I need you to say that again.” 

“Eddie I swear to God if you don't- ” 

He laughs, cutting off your sentence. 

“Alright baby girl, I got you.” 

Working his way down your front, he takes his time planting soft kisses, making you writhe at each touch of his lips, until he reaches your shorts. 

Flicking the button open, he slowly drags the zip down and finds the little sliver of red panties poking out. 

“Hearts? Cute.” 

Thick fingers plunge into your clothes and pull them away, flinging your shorts and panties across the room into the void that was Eddie's carpet. 

Insecurity finally gripped its claws into you. What if he didn't like what you looked like down there, smelled like, tasted like? 

A moment of unadulterated panic, and then Eddie licked his tongue, slowly yet firmly, between your lips and all the way up. Barging your thighs further apart with his shoulders, he rooted your clit out with his tongue, running dizzying circles and sucking at it desperately. 

Eddie's moans rivalled your own, such neediness etched in you swear his fingerprints will be left on the outside of your thighs like tattoos, simply from the force he held you with. Barely able to shake, you compensated by pulling his hair and guiding his tongue exactly where you needed it. 

He pushed a thick calloused finger into you slowly, looking up at you as he did so. You back arched off the bed. He felt around, staring at you with such intensity you that you were seconds away from telling him to quit staring when-

“Oh God, oh fuck!” 

Eddie smirked, sliding another finger in gently to join the first, and worked your clit between his lips. He incessantly stroked a spot inside that you'd never reach on your own, a firm, beckoning gesture as if he were willing your orgasm to come hither. 

It was working. Your insides tingle, a tightness pulling straight from your gut and shooting out to your fingers and toes. Beyond control by this point, your hand pulls his hair tightly. To your amazement, his other hand reaches out to you, seeking, and you lace your fingers in his own. 

As soon as your digits touched, you were gone. Your release plummets out of you, shaking through every bone you have, leaving you a twitching puddle of a woman. His fingers chase after it, dragging every inch of squelching pleasure out of your insides until you're tugging him away and begging for it to stop. 

As he moved back up your body, licking and sucking as he did so, you tried to think of an answer to the smug grin he was just about to flash at you. 

There was none. Brain unravelled, threads wound into your nerves instead of your thoughts, you laid there, ruminating on how he'd made you come faster than any other man.

Eddie hovered over you, nose nudging your own. He must have wiped his mouth at some point whilst you were in la la land. 

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Eddie, you're really fuckin’ good at that.”

“I know.”

You laugh, tapping his side.

“Cocky.”

“Confident.”

Before you can retort his mouth is back on you, peppering kisses to your jaw, as his solid member presses into your naked heat.

“Fuck Eddie, please, please please-”

“Please what baby girl?” He asks, then sucks a hickey on your neck. 

Pulling him towards you by his shirt collar, you bite down sharply on his earlobe, pulling a little groan from his chest.

“I want you to stuff me full Eddie. I'm- I'm on birth control. Fill me up.” 

You can practically feel Eddie's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck, you can't just say that, I nearly busted in my pants!” 

Pulling himself off you for the shortest time he could, he peels his t-shirt over his head and flops back on top of you. Desperate kisses and urgent gropes spill from you both; grinding, needy things that tore at clothes and grasped at flesh. 

After fiddling and failing with his belt, you huff and tug harshly at his waistband. He chuckles, biting at your bottom lip as he unlatches it with ease and then wriggles his pants and boxers down his legs with urgency. 

More desperate grasps, teeth and tongues clashing violently, your hand reaching down to clutch at his- 

“Holy hell!” 

His eyes widen, hands coming to a halt, waiting for the rest of your sentence. You're too busy trying to glance down his front as he hovers over you, your fist firmly stroking his hardened cock.

“You're huge Eddie!” 

He smirks and thrusts into your hand, the velvet smoothness of his dick massaged  by your palm. 

“Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Er, no, Rick's made some truth serum or some shit because that's the biggest I've ever felt.” 

You guide him firmly towards your entrance, dragging the tip of his enlarged cock through your slickened folds. He quivers over you, arms thick with tension. 

“Baby girl just, just slip it inside, please-” 

“Now who's begging?” 

Grinning mischievously, you wait for him to start forming an answer with his mouth when you slip the head inside your sopping opening. His open mouth turns into a long drawn out moan. 

You would tease him if the feeling of him splitting you open wasn't all consuming. Which it fucking is. He just keeps pushing, and pushing, until his chest is flush with yours and he's mumbling platitudes in your ear. 

“Doing so good for me. Such a naughty, naughty girl. Getting filled up by her drug dealer? Baby girls a little dirty, isn't she?”

You're trying not to let him know how much his words affect you, but the fluttering of your satin like walls tells a different story. 

“You're not my dealer.” 

“Oh really? I'm not?” 

Pulling out nearly all the way and pushing back in, you bite your lip at the drag against your insides.

“Dealer implies I buy shit. You just give it to me, like a little simp.”

Eddie's mouth drops open in mock outrage.

“You want me to give it to you now? I'll fucking give it to you baby.” 

Hooking an arm under your thigh, Eddie thrusts into you hard and devastatingly deep. And again, and again, until you start moaning wantonly right in his face, all bravado forgotten.

“Yeah? Atta girl. That good baby? Wanna feel me right here?” 

His other hand pushes against your lower stomach, the pressure deepening the pleasure he's giving you tenfold. 

“Oh Eddie, oh fuckfuckfuck!!” 

Your release explodes out of your cunt with a gush, liquid spurting out of you so hard you nearly force his impressive length out. It waves drastically, like the sea against the shore, washing and washing over you until it's hard to breathe. 

“Baby, baby! Holy shit, I think you squirted.” 

“Ya think? My God, that was… mind blowing.” 

“Yeah?” 

Looking up at him, you expect that arrogant grin, but he just looks pleased and innocent. Like a kid at Christmas. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah.”

Rolling him over with all the power left in your thighs, you pin him down and move firmly into him, ferality taking over your actions. 

“Jesus Christ, you are a dirty girl, aren't you?” 

“Maybe just a little.” 

Smirking, you hump against him, your swollen clit bumping against his pubic bone on each delicious pass. 

“Holy shit, I'm not complaining- fuck, what the- what are you doing? Jesus Christ!” 

You bounce hard on him. Seeing him writhe under you is a special kind of power, one you aren't willing to let go of. Ever.

“Fuck, b-baby girl, you're gonna make me come!” 

His intense moans spur you on further. Unable to bounce so much on shaky knees you snuggle down close to him, arms clutching his shoulders, as you grind into him. It's massaging sensations into your clit, as well as teasing your g spot with his imposing length. 

“I can't, I’m-  baby girl-” 

“I'm gonna come, Eddie please, fill me up, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel your cum inside me, please, fuckin’ breed me Eddie. Oh fuck!” 

Quivering against him uncontrollably, your legs give out, collapsing on his body as he tenses and releases inside of you. It spurs your own orgasm, snaking up your spine and gripping on your system like a fly caught in honey. An open mouthed scream is all you give him, silent but chock full of feeling, as your back arches in its own tension. 

As it curls out of you, your back gives up, and you flop forward, bones turned to pudding. 

“Well.” is all that comes out, a puff of a word, just air escaping from a collapsing chest.

“Well.” Eddie responds, waiting for what you're about to say. 

You're sure he doesn't expect it. A laugh bubbles out; a weird, inside laugh, that you probably should never share with anyone. But it keeps coming. And coming. Laughing uncontrollably, you roll off of him and try to get your stomach muscles in check. 

You'd be worried about his reaction, if he wasn't laughing with you. It was this odd mixture of tension and relief that was bursting in the air, a barrier broken and left crumbling at your feet. 

“Eddie. Fuck, Eddie.” 

“Yeah?”

‘Yeah.”

His heated hand found yours, and squeezed your fingers hard. For some reason, it felt more intimate than all of this combined. 

Giggling again, you lean into his chest, fingers dipping up to weave into his hair. 

“Baby girl, you can't just-” 

“What? Pull your hair? Because you like it?” 

Tugging on his hair dramatically, Eddie tosses his head back and groans. 

“Knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, certified genius. It's like you don't wanna be railed again.” 

Huffing, you pull yourself on top of him again, hardened nipples brushing softly against his flesh. 

“Oh, I think I'll be the one railing you. You wanna make a bet, for next time?” 

Smug grin forgotten, Eddie stares at you in disbelief.

“Next time?” 

“Well, I hope so. Got to be the best I've ever had.” 

Stupid Rick and his stupid strain. 

“Best you've ever had?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Only if you wanna.” 

The teasing stopped. At least for now. It was pretty clear, your need for each other was outranking any goading you'd been sharing. 

At least for now… 

Taglist (Some permanents, some likely candidates, if you want to be added, jus say the word sweetheart)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things imagines #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fucks #eddie fan fic #eddie smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!oc #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #switch!eddie

[gojorgeous]

"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!” 

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said. 

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind. 

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers. 

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.” 

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path. 

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back. 

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket. 

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.” 

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?” 

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t. 

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s. 

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?” 

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying. 

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong. 

~

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches. 

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment. 

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you. 

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike. 

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now. 

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him. 

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside. 

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it. 

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet. 

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face. 

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease. 

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo. 

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night. 

“Yeah. Long day at work.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?” 

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you. 

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there. 

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.” 

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?” 

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.” 

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life. 

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight. 

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder. 

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines. 

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs. 

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.” 

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool. 

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone. 

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride. 

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention. 

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish? 

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman. 

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself. 

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive. 

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?” 

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.” 

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps. 

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says. 

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet. 

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.” 

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?” 

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?” 

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like. 

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then… 

“So, what’s your technique” 

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual. 

“Bet I could find out.” 

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.” 

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…” 

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.” 

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks. 

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job… 

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.” 

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?” 

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth. 

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing. 

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?” 

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal. 

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.” 

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to. 

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit. 

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now. 

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone. 

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid. 

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines. 

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle. 

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans. 

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever. 

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles. 

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to. 

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs. 

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now. 

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please… 

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework. 

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly. 

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight. 

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it. 

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better. 

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?” 

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over. 

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.” 

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls. 

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.” 

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see. 

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs. 

Your lips part. “You knew?” 

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?” 

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him. 

But you have one thing on him. 

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.” 

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.” 

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.” 

You freeze. He notices. 

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?” 

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.” 

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo. 

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?” 

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced. 

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display. 

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin. 

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes. 

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?” 

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree. 

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…” 

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides. 

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone. 

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again. 

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.” 

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.” 

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased. 

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.” 

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.” 

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue. 

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right. 

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you. 

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault. 

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. 

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away. 

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?” 

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick. 

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole. 

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.” 

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages. 

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.” 

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut. 

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.” 

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.” 

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you. 

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth. 

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him. 

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.” 

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same. 

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant. 

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs. 

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind. 

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be. 

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you. 

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death. 

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest. 

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?” 

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.” 

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?” 

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe. 

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.” 

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?” 

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been. 

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free. 

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position. 

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind. 

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you. 

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.” 

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?” 

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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#bree’s fics #jjk #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk gojou #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojou #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo saturo #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojou satoru #jujutsu kaisen #tw: organized crime #tw: attempted murder

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX IN PUBLIC — TOJI, GOJO, NANAMI

summary: you have sex. in public. slay.

cw: afab!reader, public/semi public sex (obvi) toji finger fucks you in a restaurant, you give nanami a lovely blowjob under his desk, and gojo just fucks you in a changing room so MDNI!

an: not proof read.. so ignore the mistakes and just enjoy the smut. thanks for reading <3

☆ TOJI

toji fushiguro was a sly bastard, everything was a game to him. and getting you to cum just as the waiter brings your order was on his agenda tonight. “go on babe, tell the waiter what you want,” he smirks, as his fingers work their way inside of your folds.

“‘u-um i’ll have the…” you stutter, your words faltering as toji picks up his pace, “i’ll have whatever he’s having,” you finally force out. toji chuckles at you, finishing the order for you. 

you were sitting in a booth, quite secluded from the other people dining, but just hearing the busy chatter from the restaurant had you buckling into toji’s side – excited at the idea that they might be privy to what you and him were getting up to. 

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he grins, his thumb rubbing against your clit, amused by the blissed out look on your face. “you like the idea of people watching you, don’t you?” you nod, grinding harder on his fingers.

“i bet that waiter could tell y’know,” he continues, his movements quickening as his fingers drive in you deepers, “he could see what a pretty little slut you are, getting off whilst he takes our order.”

“fuck, don’t stop p-please,” you beg, wantonly gyrating against his thick digits, “im s-so close.” you bury your head into his shoulder, biting down on him to suppress your moans.

“oh look,” he says amused, his head nodding in the direction of the waiter who was approaching the table with a tray of food, “i think our food is coming.”

“c’mon toji,” you whine, feeling yourself about to climax, “just let me cum.”

“just wait,” he demands, he was waiting for just the right moment to get you to cum. he was loving this, seeing how happy you looked all fucked out on his fingers thrilled at the idea of people seeing you just how he was. 

“excuse me,” you hear an awkward cough from the side. your waiter was standing at the edge of your table, your food in his hands, “i’ve got your order. w0ould you like anything else?”

“just one sec,” toji orders, his fingers pistoning into you harder, his mouth brushes against your ear as he whispers, “cum.” you immediately release onto his fingers, gushing out into the chair. you collapse into his side, his arm wrapping around your back to keep you up. you bite down on your lips to hide the loud moan that was threatening to spill out of you.

“don’t forget to thank the waiter babe,” he jests, his grin growing wider as he watches the look on both yours and the waiter's face after what you’ve just done.

“t-thank you,” you force out, your hand gripping on the table to keep you together. the waiter scurries off, flushed, and toji presses a kiss to your forehead as he removes his fingers from you, putting them in his mouth, sucking off the juices that came from you.

“now shall we eat?” he asks nonchalantly as if he didn’t just make you cum.

☆ GOJO

gojo loves playing dress up with you. he loves taking you out, blowing a bunch of money on you, just to get you to try on clothes – half of which you never wear.

“c’mon babe, let me see the next one” he calls out to you from outside the changing room, “i haven’t got all day.”

“‘toru the zippers stuck,” you say, “i need you to zip me out.”

he was quick to rush into the dressing room, coming to your aid. gojo loves helping you out, being your knight in shining armour even with the most trivial tasks – such as zipping up your dress.

“fuck,” gojo pauses, standing directly behind you, as he sees you through the mirror. his hands caress your back as they toy with your zipper.

“satoru, you’re meant to be zipping me out of it, not zipping me up,” you complain, as you feel him do the exact opposite of what you needed.

“but babe,” he whines in your ear, “you just look so fuckable in this,” he presses a kiss just under your ear, his eyes focused on you through the mirror, “let me fuck you in this.”

“have you forgotten where we are?” you question, side eyeing your boyfriend as if he’s lost his mind.

“that hasn’t stopped us before,” he smirks, as he hikes up your dress freeing his dick, moving your panties to the side, “so…?” he questions, eagerly awaiting your response.

“be quick then,” you murmur, quickly giving in to him. his dick inches into your pussy, you were already wet, it was practically on command whenever you saw gojo. your hands press against the mirror as he grips onto your shoulder, bending you forward as his dick slams into you. 

“s-shit,” he practically moans in your ear, as your pussy coats his dick, clenching tightly around it, “you’re so fucking tight.” 

you could hear some movement outside the changing room, making your eyes widen as you say, “toru, someone might here us.”

“and?” he retorts, shrugging, “i wanna hear you, let them hear you.”

“f-fuck” he drills into you harder and you couldn’t help but shriek out a moan as his dick hits just your spot. “it’s too much ‘toru.”

“you can take it baby,” he praises, his mouth latching onto your neck, licking and sucking on your exposed flesh. his hand works his way down to your pussy, flicking at your clit as his dick drives into you – a smug grin appearing on his face as you moan even louder. 

“you close?” he questions, noticing the way you throw your head back, your face looking more daze as he continues to charge in and out of you at a relentless pace. you nod, his dick leaving your head too empty for you to say any words.

his movements become sloppier, as he could feel himself getting closer, he balls up the bottom of the bottom of your dress in his fist as he sprays your walls with his cum. you cum just as quickly as he does, an earth shattering cry releasing from your lips as you spill out all over him. 

“we’re definitely gonna need to keep this dress,” gojo pulls out of you, smiling hard as seeing his cum leaking from your pussy all down your thighs. 

“yeah we’re gonna have to, its covered in your cum,” you retort with a soft laugh.

“our cum,” he corrects, adding a final kiss to your cheek, “we’ll keep this as a momento.”

☆ NANAMI

nanami’s favourite thing about his job was when you came to visit him. he liked the jealous stares he got from his co-workers as they saw the way you’d strut to his office with glee. he also liked knowing that they definitely could hear your screams and moans everytime he fucked you against his desk.

today you had to be quiet, nanami had an online meeting but you still wanted to give him his daily visit. his hand strokes your head under his desk, as your tongue swirls over the tip of his dick, you smile as you see him briefly tense at the contact. 

your hands pump his dick giving him slow strokes, and you could see his eyes meet yours with a hard glare as if to say, ‘hurry up.’ but you were in a mischievous mood, continue to tease him as you slightly take him into your warm, taut mout, nibbling on the head of his dick.

“nanami?” you hear from above him – coming from his computer, “are you there?” 

he coughs slightly, regaining his composure, “yes, im here, sorry about that.” 

but he’s swiftly back to tensing his fist, as you start to suck on his dick fast – practically choking on it. you use your hand to work on the parts that your mouth can’t take. his readjust himself in his seat, leaning slightly forward so you can take in him deeper. 

you could hear him talking above you, murmuring away about business things, but you couldn’t care less about that – you just wanted him to cum. you lips come off of his dick, and your mouth move to his balls, sucking on them with a smile as you hear nanami’s breathing become laboured.

eventually the meeting is over as you hear nanami slam his laptop shut, and he looks down to you as he says, “you’re a menace.”

“it’s just how you like me,” you grin as you take his balls out of your mouth, “i’m surprised you didn’t cum, you did well.”

“unlike you i have some self control,” he comments, pushing your head back onto his dick, “i am close though.” you go back to taking in his dick, practically inhaling it as he shoves it deeper down your throat. 

nanami’s grip on your head tightens and you grab onto his thigh to stead himself, as you could feel him about to cum. he spills into your month with a loud moan, and you swallow all of him, smiling as his cum slides down your throat.

he pulls you up from under his desk, and onto his lap into his strong hold. he pulls you into a kiss, tasting himself on your lips with a grin, “you are the best wife ever.”

AN: I was gonna do one for my baby geto but I just COULDNT BE BOTHERED. so um ooops. hope you enjoy. DIVIDERS @/CAFEKITSUNE

#stampedwithanE★ #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji x reader #toji smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[rusmii]

[𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄] 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐃'𝐬

beast!chuuya x fem!reader x beast!dazai

🧷.... sometimes, being obsessively infatuated with your bosses was okay!

A/N ° i need more bsd moots 😭💔 ngl i didn't like it.. i like the beginning, but the middle to end was erm.. this a bit freaky yawl🙏

C/WS ° w/c: 1.5k+++ | a bit of humiliation (reader wants to jump off a building), breach of privacy, unprofessional relationships, reader stutters a lot due to nervousness, sex by the book (readers personal fanfic of a 3way), implied no used protection, dazai likes getting cucked, p->v, voyeurism, clit stimulation, ball sucking & dazai tongue-rimming chuuya's hole (im not sorry), creampie, power dynamic, Chuuya is a bit mean :(, bickering in the middle of sex, DOM!SKK, SUB!READER, petnames, NOT PROOFREAD, ALL BANNERS/DIVIDERS MADE BY ME.

Walking through the double doors, you were met with your boss and his right-hand man staring right at you; waiting for you. The silence consumed the room when you heard the doors shut, cueing you to walk forward until you reached his desk — stopping to take a bow and greet them. "You called for me, sir?" You say, unsure on how to properly greet your superiors. With a flick of his hand, Dazai, the Mafia's boss, gestures for Chuuya, your boss, to do something.

A grumble left Chuuya's lips as he pushed his weight off the table he was leaning on. Walking over to where you were at, he suddenly has a grip on your arm and drags you with him to where Dazai sat at. "Chuuya~ Not too rough, she's a delicate little thing," He sighs, no sour note on his end. Chuuya clicks his tongue but decides against talking back — sitting you down onto Dazai's lap.

Confused, you wriggle in his lap. "Um.. - Sir...?" A quiet question came from you. You didn't want to say anything that'll upset the two men in the room, so you chose to sound neutral until you were given answers. A shuffle of sounds Chuuya made while rummaging inside the desks drawers dragged you back from your thoughts — a hand rested on your waist as Chuuya pulls out what seems to be a book.

"This seem familiar to ya, doll?" He waves the flimsy thing around. Its presence almost made you choke on air. "Where - How? - " — "Don't worry 'bout that." He cuts you off, opening your diary to the first few pages. Dazai laughs at his executives' reaction upon reading the contents of your not-so-secret thoughts anymore. "Naughty little minx has Chuuya in a gawk!" The soft rumble of his laugh caused you to feel like throwing yourself off the top of the Port Mafia's building.

Admist your embarrassment, you could hear Chuuya whistling. "Damn - boss, take a look at this!" He throws the diary to Dazai, who barely caught it. Not bothering to lift your hung head that laid low, you pick at your nail bed. Dazai rebalances himself, glancing at Chuuya's choppy smirk before reading the page for himself. A second later, and he's giggling to himself. "Oh my!~ Chuuya, our darling is so..!"

Cutting himself off, Dazai stifles a giggle. But despite that, Chuuya knew the ending to his sentence: compatible with us.

He snorts, "Yeah, she is." Chuuya then steps closer, folding over a bit so now that he's just above eye level with you. Using a gloved hand, he lifts your head by your chin — his fingers meshed on your chin. "Hmmm~ Whatever shall we do with our minx boss?" He rubs the corner of your lips, already guessing the bunch of scenarios in Dazai's mind. "Dunno! Shall we follow her guide ?" Dazai sneakily suggests.

Looking over your shoulder slightly, Dazai's slim smile told you that this was going to be your only opportunity at being this intimate with them — and like hell you were going to throw this overboard.

°

"Sweetheart, eyes down there," Chuuya reminds you. Adjusting your eyesight down to where it was supposed to be, Dazai's playful expression is the first thing you see — "Darling minx, needs to learn how to focus better!" He gave your clit a light tap. You flinched, not expecting for him to do that. Feeling the slight movement, Chuuya bit his lip to suppress a groan.

"Fuck - Dolly, don't squeeze me like that," he said. You relax your body, walls loosening up around his dick. "Sorry..." You apologize quietly, but a small suction around your clit made you release a strained moan. "Ah-nn!~" Chuuya's hands wrapped themselves around your waist, preventing you from squirming too much. "Geez - relax [Name]. Dazai, stop that shit it's my dick being squeezed, not yours," he snaps at the brunette.

Said brunette releases your clit from its stimulation, making you whine from the lost of contact. "Umm.." You wanted them to do something: anything, instead of just making you cockwarm Chuuya and watch your boss toy with different parts of your body. "Hm?" Dazai inquires, the tip of his index finger slipping around your pelvic area. Without saying anything, you bring their attention back to your diary. "Ne-next line.. Says for Person A to start instructing Person B to uh.. - " Hesitation bubbled up inside you.

Should you really be telling them what to do? To live out your dark fantasies was a dream already, a well-kept secret at that — but to think you were sitting here, naked from the bottom-up in front of your two superiors, all because they found your diary. Chuuya sighs, hips thrusting sharply as a way to get you to stop overthinking. "Uh oh, I did something without our boss's permission." He winks at Dazai, leaning forward so that his view of Dazai was more amicable.

Dazai doesn't get up from where he's kneeling. Instead, he grabs the diary from atop the desk, sliding it off the edge. His eyes scan the written text, a smirk widening as he does so. Coughing to clear his throat, he reads the next section out loud. "Person B is to listen to every command Person A instructs - Handling Person C with care as Person A takes care of the other two." He pauses midway.

"Chuuya," Dazai suddenly calls out for his executive. Chuuya raises a brow, using the arm rest to lean his elbow on. "I want you to bounce her very gently on your dick please!~" What sounded like a nice request was actually a command in plain sight. Not wasting a single second after that, Chuuya's hands made its way back around your waist, pushing you up to readjust both of your previous positions.

Before he continued, Chuuya rested his head on your shoulder. "Wanna back out while you still can?" He whispers into your ear. But what you heard was, 'Quit the game now before you can't pause midway.'

Shaking your head, you move your hips slowly, a clear direction of what your intentions truly were. A smile made its way on both of their faces, Dazai giving Chuuya a nod to continue what he was doing. Lifting you up slightly, Chuuya pushes his hips back into the chair before mushing his crotch against your ass. Grinding you slowly on his lap, Chuuya let's himself loose — a breathy moan hot against your nape.

"Good," Dazai commends. "Ah - my lovely subordinates are so good for me~" He giggles to himself, sitting back and watching as Chuuya's dick eases in and out of your entrance. The slippery gush of your arousal dirtying Chuuya's pants made Dazai's boxer strain a bit. Every spasm of your walls, each convulsion, and the tiny squirms that rotated your hips in movement had Chuuya gritting his teeth — it taking most of his will-power to power through the urge to get up and fold you I half.

"Neh~ Chuuya is such a good pup." Dazai says, irritating the poor man to his core. "Shut the fu-gnck up!" He moans frustrated by hearing his boss's voice. "Your shit talk is turning me off." That was a lie, and they both knew it. You moan, unbothered by their small bickering. "Ahn~ Ogh!~" You suddenly let out, surprising Chuuya. "Th-at! There!~ Please!~" You wriggle in his lap, attempting to find that spot he brushed over again.

Chuuya's hands stop you from moving much further, causing you to whine. "But I almost found it! It was right there! - " — "Quit your fuckin' whining, boss didn't say you can just move." He cuts you off, clicking his tongue in annoyance. "He ordered me to move, not you. So - " He stops, giving you a sharp thrust directly into your spot that made you gasp. " - Sit on my cock like a good girl and do as ordered."

You squeal, legs threatening to close, "Ug!~ HN!~ Yes s-ir~" Chuuya's dick rubbed along your spot as a response. The tender, raw feeling of being so intimately close to him had your cunt becoming more erotic by the second, and he could feel it. "Fuck~ - Shit she's dirty as hell," Chuuya moans, Dazai humming in agreement after seeing how wet Chuuya's thighs were.

For the next few minutes, it was absolute radio silence from them. Despite your constant moaning and mild movement from Chuuya — Dazai still hadn't taken any initiative. Well, until just now. "You two been at it for a while now, haven't you guys?" He asks, breaking the silence.

Observing the two sitting in front of him for a second, Dazai bends his knees so now that he's kneeling in front of your entrance. "Chuuya, spread her legs." Upon command, said male lifts your underside and held it in place — hips still rutting slowly. Now, with a clear view of Chuuya's slime coated dick, he moves his head in — planting a kiss on your clit before he dragged his tongue down from your slit all the way to the base of Chuuyas cock.

Chuuya shudders, his breath hitched as he stops all movement and stares at his boss wide-eyed. "What- What the hell was that for?!" Dazai doesn't give him answer, choosing to occupy his tongue with a mouth full of Chuuya's sack. He grunts, resuming with bouncing you on his dick.

You let out a breathy moan, air escaping your lung with each slap of skin contact you made with the ginger. He let's out small sighs of pleasure, not letting himself get too carried away with how good your pussy felt. "Fucking shit - 'Zai needa feel this one day," He snickers jokingly. "Oh, I will! Just letting 'Bella live out her little fantasies before we actually get her down good." His voice treads lightly in the room, Dazai's attention now fixated on your clit.

"Hm.. yeah, just like that. Hold her exactly as is," Dazai orders for his executive to keep the same grip he has on you now — expecting for him not to falter in strength. "Yes sir," he complies rather quickly, not objecting as he usually does. Still keeping up his slow pace, Chuuya feels your sudden shuffle on him: already assuming what his boss was doing.

"F-uck! Boss!~" Arching your back, you finally rest your head on Chuuya's collar line, a groan leaving his lips when he feels your walls spasm around his dick. "Damn it - Dazai - Shit!~" He throws his head back on the chair. "Sweets, ya' feel so good~" His head returns to its original position, a nip to your nape brings your cunt to convulse again.

"Doesn't she?" Dazai quips from beneath you, igniting another spark in the redhead. "Shut up, and keep doing whatever the hell you're doin' right now." — "Nu-ah-ah!~" Dazai cuts him off, now using his fingers to gently stimulate your clit as a replacement. "Good dogs don't bark at their owners, right kitty?" He asks you, a sloppy grin placed on his lips as he sees a short sighted scowl tug on Chuuya's.

Suddenly the mood was shifted — You could feel the high rising tension in the room, along with your slow approaching orgasm that was rising with every bump to your spot and clit. "Uhgn!~ I - 'M almost there! Sir, I'm cum- Gonna cum!~" — "Gawh!~ Chuuya, you hear that? Come on now, fasten your pace." Dazai cooes, slapping Chuuya's knee.

He grunts, biting back an insult. Moving your entire body so now that your ass was flushed right on his dick — Chuuya roughly thrusts up, then another came, and another. "OGHnn!!~" You threw your head back, the sudden change of treatment had your hips trembling in place. Dazai leans into your thighs, mimicking a train line of hickies and marks from your inner thighs to Chuuya's. As he lowers his head, he notices Chuuya's slightly lifted arse — taking this chance, he give his puckered hole a kiss before sticking out his tongue to trace along the rim.

A shot of pleasure shot up Chuuya's spine. Shifting midair, he feels Dazai grip his knees, and his tongue threatening to enter his hole. No words were exchange, Chuuya's priceless groans matched your moans. His cock already about to tip over the edge within the next few thrusts. As you were squealing both of their names, you felt Chuuya's grip on you tighten — his high pitched groan sending shivers all over your body as he shoots ropes of creamy white into your cunt, making you squeeze your walls and milk him for all he's worth.

Your eyes shut, legs straining into a stick when you feel Dazai rubbing your clit — Both him and Chuuya helping to get you to cum, despite Chuuya's slight overstimulation. "C'mon baby, you can do it," Chuuya says. His tinsy whines paired with Dazai's soft kisses and gentle cruzing finally made you break. White washes down your vision as your pussy uncontrollably spasms around the executives dick. He hisses, but still holds his composure, making sure that Dazai was able to get you off till the end.

"Oh fuck - geez, that's it hun. There she goes; good girl," Whispering from behind you, he watches mesmerized at the sight of Dazai's slobbered coated face. It takes him a minute, but Chuuya manages to slowly slip his dick out of you — his cum oozing out in a thick goop as soon as he drops you onto his lap to rest his arms. You lay limp on his chest, both of you breathing heavily from your intense orgasms.

Dazai hums contently at the view of both of his fucked out partners. Getting up, he grabs the discarded diary and read the remain of what was left on the page. He looks at Chuuya, who was staring at him awaiting his next orders while softly rubbing your stomach in a soothing manner.

haiii:3 can't believe i wrote this but here we are huh...

upcoming projects <3

ATTWR — n. chuuya x fem!reader series: chapter 1, PEACH FUZZ

vampire!dazai x fem!reader — forbidden love, angst, character death (unintended double suicide)

breeding hub event reqs <3

a brat tamer fyo hcs/or fic (still haven't decided)

a fyo fic for my lovely moot reverie <3

rules (for m.list) | taglist: @luvan1 @bfdazai @asqmi @squigglewigglewoo @liviash @doonifox @ishqani @xxcandlelightxx @iheartpieck @ezelium @saelique @little-miss-chaoss

#𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗬 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗜⸸⸸ #d for chuuyas dick #and d for dazai #I DIDNT EXPECT THIS TO BE SO LONG AAAHH💀 #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x you #dazai x you #chuuya x y/n #dazai x y/n #chuuya x reader x dazai #chuuya smut #dazai smut #beast!dazai x reader #beast!chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Bucking Bronco✨

@bat-boness keeps fucking cooking with their Cowboy Lucifer art and I shall do the same!!! @nayomi247 and @liveontelevision this is your fault too lol, we have now formed a small but mighty Cowboy Lucifer cult fan club

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Lucifer finds himself in a punishing situation…

Warnings: 18+, smut, hand job, oral (m receiving), p in v

“You know, this wouldn’t be happening if you would come in from the farm on time, Luci,” you scolded as you finished tying the last knot on his wrists. "I don't think I ask for much."

This was the third night in a row your hardworking husband has missed dinner with you. You let it slide the first night. The second night you gave him a gentle reminder to not overwork himself. But tonight was the last straw. A third night of eating alone with a cold plate of food sitting across the table from you. You loved him dearly, but you hated that his priorities didn’t seem to be in order. You were going to make sure he learned his lesson one way or another. He tried to butter you up as he usually did when he came in from work late, knowing full well what he'd done. You feigned a smile and told him not to give it another thought. You told him to get comfortable and that you would join him upstairs soon. But when you walked into your room with your rope in hand, he gulped. He knew damn well that he was in trouble. You sat him down on the ottoman and wrapped your ropes around his hands and wrists, pinning his arms behind his back, effectively rendering him helpless against your ‘punishment’.

“Darlin’, I-I’m sorry, time just gets away from me sometimes! I-I would never do anything to upset you,” Lucifer stuttered. “P-Please, have mercy…”

You checked the tightness of your ropes before standing in front of your husband, towering over him in his subdued state. “Oh, I’m not upset with you! But since you’ve just been working so hard lately, I thought it’d be mighty kind of me if I helped you relax.” You brought your hand to his chin and had him meet your intense gaze. “Do you want me to help you relax, sweetheart?” you asked, knowing all too well that there was only one answer he could give you.

“Y-yes,” Lucifer responded meekly.

"That's my good boy," you praised, a small whimper escaping Lucifer's throat. You slowly dragged your hand down his open-shirt chest, stopping right above his already very apparent erection. He did his best to buck his hips up in an attempt to create any sort of friction. But all this did was cause you to pull you hand away from him immediately. He whined pathetically. "Behave now," you reprimanded. Lucifer looked up at you with glassy eyes and nodded obediently. You smiled and brought your hand back down to its previous spot, hovering just about his hard-on. You heard Lucifer's breath hitch as you finally placed your palm over his cock that has been painfully straining against his jeans. It took every ounce of willpower in him to remain still while you toyed with him.

"P-Please," Lucifer mewled, "I-I can't...hng..."

You pulled down the zipper to his pants lethargically, watching Lucifer's chest rise and fall more and more rapidly until you finally released his already leaking cock from its confines. "I love how needy you are for me, sweet pea." You gripped his length in your hand and started stroking him meticulously. Lucifer's whines filled the room, you've never heard sweeter sounds than his desperate cries. His precum leaked onto your hand, your jerking motions becoming smoother. You circled your thumb over the head of his cock, applying the lightest of pressure to it. Lucifer cried out as he bucked his hips once more from your teasing. You let go of him again, tears now welling up in his eyes from the loss of your touch.

"I'm sorry!" Lucifer nearly shouted. "D-Don't stop, please...I'll behave, I-I promise!"

"That's strike two, Luci," you warned. "You wouldn't want me to leave you like this, would you now?"

"N-No! Please...", a single tear rolled down his face. You smiled gently and wiped it from his cheek.

"Shh, it's alright," you cooed, "patience, my love. I'll take care of you."

He took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down. He knew deep down you wouldn't leave him in such a desperate and vulnerable state. You knelt down on the ground, gripping his shaft once more. You stuck out your tongue and licked up the length of his cock, tasting all the precum that had spilled out of him. Lucifer's voice caught in his throat; he was beyond forming any coherent sentences at this point. He struggled against his binds, losing grip of his control fast. Your tongue circled his swollen tip, eliciting the smallest yelps from your lover, your hot breath driving him insane. You enveloped him suddenly, bobbing your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could. Lucifer was frozen, he dared not move again in fear of the repercussions. Instead, he was loud, moaning and whining from everything you were giving him in this moment. You let him go with a satisfying pop, flashing a mischievous grin.

"Tell me what you want, sugar," you teased him as your hand replaced your warm mouth. "Use your words."

Lucifer's hat had fallen in front of his face, you could no longer see his eyes. You lifted it up only to see them glowing a bright crimson red, his hunger for you now abundantly evident. "N-Need you," he choked out, "need to feel you, n-now. Please...ride me..."

You smirked at him and nodded. You stood up once more, removing your belt in one swift motion and tossing your shorts off so the side, your soaking pussy now in full view. Lucifer gulped audibly. You straddled yourself against Lucifer's hips, teasing his cock with your dripping folds. You decided to wear his hat on your head instead so that you could clearly see the disheveled mess of a man beneath you. He blushed hard at the sight. You leaned down and planted the tiniest peck to his forehead.

"Now, are you going to be late again?" you questioned playfully.

"N-No," Lucifer promised. "I'll come in from the farm on time, I-I swear! You'll never w-wait for me again!"

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." You lined yourself up and slowly lowered yourself onto him, taking him an inch at a time. He was thicker than most, so he knew you needed just a little bit longer to adjust to his abnormal size. Not that you minded in the slightest, he was able to hit all of the right spots without even moving. Once you bottomed out on his cock, you both let out a wanton moan. After a few seconds of letting yourself stretch around him, you began to shift your hips. Your sudden movements forced Lucifer to lean against the crook of your neck for support. He felt as though you were trying to milk him dry. Which is exactly what you were doing.

"F-Fuck, Lucifer," you stuttered, "always making me f-feel so good, baby. Look s-so pretty under me..." Lucifer could barely hear your praises over his own sounds. This was pure bliss, but agonizingly torturous at the same time. His bound hands were eager to touch you, to hold you, to feel you.

"My love, please, I-I'm begging, let me go..." he cried into your shoulder. "I'm so so sorry, I-I...please..." You stopped your movement completely and started gently petting the back of his head. How could you deny him any longer?

You reached down and grabbed the sheathed blade that adorned his hip. "Stay perfectly still," you commanded, reaching around and carefully slicing the ties around his arms and wrists, letting the rope fall to the floor. You tossed the knife far away from you while Lucifer's hand immediately gripped your hips.

"T-Thank you, darlin'," he whispered against you, "let me make it up to you now. S-Show you how sorry I really am." Without warning, Lucifer lifted you up only for him to slam you right back down on his throbbing cock. The cry you let out was lustful and wanting. His hips bucked up into you at a relentless pace, your cunt clenching around him desperately while you both chased your highs. You dug your nails into his shoulders for support as he pounded into you over and over. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach growing larger, threatening to snap any given second as your lover pushed you to your breaking point with each thrust.

"L-Luci," you whimpered helplessly, "I'm close, s-so close, mmph, fffffuuu-uuuccck..." Your pleas only seemed to drive him even madder than he already was as one of his hands left your hips, his thumb finding that small sensitive bundle of nerves. You nearly screamed from the new sensation.

"Me too, sweetheart, m-me too, shit,' Lucifer breathed. "Cum f' me, l-let me feel you cum around me..."

With those words, stars clouded your vision. You felt your cunt pulsate around Lucifer's cock, tightening and squeezing him without abandon, your juices leaking onto his lap. Your orgasm pushed your lover over the edge as well, his grunts and whimpers echoing throughout the room as he filled you up to the brim with his hot seed, having to bite down your shoulder as to not lose himself in the pleasure. As you both started to recover from your highs, you cupped Lucifer's face in your hands and brought him in for a deep kiss. Your tongues fought for dominance, still trying to catch your breath in the process. You pulled away from him, his half-lidded eyes gazing up at your adoringly.

"You owe me a new rope," you chastised lovingly.

~~~

I have no real excuse for this :3

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #BAT THIS IS YOUR FAULT #YOU AND YOUR GOD LIKE ART #hope you like it anyway!

[gingerbloof]

sing for me (soft dom!astarion x fem sub!tav)

contents: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, anxiety, slight exhibitionism, oral (female recieving), fingering, unprotective p in v sex, creampie, precum, almost getting caught in the act, edging/orgasm denial, astartion being a little shit, sweet fluff at the end word count: 2,499

authors note: this is a lovely request from @koalamuffin, thank you so much, darling! i hope you enjoy! sorry it took so long waa ;-;

lots of these quotes are from my prompt list! if you’d like to request one of your own, or come up with your own that you’d like, my asks are currently open!

“Astarion…” You groaned in a whisper, trying desperately not to make too much noise.

It had only been five minutes since you’ve come to bed with Astarion in his tent. You just wanted to sleep to get ready for another long day in the Shadow Cursed Lands tomorrow, but he had other plans.

Within moments of you entering his tent and laying down next to him, an innocent cuddle soon turned into him gripping your breasts mercilessly, swiping his nimble thumbs over your hardened peaks through your shirt. You found yourself subconsciously grinding your ass against his already rock hard cock, trying to make some friction.

Your face was flushed a deep red and your breathing was low and heavy, eventual whimpers escaping your lips. A dark chuckle left your beloved as he drug his sharp fangs along the pulse point of your neck, making you yelp and clasp a hand over your mouth.

He crawled on top of you, pushing your leg to the side with his, getting between your legs. You shuddered as one of his hands trailed down your sternum and just above the waistline of your small clothes. You gripped his hand, stopping him. He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, a worried expression on his beautiful face.

“Shall I stop, darling?” He asked, concerned.

His words made your heart soar. He always made sure you were comfortable, no matter how turned on you both were. “N-No, don’t stop… I just don’t want anyone hearing…” You whispered, gesturing over to the campfire. Lae’zel, Wyll, and Shadowheart circled around it on their bedrolls, sleeping peacefully. A wicked smirk grew on his face as he took your wrist and pinned it above your head, staring deeply into your being with his almost glowing red eyes. He scoffed at your remark as he leaned down toward you once more, his lips ghosting yours.

“Please, darling. It’s not like they haven’t heard you before,” He purred softly. His lips brushed against yours with every word he spoke, cold air hitting you. 

You were about to object when he suddenly slipped his hand under your small clothes, running his middle digit up your slit to part your lips. You held your hand over your mouth once again, struggling not to make any noise. He growled softly as he felt your arousal drench his finger. He pulled his hand away briefly, making you whine. He brought the digit in between his lips and sucked on it, tasting your slick. He groaned as he tasted it, closing his eyes. Seeing how obsessed with how you tasted always got you riled up, but the way he savored it in this moment, moaning around his own finger sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, your arousal now sticking between your thighs.

He pulled his finger away and sighed blissfully. “Delicious…” He whispered breathlessly. You flushed at his words and pressed your thighs together in embarrassment, looking away shyly. You felt his icy fingertips on your chin as he turned your head to face him, clicking his tongue.

“Ah, ah, ah, no… Look at me,” He purred softly. You held his gaze as he slowly kissed down your body, leaving gentle nips along the way. “Gods, you are intoxicating… You truly were made just to ruin me, darling,” He trailed down your body, kissing down your stomach until he reached your hips. He took the waistband of your small clothes in between his teeth and pulled them down. You trembled as you lifted your hips so they could slide off of you. You glanced over at the campfire once again, making sure no one was waking up.

Astarion took hold of your chin again, bringing you back to the present. “Darling, keep those pretty eyes on me, hm?,” He said softly. You whimpered at his words and nodded, watching him intently.

You nibbled on your bottom lip in anticipation, your face beet red and your chest heaving. You were tired of him torturing you, you needed him now.

 He chuckled at your state then gazed between your legs. Your arousal was very apparent; the sweet sticky liquid dripping from you and staining the bedroll underneath you. He hummed in approval and kissed down each thigh gently, starting just below your knees and making his way down agonizingly slowly. 

Your breath hitched as he kissed the soft flesh and bucked your hips, hoping to meet your lower lips with his. He chuckled once again, grabbing your hips and forcing them down to keep you still. 

“Desperate, are we?” He purred, smirking up at you. You shamelessly nodded, trying to buck your hips once again. “Please…” You whispered, feeling yourself clench around nothing. The emptiness inside you was too much to bear. He hummed, thinking to himself. “Beg,” He said nonchalantly as he started to back away from you, not giving you anything until you obeyed him.

You looked at him hungrily, your eyebrows furrowed and nibbling once again on your lip. He let out a long frustrated sigh as he gazed at you.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know what that does to me, pet.” He whispered in a growl, a smirk growing on his face. “How do you expect me to give you what you want if you don’t ask, hm?”

You whined as you threw your head back in frustration. “Astarion… Please… Taste me. Taste all of me, I want your tongue…” You whimpered, spreading your sex open for him and revealing your wetness. He gazed upon your cunt and licked his lips. His eyes shot back up to you and smirked wider, revealing his pearly white fangs.

“Good girl.”

He made no hesitation to lower his mouth to your sex, placing a soft kiss on your clit before gliding his tongue against your twitching entrance to your clit, swirling his tongue around you. You arch your back and bite your knuckle, gasping softly. You made sure to glance every now and then over to the camp while he was busy lapping you to double check to see if anyone had woken up. 

He took your clit between his lips and sucked gently, flicking his tongue along it while it was in his mouth. An icy cold finger soon found your entrance and pushed in very shallowly, only to his first knuckle. You breathed heavy, trying your best not to make any noise. You held hard eye contact with Astarion as he continued to torture you with his tongue and finger, his dark red orbs piercing into you.

All of a sudden he pushed his finger into you and curled it, immediately pushing against your special spot. You gasped loudly and that’s when you heard it, a groggy noise coming from Wyll. You sat up abruptly, keeping your eye on him as he sat up from his bedroll, which was facing away from you. You had woken him up…

“What in the Hells was that…” Wyll asked himself, scratching the back of his head and looking around.

Astarion sat up with you and pressed his palm tightly against your mouth, glaring at you hungrily. His finger continued to pump in and out of you slowly, making your legs shake. The feeling of him finger fucking you mixed with the anxiety of getting caught in the act was a brutal feeling. And it excited Astarion beyond belief.

He was quick to add another finger when Wyll stood, grunting and stretching as he watched the campfire, completely oblivious.

“Mmh…” You moaned against Astarion’s hand and he leaned in toward your ear, whispering. “Sshh… You don’t want to wake everyone, do you?” You shook your head, daring not to make another sound. You both watched Wyll as he sauntered around camp for a few moments, looking to see if he could find the source of the sound that had awoken him. Astarion’s pace quickened every time he got closer to the tent, torturing your needy cunt and trying to get you to make a sound. You shut your eyes tightly and desperately tried to focus on anything but the pleasure you were receiving.

Astarion saw how hard you were trying to keep quiet and smiled sweetly at you, whispering once again in your ear to praise you. “Very, very good, darling…” Your breath slightly hitched, causing Wyll to turn around once again, a curious look on his face. Astarion stopped his pace on you abruptly. 

“Quiet. Now.” He whispered, a slight growl in his voice. He pressed his palm to your mouth tighter as Wyll decided to awaken Shadowheart and Lae’zel. He quickly explained to them that he had heard strange noises and thought they should investigate. The two women groaned as they lazily started gearing up and headed towards the forest, to investigate something they would never find.

Astarion slowly withdrew his hand from your face and you sighed in relief. You looked at him and giggled softly. “That was close…” You said, another pent up sigh leaving you. He chuckled darkly as he pushed you onto your back once again, crawling between your legs. “You’ve got to be more careful, dear…” He purred. “But no matter, now you get to sing as loud as you want.”

He quickly rid himself of his pants, revealing his almost painfully hard cock. Precum dripped from the tip and the delicious vein running up the side of his shaft was throbbing.

You felt your mouth start to water at the sight, starting to reach for it. He took your hand and pinned it to your side, shaking his head. “No, no, dear… This is about you,” He smiled devilishly down at you. He pulled back slightly to line his fingers up with your entrance once again, teasing you by shallowly fucking you with them. 

“Now, remind me, if you will… What is it you wanted, again?” He smirked. He loved hearing you beg, it assured him that you trusted him enough to control your pleasure. Just the fact alone that you entrusted him with that was enough to make his cock throb violently.

You whined, refusing to put up a fight this time because the heat in your core was almost painful. You wanted nothing more than for him to make you come over and over again. “Please, my love… I need your fingers inside me. I want you so bad… Please.” Suddenly he was knuckle deep inside you, mercilessly curling his fingers up and against your g spot. You moaned softly, knowing your party could still hear you if you were too loud. 

This made Astarion growl in frustration, his pace quickening inside you. His thumb moved up to rub your clit gently.

“Louder, pet. Sing for me,” He purred, honey dripping from his words. Your frustration was too intense to argue, so you let out a slightly louder moan. “A-Astarion…!” A successful laugh bubbled from his throat, quickly moving down your body to replace the thumb on your clit with his mouth once again. 

“Yes… Louder.”

Your moans and whimpered crescendoed as you felt your core tighten, your orgasm quickly approaching. Suddenly, he slowed his movements on you, earning him a frustrated groan from you. “No, no, no… Not yet, my love,” He purred. “You don’t get to come until my cock is deep inside you, do you understand?” You looked down at him with a scowl on your face, beet red flushed your entire face and creeped down your neck and you were lightly sweating. You were done playing his little games. 

“Then give me your cock, godsdammit!” You whined loudly, your chest heaving. His eyes widened and he chuckled. “Ah, so the pup has a bite after all, hm? Alright… I suppose you’ve been good enough,” He said, withdrawing his fingers and sitting on his knees between your legs. 

He took his cock and smeared your overflowing juices on his tip, lubing himself up. He lined himself up with your clenching entrance, hissing through his teeth. You watched him intensely, your breath hitching at every movement he made. He looked at you with hungry, half lidded eyes as he slowly rolled his hips, pushing just the tip inside. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the delicious stretch of him as he pushed further and further into you. He sighed blissfully as he became fully sheathed inside you, enjoying your warmth for a moment before he quickly thrust himself in and out of you, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the quiet night.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. You breathlessly whimpered, choked out moans eventually passing your lips, not caring about the volume anymore. He grunted as he laid wet sloppy kisses on your neck, gently grazing the soft skin with his fangs, not enough to draw any blood however. “That’s it, darling… Just like that,: He purred in your ear, reaching down and rubbing your clit as he continued to thrust deeply into you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. 

Your core tightened again at his praise. You clenched tightly around him, earning you a growled “Fuck…” from him. Your vision blurred and your body tensed as your orgasm quickly approached again. “A-Astarion, please… I need to come, please!” You pleaded, lightly scratching at his back and being mindful of his scars. He moaned as his hips started to stutter and become uneven. “Gods… Yes, darling,” He growled. “Come with me, my sweet. Be my good girl and come with me.”

Your legs trembled with the intensity of an earthquake as your orgasm clashed through your body. You gripped onto him tightly as your eyes squeezed shut, a mix between a moan and a scream escaping you. You drenched his hips with your come as he filled you with his, a loud moan leaving him as well. You both bathed in the afterglow for a few moments, panting and gripping onto each other. He pulled away slightly to look at you and cup your cheek, which was damp with sweat. You opened your eyes to look at him, tears formed at the corners of your eyes and a little drool dripping from your mouth. He chuckled and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Look at you, such a pretty little mess…” He said softly with his usual honeyed voice. You giggled shyly and pecked the tip of his beautiful nose. “Y-Your fault,” You mumbled breathlessly. He chuckled once again and slowly pulled out of you, looking down at his masterpiece, smiling. 

He flopped down next to you on his back and you curled up to him, mumbling a soft “I love you…” as you fell asleep on his chest. He smiled and quickly grabbed a blanket, covering you both and pressed another kiss to your head.

“I love you too, darling. Now rest… We have a long day tomorrow.”

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion x reader smut #astarion x tav smut #bg3 smut

[rax-writes]

↬ when night falls

Tywin Lannister x Reader

intended to be a sequel to the morning after, but it's not necessary that you read it prior to this

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, age gap, nipple play, bit of breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pregnant!reader

The journey from Winterfell to King's Landing took considerably longer than necessary, given the Queen's insistence that she travel in that godsforsaken carriage of hers. As such, five weeks after your marriage to Tywin Lannister, you were spending one final night in a lavish red and gold tent alongside your lord husband.

For the entirety of the journey, the two of you spent the entire day apart – your horse trotting behind your father and King Robert, and Tywin a short distance behind, alongside Ser Jamie. Occasionally, Arya would pester you into allowing her to sit in front of you on the saddle, as you quietly conversed with her and taught her how to control the horse. But, aside from that, you were alone with your thoughts all day, every day.

The nights, however, were spent in the arms of your lord husband.

The two of you quite quickly developed a very… peculiar dynamic. You had quickly learned and adapted to the way the fearsome Tywin Lannister operates – preferring you speak concisely and directly, vehemently uninterested in anything otherwise. Additionally, there was a degree of mutual respect, as well as a vaguely guarded openness to one another – but certainly no love, or any semblance of romantic feelings at all. In truth, you assumed there never would be.

But gods was there lust.

On your end, it was your first and only experience with sex, and it was undeniably good, so you were eager for it. On his end… you couldn't be sure. It could be that the man was pent up from years as a bachelor, but it would be safe to assume he had simply sent for a whore when the mood struck him. A more likely reason would be his pursuit of an heir, but surely he wouldn't have needed to fill your cunt nightly to achieve that goal. No, you were almost certain that he was simply enjoying fucking you – just as much as you were enjoying fucking him.

When Tywin entered the tent, you were sitting on the edge of the cot, toying with the goblet in your hands, already undressed to your shift. He met your eyes as he entered, but said nothing, that unreadable (but somehow always leaning toward annoyed) expression on his face. He silently began taking off his boots, then removed his sword and placed it beside the cot. He was in the middle of pouring wine into his goblet when you found the courage to ask your question.

"Will you stop bedding me when I become pregnant?"

Tywin said nothing, setting the pitcher down and turning to face you as he took a sip of his wine. He wore that calm, calculating expression as he stared at you – but you could swear there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. The golden goblet made a faint clank as he set it down before speaking.

"Do you ask because you wish for me to stop? Or because you wish for me to continue?"

"I wish for you to continue."

"Then I shall continue," Tywin stated, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Good," you replied, then added, "Because I am."

"You are what?"

"Pregnant."

The smile dropped and Tywin's eyebrows raised, making his forehead crinkle.

"Already?" he inquired dryly, surprised. Then, incredulous, he asked, "How do you know?"

It was a fair question. You had never been pregnant before, so perhaps you were mistaking soreness and fatigue from travel as signs of pregnancy. But no. You knew.

"I should have bled three weeks ago, but I have not. My breasts are extremely tender, and certain smells make my stomach turn."

Tywin nodded, then stated, "I do not doubt that you are right, but we will have a Maester provide his confirmation and look you over when we arrive in King's Landing. In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

A faint but wicked smile spread across your face, and you stood from the bed, setting the goblet down as you slowly made your way over to him. The metal of his armor was cold beneath your fingers as you idly ran your hands over his chest, before toying with the belt around his hips, looking up at him through your lashes.

"You," was your simple answer. But both of you knew that it wasn't meant in a romantic, sweet sort of way.

Tywin's hand reached up to cradle your face, somewhat harshly, hooking his thumb under your jaw to tilt your head up and kiss you. It was lustful and full of desire, accompanied by the scratch of his beard upon the delicate skin of your face.

When he pulled away, Tywin smiled quite faintly, then hummed lowly and said, "Well, what sort of man would I be to deny his pregnant lady wife her wish?"

The old lion made quick work of removing his armor and smallclothes, and relieving you of the thin linen shift you wore, before guiding you to the luxurious cot. Tywin continued to kiss you, eventually trailing kisses down your neck, until he reached your chest, unexpectedly taking one of your breasts into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

The sensation nearly made you shout, opting to take in a sharp breath instead as your back arched off the blankets. Eyes squeezed shut, you heard a low chuckle, and looked down to see a set of very amused, crystalline eyes staring up at you.

"Hm, I see you were not exaggerating about the sensitivity."

Electing to ignore him, you let your head fall back onto the pillow. However, it seemed he did not intend to grant you any reprieve, moving to the other breast and doing the same thing – prompting you to dig your nails into his shoulders and bite your lip to avoid crying out. Unfortunately, that made matters worse, as Tywin let out a low groan with his lips still wrapped around your nipple, earning a loud, pitiful whine from you.

Seemingly enjoying himself, Tywin began peppering your chest with gentle bites, which he soothed with his tongue afterwards, sure to become small little bruises by morning. Breathy moans and sighs of pleasure filled the tent, as he then resumed his ministrations on the hardened peaks of your breasts before snaking one hand down to toy with your clit, expertly rubbing it in small, steady circles. Astoundingly fast, your release washed over you, soaking his hand as you moaned and writhed beneath the Warden of the West – who only chuckled darkly at your quick climax.

Noticing that the continued kisses and licks upon your breasts began to make you twitch, Tywin captured your lips in a brief, rough kiss, before rolling onto his back. He then pulled you into his lap, with a strength one wouldn’t assume the older man to still possess – which was, admittedly, arousing. Your mind was still foggy from the orgasm, and your movements were not unlike a rag doll, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack, moving somewhat limply as you allowed him to maneuver you. He gripped his hard, leaking cock in one hand, then reached behind you to urge you forward with a flat palm on the small of your back.

A hiss through gritted teeth escaped Tywin, and you gasped lightly, head thrown back and hands flat on his chest. Although you’d already lost count of how many times he’d taken you, it still felt more incredible than anything you’d ever experienced. A passing thought reminded you of the fact that he seemed to share the sentiment, always hissing or groaning when he first sheathed himself inside you.

Tywin’s grip moved to your hips, prompting you to begin rocking them against his own, keeping your pace steady. However, he made no move to halt you when you eventually began to move faster, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs as you fucked yourself on his long, thick cock. The sound of it alone would have made a Septa drop dead – a symphony composed of wet skin upon skin and gruff grunts intermingling with breathy moans.

He reached up to grasp and knead your breasts in his rough, calloused hands – but he then surprised you, his hands drifting lower, until they rested flat against your lower stomach. You thought perhaps he was focusing on the movement of your hips, but then his thumbs began to stroke across the soft skin of your belly.

At first, it seemed very sweet and sentimental. You thought that perhaps he was basking in the joy of another child being on the way – until you felt the way his cock throbbed, deep inside of you, as he stared intently at your belly. Immediately, you came to the realization that it must be arousing for a man to have successfully fucked a babe into his wife – stroking their ego and their pride to have done their husbandly duty, as well as show everyone that you belong to them.

Truth be told, you were surprised to learn that it aroused you just as much.

Tywin groaned as you clenched around him, and when his eyes flicked up to meet yours, it felt as though he knew you had been thinking the very same thing he was.

That seemed to ignite something within your husband, and in the blink of an eye, Tywin flipped you onto your back and began driving into your soaked cunt with a newfound ferocity. You bit down on your knuckle to keep quiet, but Tywin pinned both of your wrists down, his arms on either side of your head. The act did not last much longer beyond that point, both parties having already been too near the precipice of climax, and the pair of you met your releases in unison.

Tywin rolled off of you, breathing heavily, a light layer of sweat covering his chest, along with the small patches of silver hair. You allowed yourself a few moments of recovery, before moving to leave the cot in order to extinguish the candles, as well as tidy yourself up. However, Tywin grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

“The candles –”

“Can wait,” Tywin interrupted, voice sounding unbothered as always, albeit with a hint of fatigue. He exhaled slowly, as he gently pulled you back down to lay upon the cot beside him. “One of the guards outside can see to the candles in a moment. You are carrying my heir, so you are to rest. As much as is feasible, from now until the babe is born. And if anyone questions it, they are to discuss it with me.”

Anyone possessing the sense the gods gave a mule knows “discussing” something with Tywin Lannister was just the opposite – it was not to be addressed at all, because what Tywin Lannister says, goes. A fact which made you smile softly.

“As my lord husband commands,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, but you did exactly as he bade you, pulling some of the blankets over you and nestling into the pillows. You were already yawning by the time Tywin called for a guard, who extinguished the candles, and bathed the room in darkness as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

#i'm hoping this stayed in the realm of “we have a mutual understanding and respect but no love at all” #also this isn't proof-read or beta-read so if there's anything wrong lmk #tywin lannister #game of thrones #got #tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister x you #tywin lannister fan fiction #tywin lannister fanfic #tywin lannister fanfiction #tywin lannister fan fic #tywin lannister fic #got fanfiction #got fan fiction #game of thrones fan fiction #game of thrones fanfiction #my writing

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

-

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

-

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

-

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.   

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

-

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

#studious #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fanart #aemond fluff #aemond imagine #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd #ewan mitchell #repost bc i fucked up the first time

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Innocence (pt. 2)

Remus Lupin x f!reader

warnings: smut, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, making out, underage smoking, underage drinking, slight innocence/ corruption kink, lmk if i missed any :)

summary: remus’s obsession with your purity ring gets worse, even after he finally gets it off your finger…

word count: 3.6k

a/n: ok so for anyone wondering when i wrote this i was thinking of the remus drawn by likeafunerall because omggg they draw him so good. let me know what you guys think ofc sorry if it’s not as good as the first part, i sorta rushed to get this out smh. but i’m so in love with remus hahaha

~~~

“Remus we shouldn’t be doing this...”

“Then tell me to stop.”

“I... fuck.”

Remus couldn’t help the smirk that took over his face. He finally had you in a spot he’d fantasized about countless times, he wasn’t going to let it go so easily. It was simple really. You were pressed against a wall, and he was on his knees in front of you. He wished he could see the look on your face, you must’ve been blushing hard, your soft eyes squeezed shut as you tried to deny yourself the pleasure your body craved. Unfortunately, your skirt was over his head and prevented him from seeing your pretty face as he ate you out.

It had been a few weeks since the first time you let him touch you, and it would be an understatement to say he enjoyed it. He was obsessed with it. He was obsessed with you. With every encounter the two of you shared it was like a part of your innocence was taken away and given to him. You were still far more innocent than anyone else in the year, without a doubt. But ever so slowly you were losing that innocence, and it drove Remus mad.

What else drove him mad was just how needy you became. You’d seek him out almost daily for some sort of touch. Whether it was for you, for him, or both of you, you wanted it. And you wanted it badly. Though the two of you agreed to keep what went on a secret from the rest of your friends, you sometimes were not the best at subtle hints. You would whisper to him how much you needed him and that was it. Who was he to deny you anyway? A lot changed in a short time, except for one thing.

The ring.

That stupid gold band remained on your finger through all of it. However, Remus would never say anything about it. He would never pressure you to go further, no matter how much he wished to. Because, despite the circumstances that brought the two of you together, he really did care about you. You were funny, sweet, and incredibly kind. What was there not to like? Your beauty spoke for itself, as did your inexperience. He would wait for you however long, or if you decided you never wanted to go all the way he wouldn’t care. You had more control over him than you knew.

“Rem...”

Your voice brought him back to reality. He hadn’t realized how through his thoughts he kept going. You were practically dripping; your arousal covered his chin. Without a second thought, he wet two of his fingers and gently thrust them inside you, only adding to the shakiness of your legs.

When you were done, he was quick to pull his head from under your skirt and look up at you. As he imagined, your face was bright red. But instead of your eyes being shut as they typically were, you looked down at him. There was a wildness in your eyes that he hadn’t seen before, like a mixture of confidence and something else he couldn’t name. It entranced him.

“You’re mad,” you mumbled as you began to fix your skirt and panties.

Remus chuckled. “Yeah, a bit.” He stood, not looking away from you for even a second. “But a lot for you.”

You smiled and looked away, your shyness returning. “Sure. So do you want to go back first or shall I?”

“You can, I have to go to the library anyway,” he answered. He also had to wait a few minutes for his boner to go away, but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

“Alright.” You ran your fingers through your hair and smoothened your uniform. “Do I look normal?”

“You look beautiful,” he said. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You are beautiful.”

You were clearly flustered at his compliment, it was adorable. “Um thank you, I’ll um see you later then yeah?”

“Yeah, see you later,” he replied.

You gave him one last smile before exiting the closet, checking both ways before doing so. Remus leaned against the wall and sighed. He really was starting to like you, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing. Relationships were never of much interest to him, he always thought they took too much effort and time away from things that actually mattered. You already consumed most of his thoughts, and you took up a decent amount of his time. For once, he didn’t know what to make of the situation. Except for one thing.

The closer the two of you got, the closer he was to getting that ring off your finger.

A smile formed on his lips.

~~~

One afternoon as the two of you sat in History of Magic together listening to Professor Binns’s long lecture about one of the Giant wars, Remus decided to test your limits.

You shared a desk in the back, Lily and Mary were in front of you. Remus glanced around the room to make sure no one was paying attention. As he expected, half the class was almost asleep, and the other half was doodling on their notes or whispering with their partners. He then looked at you. Your head was perched up on your hand, your eyes fighting to stay open. It made his chest fill with excitement.

Casually, as if he were doing nothing wrong, he placed one of his hands on your knee. Instantly your eyes opened and turned to him. He pretended not to notice, though he watched your posture change from his peripheral vision. He kept his head forward as he began to slowly creep his hand up your thigh. He moved his hand under your skirt, the feeling of your warm skin a familiar comfort.

“Remus,” you whispered his name like a warning.

As his fingertips brushed against your panties, he turned to you and lifted a finger to his lips, silently telling you to be quiet. Much to his surprise, you didn’t push him away. You only nodded your head and pretended to turn your attention back to the lecture. He slipped his fingers under your panties and found you were already wet.

Dirty girl, he thought as he began to touch you.

~~~

The fateful day came not too long after that day. Truthfully, though he had been trying to build up to it for at least a month or two, he didn’t expect it. When you first told him about what the ring symbolized, you were set on following the rules. Other guys had tried to fuck you before, he knew that, and you told him about that. So, what was different about him? Was it because the two of you had been friends since first year? Or was it because he was simply the first boy who truly tried? You were more of a mystery than he expected.

On the special day or night, Remus snuck you up to his dorm. It was during the celebration of Gryffindor winning the quidditch cup which meant no one would be in the dorm until very late, if ever. The two of you had a few drinks, but not enough to make either of you drunk. He had even convinced you to take a hit from his cigarette. Though you coughed terribly, he still thought you looked very attractive. The air that night felt different, even to him, perhaps that’s why you finally decided you wanted to go all the way.

“Did you see Sirius?” You laughed after the two of you entered the dorm. “He was starting to pour body shots.”

“He’s celebrating, let him live,” he replied with a smile.

You fell back onto his bed, and your laughter continued. He made sure to cast an extra locking spell on the door before he moved to the bed and laid down next to you. You instantly turned on your side, propped yourself up on your elbow, and stared down at him, that wild look back in your eyes.

“What’s your game then Lupin,” you said.

He looked at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“With me. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were eleven, we’ve hung around the same people, but we were never that close. Then suddenly like two months ago, you offered to have sex with me. What’s the reason?” You looked away for a few seconds. “I just... I don’t understand where it came from that’s all.”

Remus Lupin was never one who typically got stumped on a question, but at that moment he was. What was he supposed to say exactly? That he had always wondered why you wore that ring and when he found out what it was for, he wanted to see if he could get it from you? That he had become obsessed with your innocence? Neither would work, he knew that. So, he settled on the third option.

“I dunno, honestly. Why did you take me up on the offer? Or well, part of the offer.”

Once he said the words aloud, he realized how awful they sounded. He observed your face, waiting for a frown to form to indicate that you were upset. But it never came. You only gently smiled and shrugged.

“I dunno either.” You placed your hand on his chest, your left one. He watched you drag your fingers up and down his body, the ring like a painful reminder of what hadn’t happened. “But I think... I think I’m ready to take you up on the full offer.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I know I said I didn’t plan on doing that and I’m completely contradicting myself, and I’m going against my family and my religion but I... As you said, people do it all the time and it’s normal. If you don’t want to, I understand,” you answered. Even through the dark, he could see your blush. Merlin how he loved it.

“Why would I not want to? I should be asking you that,” he replied, trying his best to keep a neutral face despite how excited he was.

“It can be intimidating, right? To be someone's first. I don’t want you to think it has to be some special big thing because it’s not. In my head, I used to think it was supposed to be all that but after starting this with you I sorta realized I don’t care for special I just you know... want it to be with you. And don’t feel pressured or anything, I’m not going to ask to be your girlfriend or any of that. I- sorry, I’m saying too much again, aren’t I?”

Remus gave you a gentle smile and took your hand in his. “No, you’re not saying too much. Actually, you’re saying about the right amount. If that’s all what you truly feel, then I’d be more than happy to oblige. But I need to know, you’re positive. What we’ve been doing is wonderful and I enjoy it very much, but if that’s all you want, we can keep it that way. I know it was special to you to wait for marriage and if that’s not the case anymore great, but I need to know you’re sure of it.”

“I am sure, I promise. I’ve been wanting to for a while, but I wanted to be sure and now I am, do you want to?” You asked shyly.

“Very much,” he said with a laugh.

“Then um... we should... right?”

“You want to right now?”

You bit down on your lip for a few seconds and nodded. “Yeah... unless you want to wait.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” he replied.

He was quick to kiss you. He was quick to climb over you. He was quick to undress you. But he took his time pleasing you. Despite what you said, he wanted it to be at least a bit special. So, he took his time, making you finish at least twice with his tongue and fingers before even beginning to move on to the other part.

As he slipped a rubber on, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. If you knew the only reason, he started all of this was some sort of challenge, would you have still let him do what he was about to do? Probably not. He had feelings for you then, of course. But it would be a lie to say he did the entire time. His eyes searched your face. You were so sweet, so delicate, so innocent. And he was about to take it away.

“You’re still sure?” He asked as he moved between your legs again. His question had a far deeper meaning than you would ever know.

“Yes,” you answered, your breath still heavy from your last orgasm. “I want you.”

He positioned himself so his tip was touching your entrance. “Alright, but if it’s too much tell me.”

“I will.”

He connected your lips and ever so slowly began to push himself inside you. Even though you were very wet, you were still very tight. Remus’s breath caught in his throat as he entered you. You felt better than any girl he’d ever been with, and he was sure of it. Despite just how good it felt, he paused halfway to make sure you were still all right. Your face was scrunched up, a telltale sign that you were in pain, but you told him to keep going. Still, he double-checked before continuing.

After checking once more when he was fully in, he truly began to shag you. From the moans and whispers that left your lips, he knew you enjoyed it. It made him glad; he didn’t want you to be in pain. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dragged one of your hands down his back, your nails reassuring him just how much you were enjoying it. He laced his hand through your other one and held it against the mattress, the cold feeling of your ring making his lips turn up into a smirk.

What good was it doing then?

“Rem,” you whimpered. “God Rem.”

He looked down at you and noticed you had tears in your eyes. “Do you... want me to slow down?”

“No, please don’t, please don’t,” you replied. “It’s so good.”

“Anything for you love,” he whispered, his breathing hard.

He rested his forehead on yours and continued as long as he could, which wasn’t as long as he would’ve wanted. How was he supposed to last long though? You were so warm, so soft, and extremely tight. The second you began pulsating around him, it was over. He came so hard he lost control of himself, his body collapsed on yours. For a few seconds he swore he couldn’t breathe, his eyes were squeezed shut. But he composed himself as best as he could and moved off you to throw the condom away.

When it was done, he laid back down next to you and pulled his sheets over your naked bodies. The realization hit him. You were no longer a virgin, and he was the reason. A sense of pride filled his chest, but along with that was a feeling of compassion. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“Aside from sore, nothing. It’s so strange, I always thought it would be a monumental moment in my life but it’s not. I’m still the same,” you answered.

He nodded. “I’m glad. So, you don’t feel any regret or anything?”

“No, do you?”

“Of course not, why would I ever regret shagging you?” He laughed.

You softly chuckled and looked up at him, your face red. “Sorry, that was stupid.”

“The sex or what I said?”

“What you said,” you replied. You turned your head and lifted your hands, a strange look on your face. “I suppose it’s time to take this off.”

“Oh, right,” he said, pretending to not care.

You pulled the ring off your finger and turned back to him, a smile on your face. “This belongs to you now, though I think I should take it home with me once summer comes. You know, so my parents don’t freak out.”

Remus took the ring from you, an indescribable feeling forming inside him. After everything, it was finally his. He’d imagined this moment many times, but never did he imagine just how victorious it would feel. The ring belonged to him now, his eyes shifted, and so did you. He placed it on his nightstand and smiled.

“I’m honored, thank you.”

You pressed yourself closer to him. “Out of every boy here Remus you’re the only one who deserves it, thank you.”

He placed a kiss on your head before falling back on the mattress, his eyes finding the ring once again.

He won.

~~~

The next day, despite still having agreed to keep things secret and unofficial, Remus did something that said the opposite of your relationship. He got ready for the day like normal, except for two aspects. One, he had to hold Sirius’s hair back as he threw up in the toilet from his hangover. And two, he wore a chain over his shirt and tie. It wasn’t just a chain though. No. It was a chain that had your ring dangling on it. He wore it like a prize, one for everyone to see.

He made his way down to the great hall for breakfast with a swing in his step and a small smile on his lips despite Sirius’s nagging to go back to bed. When he entered the great hall, he kept a straight face. Even when he caught your wide eyes, even when he heard Mary and Lily’s loud gasps, and even when James started to question him.

“You shagged y/n?” He questioned. “I didn’t even know the two of you were close. When did this happen?”

Remus only shrugged. “I dunno what you mean.”

It wasn’t until later in the day during History of Magic that he finally got a chance to speak to you. He felt a bit off as it was noticeable how uncomfortable you were sitting next to him. Lily and Mary gave him odd looks, almost as if they were disappointed in him. He didn’t care for their opinions though, yours was the only one that mattered.

“Hey,” he said after a minute or two. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you replied, not turning your head in his direction.

“Are you still sore?” He asked, his voice quieter. He glanced around the room, a few pairs of eyes were on the two of you, but none that had any real value. Still, he found it strange they were looking.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answered.

He didn’t exactly know what to say. “Great.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence filled the air, Remus didn’t know what to make of it. You were acting differently. Were you regretting what happened? He didn’t think you did, at least, you hadn’t made any specific indicators that you did. Suddenly, his eyes fell to the chain around his neck and the realization hit him. You were uncomfortable because of the ring being on display. He felt terrible. Without another thought on it, he tucked the chain under his shirt, the cold temperature of it comforting in a way against his warm chest. Then, he looked back at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his words genuine.

You bit down on your lip, your eyes still locked on the front of the classroom. “I- I don’t know what you’d have to be sorry for.”

“The ring I... I should’ve asked first before wearing it like this. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry for springing it on you like I did, really y/n I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable,” he explained.

“It’s fine.” You shifted. “But now... not everyone knows. And I... I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. You can tell me how you feel y/n, I would never tell anyone or judge you.” And it was true, he never would. He cared about you, more than he initially thought.

You finally turned your head to look at him. Your expression spoke for itself. You were hurt. It made something in his chest twist. “I suppose that I liked this being just... ours.”

“It still can be.”

“Can it? I mean, it feels like everyone knows now. Lily and Mary know, I assume James, Sirius, and Peter do as well. I hate the attention.” You fumbled with your fingers. “Did you... tell them anything?”

“No, nothing,” he answered. “Have you?”

“I just told Lily and Mary that nothing happened and that it was a coincidence. But... I don’t think they believe me,” you mumbled in a tone they couldn’t possibly have heard.

He licked his lips and sighed. “Then we’ll just both deny it, they can’t prove anything. I’ll keep the ring hidden and we don’t have to keep doing anything.”

Your face changed. “Oh. You don’t... you don’t want to anymore?”

“No, I do, but I thought you didn’t want to. Do you still want to?” There was hope in his voice. He assumed you wanted to be done, based on your body language at least. But the way you looked at him then spoke otherwise.

“I mean... yeah if that’s okay,” you said shyly, your cheeks turning red.

Ah, right again.

He couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. “So, we will, it’s settled.”

“It is.”

Victory was a good feeling. You were finally his. His to taint, his to please, his to use. He touched a hand to his chest and felt the ring through the fabric of his shirt. It felt good. Very good. And who knows, perhaps one day you'd be his girlfriend.

He looked down at you.

You probably would be his girlfriend.

He smiled again.

~~~

@misacc08 @whotfskai

#fanfiction #remus lupin smut #remus lupin #james & peter & remus & sirius #remus x reader #i love smut #smut #marauders fandom #marauders smut #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #marauders #remus being remus #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter #harry potter smut #sirius black #purity ring #smutty #i love this so much #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #gryffindor #innocence #lovers #james potter #lily evans #fanfictions #mary macdonald #cigarette

[shotmrmiller]

Sensual Domination

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

TW: dommy attitude, unprotected p in v, explicit smut, 18+ mdni

WC: 1.8k

You lightly knocked on Kyle’s door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He opens it, and before you even get to greet him, he holds his hand out in a stopping gesture. “Wait a moment.” Shutting the door behind him, he stands straight, head and shoulders above you, quietly appraising. 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet the woman who’s got Johnny and Simon wrapped around her finger,” his eyes slowly travel from your toes up, lingering on your lips. “You’re as lovely as Johnny said you were.” Oh?

With a mischievous smile, you ask, “Only Johnny? Does Simon’s opinion differ?” and Kyle chuckles. 

“No, love. Simon is tight-lipped when it comes to you, the possessive bastard. But enough of that,” his tone turns professional, countenance beguiling, “From the moment you step into my flat until we close the scene, you are to address me as sir, understand?” 

You feel a thrill of anticipation at his command. “Yes, sir.” The smile he gives you in response is absolutely mesmerizing.

“Good girl,” he purrs. 

Fucking hell.

You find yourself on Kyle’s soft, plush carpet in only a silken, short robe waiting for him to address you as he walks around your kneeled form. “Tell me what’s your safeword, love.” It appears that he catches on to your embarrassment, as he carries on with the conversation.

“Recognize that I will not continue until we establish the safety processes within the scene. So let’s try again, shall we?” Stopping his orbiting, he stands directly in front of you— his large, warm hand petting your hair. “Safe word?” 

A rosy hue spreads across your face as you whisper, “Pelican, sir.”

“Good. Y’know,” and he bends at the waist to cup your face, “I love it when your cheeks turn that color. Do you want to know why?” He waits for you to nod before answering, “Because I imagine what color your other cheeks would turn under my hand.” 

Kyle straightens and reaches out a hand to help you up, his gaze fixed upon you, taking in every detail. “How lucky am I, to have such a beautiful woman offering herself to me.” His hands cradle your face, thumbs caressing your jaw. The way he slowly leans in as your eyes slide shut, molding his lips to yours feels almost cliche, but you love it. Your hands grasp at his arms, and let out a mewl when his tongue comes in contact with yours, swirling against yours. He’s consuming you, sweeping you away. His lips were soft, in contrast to the stubble of his chin. Pulling away, he leaves you breathless as he starts peppering a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth down to the column of your throat, suckling a love bite on your delicate skin. “Open your eyes,” he murmurs against your neck, “and look at what you do to me.” 

Slowly, you open your eyes, tilt your head down, and notice the prominent tent in his trousers. Your heart slams into your ribcage in anxious delight, anticipation dancing in your veins. “How does it feel to know you have my full and undivided attention?” and with that, he begins to lead you towards the bedroom. He gestures for you to perch on the edge of his lofty mattress, gently guiding your hands to rest on your lap.

“I want you to picture this robe,” his fingertips skim on the neckline of the garment, “as your self-doubt, your fear.” Taking a step back, he fixates on you. “I want you to feel, that as you take it off, you are letting go of the fear that stands in the way of your pleasure.” With unsteady movements and shallow breaths, you undo the knot at your waist and begin to slip the fabric off of your shoulders when he covers your hands in his, a comforting touch.

“I need you to take a deep breath for me. In,” a pause, “out. Good girl. You’re safe here. I’m here to help you feel more. To breathe is to feel, and to limit breathing is to limit feeling. So take one more deep breath for me, baby, because I want you to feel everything.”

You take a moment to steady your breathing, allowing serenity to settle over you. He releases your hands, and you continue to strip until the robe is crumpled around your naked hips on the bed. Kyle’s eyes gleam as he takes you in, head tipping to the side, mouth curling into a soft smile. “You are so beautiful without your fear.” 

He approaches you and kneels, his face eye level with your cunt, slit glistening with your desire. His warm breath fanned over your lips, sending liquid fire through your veins, causing you to move your hips in a silent plea. “Look at me,” he commands and you meet his gaze, “If you close your eyes, I stop.” And he dove head first. 

Every tortuous swipe of his tongue tested your willpower. He flicks your clit with a pointed tip, broad strokes teasing your entrance, deliciously thick fingers pushing and curling at your gummy, squishy walls. His mouth and chin are slippery with his saliva and your arousal, your thighs shake at your impending climax, and your throat is dry from the stream of broken whimpers that have escaped your lips. The unexpected twinge from his tongue catching your bud, pressing it against the edge of his teeth is what tosses you over your peak. Your vision is blurry, muddling Kyle’s features as your walls convulse around his fingers. He must be pleased with you and your obedience because he smiles against your cunt as he helps you ride out your climax to the point of overstimulation.

With one last kiss directly on your sensitive clit, he pulls away and licks at sweet nectar around his lips. “Good fucking girl.” Kyle instructs you to get on the bed as he sheds his clothes. Crawling to you, he situates himself in between your spread thighs, pressing his thick girth against your puffy, soaked lips. “You with me, love?” Bobbing your head, a mewl slips out of your mouth when the flared head of his cock pushes into your snug, clenching channel. “Take a breath because now your only job is to feel.” He sinks inch by demanding inch, your muscles fluttering as they struggle to accommodate him. Through gritted teeth, he hisses, “Relax, sweetheart. Let me in,” he gives a couple of sampling thrusts and kisses you hungrily, swallowing your moans when he hits the right spot a few times. Hooking your right leg on the crook of his elbow, he whispers against your lips, “Surrender.” 

Your vision goes white at the pace he sets, firm and solid. Air is knocked out of your lungs with every thrust, your nails dig into his arms when he grinds down on your clit and he groans, “There are those claws.” He is unrelenting in his chase for your orgasm, clever fingers circling your swollen bud, and continues to shower you with praise. “You look so pretty taking me,” he coos.

Kyle grunts at the feel of your walls tightening around him and ups the tempo— the sound of skin slapping resounds in the room, along with the obscene squelch of your pussy as he fills you to the brim, and then some. “Let go, princess, I got you,” and the drag of his sizable length as he pants in your ear sends you tumbling over the edge. Your legs tense, and toes curl as your crest crashes into you, wave after wave of almost agonizing bliss. He growls at how tight your gooey walls squeeze him, like a silken fist, but continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Once he feels the rhythmic pulsing abate, Kyle snarls and pulls out, letting out pained gasps. 

“You almost had me there, love. On your knees.” He assists, of course, because you’ve been reduced to a puddle of flesh. “If you need me to stop, use your safe word. And just in case you go nonverbal,” he deposits his watch in your dainty hand, “you drop that, and that’s my cue to stop. Understand?” You sluggishly nod and then feel the heel of his palm meet the base of your skull, squeeze firmly, and grip slowly at the hairs closest to your scalp. “I’m taking full control, sweetheart. Brace yourself.”

The words barely slipped past his lips before setting a brutal pace, arse rippling with the sheer force of his thrusts. He’s yanking your head back with the firm grip on your hair, arching your spine at an angle that has him going deeper, and you think you feel him in your lungs, your throat. 

“Take it for me, love, I know you can.” The tip is ruthlessly pushing against the entrance of your womb, but the grip holding his watch is steady. He moans, and you feel his cock swelling to what feels to be an impossible size and gives you six more back-breaking thrusts, then stills, cock twitching and coating your insides with his essence.

He lets go of your hair and leans his weight on his hands by your shoulders as he catches his breath, and you can feel the drops of sweat dripping from him onto your overheated skin. Kyle gently pulls out, taking great care to not hurt you. He nudges you to turn around, and kisses your neck, adding another lovebite. “You did so good for me, love. How do you feel?” 

“I— uh,” you can’t form words, much less a sentence since your brain’s been turned to mush.

Kyle chuckles, “That good, huh?” He rests his forehead on yours, breaths mingling. “Let me show you off, yeah? And then after I can draw you a bath, scented candles and all.” 

“Er, okay,” a gentle exhale, “alright.” 

Price’s phone vibrates in his pocket, and he excuses himself from his client. His chest rumbles with a low laugh as he looks at his screen. It’s a photo of Kyle holding you by the neck in front of a mirror, your back to his front. Your skin is glistening with sweat, cheeks pink, and neck peppered with tiny bruises. 

She said she should be the one getting paid, at this point. 

Oh? Shameless little minx. 

Tell her I want to see her in two weeks, I’ll send as much as she wants. It’s high time I met Simon’s girl.

Pocketing his cell, he clenches his hands into a fist once, then twice, in an attempt to calm his exhilaration. He can’t wait to sink his teeth into you next.

A/N: kyle is king. period.

taglist: @rookiesbookies @waves-against-a-cliff

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick #cod smut #kyle gaz smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader smut #kyle gaz garrick smut

[lowkeyremi]

OK HEAR ME OUT! Reader who is a single mother of one of Aizawa’s students X Aizawa???? PLEASE I need it!

IM IN LOVE WITH YOU YES OMG I NEED THIS anon im giving you kisses rn

Aizawa x fem!reader (also your denki's mom bc why not)

A small sigh escapes your lips as you pull into the parking lot of your son's school, it's still early in the year and his teacher has requested to meet with you.

He doesn't even have to explain why you're here because you already have a good idea: Denki's grades.

You smooth out your skirt and double check that your blouse is buttoned all the way. Security stopped you at the gate which took around ten minutes to defuse, they honestly thought you looked too young to be anyone's mother.

Thirty-two is a bit young to have a fifteen year old but you know how it goes: unprotected sex = baby. It's the same old story, your boyfriend freaked out and dipped on you.

It made you proud Denki got into a school like this, your goal is for him to further his education... something you never got the chance to do.

Finding his classroom was a whole other situation. UA is HUGE. So poor you is walking around every corner looking for class "1-A".

"Are you lost?" A voice loud and energetic asked, it caused you to jump in your skin. When you turn your head you see blond hair sticking upward toward the ceiling and a pair of goofy shades. He notices your giggle and quirks an eyebrow.

"Are you a new student?!" The blond questions, his face is full of energy and excitement.

"No.. do I really look that young?" You ask, smile bright.

"You do look pretty young." As soon as he says that it dawns on him that you might be a younger mother.

"Ah- sorry! I just-"

"Don't worry about it. I was actually looking for class 1-A, my son's teacher requested to meet with me." His eyes widen.

"Don't you worry, I can take you to Eraserhead's class!" With that you follow him down a flight of stairs and you guys turn like four corners. Well damn, you were way off.

You had been too caught up into your thoughts to realize he stopped, you bumped right into him.

"Sorry." He gives you a soft smile, "It's nothing!"

He knocks loudly, "Oh, Eraser! You have a visitor!" The blond doesn't even wait for a response to open the door, he just bursts in.

"Well I've gotta go now! Take care Miss..."

"L/n, the name's L/n." A thumbs up is sent your way before the loud blond man leaves.

A deep voice causes your brain to stir, "Thank you for coming on such a short notice, Miss L/n."

And what the fuck because Denki's teacher has beautiful long black hair, stubble, and a little scar under his right eye. He must be married you assume, because no way a handsome man like him is single.

You respond with confidence in your voice, "Of course, I apologize for keeping you waiting. I got lost."

His face softens as he motions for you to sit on the chair he's placed by his desk.

"Understandable, UA is not small. Let's get down to business, shall we?" He sits at his desk, organizing some papers before handing you a few. You feared the worst, Denki always strived to do his best so you shouldn't have anything to even fear.

"My students have been under attack a few times by villians, we've spoke to the board about the situation, because parents are worried about their children." You were relieved this had nothing to do with his grades but it scared you that villians were out for high schoolers.

"I thought the attacks stopped." Aizawa nods at you.

"They have for the time being but we fear they won't completely stop, which is why UA is building a dormitory system to keep students safe. What I've handed you is the consent form for your son to live on campus. It's not manditory but it is highly suggested." He explains to you and you read the pages.

"How do I know Denki will be in good hands?" You ask biting your lip, it doesn't go unnoticed by Aizawa because his eyes flicker to your lips then back up to your face.

"I understand what it's like to lose someone close to you, which is why I put so much effort and care into my students, they may say and think otherwise but they don't see what happens behind the scenes." You could tell his words were sincere, it wasn't convincing enough though. You worry too much about him and just the mere thought of losing him is enough to scare you.

Aizawa leans in to place a hand on yours, it feels tingly.

"I know all you have is my word to go off of, but I promise you I will protect your son and all my other students with my life." His eyes burn into yours. You get lost in those beautiful black eyes.

"Uh- hah. I'll look over the papers."

In the end you sign the papers.

"Mom you have to tell me who's taking you to dinner!" Denki says for the millionth time over the phone. You call him almost every night to check in on him.

"It's none of your business, young man." You'd tell him when you were ready. Just... not now. He'd freak out if he knew you were going out to dinner with his teacher.

Before you left that day, Aizawa asked for your number. You happily gave it to him, there was no way in hell you'd miss out on a chance like that.

After a month of just talking (and flirting) he asked you out for dinner, you agreed of course.

"But mommmmmm why nottttttt?" Denki whined.

"I'll tell you when we're ready. Anyways I have to go. Take care, sweetheart." He sighs but tells you he loves you. "I love you too, Denki." He hangs up, leaving you to finish your makeup.

The plan was originally to meet at dinner, but Aizawa was not letting up until you agreed that he could pick you up.

Your hands were starting to sweat again. It's normal to be this nervous, right? Dating hadn't really been in your line of vision while raising a child. It seemed to be the same process: go out with someone, get along nicely, start developing real feelings, they find out you have a son, they leave.

It seemed refreshing to finally go out with someone who knew you were raising a young man. Waiting it out seems to have been the right choice. Aizawa is a mature man.

The door bell rings and you shoot up out of your seat like a rocket.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck, I look okay right?" It felt weird to ask your reflection, but self love is everything these days.

Your burgundy v cut dress was a bit on the short side, it hugged your body which made you a little insecure. You'd heard some women say pregnancy made them glow. You were convinced otherwise, it took you some time to finally feel beautiful.

Your walk to the door was dreadful, what if he takes it all back? Upon opening the door he was standing there in all his beauty. His raven colored hair was put up in a messy bun, his stubble cleaned up some, and he looked a little less tired. Your eyes inched down his body, he's wearing a white button up and black slacks.

"You're beautiful." The two of you say at the same time. Your eyes widen.

"Thank you, I was actually kind of nervous." His face softens at your words. The hero holds his hand out so you can take it. Just like the last time his hand was warm and made you feel tingly. You chuckled at how dumb that sounded, definitely sounds like something from a cheesy romance novel.

Dinner was a little awkward but beyond amazing. A waitress spilled wine on you, she apologized like a million times. You weren't mad though, having a son meant many messes were made... especially on you. The wine didn't stain that bad because of your dress color.

Aizawa offered you the jacket he kept in his car. Accepting it was a no brainer. He held it out for you and you gave him a confused look.

"I'll put it on you, come here." His voice was low and seductive. He noticed your smile. "You're so cute." He whispers as you put your arms in the jacket sleeves.

"Only cute?" Your question was followed by your signature smirk. The food was paid for, his hand wrapped around your waist and he walked you two to his car.

"Sexy, funny, chatty.... I could go on." He says with a smug smile.

"Oh stop it, I'm not sexy-" You don't get to finish your sentence, Aizawa twirls you around so you guys are facing each other. His hands rest on your hips for a second and in a flash he's cupping your face.

Your heart started beating a mile per minute... no second. He slowly pulls you in, those lazy eyes looking into yours. His lips look so kissable.

You pucker your lips and he presses his lips to yours, there weren't any fireworks or sparks like in Disney movies, it felt like he was one with you. Your body was connected to his in a way.

When the kiss is over he's staring at you, "you are sexy, I don't know who's lied to you."

__________

When he pulls into your driveway, you realize this date is almost over. Hopefully he'll agree to going out again. He seemed to enjoy the night as much as you did.

He walked you up to your door, eyes trained on you.

Your feet stop on your doormat. It felt like you were stuck in cement.

"Will I be seeing you again, Aizawa?"

"Call me Shota, and yes, I'll be seeing you again." He faces you and kisses you again. A sigh of relief escapes your lips.

"Call me." You say and he hums in acknowledgement.

Maybe... trying again at dating won't hurt you.

Hiii anon, I hope you like this!! I don't think this has been my best work but I think it shouldn't be that bad? Lol imagine how Denki would react when he finds out you're with his teacher. Love you guys, working on Teacher's Assistant ch. 1

#bnha #mha #aizawa #aizawa shōta #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x reader #aizawa shota x reader #shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader

[bubblebaththoughts]

Mating Press

aged up!Neteyam x Fem!Omaticaya!Reader

kinkmas masterlist

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut with some plot, mentor!Neteyam, p in v, very slight age gap. Neteyam is around 23 reader is 19, mating press turned into pronebone

translations:

Numeyu - Student

Karyu - Teacher

Syulang - flower

“You’re doing it wrong.” Neteyam’s voice dripped with disappointment “Do it again.” He pointed at your bow

You grimace, glaring at him as you readjusted your footing.

“Do you never pay attention to me during instruction?” Neteyam asked, making your ears twitch is anger

He sauntered over, coming close to you. He drops down to is knees at your feet, helping you to adjust your foot as he grumbled to himself. Then he stood up and stood behind you to gently maneuver your waist so you had the correct stance.

Neteyam brings his hands down to yours, using them to put your bow in the perfect position. “Now draw, and take the shot.”

You had been trying to aim for a yovo fruit that he had tied to a high up branch. Neteyam stepped back, out of your way.

Drawing back the arrow, aiming, and then Neteyam sighed, making you stop all of your movements. Your head slowly turned back to him, another disappointed look on his face.

“What?” You asked, careful not to move too much

“Don’t hold your breath like that.” Neteyam came closer once again, placing a hand on your ribs, gently pushing down on them, relaxing you. “One fluid motion, don’t over think it.”

“Draw again, and take the shot.” Neteyam pointed forward, stepping out of your way once again

You nodded, drawing the arrow back, aiming, this time you didn’t hear any disappointing sounds coming from Neteyam, so you took the shot.

“Did you get it?” Neteyam peered up, but the fruit was no longer in sight.

It was practically a race to get to the tree where the Yovo fruit was hanging, but there, on the mossy ground, laid the yovo fruit, now splattered on the ground, but your arrow perfectly through the middle. Its juices had splattered all over the other yovo fruits that Neteyam had picked for you.

A smile forms on your face as you pick the messy thing off of the ground, showing it to Neteyam. “Look, karyu! I did it!”

“Thank Eywa.” Neteyam crossed his arms, though a smile began to tug at his lips.

You roll your eyes, dropping the mess on the ground once more, taking the arrow.

“Shall I do it again?” You picked up another from Neteyam’s pile

“No, enough for today.” He gestures you to give him the fruit, you toss it to him and he catches it effortlessly

It seemed like it was always like that for Neteyam. Everything was always done so efficiently yet effortlessly.

“You did well today, numeyu.” Neteyam mumbled before he bit into the juicy fruit.

You watched the juices drip down his chin, the sweet smell of the fruit made your nose twitch, you hadn’t eaten anything today.

“You need to work on relaxing, hear me?” Neteyam began his lecture, just like every other day, it was always the same deal, letting you know all of your mistakes first and then telling you what you did well in.

He bit into the fruit once again before continuing, “Oh and you need to be quicker with your hands, when we were sparring, if I wasn’t someone who was truly trying to kill you, you would have been dead, you can’t always rely on your…” You drowned him out until you two reached the rest of the clan.

“And I’ll see you at dinner, right numeyu?” Neteyam asked, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“Yeah, sure.” You answered dismissively

“‘Yeah, sure’?” Neteyam asked, his voice going up a pitch as he mocked your dismissive words

“Yes sir.” You sighed, glaring up at him

“Good, you need some food in you. You haven’t eaten all day.” Neteyam shrugged

Your ears twitch in anger, it was his fault you hadn’t eaten yet today. He had gotten you up before the sun had come up gave no breaks today as he gave lesson after lesson.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” You fumed. Neteyam only added fuel to the fire when his face looked at you expectantly. You knew what he wanted, so you reluctantly spit out a “Sir.”

Neteyam curtly nodded, walking off gracefully to fulfill the rest of his duties.

You rolled your eyes, perfect Neteyam, with his perfect little life, and his stupidly perfect face. He was only about four years older than you, though he acted as if it were more like ten years. Claiming that because he remembered you being born, he was less of a tutor and more of your mentor or teacher.

You failed your Iknimaya, twice. So your father asked that you be helped, and of course, the Olo’eyktan recommended his own son to take the reins of your training.

Even in the beginning Neteyam was hard on you. He started your training completely over, starting you from where the younger kids usually started. He was more determined to have another win under his belt, than to care if this training was actually even good for your wellbeing.

Not to say it wasn’t working, it definitely was, it had just really taken a toll on you. Neteyam explained that this was his own method, he would train any and every second he got, and that’s why he passed his Iknimaya the first go around.

He liked routine, you would even go so far to say that he loved it. Any time you would find him veering off of his routine was all was an exciting site to see. He would get frustrated, so frustrated.

It wasn’t often that he would mess up his routine though, and rarely was it ever on purpose.

Which is why you were surprised to find him standing outside of your hut when you walked out for dinner.

“What are you doing here, Karyu?” You asked as you brushed past him

“I- I uh, wanted to make sure that you came down for dinner.” Neteyam nervously explained

You stopped dead in your tracks, turning slowly to face him. He had a concerned look on his face, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips pulled into a tight smile.

Neteyam? Nervous? Was the world flipping?

You eye him skeptically. “Why?”

Neteyam clears his throat, avoiding eye contact. “Just need to make sure my student is being nourished.”

Ah, he was just covering his own ass.

“Because you starved me all day?” You scoffed, turning back to continue your walk

“Because I care about you.” Neteyam defended, following you

“You just want another notch in your belt.” You state, anger flooded your words

“That’s not- No, that has nothing to do with this.” He grabbed your arm, holding you back.

You pull away from him, “Admit it, Neteyam. You are just doing this because you want another victory. Golden boy, right? Always does the best?”

Neteyam shoves you against a tree “You’re not going to speak to me like this.”

You wince, the tree bark digging into your back. “Neteyam!”

“I was trying to be nice, why must you be so obnoxious?” He held you against the tree, roughly

Your heart pounded in your chest, you were sure he could feel it as his hand roughly held you against a tree.

His hand is holding you against the tree by your neck “If I was a predator, trying to kill you right now, how would you get out of this?”

Only Neteyam would turn his own anger into a lesson for you, because of course he would.

“Get off Neteyam!” You whine, thrashing against him

He roughly shoves you against the tree again, “You need to grow up, Numeyu. I’m definitely not going to be there every time something or someone pops around a bush, you hear me? What are you going to do to get out of this.”

Unexpectedly you aggressively push him away while grabbing the hunting knife that was strapped to your chest. You hold it up, standing back in a protective stance, and hiss at him.

Neteyam stumbled back in surprise, a smile fell across his face as he regained his sense of control.

The two of you stalk each other, circling around one another as you hold your ground.

“So you have learned.” He spoke lowly “Such a good girl, aren’t you.”

He tried to step closer, but you were just as quick to step back.

“I’m not gonna hurt you baby.” Neteyam tried to ease forward once again but was met with another hiss

Neteyam seizes forward, taking the knife from your hand. “What are you gonna do now?”

You hiss again, circling him like he was prey. In a blink, you’re on him, taking him by surprise as you tackle him to the ground. Your arm under his chin as you held him to the ground.

“Cute.” He growled, immediately flipping you over on to your back.

One hand held both of your wrists in a tight grip. His bigger frame caged you in. Both of his thighs, each seemingly bigger than your own head, now on either side of your waist. His other hand held on to your chin as you barred your teeth at him.

“Such a fuckin’ brat.” He grumbled, pushing your head against the ground

You buck your hips against him, desperately trying to throw him off to no avail.

“Neteyam! Let me go!” You whined

He laughed, shaking his head. “Gotta do better than that, Syulang.”

You try to thrash against him, despite his hold on you.

He leans down to your neck, inhaling deeply. “You’re scared?” He tilted his head, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip

“No!” You cry

“No? Well… You should be.” He growled, leaning down to sink his teeth into your neck

Your scream was muffled by one strong hand across your mouth.

“Just relax… everything is just fine.” He mumbled as he pressed kisses to his bites

Tears began to well in your eyes, and you let out a low sob against his hand.

“Shush, pretty girl. Don’t cry.” He cooed, his lips moving against your neck

His other hand reaches down to your thigh, hiking it up over his shoulder for better access to you. He teasingly rubs over your loincloth, purposefully not giving you enough.

You can feel his arousal pressing against your thigh and it only adds to the slickness between your legs.

He stops, hid hand gently lying on your hip.

“Tell me you want this.” He demanded “I know your pussy wants this, she’s practically singing to me. But I want you to tell me you want this.”

You nod frantically “I want this.”

With one hand still gripping your hip, he reaches down and pulls your loincloth to the side, exposing your dripping core. He groans at the sight, unable to resist the temptation any longer.

He positions himself between your legs and slowly enters you, his length stretching you in the most delicious way. You moan loudly, arching your back as you adjust to his size. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep, hitting all the right spots inside of you.

As he picks up the pace, his hands move to your breasts, squeezing and teasing your nipples. The combination of his rough thrusts and his skilled hands has you moaning and writhing beneath him.

He leans down and whispers in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "You feel so good, so tight," he growls, his words only turning you on even more.

Without warning, he flips you over onto your stomach, your ass in the air as he continues to thrust into you from behind. His hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you, each thrust hitting deeper than the last.

You can feel the tension building in your stomach, the familiar feeling of an impending orgasm. He senses it too and quickens his pace, his grunts and moans filling your head.

You can't hold back any longer and with a loud cry, you come undone, your walls clenching around him as you ride out your orgasm. He follows soon after, his body tensing as he spills himself inside of you.

He collapses onto the ground beside you, both of you panting and sweating from the intensity of what happened. He pulls you close, your bodies still connected as you both catch your breath.

"You’re amazing," he whispers, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

taglist: @danniackerman @loaksslut

#bubbleskinkmas2023🫧 #avatar the way of water #avatar #neteyam smut #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #i want neteyam to split me open 🥰 #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x oc #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x reader #avatar neteyam #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam sully smut #loak sully #avatar jake sully #jake sully #jake sully x y/n #smut jake sully #jake sully x you #jake sully smut #avatar loak #loak smut #lo’ak smut #jake sully x reader #loak x reader #lo’ak x reader