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textmel8r · 1 month

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[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( fifth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , mommy kink , drug + alcohol usage , smut drabble , submissive toji , soft sex , profanity

୨୧˚ an; guys… i don’t know what took over me when i wrote this one….im sorry ,, also yes drabble time, you all knew this would happen eventually don’t act surprised 🙄🙄🙄

come over and show me then

The last message Toji had sent you. He was bold, heart racing just the slightest bit when he thumbed that frightening, little arrow icon to send a text that would most likely change his whole relationship chemistry with you. You, the kind hearted woman who graced him with your undying benevolence and wealth.

You, the woman Toji called mommy not even twelve hours ago during an idiotic, drunken stupor.

You, the woman who graced his bed, peering up to him with the softest gaze Toji’d ever been observed with. It was an odd sight–you splayed on his mattress. Dawning a lavish top; silken, Toji absentmindedly recognizes the fabric ( then proceeds to grimace at the fact that he can actually discern between different breeds of fabric. Your lifestyle was rubbing off on him ) and thinks you look out of place. An expensive jewel among the dank cave of his shoddy bedroom.

Toji crawls in after you, winding up your side, clinging akin to a baby koala bear. Still, he doesn’t speak, preferring to let the sounds of sheets sliding against each other fill the gaps of silence. You take his hulking body in those loving arms and break the quiet. “I’m not buying you for the night.” You cradle his cheek; you make him look up to you and Toji nods under your hand. “You know that, right?”

He nods again. “Sure,” and for once, it comes out without a modicum of sarcasm. Because Toji believes it when you tell him that you’re not looking to gain access to his body through flimsy transactions. Your sincerity is displayed through the months of torturous anticipation. Months of him on the cusp of begging–and Toji Fushiguro has never begged for anything in his goddamned miserable life. Your sincerity is displayed through the gingerness in which you hold his face. Because how could someone with such gentle hands ever tell a lie? And your sincerity is displayed through your words. You tell Toji things that nobody has ever told him before. Nice things, reassuring things despite his insistence on being an asshole to you.

Toji pushes his torso to be propped up on an elbow before he leans in. It’s not a tame first kiss by any means; Toji is mammalian in the way his teeth gnash yours and his tongue laves your cupid’s bow. “Slow,” you whisper in the short absence of his lips. “Slowly.” A command that he feels inclined to follow like some kept mutt, swapping out the animalistic pace with a more refined, controlled tempo. Your face was swallowed by two massive hands; they clamped on either side of your jaw, calloused and dry and forcefully pulling you closer. “Just like that, Toji.”

The way you say his name… Fuck. Toji grunts, swinging a heavy thigh over your own to situate between your legs. “I’ve never,” there's a pause when he leans in to suck the tip of your tongue, “been so desperate to be inside a woman.” His thick tongue worms back into your mouth, pushing smoky saliva down your throat. You were writhing; your hand slides over his, the one still tending to your cheek, and you guide it lower. He let you drag his hand down the smooth slope of your neck, over the hill of your delicate chest, across the plain of your soft tummy to meet the waistband of your designer pants.

Your head tilts, something devious glinting in the colored rings of your eyes that have Toji so enchanted. He plucks at the brass button of your pants, nudging the point of his nose to the high of your cheekbone. Breathing in the luxury branded perfume that overpowered the cigarette stench still lingering in his room from his morning smoke; evidenced by the stub crumbled in the glass tray on his wobbly nightstand. “What about the girl…Girl from last night?”

Toji smiles at the breathy question. “What girl?” He hums cheekily against your mouth, letting his tongue slip back through the seam of your delicious lips. You slap his face rather playful, but his breath hitches all the same.

“Dick.”

At last, he pops the button. The acrylic of your nails sink into the meat of his forearm, legs widening, ass shifting; all of the signs that Toji hyperfixated on. The way you tell him to keep going without so much as saying a word has him hotter than anytime another woman has begged for his touch in bed. Toji kisses you as he dips beneath the ajar slacks, then those sheer panties, slipping down to where you needed him most. You’re wet, he notes to himself. Wet, squelching and red hot when his thick middle finger sandwiches itself between the labia.

Both pairs of legs tangled together amidst the desperation. While Toji touches you, you’re hiking your leg up–the one snuggled between two of the man’s built thighs. It presses to his clothed crotch, and you reach around grab a handful of his ass. “Hump it,” you dictate, using his ass cheek as leverage to pull his hips down against your awaiting thigh. Toji jolts; never had his ass been grabbed like that, but he thinks he likes it.

So he grinds. His groin crashes against your leg with rough enthusiasm, so rough that it should be a threat to your poor femur bone. But he doesn’t let up. Toji’s arm tenses and shakes with exertion as he fingers you, forearm burning from the intensity at which he moves. But he doesn’t let up.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Fuck.”

What is he, some kind of dog? Chasing his high against a leg, licking your neck, barking obscenities into existence. Had you been anyone else, Toji would have had them bent at the waist over his bed, forcing their face into his lonesome pillow and taking what he needed. But you had this certain authority–you’d always had–as if you owned him. Not that you would ever admit that, nor did you believe it, but Toji did. You pay for his living quarters, his meals, his clothes, his car, hell, his time. The leash was cuffed at his throat, leather digging into his flesh, and he fucking loved it. Toji would wait for your instructions like a well behaved puppy.

“Take my pants off,” you utter, and it’s only then does Toji realize that the both of you hadn’t bothered shedding any layers, taking favor in rutting clothed bodies together like a couple of immature teens. His hips pause their humping, and his tongue finds one long, last lick to your jugular before pulling back.

Two thumbs hook beneath both layers of material at your hips. “Can’t believe you made me wait this long,” he mutters offhandedly, dragging your pants down.

You’re bare. His mouth waters at the sight of glistening moisture between your legs, encapsulated by a dusting of hair. Toji stares, nestled on his knees, straddling your thigh. He just stares.

“I told you my reasons,” you say.

He doesn’t respond to that. “I want to fuck you.”

Your chest rises. Are you arching for him? “Ask me.” When he cocks a confused brow, you lightly elaborate. “Show me some of that respect I taught you and ask me nicely.”

The sole of your foot caresses his pec over the black tee shirt he sports, a gentle notion that he is allowed to take his time. Toji doesn’t need time though; he’s got your twisted little request all figured out. It’s funny, he shouldn’t have expected any less. To him, respect didn’t exist in the bedroom, but Toji would make an exception. “Will you let me fuck you tonight?” You’re not letting him get off that easy, your pointed eyes say it all. So, in an uncharacteristically piteous voice, the man adds “please, ma’am” and strokes your calf for good measure.

That does it.

Your legs spread, arms racing up to coil around the thick post of his neck. He lets you pull him down, lets you kiss him tenderly, lets your tongue curl behind his teeth. Toji groans, reaching a sticky hand down to clumsily shove his sweatpants around his ass. “You have no–” kiss “idea what you–” kiss “you do to me–” kiss, kiss “when you call me that.”

His length drags over your core, hot and heavy and thick and raw. He doesn’t move to grab a condom knowing damn well there’s a box that sits in his nightstand to the left of them. A box that has been forgotten, left untouched in the waking months of his realization that he doesn’t want to fuck other people. Why would he? When you take such good fucking care of him, what’s the point in sleeping around anymore?

“Be grateful,” Toji husks, rubbing up against the warmth beneath him. “‘M never this nice in bed.”

“I’m not, either.”

He throbs at that. A small hand snakes behind his head, weaving into the raven shag of his hair, and tugs. “I really never meant for this to happen.” Toji narrows those steely eyes at you. “To end up in your bed, I mean. I thought I had more resolve than this.”

Too bad money can’t buy resolve, he thinks inwardly. Hand still between bodies, Toji jerks himself slowly, soaking his tip in your entrance. His gaze is glued to your face, flitting amidst all the gorgeous features it had to offer. “I knew I’d get you here eventually,” he speaks with a lilt of confidence, prodding the point of his nose to yours. And then he pushes inside without warning. You’re gooey; a hot, wet heat encasing his body from head to toe. He feels you shudder, feels nails in his nape. He feels your sticky breaths on his cheek, feels your pillowy thighs squish against his hip bones. Toji serves you the entire length in one slow thrust, holding himself inside. “Fuck.”

“Slow,” you warn once more in a broken voice. His hair was grabbed again, you used it as a makeshift handlebar to yank Toji’s head down. His handsome face plummeted into the divot between your breasts, still gift wrapped in that undoubtedly overpriced shirt. His nose pressed to your sternum, taking deep inhales.

Slow.

Slow sex was unfamiliar territory to Toji, one among the list of foreign concepts you had introduced to him during your time together. Fucking was animalistic practice between two people, fast-paced and greedy and surprisingly lonely. Toji fucked with the intention of climaxing; intimacy is irrelevant. Was irrelevant.

Toji slips a hand beneath your back, locking a grip on the underside of your shoulder to weld your chest to his face. Slow, timely thrusts met your cunt, watery squelches filled the room. “Oh, fuck.”

Your hands wander. Crawling down the base of his spine, breezing over his tail bone, clutching his bare ass. Guiding him in a way, and he doesn’t entirely mind. “My boy,” you moan in the throes of pleasure, a free hand blindly feeling for the back of his sweaty neck. Fingers stroke the precious skin there, sensitive flesh that nobody has ever paid attention to, not even himself. Toji trembles.

“Take it,” he whispers back, as if he still had any semblance of control. But you let him, and he thinks you’re too fucking nice for sparing his pride like that. “Take it, goddamn it.”

“Yes, my sweet boy.”

Idiotic. He is no longer a boy, nor does he even slightly compare to anything sweet. God, if you knew him. If you knew what he did for work… How many people he’s gutted and bled like livestock for quick cash… You would leave. He knows this to be a fact of life, you’re simply too moralistic and caring and selfless to keep in contact with a monster like him.

“Let mommy take care of you.”

Oh Jesus Christ, he’s done for. You wax praises so sincere that Toji starts to let himself believe he’s good. He pretends he’s worthy of being here with you right now in this bed, with your lithe fingers petting his damp hair and your breasts against his cheek, and fucks you harder. The toes of two socked feet bury into the mattress.

You successfully conquered his flimsy pride. “Mom… my…,” Toji breathes out, stifling down the impending whine caught at the back of his esophagus. He bucks deep inside, pubic bone to pubic bone, and grabs a handful of tit. So fucking soft even under this stupid shirt.

The sex plays out this way until the very end. A gentle tango that reminds Toji he hadn’t actually fucked in missionary position for some time. But at last, you came around him. “Toji, baby I’m here.” As if you were charged with electricity, you twitched and jumped beneath him. Toji fucked you through it, grinding his hips in a trajectory that caught your clit with his pubic hair. The friction was passionate, and you came with your jaw unhinged on a silent yelp.

“Give it to me,” he rasped, tongue lolling out to lick at your cleavage through your shirt. Drool rolled down the palate, collecting into a small puddle and dampening the fabric. A messy puppy, drooling all over you like that. Toji fucked harder, much too hard to be considered ‘slow’ anymore, but you didn’t stop him.

“Come on.” A hand dips beneath the collar of Toji’s tight shirt, scratching the ever loving fuck out of his upper back. “Cum baby boy.”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck.” The thrusts halt abruptly; Toji rams himself deep inside and holds onto you for dear life. There’s a brief pause before he empties himself into the deepest depths of your pussy, twitching as he does so. You coo, talking him through it with an inoffensive hand raking his bangs back. They stick, his sweat acting like a sort of natural gel, and Toji’s forehead is on display. You drag him up and press your lips to it—he flushes and drops back onto you, hiding in your neck.

Toji gasps on his come down, gulping in air through his nose. He’s weak and it’s strange. Despite the stupid amount of strength trapped within that Herculean body, Toji cannot find it in him to hover anymore. His entire weight drops onto your much tinier frame, but he hears no objections so he keeps himself there.

“Worth the buildup?” You ask at last, rubbing soothing circles into the plates of his shoulder blades. Your voice is a little strained, no doubt the effects of a two-hundred-and-something-pound man crushing your lungs, but Toji likes the funny grate of it in his ears.

“You already know the answer.” It’s written in the way your cum mixes together and wets the crease of his inner thighs. He’s not exactly going to say that was the most intimate and passionate sex i’ve ever had, but he’ll show you how much it meant to him by letting you cradle him to your chest.

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tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @xstom @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni

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churipu · 1 month

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Ipinnn hear me out. Gojo sees his gf reader (who is stoic, a typical intj lol) saved his contact on her phone as "pretty boy". Note: reader never calls him any petname. Not even babe. Please your take on this😗😗 this thought has been plaguing my mind.

An intj char>> Wednesday Addams

𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗬 𝗕𝗢𝗬 𝗘𝗫𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦 !

────── 𝕴 . featuring. gojo satoru x fem! reader

────── 𝕴 . warnings. nothing, happy reading :)

note. hi hi nonnie, i'm so so so so sorry for the late update on your ask. i know you had a follow up ask and told me that this isn't a request, but i really wanted to write one for gojo because, honestly, gojo, brainrot. yes. anyways, i hope you enjoy this <3

"baby, can i please borrow your phone? i need to ring nanami for a mission," gojo poked your cheek — a couple of times at that, his blindfold holding back his white locks like a bandana, "i forgot to charge mine last night, please please?"

you cocked your head to the side where your phone laid right by your thigh, "password's your birthday."

gojo almost choked on his own saliva at the sound of his own birthday being your phone's password. a small device that's somehow supposed to be your safe sanctuary. considering how you don't have the sweetest tongue, this was a big honor for him.

he dived right beside you, clicking his birthday into the password engine and like you said — it unlocked the phone. gojo spared you a glance, "'ts really my birthday? your password's my birthday?"

humming in agreement, you then felt his lips land on your cheek. grazing your skin gently, "i thought you knew?"

gojo shook his head, "i didn't, but now i do!"

the man respects your privacy like you respected his, and so like his earlier words — he placed the phone to his ear after clicking in various numbers. it took him a while to start speaking, specifically after the third try.

you just knew nanami was ignoring his calls.

gojo began scolding, supposedly nanami who was on the other line regarding his late actions in picking up the call (which was not a rare occurrence at all) — but dived back in the topic pretty quickly, mentioning a mission a couple of times along with the name of itadori yuuji, whom you vividly recognized as sukuna's vessel.

your boyfriend then ended the call after cheerfully marveling out a goodbye. and just then, like something dawned upon you, your eyes traveled to him, "can you help me send a message to you."

gojo raises his brow in apparent confusion, but he nodded anyways, "to me? about what? why don't you just say it to me now, baby? 'm right here, why do you have to send me a message?"

"because there are a lot of things i want to ask for the next time you go on a mission," you mutter.

he tapped on your phone screen a couple of times, eyebrows furrowing deeply, "baby, why aren't i in your messages? did you block me?" his heart dropped to his stomach when he showed you the phone screen.

you wondered why he never bothered on checking the various profile pictures that sat inside a small sphere right beside their respectable contact names — sighing, you grabbed your phone and showed him the screen again, "what do you mean? you're pinned, right there," you pointed your index finger towards the message at the very top.

gojo blinked his cerulean blue eyes vigorously, eyeing the contact. my pretty boy. with a red heart emoji he never saw you use along your messages to anyone, not even him.

but there his contact sat on the very top, with a nickname, and an emoji. his mouth formed a little 'o' and he looks at you, "you named me your pretty boy?" his voice came out delicate, as if he was still washed over in surprise.

nodding your head, gojo slipped himself into your embrace, leaning his head into the space in between your neck and shoulder blade. his soft breaths hitting your skin, "satoru?"

"'m so happy, i could die." he dramatically whispers, "i'm pinned, you gave me a nickname, and then a red heart emoji? baby, do you know how happy that makes me?"

he slightly pulls back from you, staring into your eyes as you slowly shake your head, wondering what has gotten into him this time.

"did you really think i'd name anyone else that when you're my boyfriend, 'toru?" you questioned him, poking his cheek, "you didn't even question about my pinned message too."

gojo leaned his forehead towards yours, "what can i say? it's not like you could cheat on someone like me, 'm too charming," he teases you with a small smile before pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose, resulting in you scrunching it up slightly.

"whatever you say," you tell him, "what i was going to tell you is that — could you bring me back a lot of kikufuku next time? you ate everything last time and i didn't get any."

he chuckles, "anything for you, and yes you did get a lot."

"if one piece out of twelve is a lot, then i'm sorry for being dramatic," gojo laughs softly at the sight of how serious you looked while saying the said statement, "why're you laughing?"

he shook his head, "you're just too cute."

"can you send the message now so you won't forget the next time? and pin it, please. i really want them," gojo tangled his slender fingers in your hair, brushing them back.

"baby, i could get them for you right now, you know that?"

"i know, but you seemed very busy today so i could wait until you finish a mission," you mumbled, hand on his arm, rubbing them up and down his skin, "didn't want to bother you today."

gojo frowns a bit, "you're never a bother, say it. come on, say it."

you eye him oddly, "say what?"

"that you want me to go get you some kikufuku, three box, six box, ten, a hundred, you name me a number and i'll get them for you right now." he cooed — he brushed his lips against the side of your face, "come on, 'm waiting."

breaking a ghost of a smile, you nod, "i want them now, two box. one for you and one for me," raising up two fingers.

gojo nodded, "two box it is, pretty boy express coming through," he finally pecked your lips delightfully.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #fluff #gojo satoru oneshot #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #female reader #satoru gojo

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3d-wifey · 11 months

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This is such a niche ask, but I saw that you do Mortal Kombat. Can I ask for some flirty intro dialogue? You know like the conversation the characters have b4 the fight? But like with a Goddess!reader who's basically Hecate? like a Nyx/Hecate fusion if that makes sense. Oh and can you do what some of her taunts would be? I feel like those and her fatalities would be illusion and tarot based :)))

Flirty Intro Dialogue

Pairings: Johnny Cage x Reader; Noob Saibot x Reader; Erron Black x Reader; Dark Raiden x Reader; Cassie Cage x Reader; Shang Tsung x Reader

A/N: (Back to using gifs for headcanons). This is just for the MK 11 timeline. Once MK 1 comes out, I'll do new ones. Had to do a little research fan fiction-wise for this one, but I got a good amount out (plus some taunts the reader would say during the fight). I put a lot of thought into the reader's backstory in the MK universe, even though it'll never be used lol. Please, feel free to request more of these characters or some intros for different characters. Maybe even request a one-shot? Who knows ;)

Behind the Scenes: You know how when Erron Black shows up in the intro, he's looking at a Wanted poster of his opponent? I feel like Goddess!reader has something like that where she's looking at a tarot card that's different for each character before it disappears into mist. Another opening is the reader strutting in shapeshifted into her opponent, before turning back. Her friendship fatality has her stirring a comically large witch's caldron and Noob Saibot pops out in a cloud of mist.

You: Jonathan Carlton

Johnny Cage: Sexy witch goddess.

You: I…Hmm.

You: I can feel the magic coursing through your veins. You are one of my Night children, Jonathan.

Johnny Cage: You don’t mean that literally, right? Because it would suck to have the hots for my mom.

You: (sighs) And what a waste.

Johnny Cage: Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming.

You: Do you dream of me often, Mortal?

Johnny Cage: Ohho, absolutely.

Johnny Cage: Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming.

You: (sighs) How many times must you make that joke?

Johnny Cage: You know you love it!

Johnny Cage: So…what are my chances of getting you into my next movie?

You: I’ve told you. I have no desire to appear on your “big screen”.

Johnny Cage: I was thinking we’d make a different kind of movie.

Johnny Cage: Goddess of dreams, huh? Can I call you Sandman?

You: You may call me whatever you please, dear mortal.

Johnny Cage: Oh, you do not wanna give me that kind of power.

Johnny Cage: Heard you and Shinnok had a thing.

You: A…thing?

Johnny Cage: You two boned! Get it? Cuz he’s a skeleton.

Johnny Cage: Tarot, huh? Card tricks are cool and all, but do you got any other witchy gimmicks?

You: I'm particularly fond of palm reading.

Johnny Cage: ...So what I'm hearing is, you're good with your hands?

Johnny Cage: You, Fujin, and Raiden go way back, huh?

You: Since the dawn of time.

Johnny Cage: (grimace) Yeesh, they've been friend zoned that long?

Johnny Cage: Not so fast, Hermonie.

You: Must you always spout such inane drivel?

Johnny Cage: Someone's been using their word-a-day calendar!

Johnny Cage: I've never met a non-evil Eldar God.

You: Evil is quite subjective.

Johnny Cage: I'll remember that next time I'm kicking one's ass.

Noob Saibot: My Goddess.

You: Bi-Han.

Noob Saibot: The shadows cling to your presence.

Noob Saibot: Many have wanted me to yield to their command.

You: Oh?

Noob Saibot: Only you have succeeded, My Goddess.

You: You are not touched by the Night, dear Bi-Han. You are shrouded in it.

Noob Saibot: What better way to show that I belong to you?

You: It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?

Noob Saibot: The shadows whisper your name.

You: (smiles) What do they say about me?

Noob Saibot: That your beauty is combated by no other. They speak only the truth for their Goddess.

You: You have been a steadfast worshiper, Bi-Han. How shall I reward your loyalty?

Noob Saibot: I only ask for one thing: to be your consort.

You: Hmm. That could be arranged.

Noob Saibot: I do not want you to be upset with me, but I will not take back what I said.

You: Your brother cares for you, Bi-Han.

Noob Saibot: Yet, here we are.

You: Why must we fight?

Noob Saibot: I wish to prove to you my might, My Goddess.

You: Oh, dear wraith. For you, my love is freely given. You have already earned it.

Noob Saibot: You're different than the other Eldar Gods. You...care.

You: Do you think me weak?

Noob Saibot: Never.

You: Care to spar?

Noob Saibot: I'd be honored.

You: Then don't take it personally when I beat you.

Noob Saibot: The shadows crave your touch.

You: Only the shadows?

Noob Saibot: I'll always long for you, My Goddess.

You: Do you fear me, dear Bi-Han?

Noob Saibot: I respect you.

You: (sigh) That wasn't a no.

Erron Black: You've got quite the pretty penny on your head.

You: Are you here to kill me then, Erron Black?

Erron Black: With a face like that, I wouldn’t dream of it.

Erron Black: You got any love spells up your sleeve, witchy? I swear ’m good for it.

You: Love is not something to take lightly. Who do you have in mind?

Erron Black: (smirks) Look in a mirror, darlin’.

Erron Black: You the Goddess of lust, by any chance?

You: That is not a purpose I was created to serve.

Erron Black: Pity. You’d certainly suit it.

Erron Black: You had something to ask me, beautiful?

You: Yes. What is “reverse cowgirl”?

Erron Black: (smirks) How ‘bout I show you the ins and outs after this?

Erron Black: ’M not usually one for marriage, darlin’.

You: Neither am I.

Erron Black: I don’t have to be the only one, as long as I’m your favorite.

Erron Black: You ever find out why Shinnok offed you?

You: I believe he wanted to turn me into his revenant bride. He became rather desperate after I declined his proposal.

Erron Black: (chuckle) Well, I guess I can’t blame the guy.

Erron Black: Why don’t you take a peek into ol’ Erron’s dreams? Swear you won’t be disappointed.

You: I’ve seen your dreams. I must say, you give me very generous proportions.

Erron Black: Then you must know I’m a very generous lover.

Erron Black: I've struck gold

You: How so?

Erron Black: Well, you're here, ain'tcha?

Erron Black: You cast a spell on me, Goddess?

You: I have not, Erron Black.

Erron Black: Do you want to?

Erron Black: How 'bout you and I see where the night takes us?

You: Do you think you can keep up?

Erron Black: Trust me. I may be fast on the quick draw, but I don't shoot quick.

Erron Black: You've got the magic touch.

You: A good deal of my powers flow through my hands.

Erron Black: I want 'em on me.

You: I’ve heard of how you…disposed of Shinnok.

Dark Raiden: After what he did to you, after how I mourned, I would behead him a hundred times over.

You: It isn’t judgment you sense in my voice. I would have killed him myself if you hadn’t beat me to it.

You: Do you still desire me, even as you are now?

Dark Raiden: If you need to ask, then I have failed to show you my devotion.

You: Hmph.

Dark Raiden: Will you abandon me too, my love?

You: It is not in my nature.

Dark Raiden: They do not deserve your blessings.

Dark Raiden: How have you…How are you here?

You: I sensed my presence was needed and returned to my corporal form just in time to be put in Kronika's void.

Dark Raiden: You could not sense how much I needed you, how much I mourned?

You: We are in such uncertain times, my vision is clouded.

Dark Raiden: I’m sorry for the part I play in your duress, my love.

You: You are only doing your duty. It’s how you’re going about it that leaves me weary.

Dark Raiden: How can you find such beauty in their shortcomings?

You: The Night welcomes all into her shadowed embrace.

Dark Raiden: You are wasted on them!

Dark Raiden: I was so lost without your guidance.

You: When I died?

Dark Raiden: When you were taken from me!

Dark Radien: How did Shinnok do it?

You: He lied to me and attacked me when I let my guard down.

Dark Raiden: (growls) If I could, I would bring him back to enact justice upon him once more.

You: I have but one wish.

Dark Raiden: Anything.

You: I wish for you to come back to me.

You: Is it true? What you've done?

Dark Radien: It was the only way.

You: You have lost yourself.

You: We've never fought before, have we?

Dark Radien: We never needed to for me to know you're the stronger between us.

You: Flattery will not save you.

Cassie Cage: You know, I think I’m finally understanding why Raiden lost his marbles.

You: How so?

Cassie Cage: I think I’d lose my shit too if someone like you was taken from me.

Cassie Cage: Are you a good witch or a bad witch?

You: I’m…afraid I do not understand.

Cassie Cage: Oh, you have got to let me take you on a movie date.

Cassie Cage: Who’s your favorite: Fujin or Raiden? Come on. You can tell me.

You: I’m a Goddess. Why would I limit myself to one lover?

Cassie Cage: You dirty girl.

Cassie Cage: What are you the Goddess of again?

You: (hesitates) …It would be easier to list what I am not the Goddess of.

Cassie Cage: (whistles) And I thought my parents expected a lot of me.

Cassie Cage: Come on, just one kiss!

You: I am older than you could possibly imagine.

Cassie Cage: An older woman. What’s not to love?

Cassie Cage: I heard you died. So, how are you standing here in all your godly beauty?

You: I have much power over death and the comings and goings of the Underworld. My soul simply dispersed there.

Cassie Cage: Yep. That’ll do it.

Cassie Cage: So…You didn’t happen to see that one dream, did you?

You: I’ve seen all your dreams, Cassandra. And I’m flattered.

Cassie Cage: (clears throat) …Right.

Cassie Cage: It’s a full moon

You: She calls to me and all who feel her light.

Cassie Cage:…You’re not gonna turn into a werewolf, are you?

Cassie Cage: You gonna turn me into a frog, Goddess?

You: It’s a possibility.

Cassie Cage: (shrugs) As long as you change me back with a kiss.

Cassie Cage: Heard you hung out with Jacqui.

You: Yes, though she didn’t mention you at all.

Cassie Cage: She is the worst wing woman.

You: You’ve come to my crossroads. Do you need my guidance?

Cassie Cage: Just wondering if you could teach me a trick or two.

You: So it’s my protection you seek.

Shang Tsung: Your beauty entices me

You: My power entices you.

Shang Tsung: Two things can be true at once.

Shang Tsung: Soon, you shall be my bride.

You: You cannot tie down a Goddess; you cannot tie down the Night.

Shang Tsung: I can try.

Shang Tsung: Do my powers impress you, Goddess of magic?

You: They certainly intrigue me, Sorcerer.

Shang Tsung: Allow me to give you a closer look.

Shang Tsung: Every time I invoke my magic, I do so in your name.

You: Your loyalty changes with the moon’s phases.

Shang Tsung: I devote myself to you, my Goddess.

Shang Tsung: I want something more valuable than your soul.

You: Such as?

Shang Tsung: Your love.

Shang Tsung: You forgave Shinnok, but not I?

You: I did not forgive him. He killed me when I refused to be his bride.

Shang Tsung: I will succeed where he has failed.

Shang Tsung: I kneel at your altar, my Goddess.

You: You needn’t prostrate yourself before me.

Shang Tsung: It is never a hardship to be on my knees for you.

You: Do you fear me?

Shang Tsung: I’d be a fool not to.

You: Then why challenge me?

Shang Tsung: You have the godly brothers on quite a tight leash.

You: I demand no loyalty from them.

Shang Tsung: It’s doubtful that they stray far from you.

You: Kronika spared me in hopes of using my powers. When I refused, she cast me into the void.

Shang Tsung: We have been similarly wronged by her.

You: That is why we must aid Luai Kang in defeating her.

Shang Tsung: You are the last Eldar God.

You: Yes. And I shall help Luai Kang in his creation of the new timeline.

Shang Tsung: Then this will be goodbye for now.

Taunts

You: The Wheel of Fortune comes for us all. You: Your future is uncertain. You: You cannot hide from the Night’s embrace. You: Knell in repentance. You: Your path ends here. You: You are lost. You: It is simply an illusion. You: You challenge an Eldar God? You: Will you make an offering? You: You are forgiven. You: I will lead your spirit through the gates of the Netherrealm. You: You shall not pass. You: Are you seeing double? You: Allow me to guide you.

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undressrehearsal · 23 days

Text

is it casual now?

chapter 1

summary: you and ellie agreed that this was just for a little fun - so what's the harm in her inviting you to joel's for a movie night?

word count: 2.3k

tags: nsfw, fingering (e and r receiving), angst, dub con?? i think?, does this count as public sex?, this shit's messy af y'all, mean reader, toxic relationship

a/n: i've wanted to write a fic based off this song for a while now. i've seen a few people write it (the song's a banger) but i only ever see ellie being written as the distant toxic one and tbh i don't think that matches her character so here's the opposite

also i hid a one last stop reference in here if you find it you get a prize (it's not hard to find)

if you wanna be tagged in the things i post, just lmk in the replies!

Joel was trying to decide what movie you should watch.

At least, Ellie thought he was. She could see the way his lips were moving - could even make out the words Dawn of the Wolf, whatever that meant - but she couldn’t actually hear him. She sat across from him at the dining table, nodding along, trying to school her expression into a pantomime of interest, but his words were drowned out by the ringing in her ears.

Your hand on her thigh crept higher.

Ellie shifted in the uncomfortable wood chair, uncrossing her legs only to recross them, and your hand didn’t move. You stroked slow circles into her jeans with your thumb; she would have thought it was absentminded if she didn’t know you so well. Ellie could see you in her peripheral. You smiled politely, nodding along as Joel listed off what movies he had found lately - it had become his mission to hunt for them while he was on patrol. (He always insisted that Ellie needed to be familiar with all the classics from before the outbreak.)

Somewhere past the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, Ellie heard Joel say her name. She blinked, shifted in her seat again, and replied intelligently, “Huh?”

He shook his head at her and laughed as he said, “Where you at, kiddo?”

She ran a hand through her hair, purposely avoiding looking at you - she knew she’d only find that shit-eating smile on your face. “Sorry, had patrol late last night. Yeah, that movie sounds cool.” She had no idea what movie he had suggested.

It didn’t matter much in the end. After switching off the lights, Joel sat back in his big old recliner (he’d looked like a fucking kid on Christmas morning when Tommy gave that to him), leaving the couch to you and Ellie. You leaned into her with your head on her shoulder; she had her arm draped over the back of the couch, not quite touching you. She was dancing a fine line between wanting to hold you and knowing you wouldn’t let her, but the tightrope was slipping from under her feet because you had put your fucking hand on her thigh again. She’d swear there was a damn magnet connecting your hand to her.

Ellie covered a gasp with a cough when your hand drifted between her legs. Your eyes were glued to the flickering television, but there was no hiding the small, satisfied smile on your lips. And she fucking hated herself for wanting to kiss it more than anything.

The tattered blanket you shared covered up the fact that the tips of your fingers were grazing across the seam of her jeans. Even the ghost of friction made her squirm, the movie becoming nothing more than white noise. You were too fucking bold, and her head spun when your nimble fingers undid the button and slid the zipper down so slowly it ached. When your fingertips dipped below the waistband of her boxers, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Joel. He was enthralled in the movie, and she couldn’t even pay attention to it; she hated herself for that too.

She knew she shouldn’t; she knew she should’ve grabbed your wrist, told you to stop so she could just enjoy the movie with her… with Joel. He’d been trying to plan a movie night with her for a week, and tonight she had finally been free from patrol. God, she shouldn’t have invited you, but when he asked if she wanted to bring a friend, of course your name had popped up.

She should have known it would be a mistake - an intoxicating one, but a mistake nonetheless. And when you dragged your fingers over her, pressing the lightest pressure to her clit, it took everything in her not to tilt her hips against your hand in search of friction.

Ellie bit down on her lip so hard she'd swear she tasted blood when you dipped just the tips of your fingers inside her. It was embarrassing how easy it was - how wet she already was and you had hardly even touched her. But when you circled her clit, your fingers already soaked, the shame burning in her chest evaporated. Her eyes fluttered, heat burning in her stomach, your touch setting her aflame. Her fingers dug into the back of the couch. She longed to touch you, to just wrap her arm around you and hold you close, press your head to her chest so you could hear how her heart reached for you.

Instead, she could only grip the couch behind your shoulder, gritting her teeth against the ache of it. You didn't even look at her, playing with her as though it were an afterthought, but there was no missing the smirk on your lips. She hated it; God, she wanted to kiss you.

Ellie didn't dare look at Joel - she didn't think she could handle seeing him so engrossed in the movie he had been so excited to show her while she sat only a few feet away, coming undone on his couch. She couldn't handle the shame rising in her throat again. If she looked at him, she was sure she'd be sick right there.

She tried so hard to keep it together - her hips ached from the force of holding them still, her lip surely cracked from biting it. Her chest burned with the moans she had to swallow like acid. But she couldn't keep it all in - it was overflowing. And when finally, the coil in her stomach threatening to snap, a low groan spilled from her lips, Joel turned to look at her.

Ellie didn't want to think about what he saw, but whatever it was, it made his brow pinch in concern. She couldn't meet his worried eyes when he said, “You okay, kiddo? You don't look too good.”

Your fingers hadn't even fucking slowed. You looked at her with a mask of concern, batting your eyes so innocently even as you pressed your fingers into her, curling them so you hit that spot that made her see stars. And then Ellie did grab you, gripping your shoulder in warning and glaring down at you. You wrinkled your nose, but relented and slid your fingers out of her; her grip tightened when you slid back over her clit. Fuck, she never should've invited you.

Ellie cleared her throat; she couldn't look at either of you without feeling sick, so she turned her gaze to the movie. What was it even about?

“Sorry, I just-” Her voice was strained, suffocating in her own throat. She felt like she was going to swallow her own tongue. The coil in her stomach tightened and she felt nauseous. She groaned again, and the words tripped over themselves in a rush when she said, “I don't feel good.”

Ellie stumbled to her feet, forcing you to withdraw your hand; when she glanced down, she could see that your fingers were wet and it made her stomach twist. Keeping one hand over her stomach to hide the fact that her fucking pants were undone, she hurried from the room, ignoring Joel when he called after her. She couldn't look him in the eye or else she might actually puke.

Making a beeline for the bathroom, Ellie slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, the wood cold against her back. She took a deep breath, counting the cracks in the ceiling until her heart finally stopped bashing against her ribs, her throat burning. Pinprick tears stung her eyes as she fixed her pants, her fingers shaking so hard she could hardly grasp the button.

Cursing under her breath, Ellie braced her hands on the bathroom sink, her shoulders sagging. Her eyes were rimmed red; she scrubbed her hands over her face roughly, willing her stomach to settle.

She shouldn’t have been upset, really. The first time your hand had found its way into her pants, all those months ago, you had made it perfectly clear what this was. She could still hear your voice from that night, saccharine sweet and smelling like the whiskey you had nabbed from her cabinet: Come on, Els, Jackson’s so boring. We can just have a little fun, right? She remembered the weight of your body when you climbed onto her lap, your thighs warm on either side of her hips, your hands pressing her back against the couch. She could still feel the way your breath had ghosted over her neck, your voice dripping with honeyed desire: It's just a little fun.

Her own eyes looked so unfamiliar, a stranger peering at her from the bathroom mirror.

Cursing again, she turned on the faucet, bending to splash water on her face - it was December and the water was so cold it numbed her hands. It was a welcome relief against her burning skin.

Ellie felt so fucking dirty it hurt. No matter how she scrubbed at her skin, rubbing it raw, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of it. The cold water stung her cheeks.

A knock on the door made her jump, cold water splashing down the front of her shirt. She cursed, pulling the damp fabric away from her chest with a grimace before calling, “Give me a minute, okay?”

But you had never been very good at listening, had you? You didn’t even look surprised when you pushed the door open, ignoring her protest, and found Ellie leaning against the counter, water still dripping from her chin. If anything, you looked almost amused, quirking an eyebrow at her. It was the look you gave her every time you got her worked up, your eyes showing the laughter you bit back. She fucking hated that look.

Ellie glared over her shoulder at you, but there was no real malice behind it - even when she hated you, something in her still softened when you were around. A switchblade girl with a cotton candy heart.

You closed the door softly behind you, leaning back against it with a smug smile that she wanted to wipe off your face - she just wasn’t sure how she wanted to yet. Ellie could hear how your ego tinted your voice when you said, “Joel sent me to check on you. Probably thinks you're barfing your guts out or something.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, looking away from you and mumbling, “Yeah, I guess dinner didn’t sit well….”

You scoffed and the sound went straight to her stomach. She felt rather than saw you step behind her; she tensed when you placed your hands on her hips, leaning forward to put your chin on her shoulder. Her hands gripped the edges of the sink so hard she thought the porcelain might crack. She could feel the heat of your body all the way down her back, your hips pressing into her ass, and her traitorous heart fluttered embarrassingly.

Ellie met your eyes in the reflection, watching as your smile grew into something almost mocking. You placed a kiss on the back of her neck, pressing your words into her skin: “Damn, Els, I didn’t know Dawn of the Wolf got you so hot and bothered.” Your fingers pressed into her hips, pulled her back against you. She failed to smother the sigh it pulled from her. She hated how it made your smile widen, and she hated even more how much she wanted to fucking kiss it off your stupid face. She shivered when she felt your teeth graze over her neck, and almost missed it when you muttered, laughing, “God, you’re so fucking easy, you know that?”

Ellie shoved away from the counter, spinning on her heel and grabbing your wrist before you could flinch away. You had only blinked before she slammed you back against the wall, praying that Joel didn’t hear it. Her fingers wrapped so tightly around your wrist she could feel your pounding pulse, pressing it to the wall above your head. She slipped her thigh between your legs, pressing up into you, and she only had a moment to register that smug fucking grin before she slapped a hand over your mouth. She relished in the way your eyes flashed in something akin to fear. She had to find wins where she could, right?

Leaning forward so her nose brushed yours, Ellie growled into the back of her hand, “Don’t make a fucking sound.”

And she did get to wipe that cocky smile off your face. She kept her hand over your mouth, releasing your wrist to snake her arm between your legs. She muffled your moans, hissing when your nails dug into her biceps.

Joel was in the next room, she thought distantly. Joel was in the next room, watching the movie he had been so excited to show her. He was in the next room, concerned about her, waiting for her, and here she was pressing her best friend into the wall of his bathroom. She had your pants around your ankles, two - three - fingers pushing into you. She could feel the vibrations of your moans against her hand - she wanted to press her lips to yours and swallow them, knowing you would never let her.

It came too fast, Ellie pressing into you relentlessly if only to make you fucking shut up for once. Your body shuddered against her, and she wanted to hold you through it, but by the time it was over you were already pushing her away. When her hand fell from your mouth, you were smiling again. Maybe she was going to be sick after all.

@filtered-sunlight

#are you proud of me that this isn't 10k words #idk how many chapters i'll write #i'm kinda winging it rn #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #lesbian smut #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams tlou #tlou smut #tlou angst #this is p angsty

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stevieschrodinger · 6 months

Text

So what if like the thing that makes Alpha and Omega pairs, true mates or whatever, is like a detectable thing that they can test for. And like, everyone has their little blood test at birth and then on say, their 18th birthday, the Alpha gets informed as to who their omega is.

Obviously it's a bit of a sexist deal and lots of Omega and their supporters are trying to get it changed so that both parties are informed, to make it fair, and that is getting some traction but right now, the Alpha gets told and the Omega has to wait for them to show up.

Except when Eddie, fucking excited as all hell to meet his Omega finally, opens his envelope to find Steve Harrington's name starring back at him and Eddie just. He just can't. Steve's one of the biggest bitches at Hawkins high. And even if Eddie can, sort of, get past that, Steve's a snob. He lives in a fucking mansion and has a nice car and preppy clothes and yeah...Eddie is going to get rejected stone cold and that would be fair because he doesn't have a single thing to offer and Omega like Harrington.

Eddie burns the envelope.

And yeah, he can't help but watch Steve a little more now that he like, Knows, but he does his best to put it behind him.

And Steve gets into a fight with Nancy wheelers new Omega, when Nancy gets her envelope, and it's not Steve's name inside and it looks like Jonathan came out on top and Steve...well, he looks beaten and sad and that nearly makes Eddie cave but...no. no.

Right up until he has Steve under his hands, pinned to a boathouse wall with a bottle to his throat and Eddie's been thinking of Steve has his Omega for so long it just kind of slips out. Eddie whispers it, 'Omega' and the bottle drops to the floor and shatters more.

And Eddie has to watch it play out from close range on Steve's face, dawning realisation. Deep hurt. And then anger. An angry shield that comes down as he pushes Eddie off.

"Dustin explain to Munson what's up, I'll be outside a minute.". And Steve just stomps out and there's fuck all Eddie can do about it.

And then he kinda gets distracted by hell dimension stuff. For a bit. And Steve's clearly fucking angry with him and Eddie, well, what the fuck is Steve expecting Eddie to do, right? Steve would never have wanted him in the first place. So Eddie is fucking angry. And it comes out spiteful, calling Steve 'big boy' like he knows it'll rile Steve up. Throwing his jacket at Steve so he will cover up, because he can't bare to look at all the skin Steve is showing, especially with fucking Wheeler hanging around. And if it got something of Eddie's on Steve, well then, it doesn't fucking matter does it? Doesn't mean anything.

And it's not until it's all done, and Eddie wakes up fucking high as a kite on pain meds, with non other than Harrington sitting by his bedside that it all slips out, "what are you doing here?"

Steve shrugs, won't look at him, "waiting to see if my Alpha dies, I guess."

And he just sounds so...bereft. so broken.

"Steve, I just...look-"

"Doesn't matter. You've made it clear. It's fine. And you're going to live I guess so I'll just-" and he's standing, turning to leave.

And Eddie knows Steve now. Sees him with the sheep. Knows he isn't a bitch. Knows he's just...a good guy. Knows he isn't any of the things Eddie thought he was.

"You grew up in a fucking castle." Steve pauses, sitting back in the chair to frown at Eddie.

"What has that go to do with-"

Eddie clears his throat, it's dry and scratchy and hurts but he has to do this. "You grew up in a castle. Nice car. Both parents. Preppy clothes, fucking, shitty fucking jock friends. Steve, you would have rejected me in a heartbeat. I live in a fucking trailer and sling drugs on the side I'm not- I couldn't do that to you."

And Steve just, he just starts crying. He nods, wipes his eyes, "I might have," he admits finally, "I don't know what I would have said...but I needed you. Since then I needed you so much and," he sniffles, wipes his pink nose .

"And I didn't know. I couldn't have and I am so sorry but could we just, now, can we just-" and it hurts like fuck but Eddie bites it down because Steve is half clambered into the bed next to him and yeah. Yeah, that's perfect.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #world building #ficlet #i write

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undercoverpena · 8 days

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when his eyes open

joel miller x f!reader | masterlist

summary: joel wakes and admires you and the morning.

wordcount: <600 warnings: joeticness, a little angst, a little twisty. an: dedicated to @joelscruff, who told me this was one of her favourite gifs when i asked for inspo for my first ever giflet. for info on giflet's, see @morallyinept's list here. gif credit to the wonderful, amazing @perotovar.

Before, the routine had been to simply make it through.

To survive another day in a place where crimson clings to clotted wounds, where weeds choke signs as rot consumes all that once lived.

There are names that linger on his lips. Indelibly stained, carved deep inside him. Never forgotten, each a raw wound with grief around them that throbbed incessantly. Each woven into the very fabric of his soul.

When his eyes close, a horror movie plays on repeat. Blood-soaked shirts and the crack in his voice when he shouts. The snarl in his throat when skulls shatter and bodies break. In these brutal moments, he found himself living again, in a way that's both savage and necessary, the violence a perverse affirmation of his existence.

Plagued—tormented.

Then he wakes, and the truth crashes down—it’s not a movie, but his life. A routine he trudged through for so long until he found this place. A place where sunrise doesn’t mean pack up and move. Where golden light caresses the room he’s been given, kisses the guitar that has built callouses instead of his gun. Light falls softly on things he’s crafted with his hands, hands that once only knew how to take and destroy.

Joel wakes in a room, inside of a home, that’s now his.

A younger him might have given more for the kindness shown to him. The sacrifices he made would have felt meaningful, the blood spilt a necessary price. But now, the weight of his sins, the lives he’s shattered, and the innocence long lost have left him hollow. Acts of kindness feel like a cruel jest, an echo from a life he can barely remember, a life he feels he no longer deserves. In this quiet dawn, amidst the gentle light, he is haunted by the shadows of what he’s become.

But he's tired, worn. The face that greets him in the mirror is now aged, beaten down, and scorched by the relentless elements. Not that you seem to care.

You, who, as his lashes lift and focus, he finds reading for the second time this week. Twisted away from him, the book tilted to catch the sunlight so you don’t strain your eyes. You’d traded for it, your thumb lifting the corner of the page before dragging it to the opposite side—so loud in the quiet.

Joel doesn’t need to steal a moment, but he does all the same. He’s so used to taking, after all.

He admires how the years have been a little kinder to you than they have to him. How you are a rare sweetness in a world that knows only bitterness. A thing that would have been coveted before and is now more than cherished. He appreciates you when his body doesn’t betray him, when age doesn’t force his eyes closed as his spine meets the bed. But when he can, when he’s able, he leaves marks that’ll last for days—a prickly burn on your inner thighs as you weave your fingers into the hair he’s not allowed to cut. When he holds you so tightly atop him, he knows you can trace the bruises he’s left.

You leave your own marks too. One of them from simply looking at him, showing him that smile—the one that could stop a younger man's heart.

He waits for another page to turn, eyes closing and reopening before he slides his palm over your knee.

Morning, you say.

Morning, he replies.

A new routine, one he doesn’t hate, yet it haunts him with its simplicity and its promise of a fragile peace.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #hbo joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x y/n

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thekinslayed · 9 days

Text

Thou Shalt Not Covet

summary | Aemond is displeased to find his wife alone with his drunken brother.

pairing | aemond targaryen x wife!reader, unrequited aegon ii targaryen x reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral sex (f), p in v sex, voyeurism, masturbation (m), angst, possessive aemond, aegon is kinda pathetic, Everyone Needs To Chill

wordcount | 5.8k

note | i owe aeg a written apology for this one, im sorry pooks </3 the idea for this came in a peach bellini-induced dream

likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! <3

(dividers by @targaryen-dynasty)

It was nearing the hour of the bat, you had been sitting on your vanity chair, brushing your long locks when you heard the door to yours and Aemond’s marital chambers open. You perked up at the sound, turning with a smile on your face to greet your lord husband. He had been called away to the Tower of the Hand as soon as supper had ended, dealing with urgent matters of the realm while the king was nowhere to be seen. You jumped when the man standing in your room was not Aemond, but your good brother-in-law, Aegon. His cheeks were flushed, his stance wobbly, no doubt from the amount of wine he had consumed tonight.

“Aegon!” You exclaimed. You quickly reached for your robe, covering your nightgown-clad figure to save yourself some modesty. “What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?”

The inebriated king jumped at the sight of you and the sound of his name. “Gods be good,” he said while steadying himself. He didn’t feel great, and the sight of you in your nightgown did nothing to ease his disorientation. He leaned a hand against the doorframe, rubbing a hand across his warm face, greeting you, “Sister.”

“Is something wrong, my king?” You asked, concerned with the faraway look in his eyes. You kept your distance still, wary of his grace’s well-known habits when deep in his cups. “If you are looking for Aemond, I am afraid he is still caught up in that meeting with your grandsire.”

“I just needed to get out, staying in these walls has given my mind no reprieve,” Aegon said with what you felt was an honest answer. He let out a heavy sigh, the corner of his lips dipping into a small frown.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I wanted to ask Aemond about his opinion on something important.” Aegon could scarcely remember the steps he had taken that lead him to your chambers, the small details of what he needed to say held in the slippery grip of his drunken stupor. The sting from his mother's hand on his cheek and the stabbing tone of her voice led him away from his seat in the council table, where he was needed, and into the tunnels that lead to the familiar path of his refuge. With a cup of ale in his hand and the boisterous ruckus of the alehouse, the king had forged himself a plan.

A ship to depart from the Bay by dawn. Essos. A crown for Aemond.

You were aware of Aegon being at the receiving end of his mother’s ire once more, no doubt escaping to his cups after their fight that had echoed through the halls of the Keep. You approached his leaning figure, coming to stand by the settee, patting down the cushions to invite him in.

“Why don’t you sit? Aemond might be back in a few, and you look like the slightest poke would send your face to the mud, brother,” you offered. Though your brother-in-law was far from being as proper and honorable as your lord husband, you worried for him. Aegon wasn’t perfect, yet it would be hard to deny that he has struggled to find his place in the family. You have seen the gloom that always clouded his purple orbs, one he had tried to hide when he had sat the Iron Throne and the Conqueror’s crown was placed upon his head.

Aegon did as he was told, sinking into the seat with a heavy thud and a groan. Silence encompassed the room for a moment, the crackling of the hearth filling in the gaps between you and the king. He could feel himself sobering up fast, the fact that he was sitting with his brother’s wife, his beautiful wife, while Aemond was away had him flustered, his senses fighting through the cloudy haze of the liquor in his system.

“Your husband,” he managed, “is he really as praiseworthy as mother makes him out to be?” Aegon queried, his tone casual and light. You approached the seat across from him, pulling your robe tighter around your figure as you sat down.

“What do you think? He’s your brother. You have known what he is like much longer than I,” you responded, smiling at him softly. Your head tilted ever so slightly when you studied the elder Targaryen before you, how his plump cheeks were flushed and the skin under his eyes held perpetual lines of exhaustion. Aegon let out a low hum, twisting his lips while he stared into the fire.

“Aemond has always been a good man. A bit of a brute, but a good man,” Aegon said, nodding, but then paused to consider his words. “I suppose I want to know…is he kind to you?”

“The most kind,” you smiled bashfully. The thoughts of your lord husband always brought about a warmth that painted your cheeks, especially the ones when his icy cold demeanor always melted around you, an occurrence he said was only possible with your power. A dreamy sigh left your lips as you longed to have him by your side at that moment, still eagerly awaiting his return from his duties. You turned to meet Aegon’s gaze, “I know it is hard to believe, but he is so good to me, your brother. I never expected our marriage to turn out this way. So… wonderful.”

A smile, slight at first, appeared on Aegon’s lips at the sight of your blissful face, whispering a small ‘good’, before returning his gaze to the hearth. Another beat of silence passed you before you spoke up once more.

“And you and Helaena? Is everything alright?” You asked, inquiring about the state of Aegon and his sister-wife, to which Aegon only gave a small shrug.

“You know Helaena, Inever know how she feels about anything,” he said with a rueful smile on his lips. You frowned at his words, feeling bad with how quickly his smile dropped once he finished speaking.

“Helaena, she…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words to approach the subject.

“She is so special. She’s not like the rest of us. She is bestowed with gifts that I don’t think any of us truly understand, nor can she fully carry the weight of. She needs someone to carry that weight with her, Aegon. I know you try for her, but it all just requires time. Give her time to open up to you, brother. Don’t force it out of her,” you advised. The king’s eyes sparkled when they stared at you while you spoke, attentive and awake. The corner of his plump lips quirked up at your words, breathing out a huff.

“She does seem fragile, doesn’t she?” Aegon said. You watched as Aegon fiddled with his thumbs, a twinge in your heart at the sight of him. It was no secret the king and queen had an unconventional relationship, with them being brother and sister, coupled with their utterly contrasting personalities. Even with children, Aegon and Helaena had never found their rhythm with each other, and the gaps in their marriage were only intensified whenever it was held in contrast to yours and Aemond’s marriage.

“How do you put up with his moods? Aemond, I mean,” Aegon suddenly asked with a small grin, eager to change the subject. “He’s not a pleasant man when he’s in a temper, to put it mildly.”

The surprise on your face was evident as the conversation shifted back to you, a small chuckle leaving your lips at his words.

“Oh, believe me, I have tried many ways to deal with that fiery temper of his,” you laughed along with Aegon. “I am no dragon, I find no use in fighting fire with fire, though it has taken a bit of creativity to tame that temper of his.”

A suggestive glint in your eyes twinkled as you spoke, giggling when Aegon let out a boisterous laugh in understanding. He was visibly surprised by his good sister’s candor, one he had not something he had expected out of you.

“And I bet you’ve been successful at it too, haven’t you?” He asked, cackling when you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

“Quite a bit, yes!” you agreed, a proud smile on your lips. Aegon shook his head at you, his shoulders bouncing with the laughter that bubbled from his chest.

The ease that flowed between both of you took Aegon by surprise. If only he could have more moments with you like this, perhaps he’d be a better man, a better king, even. No wonder Aemond had been so taken with you. His brooding brother had taken on a lightness to him since you had entered his life, one Aegon had first thought was quite bizarre to see in the one-eyed prince at first, but now he understood. You held the power to make any man change his ways with a single smile.

“Gods be good. That man is lucky to have you.”

Your mischievous smile turned into one of fondness at the king’s words, your longing for your lord husband growing all the more the longer he was missing from your side.

“No luckier than I to have him as my husband,” you responded, earning a low hum from the king. Large round eyes, ones he bore from his mother, turned to look at you, glimmering against the warm glow from the fireplace. You fiddled with your fingers with uncertainty when you caught the change in his gaze, the warmth of his amethyst orbs turning to that of hidden longing. You knew this wasn’t because of love for you, it couldn’t be. You assumed the king merely craved the stability and trust that yours and Aemond’s marriage had, but you couldn’t deny the way he looked at you at times, a look almost too similar to that your husband held for you.

It was best to probably dismiss your brother-in-law for the sake of being proper, but you just didn’t have it in you to leave him on his own for the night, not when the murky sorrow returned to his eyes, replacing the light your presence had stoked. You cleared your throat, the air in the room suddenly turning prickly.

“I’m sorry that Aemond is taking so long. Why don’t you lay for a bit while you wait, brother? The daybed is quite comfortable,” you offered. Aegon instantly refused, not wanting to impose in your own chambers.

“No, no, I should go. I will be alright, princess,” he reassured, though the way your face held uncertainty made him falter. There was no doubt anyone who would come upon him in the halls would immediately know of his whereabouts, with his messy silver tresses, half-open doublet, and the smell of cheap mead that he exuded. Hells, when did he lose one of his rings?

You managed to convince him to settle by the daybed, promising to wake him upon Aemond’s return. It took little effort for him to fall asleep, the liquor in his system quickly submitting him to the depths of slumber. You fetched some furs to drape over his sleeping figure, soft snores resonating from the daybed. A sigh left your lips at the state of the elder Targaryen, worried about how he had been coping with the weight of the crown upon his shoulders.

You were on your side of the bed, engrossed in your reading when your husband finally returned from his duties. You looked at Aemond in worry when he eyed his brother’s sleeping figure, his features immediately merging into one of anger and confusion after finding his wife and his brother all alone at night.

“What the hell is he doing in our chamber?” He asked, his tone harsh.

“Aemond..” You said softly, putting away your book before rising to approach him. Your arms came up to caress his biceps, soothing him. “He came looking for you, husband. Your brother is troubled, he waited for your return to talk to you about it,” you explained, hoping your husband would see reason and put away his anger, though his furrowed brows let you know that you shouldn’t get too hopeful.

“I don’t care what he was looking for. King or not, he should know better than to intrude on my wife,” Aemond said, his anger still not waning while his voice rose. He was about to say more when you squeezed his biceps, a frown on your features. His own immediately softened, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “You shouldn’t be around him when he’s like this.”

“I know, I know. But I was worried for him. I couldn’t just turn him away, my love,” you explained. Your hands drifted down to take hold of his fisted palms, making him unclench to let you take his hands in yours.

“I should have made you aware of his being here. He needed someone to talk to, husband. I told him to lie down while he waited for you, but I fear the wine has gotten the best of him.” You pressed kisses to your husband’s wrists, placing his calloused palms to cup your face. Your eyes met his good one as it studied you, your feet taking a small step closer to his warmth.

“Was there anything he told you?” Aemond asked. You both looked at his sleeping figure. Aegon's snores had stopped, but he still lay peacefully asleep on your daybed.

“He asked about our wellbeing but that was about it.” You half-lied. You thought it best to keep your conversation with the elder Targaryen between yourselves, something only you understood.

Aemond’s apprehension of having his brother around his wife was something he did not hide, well aware of his hidden desire and admiration for his lady. The thought of you and Aegon spending time alone in your marital chambers while he was away took all of him not to strangle his sleeping brother if it weren’t for your soft presence. He could laugh at the incredulity of the circumstances, his brother having clearly wasted no time to seize the opportunity in his absence.

The one-eyed prince stepped away from your grasp, turning away to rid himself of his day clothes. You bit your lip anxiously as he continued to spare glares at his slumbering brother. You approached him once more, standing in front of him. Your hands caressed his chest while he pulled you in by your waist, craving your touch after hours of being away. You planted a small kiss on his cheek for comfort, and another one on his lips.

“I think it best for you to talk to him, my love. You both understand each other the best, after all,” you said softly. Your husband let out another angry sigh despite your kisses. How sweet you were, nothing but goodness in the fibers of your being. In his heart of hearts, he wished it weren’t so, that this kindness was only reserved for him, your lord husband, that way he would be saved from the many who feel smitten by your charms, his own brother for one.

“I have no wish to even look at him,” Aemond snapped, looking away from you. He shook his head, knowing what he wanted to say, but being unable to bring himself to do it. “I just don’t like it. He looks at you, covets you.”

“Aemond..” you started, but you sighed as your husband gave you a warning look.

“I swear to you, husband. He merely came with the intent to talk to you tonight. He was proper with me,” you promised, cupping his face in trying to reassure him, but his sharp jaw had stayed clenched. Your face dropped, frowning when he still refused to look at you.

“Darling,” you beckoned. You dipped your head to meet his gaze, a silent plea of understanding in your countenance when you stared at each other. You watched Aemond study your face with a cold glint.

Seeing your husband still aggravated by your current situation, you knew you had to do something to calm him, lest he did something irrational to the sleeping king in your midst.

Tentatively, you pressed your lips against his in a kiss. You felt him soften ever so slightly, deepening the kiss when his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb tracing over your cheekbone. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against your husband’s, his hot breath fanning over your face.

“What was that for?” Aemond asked, his tone still hardened.

“Missed you,” You mumbled against his lips, kissing him once more. It was quick to escalate, with Aemond taking the lead. His tongue prodded its way into your mouth, exploring your warm cavern while a whine emitted deep from your throat at your husband’s ministrations. You felt his hands wander down to your waist to settle on her arse with a firm squeeze. Breathless you pulled away, though your husband’s firm grip bid you to stay pressed against his chest.

“I do not want this happening again,” Aemond said quietly, a hint of anger still in his voice. His jealousy flared, a heat rising in his head that inhibited him to think clearly. It was irrational, and he hated that it was so, but he did not know how to let it go.

“You are my wife,” Aemond practically growled. You nodded at him obediently, whispering, “I am all yours, Aemond. Always,” before surging forward to kiss him again.

“I love you,” the prince said as the kiss broke. “I am yours, and you are mine.”

You had barely reciprocated the words before Aemond was kissing you again, this time more urgent and passionate as you grew more heated. His lips traveled to your neck, sucking and kissing while his hands gripped you behind. You had almost let your eyes roll back into your skull in pleasure when you barely remembered that Aegon still lay asleep in your chambers.

“Darling… Your brother….” You trailed off, barely getting the words out while your husband pressed his growing stiffness into your center. “He is still sleeping there, my love.”

“Let him watch if he wants. It’s what he does anyway,” Aemond said, his voice coming out with barely any volume to it with his face still pressed into your neck. He had enough for the moment, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on forever.

“Aemond,” you warned, an unsure glint in your eye. You weren’t sure if this was some sort of sick power play your husband was doing to assert his possession over his wife to his brother, but you were still apprehensive about the whole ordeal. And yet, the heat that pooled in your center coupled with the look the silver-haired man held before you was making your rationality jump out the window.

The longer you made your husband wait, the more you saw his temper rise again. You quickly kissed him once more, letting your lord husband do whatever he wanted for the night. You pushed the idea of being intimate while Aegon lay asleep and risked being watched when he woke into the back of your mind, focusing on her and Aemond alone. It would be a lie to say the idea of getting caught and watched didn’t excite you at all. The idea of your prince asserting his possession over you in front of another man made you feel heated, wanted, and highly desirable. After all, Aegon was fully asleep anyway.

Time to get creative.

Aegon was in fact, not asleep. He had woken up the moment Aemond returned, but continued to lay with his eyes closed upon hearing his brother’s anger at his intrusion. He knew if he were to awaken there was a good chance of a big fight breaking out between them, perhaps of Aemond even killing him right then and there.

And so, he continued to pretend to be asleep while he listened to Aemond’s rage and his wife’s attempts to soothe him. Even with just listening, the elder could tell how easily the lady’s soft demeanor warmed his brother’s cold one. His heart thumped wildly against his chest, forcing his eyes to remain shut.

Amidst hushed whispers, his ears perked up in curiosity when he heard a wet smacking, then another, and then another. Hushed whispers again, and then the sound of kissing continued once more. From where the daybed was situated in their chambers, Aegon only needed to crane his neck slightly to the side and crack his eyes open just a hair to see you and Aemond in a passionate embrace. Despite the darkness brought about by the dying embers of the hearth, he could still see how his brother’s hand wandered, squeezing and caressing his wife. He saw how you kissed him with such passion, one he was unsure any lady had ever done with him. Jealousy burned within him, while heat pooled in his chest at the sight of the two lovers. He was a fool to continue to listen, to witness what was before him, but Aegon couldn’t find the strength to look away. What the king wouldn’t give for her to be doing that to him, to hold her in his arms. He was sickened with desire.

The younger prince led you to the bed, where he bunched up your nightgown to your hips before descending his lips upon your core. Aemond had an inkling that his brother would awaken, a sick desire to show the king what was his overwhelmed him. Lost in the depths of the mindnumbing pleasure that devoured your wit, you were none the wiser with your husband’s little game. He was wary enough to cover your bareness with his body, though the sweet sounds emanating from your lips were hard to stifle. Still, your husband had no complaints.

Your husband was like a man starved, devouring your sweet ambrosia like it was the water that gave him life. You bit back the mewls that threatened to escape your mouth, though your efforts were futile as they only grew in volume with your impending release.

“Aemond, the curtain,” you mumbled before a moan cut off your words. You reached out to the curtain hanging from your bedpost, urging your husband to cover you for the sake of decency. If he even heard your word, he paid them no mind while he continued to fuck you with his tongue. His nose nuzzled against your pearl, the sparks of pleasure shooting from your nub sending you into a dizzying haze. Your release washed over you like the tide, and you had barely been granted a moment of reprieve to see if Aegon had been disturbed before your husband had freed his cock, sparing no second and breaching your walls.

You threw your head back into the feather mattress, a breathless whine escaping your lips as he rutted into you at an unforgiving pace. Your hands clung onto your husband’s shoulders while you willed yourself to stay mindful of the noise, yet you couldn’t help the soft whines of your husband’s name that left your lips, much to the one-eyed prince’s delight.

Aegon’s cock strained painfully in his breeches at the sweet sounds you were making for his brother. His hand twitched to rub at his bulge, and he subtly covered his lap with a cushion to pleasure himself. From his view, he was only granted the sight of his brother’s back while your legs wrapped around his trim waist, but the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin made Aegon’s skin tingle and his cock jump against his palm. He rubbed himself in tandem with the rhythm of the bedframe’s creaking, praying that the darkness of the room made it so that neither of you would catch him in the act.

Aemond surged forward to meet your lips in a kiss that was a mess of teeth, tongue, and spit. His pace remained relentless, determined to make you fall apart on his cock while his brother helplessly watched. One quick look behind him and he had seen Aegon, crowned king of the Seven Kingdoms, pathetically jerking himself off to the sight of him fucking his wife. Aemond may have once coveted the crown placed upon his brother’s head and the glory that came along with it, but for once he had something his brother wanted. Nothing else would ever come above the warmth of your embrace and the sweet nectar from between your thighs. As a second son he would be bestowed no lands, no legacy, and no other glory, but what more would a man need than a wife who sang the loveliest melody while he split her open with his cock?

Your nails dug into the hard planes of Aemond’s back as he drove you further into your second peak. It was all overwhelming, the caution of keeping quiet, the mind-numbing pleasure of your prince’s cock driving into your cunt, and his grunts of pleasure in your ear, coupled with the electrifying sparks of his thumb playing with your pearl.

“Do you like this, dear wife? Making me fuck you while your king lay asleep in our chambers? Is this what you wanted, hm? Is this what you wanted me to do?” Aemond growled in your ear, punctuating each query with a harsh thrust. You could only whine and whimper in response, while the warmth in your belly only grew higher, and higher, until it spread all over like cold water, making you spill around Aemond’s cock while you moaned in ecstasy.

Behind you, Aegon bit his lip harshly as he spilled into his breeches, the sounds of your release driving him towards his. He pressed his face into the cushion to hide his panting, his skin growing heated with the humid air of sex that filled the room.

Aemond soon spurted his own seed into your core, the pulsing of your walls milking him dry while his thrusts slowed. He collapsed on top of you for a moment, breathing in the scent of your damp skin while he caught his breath.

“I love you.” He said against your skin, this time without the anger behind his words.

You caressed your husband’s hair while he continued to lay on top of you, equally feeling as boneless with his weight engulfing you comfortingly like a blanket.

“I love you,” you whispered in response. “There is nothing else I desire for in this world other than you, my love.”

Aegon felt an odd twinge in his chest at your words. For a moment, just a few seconds, he fantasized you had uttered those words to him, and you were his.

After regaining your senses, you lifted your head slightly to take a peek at Aegon. From the view where you lay, it looked to you that the king remained peacefully asleep despite you and your husband’s activities. Though the darkness in the room betrayed you, making it hard for you to actually see the tear that had streaked down his cheek.

“I guess that didn’t wake him up,” you mused. Aemond merely hummed in response, his face still buried in the crook of your neck.

“No, he can sleep through anything. Must be nice.” Aemond said quietly. He bit back the smirk at your blissful unawareness, moving to lay on his back before pulling you to his chest.

“Will you promise me that you will talk to him? On the morrow?” you asked, looking up at him with hope. Your husband nodded, sealing his promise with a kiss on your forehead. He pulled the covers over the both of you, rubbing your back while you drifted off into slumber. Your husband held you tight through the night, pleasantly satisfied.

You remained asleep when Aemond had gotten up just as the sun broke through the horizon, pulling away from you to prepare for his morning training. After getting dressed in his training clothes, Aemond approached his brother’s sleeping figure on the daybed, nudging him awake. He threw a spare training jacket to Aegon, which covered his confused face, dazed with exhaustion.

“Get up,” Aemond said coldly, eyeing his brother with indifference. “You’re going to train with me.”

The kind did not appreciate his brother's prodding. He would have preferred to sleep for another hour if Aemond would allow it, but he also knew his brother rarely allowed things that he, himself did not have a preference for, and so Aegon rose from the daybed with great annoyance, and a deep sense of contempt. He let out a groan when he stretched his aching limbs, the exhaustion from the previous night still coursing through his muscles. Aegon had been talking a little too loud for Aemond’s liking, who turned to his brother to quiet him.

“Shut it. Do not disturb my wife,” he hissed, eyeing your sleeping figure when you slightly stirred. Aegon rolled his eyes at his brother’s order, though obediently changing his dirty doublet for his brother’s gambeson.

“You’re one to talk about disturbing others in their sleep,” the king grumbled under his breath. Aemond merely let out a breathy chuckle at his brother’s words.

This idiot. Subtlety was never his strong suit.

While Aegon finished up the last buckle of his garment, Aemond kneeled one knee on the bed to lean over your sleeping figure, planting a small kiss on your forehead. You let out a small dreamy hum in response, still deep into the throes of your slumber. Aemond pulled up the furs to cover you better, before turning to Aegon and leading him outside.

The morning air was crisp when the brothers descended the steps to the training yard. Few littered about, mostly servants running around in preparation for the day. The surprise in their gaze was undeniable at witnessing their king awake so early, the sight of him in the training yard with his brother clearly not a usual occurrence.

The brothers sparred together, or rather, Aegon was pathetically dodging his brother’s attacks while Aemond swung at him with a skilled ease. It was clear there was a tension between the two, one they were both well aware of the reason why. With only a few hits in, Aegon had already begun to pant, the years of his negligence in his sword training catching up to him quickly.

“I hope the satisfaction you get from this helps to quench the fire in your cock, brother,” the king taunted, heaving.

“There’s only one person who can quench the fire in my cock, and it certainly isn’t you,” Aemond retorted, indifference coating his tone but a smirk decorated his lips. “My wife tells me you had something to say to me. What was so important you chose to intrude on my wife in the middle of the night?”

Aegon held up a hand in defeat, dropping his sword carelessly into the dirt before bending over to lean his hands on his knees. He took deep breaths while he willed himself not to vomit, the wine in his stomach not settling well with the strenuous ordeal he found himself in so early in the morning.

Essos. His crown for freedom. All of those now seemed like a faraway dream, with the way his brother looked down on him with an unhidden contempt, the effort would be completely futile.

“I thought we could talk, as brothers. Yet standing here in front of you know, I see that is far likely to happen, Aemond,” Aegon said, resignation in his tone. His brother scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Talk,” Aemond said, his voice filled with sarcasm. He let out a small chuckle, grabbing a rag to wipe his sword.

“We can talk,” Aemond expressed, his tone carrying a feigned lightness that perturbed Aegon. “Just not about your little obsession with my wife, brother.”

“My obsession?” Aegon responded, incredulous. He looked at Aemond in utter disbelief, who continued to clean his sword calmly.

“If anyone is obsessing about someone here, Aemond, it is not me. You are too quick to anger, too riddled with jealousy of me that you cannot stand for me to be in a room with her. I would almost think you were afraid of being bested by me,” Aegon said, his lips curling into a sneer. His brother halted in the middle of his wiping, the hand holding the hilt of his sword gripping the handle tight. Aegon gulped at the sight, wary of the younger’s growing temper. Aemond turned to the king, narrowing his good eye at him.

“I do not fear you, Aegon. Do not pretend,” he said, an eerie calmness in his tone. Aegon took a careful step back as his brother stepped forward, crossing his arms behind his back. “I wouldn’t give a shit about you being around her if I didn’t know your damned thoughts about her. She is mine.”

Aegon’s clenched jaw mirrored Aemond’s. His brother’s words left him with no reasonable defense. His affection for his brother’s wife was now out in the open, and he feared the repercussions.

“How do you know what I think of her? What makes you think I even want her?” Aegon responded, anger in his voice.

“It is because I know you, Aegon. You are predictable, you grow wide-eyed at the first thing that you believe would grant you the smallest ounce of affection. It is pitiful, really, especially for a king,” Aemond sneered. Any snark rebuttal Aegon had died on his lips as he shrunk in the weight of his brother’s gaze. The younger prince’s stare was piercing, jabbing through Aegon’s skin, prodding at his bare bones. “If I see you making eyes at her again, I swear to it, there won’t be enough blood left in your body to even cry to the gods that they might spare you.”

Aegon could only stare at his brother, his response sending a chill down his spine. He had never feared the younger prince before, in all his physical prowess and ruthlessness, but as they stood in the quiet yard, he had begun to falter.

“All this for a woman, brother?” Aegon asked, voice low as he could only stare at his younger brother. Aemond huffed, standing tall over his king.

“Yes,” Aemond said. “Over this woman.”

But I am your blood, Aegon wanted to say, but he could only stare.

“Don’t take it personally, brother. If any other man were standing in front of me, I would have said the same thing,” Aemond said, tilting his head mockingly. The one-eyed prince ignored the nagging in his consciousness, one that resembled his mother’s stern voice.

‘We must protect our own,’ she would always say, though as her sons now stood face to face, they couldn’t be more of a threat to each other. Perhaps he had gone too far, but he couldn’t let the fucker have more than he deserved. He already had the crown, the Conqueror’s name. He loved his brother, the gods know he did, but he would breathe fire onto the seven kingdoms if it meant it kept you by his side.

Aegon could only sigh in defeat, kicking a small pebble by his feet as he sniffled.

“She is all yours, Aemond, do not fret. You have made that very clear. I shall take my leave, this conversation has certainly been the most… fruitful,” Aegon said, smiling sarcastically. The elder turned before Aemond could respond, walking back into the Keep.

Watching Aegon walk away, Aemond pondered on the weight of his words, what this would mean for you and for Aegon, realizing too late what he had failed to do.

“Fuck,” he said beneath his breath. He closed his eye exasperatedly, stretching his neck backwards to face the sky. “My wife is going to kill me.”

#bella writes ✍️#this is queued #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegond #targtowers #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #hotd #aemond fic recs #aegon ii fic recs #ewan mitchell #tom glynn carney #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aegmond

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hurlingdown · 11 days

Text

need you (top male reader, nsfw)

tags: zoro being drunk n needy, and a tease, fingering, slight feminisation, tit-sucking, overstimulation, reader edging both zoro and himself in the process, zoro NOT being a pillow princess, creampie, bit of cockwarming, that's it

It wasn’t often that you got to see him like this.

Zoro pressed his hard-on against your abdomen, making a low, needy noise into the crook of your neck. You held in a leer as he clumsily rocked his hips against your crotch, thighs clenching around your hips, trying to get you hard and ready for him to ride.

You chose to feign nonchalance. It was always more fun when you made him beg for it. “What’s the special occasion, hm? I smell sake.”

Zoro mumbled your name, borderline whining, “Not the point.”

“Yeah?” You grinned. “It’s part of your routine at this point, no? Drinking, sleeping, training. I don’t think you need anything else to keep you satisfied.”

It wasn’t like you were angry with him. The time you spent together had been barely existent in the past week, with him busy perfecting his swordsmanship in the day and falling asleep immediately when you came to join him in bed. On lazy days he would be sneaking alcohol from the kitchen to drink, and then dozing off—but none of these activities involved you.

It wasn’t like you were angry—just slightly irritated that maybe he had forgotten about you. But it didn’t matter now, did it?

Zoro sat back on his haunches, eyes wide with defiance. “No, no—” He leaned in, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. “I need this—need you.”

You kept the kiss as chaste as possible (if it even was possible, as he tried multiple times to stick his tongue into your mouth), hands moving to his waist to gently tug him back, ignoring his red, flushed face, drool almost trickling at the corner of his mouth. One kiss was all it took to reduce him to a mess. It was always a sight to see him drunk and needy, eyes hazy and lips parted, begging for you to take him right there.

Not today, though.

“Why’d you—stop?” Zoro panted, hands tightening on your shirt to pull you into another kiss, only to frown petulantly when you held him still. “What? What is it?”

The corner of your lip twitched as you hid a sadistic smile.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re—” Zoro’s eyebrows scrunched up, and he made a face. “And I’m not in the mood for—” He hiccups. “—jokes.” He grinds his front against the hard outline of your cock, letting out a brazen moan, as though proving his statement.

“I’m not joking. I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re always in the mood.”

“Not today,” you told him, not even bothering to be apologetic as Zoro continued to helplessly grind against you, showing you how much he needed this, how badly he wanted it. “And that’s a biological reaction, it means nothing.”

“Babe,” Zoro whined. “I’m—please—fuck, there, I said it!” He looked at you expectantly, as if he thought you were conditioned to respond to all his requests with one word.

You looked at him, amused. “You thought I wanted you to beg?”

“You didn’t?” Zoro frowned, confusion taking over his features before the possibility of you really not being in the mood dawned on him. Humiliation washed over him, and as though he wasn’t red enough already, a steady blush travelled down his neck and into the dip of his yukata, and if you were a weaker man, you would have ripped it off long ago to bite and suck at his huge chest until he was shivering with overstimulation, nothing but broken consonants of your name slipping past his lips. “Why now of all times? You’re, hngh—a cruel bastard.”

“Am I not allowed to not be in the mood?”

You grinned at him as he blinked back the tears gathering in his eyes, so painfully hard only to have you deny him of his birthright.

“I got all ready for you,” Zoro muttered, glaring at you, “and this is what you do to me.” You were careful not to let any excitement show. After all, he had gone and prepped himself for you. He had probably laid on the bed with his hand between his thighs, three knuckles deep inside his tight hole and still pushing one more in—lifting his head with difficulty to watch them go in and out, in and out, feeling so full and yet not enough.

“How about,” you suggested, smiling at him innocently, “you get me in the mood?”

“What—how?” His head felt light from the alcohol, his mind was fuzzy, and all he wanted was that fat cock pounding so deep in him that he couldn’t even register the question. “Oh.” He swallowed. “I could.”

Zoro got up from your lap, albeit a little pettish, and slowly crawled onto the bed. He slid his yukata over his shoulders to pool around his knees, revealing strong delts and a scarless back, save for the almost-faded bruises and love bites littered all over—the remnants of a heated night. Your eyes chased the bead of sweat that trickled down between his shoulder blades, down, down, down—until it reached two firm globes that you wanted to squeeze, or maybe spank them until they were red and aching, until he cried. Zoro canted his hips back to show you the wet, stretched-out hole between them, clenching and fluttering around nothing as he gave a pitiful whine into the pillow he held.

That was when you realised. He had chosen a promising position, folding his arms and arching his back, pressing his tits onto the soft mattress, a keen, heated gaze thrown over his shoulder to make sure you were watching him. Presenting the most vulnerable part of himself to you.

You were so fucking hard. But you weren’t going to give in so easily.

Zoro, seeing as you gave no reaction, spread his legs a little wider, squirming on the sheets to settle into the right pose. He laid the side of his head on the pillow so you could watch, and then staring dead into your eyes, shoved three fingers deep into his mouth and moaned shamelessly around them, as though imagining it were your cock. He coated them with saliva as he slurped them, his blissful expression implying that he was sucking at anything but his fingers.

You swallowed harshly as drool dripped down his face and onto the pillow, but he didn’t seem to care, only stuck the tip of his tongue out, sliding it between his middle and ring finger, as though mimicking the way he would toy at the slit of your cock.

Fucking hell. You were moments away from ripping off your pants and pounding him senseless, but then apparently Zoro decided his fingers were wet enough—he pulled them out from his mouth, sticky spit drenching them. Reaching back, he deliberately made a mess as he slapped his fingers against the pink rim of his tight hole, the action making a wet, lewd sound, biting back a moan as one of them slightly dipped in.

It wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough. It wouldn’t matter if it was three fingers, four, five—the whole fucking fist—it wouldn’t matter unless it was your cock. He wanted it so fucking badly, but there you were, sitting there like a fool, not giving him what he wanted when he needed it the most. Zoro whines out your name as he shoves two fingers inside, impatient as usual—his hole clenched around them, unused to the sudden intrusion.

Zoro’s cock hung heavy between his legs, untouched, as his other hand obediently supported his weight. He added one more finger, shuddering as he pressed against his prostate, good but not big enough.

“Please,” he pleaded, the last of his dignity thrown out the window. “Need you so bad, ‘m gonna die.” He raised his head to give you one last look—face red and teary, lips red from being bitten so hard to suppress his moans, and you fucking lose it.

In mere seconds, you had thrust to the hilt and Zoro had barely any time to adjust to the size, mouth forming a silent scream as his eyes rolled back.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, finally—” he cried, hips meeting your thrusts as unshed tears streamed down his face. “More, harder—ah!”

You repeatedly nailed his prostate from behind, setting an absolutely punishing pace as you brazenly groaned out his name, uncaring if anyone heard the two of you. “Zoro, fuck, so good, so good for me, so tight—”

Zoro pushed back against you, always greedy for more, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets as he panted and whined into his pillow. Normally that wouldn’t do, but you would deal with that later—not now, when he was clenching down on you with every thrust, crying out profanities that would send a whorehouse to shame, “I’m yours, fuck me—hnngh, ah! Fuck me with your—cock! Use me, ruin me—”

“Fuck—Zoro—stop that, it’s too soon—”

Zoro craned his head to snarl at you, clenching down harder if anything, “I’ll fucking kill you if you come before me!”

“Well loosen up,” you snapped back, pounding into him harder and deeper, as he sobbed at the new angle, pleasure swelling in his core.

“More, fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuuuuuuck,” he cried, eyes glossed over as he whimpered, “I need more!”

“You’re barely hanging on—” you groaned as he thrust back against you just right, making you see stars. “And you're asking for more—?”

“Just give it to me, harder—”

Little moans and whines were punched out of him with every thrust as the wet slap of skin against skin and sick squelching sounds filled the room, and you pulled out all of a sudden, watching him scramble to get back on your cock with a displeased growl, he was so fucking close, and still, and still—

You took the opportunity to grab his hips and flip him onto his back, ramming your cock back inside—a direct hit against his prostate, at the same time wrapping a hand around his cock and giving it a hard, firm jerk, thumb digging into the slit—and then Zoro’s coming, locking up tight, clenching down hard on your length as he damn nearly howls your name, eyes crossing and tongue lolling out, body shuddering with the force of his release.

“I’m so close, fuck, Zoro, Zoro—” you moaned, hands positioned on the back of his knees, spreading his legs wide as you continued to fuck into his used hole, making his toes curl and his nails dig down your back, bordering on overstimulation.

"Too much—I can't!" he cried, tears leaking out of his eyes as he struggled to keep them open. "Just fucking come already—"

You slammed into him harder, making him choke on a moan. You had originally planned on going easy on him, but you guessed he wasn't planning on walking tomorrow anyway.

“Come inside,” Zoro demanded, weakly glaring up at you as he dared you to defy him, despite panting heavily and still shivering from his body-wracking orgasm. “Wanna feel you.” His cock hung limply between his legs, jolting every now and then as you pounded into him, but it was going to take a while before he was fully hard again.

You bent down to take his tit into your mouth, sucking at it like a lifeline, like you expected something to come out of it, and Zoro whined, trembling, his tight hole practically wringing you dry as you continued to nail him into the sheets, intense pleasure flooding your senses as you bit and sucked at his chest, the need to mark him up as yours overwhelming you.

“Gonna come so hard, fuck, s’tight, s’good, mine, Zoro—”

“Love you—”

That did it for you. His lips parted and you dove forward to kiss him, bending him in half as you did—cock stuffing him to the brim while you keened, vision whitening out as you moaned shamelessly into the kiss. As you pumped him full of your come, he clenched hard around you, trying to keep it all inside him.

“Love you too,” you gasped belatedly, panting.

You shuddered as you felt Zoro’s legs lock around your waist, stopping you from pulling out.

“Keep it in,” he muttered, eyes drooping. “Take it out in the morning.”

You watched with fascination as Zoro fell asleep within seconds, snuggling back onto the pillow he had moaned and drooled all over earlier, and you wondered how it was possible for someone who had been so insanely erotic to shift back into his usual sleepy self in a matter of moments.

Chuckling to yourself, you pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead and settled down beside his sleeping form, making sure to plug him up properly with your cock and not letting even a single drop of your come spill from his hole. masterlist!

#yay my debut work on tumblr #top male reader #dom male reader #zoro x male reader #roronoa zoro x male reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x male reader #top reader #dom reader #male reader #x male reader #bottom character #roronoa zoro #bottom male character #one piece smut #no beta we die like ace

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heroinnne · 2 months

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“so, do you actually like me?”

you ask suddenly, breaking the silence that was between you and miguel in the kitchen as he prepared pancakes for a late night snack.

“come again?” he say sarcastically, flipping the pancake to the other side.

his back is facing you but you can hear the smirk in his tone.

you huff in response, but repeat yourself, “do you actually like me?”

it’s not like your question was along the same lines as ‘would you love me if i was a worm?’ or any late night silly thoughts, you were actually asking him.

“y/n, amor,” he sighs, “we’ve been together for what? four years? and we’re getting married in three months. of course i actually like you.”

you roll your eyes at his answer — unfortunately for miguel, it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

“no, dumbass.” you say, and he whips his head around at the name calling, but you don’t pay mind to his dirty look, “do you actually actually like me?”

he scoffs, “i just told you that i did — ”

“no! i mean, do you actually like me? like why do you like me, you know? why are you so dumb?” you say, crossing your arms.

once more, he decides to ignore the name calling, “i think you need to get better at your wording, sweetheart.” he says and you scoff, “answer the question if you still want the wedding to be on.” you threaten and he laughs.

he pushes a pancake on a plate, “well if i had to talk about why i like you, we’re gonna be staying up the whole night.”

“flattering but not satisfying.”

he chuckles as he pushes over the plate of pancakes to you, and sits next to you by the counter.

miguel was never too good at expressing his feelings in words — the best he was at was calling you pet names and bringing you gifts every other day, but talking? nope, not his field of expertise.

but for you, he’d try.

“let’s see,” he hums, “i like the way you call my name whenever you want something”

“i like the way you get all flustered whenever i bring you a gift, even if it's something as simple as chocolate. I love the way you always tell me you love me whenever you just wake up, i love the way you kiss my forehead before we go to bed, i love the way you run your fingers through my hair after i’ve had a long day at work and you’re helping me relax — why are you so silent?”

he asks, afraid that he has been doing bad, but when he turns to look at you, you have tears in your eyes.

“i’m gonna cry.” you say, your voice wobbly as you wipe away at your tears and he laughs, holding your hands to stop you, “good tears or bad tears?” he teases.

you sniffle, “good tears.”

“amor.” he chides, and the realization that you two are about to get married in three months, that you’re already engaged to him, that you’re his and that you will always be his, dawns on him.

he smiles and pecks your lips softly, “i love you for the long term.”

you laugh and smile and peck his lips back,

“i love you for the long term too.”

#heroinnne writes #silly little drabble #marvel #marvel headcanons #atsv #atsv headcanons #atsv drabble #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara headcanons #miguel ohara drabble #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara x reader

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sometimesanalice · 1 month

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Make Me Your Masterpiece

Summary: Bob credits you for helping him to find his new hobby. And when he asks if he can you paint you, you find you quite like the idea of being his muse.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, smut, and basically an ode to Lewis Pullman’s hands (mdni)

(Author’s Note: smutty fics are the new friendship bracelet, spread the word! Happy Birthday, Ames! 🎉 @laracrofted)

You’ve always had a thing for Bob’s hands.

They were one of the first things you noticed about him that day at the coffee shop almost a year ago now.

You’d been reaching for your iced vanilla cinnamon latte when a big hand had wrapped around it just a half of a second before you could grab it. Which you wouldn’t have minded admiring them for a moment under any other circumstances, but after an endless string of meetings you’d been in a dire need of a caffeine fix- and not the weak stuff that people brewed in your office’s communal coffee pot.

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” the coffee thief backpedaled.

The next thing you knew you were looking into the prettiest pair of ocean blue eyes.

The two of you were startled out of the moment when the barista called out the next order as they’d set it on the counter.

By some kismet or fate, they had been a matching set. But instead of embroidered towels, it was his and hers coffee cups with your names written on them in a hasty scrawl.

Realization dawned over his features as he gave you a sheepish smile, “Think this one might belong to you, Miss.” He spun the coffee until he found the spot with your name. That little smile becoming a full grin as he’d said it aloud before passing the cup to you.

The hands had been good, the eyes had been great, but Bob’s smile directed at you had left you weak in the knees.

You’d been a goner right then and there.

And while you’d ended up almost ten minutes late to your next meeting, you’d also gone back to the office with his phone number written on a cardboard coffee sleeve that was tucked away safely in your purse and a date lined up later that week.

As it turned out fate had a name and it was Robert Floyd.

Barely twenty minutes into your first official date with Bob, his ears had turned a delightful shade of pink as his anxious fingers straightened the silverware on the white linen tablecloth of the Italian spot he’d taken you to. He’d fessed up and apologized as he came clean, telling you that he’d purposefully ordered the same coffee as you in hopes of getting to start up a conversation with the pretty girl who’d been standing in front of him in line.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, since you looked busy. But I didn’t want to miss my chance,” he’d confessed over candlelight.

He’d told you how he’d only been at the coffee shop because he’d recently returned from a deployment and was fighting the jetlag that came with adjusting to being back on Pacific Standard Time, and that he normally preferred tea but he needed something with a bit more to it to get him through the day.

Instead of getting up and taking the bottle of wine to-go as a consolation prize, like you would have if it had been anyone else, his genuine earnestness had charmed you instantly. And you’d settled on having a second date with him before the first one had even really started.

You only let him sweat it for about thirty seconds before you took pity on him. With a light fingertip, you traced along one of the veins on the back of his hand and simply asked, “So other than being a meet cute mastermind, what is it that you do for a living, Bob?”

It was the best first date you’d ever had.

For your second date with him, you’d bought tickets to a ‘Paint and Sip’ event at a buzzy new bistro in town your friend had told you about.

You weren’t an artist by any means, but during that dinner date his antsy fingers and expressive hands had clued you into how nervous he’d been. You’d found your eyes drifting to them on more than one occasion. Partly because they were so enticingly disproportionate to the rest of him, but also because you couldn’t look him directly in the eye for too long without feeling your face heating up.

You thought it would be a good way for the both of you to work past the getting-to-know-you jitters, something that would keep your hands and eyes occupied enough to relax a bit more and have fun together.

Although instead of the seascape class you’d thought you’d signed up for, you’d willingly paid $86+ tax to watch Bob’s lithe, long fingers delicately grip a paintbrush in a way you thought was going to make you lose your mind.

You’d spent the whole first hour trying and failing to mix the perfect shade of blue before giving up when you’d realized that the man next to you, in addition to having really great hands, was also very good at painting.

Bob had seemed surprised by that too because he’d kept flushing that wonderful shade of pink that had quickly become your new favorite color every time you complimented his piece.

He had steady, capable hands. But you were quickly learning that everything about Bob Floyd seemed that way. There was a quiet confidence about him. He didn’t shy away from the way he’d openly observed you, like you were a riddle he was enjoying learning to decode.

You’d never known a man to be so attentive until him.

Bob’s tongue was peeking out as he’d worked on adding some wispy clouds to the top of his piece. You weren’t even sure what step you’d technically stopped at before you’d given up to watch the visual feast of him painting instead. Only halfheartedly adding random bits to your canvas along the way to make sure it wasn’t totally blank by the end of the session.

You’d been so zoned out watching him create that it was like a slow-motion sequence in a horror movie. You’d reached out for your wine glass, lifting it to your lips to take a sip, it had only taken you a split second to realize it wasn’t the full-bodied red you’d ordered that was coating your tongue, but the murky, gritty paint water instead.

Mortified, you’d looked over just in time to see Bob’s empathetic wince. You’d been hoping to fly under the radar, but it had turned out that you’d had more than one set of eyes on you.

“And we officially have our first casualty of the evening, folks,” the instructor cheerily announced to the group, “The rest of you can breathe easy now!”

You wanted to be able to laugh at your own expense, but you’d groaned as you buried your face in your hands.

It was not the way you saw the night going. You wanted to be dazzling, you wanted that pivotal third date with him. But now you were the girl who drank paint water whose canvas looked like it had all the same efforts as an enthusiastic fourth grader.

Bob’s hands had gently wrapped around your wrists before he’d pulled them from your face. And then he’d leaned in close, taking your chin in his hand and kissed you squarely on the lips, his tongue dipping in and sliding against yours to taste the acrylic pigment from your surprised mouth.

“Huh,” he’d said, contemplatively. He’d pulled away only far enough to look into your eyes and give you a soft smile. “Celadon blue doesn’t taste like a Cabernet, go figure.”

He brushed a light kiss against your cheek as he’d passed you your wine glass so that you could rinse the paint water taste out of your mouth.

You couldn’t help but to still be a little embarrassed, but then you’d caught the way he’d shoot an unimpressed look at the instructor every time they passed by for the rest of the evening. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor when you had a Bob Floyd with a paintbrush and a cutting side eye.

You took him home with you that night and learned for yourself just how capable those hands of his were.

It was only later that you realized the exact shade of blue that you’d been trying so hard to capture earlier that night was the same color as the eyes that gazed down at you as Bob fucked you for the very first time.

There was no way you could have known that the ‘Paint and Sip’ date would have inspired him to pick up painting as a hobby.

First, he’d started taking classes at the Rec Center. His once a week classes later turned into him checking out books from the library. And then he’d turned his spare bedroom into a studio, as it has the best afternoon light in the Spanish style house he rents near the Naval base. He’d even bought a comfy chair for you to curl up in as he painted, a little nook of your own in his favorite space in his home. And steadily, the walls of both your apartment and his place fill up with all of his art.

You’d even had your favorite one professionally framed. The pretty landscape done in shades of soft greens that he gave to you for your birthday hangs in a place of honor above your bed. You like having that piece of Bob as one of the last things you see before you fall asleep and one of the first things you see in the morning on the rare occasion the two of you aren’t sharing a bed. You liked to imagine the hours he spent on it with the sunlight streaming through the open window as he lovingly and painstakingly created something just for you with his own two hands.

Although you did have to beg him to sign it for you. He claimed that since he does it for fun that there’s really no reason too, but you were adamant about it and he’d eventually caved and scrawled his name in the lower right-hand corner.

Now it’s become your personal mission to ensure that every Bob Floyd original has his signature on it when he gives his paintings out as gifts.

Everyone assumes that his art would be all straight lines and precise angles, but it’s your favorite moment when people get to see his abstract landscapes. He’d told you he spends so much time in the sky that he likes to paint what’s on the ground, the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s 50,000 feet in the air.

You could tell Bob was a little nervous when he first asked to paint you.

After almost a year with him, you’d think he’d know by now that you’d do anything for him. Not to mention, you were more than a little in love with the idea of being his muse.

“Are you saying you want to paint me like one of your French girls?” you’d teased with a grin, unable to resist the opportunity. You always did have a thing for men with perfectly floppy hair.

He’d tipped your chin up so that you were looking into his blue eyes- a color you were positive couldn’t be replicated- and stated, “No, I want to paint you like my girl.”

Which is how you’ve ended up naked on the floor of his living room.

You’d been surprised when you came downstairs to see that the furniture had all been pushed to the side to make space for the king-sized top sheet he’d laid out on the floor. You figured it must have been from some mismatched set he had stashed in his linen closet because you’d never seen it before and you spent more than enough time in his bed getting familiar with his sheets.

Bob was shirtless and wearing only a pair of loose-fitting and paint stained jeans that were hanging low on his hips as he worked on getting all of his brushes and paints set up.

You were pretty sure that Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to do proper justice to Bob’s body. He wasn’t as built as some of his friends on the Dagger Squad were, but there was an undeniable sturdy steadfastness to him. Those defined shoulders and arms often were the stars of your afternoon daydreams, since you got to admire his handsome face anytime your phone lit up.

He came and met you at the bottom of the stairs, giving you a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you as pretty as a picture in my shirt.”

“Oh,” you’d said, feigning surprise and toying with the hem, “So it is.” And then you’d slowly lifted it up and off of you, revealing more of your body to his artist’s eye.

You never felt as good about yourself as you did when you were naked in front of Bob. The color of his morning skies eyes would always darken to a deep shade of Prussian blue as he took in the curves of you. With him you always felt appreciated, wanted, desired.

His greedy hands came to grip your hips pulling you to him until you were pressed against him.

“Is this how you wanted me?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

Bob slipped his hand behind your neck and tugged you in for a heated kiss. “I always want you.”

You never knew true distraction until you’d felt Bob’s lips against yours all those months ago. You’d happily lose minutes, hours, days to them. The thing about Bob is that he never does anything halfway. If he’s kissing you, he’s doing it thoroughly until you’re out of breath.

The sound of the air conditioner kicking on and the light draft that it coasted over you reminded you that there were other plans on the agenda. And that the sooner he starts, then the sooner he finishes, and the sooner you can feel his lips on other parts of you.

“Where do you want me?”

“In my bed,” he murmured against your lips.

His name started as a laugh but turned into a sigh as he dropped a line of kisses down your neck, “I meant, like on the couch or on one of the chairs from the kitchen.”

Bob pulled away and peered deep into your eyes, “Darlin’, I wanted to paint you.” He trailed a teasing finger down your soft stomach. “If that’s alright with you.”

You thought you were just going to be his subject, but as it turns out he wanted you to be his canvas too.

You’re trying not to shiver as he meticulously coats your overheated skin with cool paint. Goosebumps follow in the wake of every delicate stroke he makes along your body.

His hair was curled over his forehead in a way that had your fingers aching to touch him. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the deliberate lines and curves he painted on you. The paint smudge on his cheek only made him all the more attractive to you.

Bob had tucked a pillow beneath your head before he’d started, a gesture that you appreciated now because time had lost all meaning to you. You had no idea how long you’ve been lying there. You were pretty sure every inch of you had to be covered by now.

He’d started along the plane of your stomach and steadily worked his way out from there. Up your arms. Along your clavicle. Over your breasts and tops of your thighs. You didn’t miss the way he’d smirked when you arched into that soft to the touch paintbrush as it glided over your peaked nipple. Or the way he’d hummed pleased when you’d try to subtly rub your thighs together to relieve the need that had been building as you laid there.

Bob loves taking his time with you. In bed, he loved teasing you until you had tears in your eyes and were begging for his cock. And it became clear very quickly that this would be no different.

There was an electric thrum that was pulsing through your body with every dip and swirl and brushstroke. The muscles of your stomach jump involuntarily as the fine hairs of his paintbrush drift over your hypersensitive skin making you whimper.

He tsks, “Gotta stay still for me, pretty girl. I’m almost done, promise.”

You release a shaky sigh and nod, not trusting your voice to betray just how needy you were for him. Although the self-satisfied smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

You try to control your breathing as he works on finishing, but your shallow breaths sounded loud in his living room. You love getting to watch him work normally, but the intense way he is looking at you- his eyes your favorite shade of Prussian blue now- is too much for your hummingbird heart.

Just as your skin was collecting layers of paint from his brush, the space between your thighs was steadily collecting your wetness. You were so desperate for him to touch you, the need made you want to crawl out of your skin.

You hear the sound of a watery swish and the clink of a brush against glass and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation.

“God, look at you,” Bob breathes, reverently, “You’re so beautiful. This might be my best work ever.”

Instead of the paintbrush, you can feel the path of his flame blue gaze traveling over you as he takes in the art he’s made out of you.

You open your heavy eyes and see Bob wiping off his hands with a frayed towel.

“There she is,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your toes curl. You didn’t notice it sitting there with all his paints until he was reaching for it, his dad’s old film camera. He holds it loosely in front of him like a question, “Can I take a few just for me?”

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

You trusted Bob more than any other man you’d ever been with. He’s never once given you reason to doubt his words because his actions always spoke for themselves.

The guys you’d been with before had been boys, Bob Floyd was a man.

The tension between the two of you is thicker than the acrylic he’d been using earlier as he snaps photo after photo. You admire the way his muscles shift as he bends and angles himself to get the perfect images.

He stands over you, the lens pointed down at you, “Look at me.”

You can barely breathe. You feel yourself getting even wetter at the thought of seeing yourself through his eyes. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

“I know,” he hums, “You’ve been so good for me.” He sinks to his knees between your legs and hooks a hand behind your knee, pulling it up so it’s propped on the floor. And then he does the other so that you’re sprawled open for him, just the way he likes you to be, “Just one more, darlin’.”

The heat in his eyes has dried up all the words in your mouth.

He trails a finger down the soft skin of your inner thigh and you gasp.

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

“You’ve made such a pretty mess,” he drawls, as he gently sets the camera on the floor next to you. “It’s a good thing I put something down. You’re damn near dripping.”

“Bob, please.” You arch towards him like a flower in the sun.

He settles between your thighs and pushes them apart further so that his broad shoulders fit between them. The paint is still drying on your skin, but neither one of you cares about that now.

“You were so perfect for me. I appreciate you staying so still.” He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, I know just how to thank you.”

Your body jolts at the first touch of his tongue on your clit. You can feel his smile against you, he knows exactly what he does to you.

Bob has always eaten you out like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.

Normally, he’s teasing you with gentle licks and tracing nonsensical shapes on your clit with his tongue until you’re a squirming mess for him. He knows your body so well, always building you up to the point where you’re breaths away from tipping over the edge and then pulls himself back before building you right back up again.

But tonight, there’s nothing playful about the way his mouth is working against you. His hot mouth is sealed to your clit. Bob hums in satisfaction with every keen and whine that he pulls out of you. He laves at you until you’re writhing underneath him, your thighs already shaking.

“Wanna paint you just like this,” he murmurs, sucking at the spot where your leg and hip meet. “But I don’t think you’d stay still long enough for me to finish.”

Bob dips down and gives you another long broad stroke of his tongue. He pulls back only long enough to spit on your cunt before diving right back in, chasing after his own taste on you.

Your hands are in his hair. Clutching at his shoulders. It’s taken him no time at all getting you to the point where you’re trembling and taut.

All the air leaves your lungs when he buries two large fingers into you. Your hips cant into his mouth on their own and he moans. Bob wraps an arm around your hips and presses down on your lower stomach to hold you in place.

You feel the paint smear beneath his warm palm. You were dying to see it. You hoped there was a handprint- his handprint- that disrupted all the lines and swirls of color that he’d decorated you with. Something that was distinctly him.

You were wearing his art and now you’re wearing him. The evidence of this moment in time on your skin.

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

“You cock, Bob, I need your cock,” you pant, tugging at his hair.

He meanly sucks your clit into his mouth in a way that has you crying out and jerking against him. You love it, you love him.

“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he licks into you again, “Sweetest sound in the world.”

Bob drops a sweet kiss on your clit, it’s a stark difference to the filthy way he’d been using his mouth on you. He rises to sit back on his knees between your parted legs.

He looks so good kneeling above you the way that he is. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. That knot behind your bellybutton twists tighter because you did that to him.

He unzips his jeans and tugs them down low enough to pull his hard cock out.

It’s pretty enough to be featured in a gallery, you think to yourself, even in your desperate haze. It’s long, thick, perfect and yours.

Bob smirks when he notices you admiring him, pumping himself slowly a few times for your viewing pleasure.

The only time Bob Floyd was ever a show-off was when he was in bed.

He grabs your thighs and pulls them over top of his own, so that yours are draped over his obscenely, and then he thrusts easily into you.

You gasp at the sensation of being so full of him. It always takes you a minute to adjust to his cock, no matter how many times you’ve taken it now. His thumbs make little circles along your hipbones as your body relents and yields to the size of him.

“There you go,” he says, rocking into you, working you open, “Just needed this cock, didn’t you?”

You whimper your agreement. Your hips tilt into the pressure like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Wanting to show him how much you can take. You know you’ll never get enough of him.

He fucks into you at a reckless and unrelenting pace. You’re high off the feeling of seeing Bob like this, that you’re the one who gets to see him unreserved and uninhibited. He has your hips gripped so tightly, keeping you closer than close. And when you clench around him, you’re treated to a wrecked groan.

Your skin prickles with desire and the feeling of paint drying on you. His cock is hitting just the right spot inside of you and you know you won’t be able to hold off for much longer, not with the way he’s grinding against your aching clit.

Bob’s eyes glued to the spot where you two come together. You’re on full display for him. He watches the way you stretch and spread around him with every deep thrust with the same appreciative gaze that he admires his favorite artists.

It’s under his river blue gaze that your orgasm swiftly sweeps you away. And with your back arching and thighs quaking around his, you give yourself up to the endless current of it.

You know he’s close when his hips start to stutter.

Bob pulls out of you and wraps his large hand around his slick-shined cock and works himself with rough, purposeful strokes.

This time he paints you with himself, his come covering your stomach.

The only sound in the room is the two of you breathing hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Bob huffs, raggedly, taking in his handiwork, “You’re my masterpiece.”

You’re covered in paint and come, but you’ve never felt more beautiful than you do right now as he looks down at you in awe.

“Did you remember to sign your work this time?” you ask, out of breath but teasingly.

“I think I left my mark, darlin’,” he says, with well-earned smugness in his voice. You can’t help but giggle. He flops down next to you, throwing his arm over his eyes, “Goddamn.”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows to look at yourself.

“Baby, I think you gave Jackson Pollock a run for his money.” You grin widely when he lets out an amused snort. “Wait, where’s your camera?”

He passes it to you, the fondness in his eyes makes your chest feel warm. You scooch in close to him and hold it up above your heads, the camera flashes when you kiss his flushed cheek.

That picture is the first one that gets put up in the new house, the one the two of you chose together when he asked you to marry him six months later. Followed by the soft green landscape that now hangs above your shared bed.

It’s your favorite picture of the two of you, happy and in love. You can just see a hint of the cloud he’d painted on your shoulder.

That night Bob had decorated your body with the place he loved best.

He gave you the sky and he made you his world.

Happy birthday, Ames! Your gift will be mailed eventually, it really was a lesson in chemistry, lol! Enjoy a Bob fic just for you in the meantime!

A big, bigggg thank you to the Bob Babes/Lew Crew girlies! @callsignspark and @attapullman I appreciate you two so much for being such ultimate hypegirls! And thank you to @theharddeck, you helped me out of my writers block and I've been so excited to write this since we talked about it back in January!

You can read my other stories here!

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#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd fic #bob x you #bob x reader

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taylorswiftstyle · 5 months

Text

2024 Golden Globe Awards | Los Angeles, CA | January 7, 2024

Gucci gown

Let it be known my Roman Empire is painted a shade of aurora borealis green.

I’m biased. I love it. You’re buckling up for a rave. But everyone knew that, right?

I want it on record that no one should be surprised when they see this lewk on the TSS Favourite Outfits of 2024 list. And that I’ll devise some maniacal strategy to make it make sense to include in every annual list from here to eternity.

Let's get the obvious out of the way in that this shade of green could easily be interpreted as very snakelike and thus a nod to reputation and its forthcoming re-recorded version. I'd even happily apply it to the teal-y and springlike green of debut if we want to go debutation on this.

But if we are to talk about Gucci we have to talk about the precipice the house is upon right now. As it relates to Taylor, I suspect her dress (specific shade TBD - Chartreuse? Apple? Pear? Some other adjacent fruit that’s a feast for my eyes?) is a preview of Fall 2024 and a clear indicator of the path the new creative director Sabato De Sarno’s will take the brand in. Which is to say, muting the eccentricity of Alessandro Michele’s era of Gucci that brought the brand to a new level of renown in favour of something cleaner and sexier. Nicole Phelps for Vogue already noted that De Sarno’s first collection for Gucci — Spring 2024’s Ancora, meaning ‘again’ in English and released in September — evokes a Gucci when Tom Ford was once at the helm, praising De Sarno’s approach to “the upfront sex appeal of those ’60s-by-way-of-the-’90s shapes, and straight riffs on Ford hits” while “establish[ing De Sarno’s] essentials, focusing on cut and proportion, and repeating shapes for emphasis.”

Indeed, Taylor’s gown is directly reminiscent of a Fall 2004 look from Ford’s Gucci - all green sparkles and sexy disco energy. This makes sense when we consider De Sarno’s history and homeworking when he decided to take the creative director post. He told WWD, “Gucci to me equals luxury … the first fashion piece I ever owned was a Gucci jacket by Tom Ford. I still remember I traveled to Rome to buy it with my friend … luxury was really not part of our world. Television was the only way to see fashion for me back then.” He added, “My ambition is to build an aesthetic message with an edited collection that is mindful of Gucci’s heritage and close to my own aesthetics.”

When we consider my personal history with Taylor and Gucci, I don’t have to look very far to immediately picture one of my all time favourite Taylor looks — the 2014 Grammys when she wore a sparkling Gucci Première column gown which is not too dissimilar to this one. What can I say, I’m consistent. The shape, the perfect kiss-the-floor hemming, and obviously the divine colour that really pops on Taylor will have me swooning for a long time.

At the end of it all, what I come back to is De Sarno’s sentimentality to naming his first collection: Ancora. Again. He told WWD, “Ancora is a word that you use when your desire is not over yet … I want to fall in love with fashion all over again — ancora.” In the same interview he said, “I like words a lot, they have weight and a precise meaning, they convey emotions, so I like artists who use words.”

It dawns on me that Taylor’s light is shining at its brightest now as she highlights, celebrates, and - indeed - falls in love with all the versions of herself she has ever been. Revisiting her eras past again. And again. In every re-record. In every step she takes on stage. In every cutting line she writes in ruminating and revisiting the experiences of her life and translating them into song. She’s flitting, flirting, memorializing all her past selves in celebration of their summation of her current self. And that’s what this ‘era of eras’ has been.

So if this is De Sarno’s Gucci I say welcome. Ancora.

Photos by Monica Schipper/GA and Amy Sussman via Getty Images

#taylor swift #award #dress #gucci #january 2024

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cevansbrat0007 · 5 months

Text

Sweet Tooth

Summary: Ari gets inventive when he finds himself in the doghouse with you. Be sure to check out the follow-up drabble, Sweet Tooth Deluxe!

Warnings: Smut, Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Arch Nemesis', Dominant Ari, Aprons, Arguments, Oral Sex (fem rec mentioned), Spanking (mentioned), Pussy spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, Violent Thoughts, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @honeygngergemini. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari leans back in his chair, one long leg coming to rest atop his knee as he levels a hard look at Officer Milton Foster. He scrubs a tired hand over his face, his mind working overtime to process what the young man had just said.

“But that makes zero fucking sense.” He grumbles, groaning when he sees Milton just shake his head.

“Aye, man.” The dark-haired deputy throws up his hands. “You asked me where I thought you went wrong and I told you.” He turns in his office chair to spare a quick glance at his computer. “Do not shoot the messenger.”

“No one’s being shot, alright? I just don’t get the logic behind any of the shit you just said.”

Couple that with the fact that you’d been icing him out for the past several days for reasons unbeknownst to him – which had left him in a god awful mood. He missed you. Your laugh, your warmth, your smile.

All of it.

Not to mention that deliciously curvy body that had been keeping him warm at night. He really missed that. More than than anything he needed a fucking kiss.

But you were ignoring him. And Ari had discovered pretty quickly that he didn’t like any of it. Not one bit.

So, he’d turned to what he felt like was his only ally in this god-forsaken town: the newly minted sheriff’s deputy, Milton Foster.

“So you’re really trying to tell me that the reason my woman is pissed at me is because I ate Charline Marshall’s pecan pie at the town potluck, liked it, and asked for seconds.” Ari smooths an annoyed hand over his bearded face. Trying to understand Bell’s Creek’s local politics could really do a number on a person.

“And don’t forget that she purposely dropped your lady’s bramble berry pie on the ground.” Milton does a quick spin in his chair. “She tried to pretend it was an accident, but most of us know better. Charline Marshall has eyes for you and I think she might be ready to make it known.”

“I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t even pick that woman out of a lineup.”

Milton simply shrugs before taking another spin in his desk chair. “You’ve got a lot of admirers, Mr. Bounty Hunter. A man like you blows into town…well, you’re downright exotic. Every single red-blooded woman under 75 wants a taste.”

Ari visibly shudders before crossing his legs at the ankle. He didn’t want anyone else. This particularly surly Bounty Hunter wanted you. He only wanted to eat your food. Enjoy your sweets. Fall to his knees and devour the fuck out of your pretty little pussy.

“Hard pass, buddy.” Your lawman sighs. “I didn’t know shit about the pie incident. I mean, how could I when she was barely talking to me or anyone at that party?”

“Not saying it’s your fault, big guy. Logically, what would you have been able to do if she had told you?”

Ari looks up at him, his piercing blue gaze never once leaving the young deputy’s. “I would’ve taken her back to my place and spent the rest of the night making her feel better. I would’ve done everything in my power to take my girl’s mind off that petty shit.”

“Mmm.” Milton murmurs as understanding suddenly dawns. “I really don’t wanna get too deep in your business, but your lady is like a sister to me.” He leans back in his chair so that he can kick his feet up on his desk. “We used to play on the playground together as kids. And full disclosure, she used to beat my ass.” The deputy chuckles as he begins to recount all the way you used to be a tiny force of nature.

“I…can see that.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Anyway, I think your original plan was a good one.”

“Meaning?” Ari leans over to take a sip of his now cold coffee. It tasted like shit anyway, even when it was hot. In fact he longed for you, his BIrd, to make him one of your little caffeine-infused concoctions – preferably while wearing nothing but his shirt.

So he could also take a bite out of that luscious ass while you refreshed his mug. After all, he was a man who prided himself on his ability to multitask.

“Meaning, you need to find a way to distract her while making your point.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you’re a smart fuckin’ guy who set his sights on someone who could easily be the most stubborn woman in the whole damned state.” A smirking Milton offers up a salute with his can of Dr. Pepper. “That’s for you to figure out. All I can do at this point is wish you luck.”

“Thanks.” Ari grunts, wishing that he had a better idea of what to do with you.

Oh, rest assured that he’d figure it out. You were too important to him not to. He just hoped you’d find it in your heart to take it easy on him for his mistake.

The Next Day

You wake up to the smell of cooking sausage wafting into your room. It makes you smile as you stretch your arms over your head. Your stomach growls in agreement, subtly reminding you that you’d neglected to make dinner last night.

Oops. You hadn’t meant to forget, it had just happened. Normally you would end your night with speaking to your Beast of a Bounty Hunter, who always made sure you ate. But lately, you have been both mad at him and embarrassed.

Because at a recent town potluck, Ari had eaten your rival’s pecan pie. Now, you weren’t children, but this had also been after she’d purposely sabotaged your own dessert by accidentally dropping it on the ground.

Charline pretended that it had been a mistake. But the way you’d witnessed her laugh after the fact. And then she’d fed your man, reveling in every minute. You’d known her pecan pie was dry, but Ari had seemed to enjoy it. So much so that he’d asked for a second piece.

Which was fine, except it had hurt your feelings. And you hadn’t been sure how to relay exactly relay that fact either. So you’d clamped down. You’d bottled up.

And as a result, your poor, sweet man was suffering. Which meant you needed to apologize. But you weren’t quite sure how to go about it. As you sit up, you vow to yourself to give him a call today. As soon as you sat down and enjoyed your breakfast.

And then it occurs to you. You weren’t the one cooking. Which meant someone was in your house.

You spring out of bed and grab your Louisville Slugger that you always kept nearby. Taking a deep breath, you quietly make your way down the stairs, your trusty bat poised to take a swing at whatever moron who’d chosen to take up residence in your kitchen.

Baring your teeth, you crest around the corner on bare feet, ready to make your presence known.

“You gonna hit me, Bird?” Ari muses as he adds a dash of salt, followed by pepper to whatever it is he’s got cooking in the skillet. Your flippin' skillet. “Is that really how this ends? You take me out while I’m being kind enough to whip us up some breakfast?”

Momentarily flummoxed you find yourself lowering your weapon in favor of taking in the scene before you. This man – your Bounty Hunter – was currently standing in your kitchen clad in nothing but an apron.

Your apron. And yet somehow it fit him better

“Wh–what are you doing?” You ask him, letting your baseball bat clatter to the floor at your feet. You wouldn’t need it. You were safe with this man, but only to a point. “And how’d you get in?” You hadn’t given him a key yet.

That was supposed to be a present for later.

“Eh.” Ari shrugs, flipping a pancake with surprising skill. “Maybe I saw my gift and swiped it after the potluck. Maybe you weren’t listening to me and I couldn’t get a read on you, so I had to be an asshole and make an executive decision.” He turns away from you to drop a finished pancake on a plate, giving you a fantastic view of his perfectly muscled ass.

“You mad?”

“N-no.” You respond as you feel your thighs clench. God, how you wished that you’d come down here wearing pants. “I was actually planning to reach out to you today. Can I ask what you’re doing?” You shiver as you feel your thighs grow damp, your traitorous pussy working against you.

You should be mad that your Beast had broken into your house. Instead you were happy to see him with a much deserved apology ready to fall from your lips.

“Making you breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and sausage.” He adds another delicious pancake to the stack. “I’m gonna feed you, and then I’m gonna fuck you, and make you rethink ever ignoring me again.” He purrs, the intoxicating rumble coming from somewhere deep in his chest.

Fuck you were so wet it was almost embarrasing.

“I’ve earned the rights to that tight little pussy, baby. And when I make a mistake like I did with that goddamned Charline, I want you to tell me.” Ari turns off the range, pulling the food off the heat and onto a plate.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, both hating and loving the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your oversized t-shirts. Actually, it was one of his. A detail he also seemed to notice. “How can I make it up to you?”

Ari studies you for a moment, his handsome face tilting to the side. And then your eyes stray to the sight of his impressive erection. You watch as one of his big hands reaches down to fist his hard cock, pumping it once. Twice.

“You can start by going back upstairs. I want you naked, on all fours. I want to come up there and feast my eyes on your soaking wet cunt.” His heated gaze bores into your own, making your already drenched core spasm one more. “And you’d better be wet for me, otherwise I’m gonna spank it. And you.”

“O-okay.” You find yourself taking a step back, your hand clutching at the wall.

“I’m gonna eat it baby.” Ari growls, his voice filled with a mix of unbridled lust and determination. “I’m gonna make that pussy fucking cry. And you’re gonna fucking take it. You hear me?”

“Yes.” You whisper, resisting the urge to reach down as you stroke your eager fingers over your throbbing clit. “Yes, Sir.”

He takes a menacing step towards you, his body delighting in the way that you shiver. You’d been bad. Which means it was time to pay the price. And what better man to exact that payment than your own handsome, 6”4 Beast?

“And then I’m gonna fuck you in front of that brand new mirror I bought you. I’m gonna show you who owns that beautiful body and remind you why it’s important to talk to me when you need me.” Another menacing step. “And then I’m gonna feed those delectable curves after I’ve had my fill.”

“And then…” He tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “You’re gonna let me kiss it all better while I make love to you.”

“Y-yes, please.” Right now you were willing to give this man whatever he wanted. Whatever helped you atone for your supposed sins.

“There’s a good girl.” He intones as he unties the apron, leaving him naked and aroused in your simple kitchen. “Now run.”

END

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onlymingyus · 6 months

Text

Our Dawn is Hotter than Our Day

pairing; kim mingyu x lee jihoon x f!reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; poly relationship, mlm, unprotected sex, consensual filming of sexual acts, handjob, fingering, oral (m & f receiving/giving) cum play/eating, marking/biting, impact play/spanking, punishment, dom!jihoon, switch!mingyu, sub!reader/brat!reader, brat taming, manhandling (m&f), pet names/degrading names, degrading/praise, aftercare

w/c; 7.3k and some change (1.2k this teaser--i was feeling generous)

a/n; this one is fully self indulgent and my own birthday present to myself. so...happy birthday me! thank you to @wonwussy for proofreading; thank you to @wongyuseokie for beta-ing part of this; thank you to @bitchlessdino, @horanghater, and @wooahaeproductions for helping me brainstorm pet names.

this fic is a Patreon Exclusive subscribe to my Patreon and click here

You could hear their voices before you could see them. Not that you were looking. No, that would mean opening your eyes. You didn’t feel that neither Mingyu nor Jihoon deserved your attention at the moment. Had you spent a little too much time in the sun by the pool today? Probably, but you had been left in bed on your own this morning.

“The water looks nice.”

Jihoon just nods as a hum of approval leaves his lips. His eyes moved quickly from the water to where you were resting on a chair. Sunglasses covered your eyes, but he could still tell you were actively avoiding looking at them—ever their brat.

“Seems like you’d be the first of us to enjoy it, Mingyu. Our little princess isn’t wet at all. Have you been laying in the sun all morning?”

Huffing out a laugh, Mingyu lifts his brow, giving you a good once over. Jihoon was right. There wasn’t a single sign that you had used the pool without them. Were you that mad? He knew you didn’t like to be left in bed alone, but you also knew they always went to the gym first thing in the morning.

“Is she not? That’s a shame. Did you at least drink some water, honey?”

This was supposed to be a vacation for the three of you. It was time to take a break from the mundane schedules, yet they were keeping right up with that schedule. When you don’t answer, Mingyu scoffs, sitting down by the side of the pool. The water is cool against his legs as it moves like tiny waves caused by others playing at the other end, just out of hearing distance.

Jihoon rolls his eyes. He knew what you were doing, and he knew you were mad. He had known it all day. He had watched Mingyu send you selfies, pictures of him, and even videos while the larger man pouted at his phone, not getting a single response. You were giving them both the cold shoulder, and for what? Leaving you sleeping in a comfy bed on vacation instead of waking you up at the crack of dawn to kiss you goodbye?

Shaking his head at Mingyu, Jihoon presses his tongue against his cheek before pulling his arm over his chest to stretch out the muscle. He was less patient with your bratty side. His hand was already itching, and it was too bad you were all in public. Instead of saying anything, Jihoon sighs loudly, sitting beside you on one of the loungers, to open your water bottle as Mingyu just smirks.

“Baby…my sweet little marshmallow puff? Are you mad at us?”

Now, Mingyu was pushing your buttons on purpose. Watching your nose wrinkle at the overly cute pet name, Mingyu grinned and winked at Jihoon before watching the man take a sip from your water bottle.

“You know she is. She’s got ears. She knows how to listen and how to talk when she wants something. What we should do is just leave her pretty little ass down here and go back up to the room…”

Jihoon’s threat makes you shoot him a dirty look. They wouldn’t dare go back up without you. The smirk on his lips told you everything. He had gotten what he wanted. Your eyes were open now, and you had acknowledged one of them. Making an "aw..." sound, Jihoon nods at your scowl before he tips your water bottle back once more, taking a sip of it.

“It’s my water…”

Your voice is quiet and annoyed, causing Jihoon to smile before licking his lips clean of the water. So you could speak. He had been right.

“It’s warm water.”

Shrugging, you start to sit up, trying to take it from Jihoon, when cold water splashes you in the direction of Mingyu. Not a lot of water, but enough that you are startled and yell his name. Mingyu’s laugh is playful, his fingers sliding through the water once more to collect more water as you lift your hand to run it over your hair, checking the damage.

“He said your water was warm. I wanted to cool you down, princess.”

Pouting, you push your glasses, which were speckled with drips of water, to the top of your head. Swiping your bottle from Jihoon, you put the opening to your lips, drinking some of the warm water with a scowl still on your lips as the two men chuckle.

“Does he need to splash you again, or can you stop being a brat? Did you even check your phone? Mingyu sent you pictures and videos all morning.”

Mingyu purses his lips, watching you shake your head. You had heard the notifications going off, but in your pursuit to pay your boyfriends back for their behavior, you had chosen to avoid all contact.

“That makes me sad, baby. Maybe you’re right, Jihoon. We should go upstairs without her. If she wants to act up.”

The sound of your water bottle closing and hitting the fabric of the chair under you causes Mingyu to press his lips together in order to keep himself from laughing. You were so cute when you were pouty like this. You were so easy to get riled up, even when you were trying so hard not to be the big, bad brat who could withstand anything either of them said. It was clear that you couldn’t handle the idea of them going to bed without you.

“That’s what I’m saying. Since Y/N doesn’t care enough to even look at what you’ve sent her, she’s got no idea what she missed already. Stupid, pretty little princess just has her mind on being left in bed alone.”

Your cheeks were burning with each of Jihoon’s degrading words. You knew he didn’t actually think you were stupid. Not in any real sense of how intelligent you were. This was more about how he could get you to react in the bedroom, yet here you were in public, and he wasn’t being subtle.

“I don’t like when you do that. It would have taken you like two seconds to wake me up and tell me where you were going.”

Shaking his head, Jihoon starts to speak when Mingyu leans back on his elbows, doing it first.

“You knew where we would be. Where do we always go that early in the morning?"

Scoffing, you go to reach for your phone only to watch Jihoon take it from the table before you get the chance. His lips are pursing in interest as he unlocks it and swipes through the pictures and videos that Mingyu sent you from the gym.

“Answer his question. You didn’t want this before; why would you want it now?”

Your eyes move back to Mingyu, who lifts his shoulders, waiting for your answer. In the bedroom and in most aspects of your relationship, Mingyu was the softer of the two. He was your big teddy bear who would look at your pouted lips and fluttering lashes and give in. But there were times, like today, when he was more like Jihoon.

“We are on vacation, Gyu. You two don’t have to go to the gym every single day we are here. Spend a little time with me.”

READ THE FULL FIC ON PATREON HERE

#mingyu smut #woozi smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #seventeen mlm #mingyu x reader #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #mingyu x woozi #seventeen poly #patreon

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aperrywilliams · 12 days

Text

I Need You Now (Spencer Reid x Ex!Girlfriend!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Ex!Girlfriend!Reader.

Summary: After the break up with his girlfriend, Spencer isn’t taking it in the best possible way. Memories flood his mind and the guilt of what he could have done differently. When everything is lost, there is no more to do than to go on, even if the only certainty in his heart is that he needs her now.

Word Count: 2.1k (a little thing)

Warnings: Angst. Spencer overthinks over and over again. The reasons for the breakout are not explicit, but you can infer them. Alcohol consumption. Open ending (hahahahahaha). I’m sorry (I’m not).

A/N: Full inspired by I Need You Now by Lady A. Please don’t sue me.

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Pictures perfect memories

Scattered all around the floor

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It’s late when I unlock my apartment door. As soon as I open it, it is the darkness that welcomes me and not you.

At other times, you would have jumped from the couch to greet me, throwing your arms around my neck and kissing me all over my face. And even if I always complained about you being up late for me, I silently loved it.

Sometimes, when I returned at dawn, I found you asleep on the couch with a book open on your chest. Those times, you looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn't like the idea of waking you up.

That isn’t happening tonight, though.

You’re not on the couch. You’re not home.

And the worst part is that you said you are not coming back.

---------------

Reaching for the phone cause

I can't fight it anymore

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind

For me, it happens all the time

---------------

Our love story started pretty close as a romantic movie would do. I bumped into you on my way out of a coffee shop. You were going to go inside but were distracted by your phone. You didn't see me coming out until you were stumbling, and before touching the ground, I secured you with my arms.

I was the one who apologized profusely, even if you were the one who didn't watch your way.

When I finally looked at you, words left me. And to hear your voice telling me not to worry didn't help my cause.

I would have asked for your number if I were bolder.

I didn't and let you go instead.

But luck must have been by my side when we crossed paths again.

The same coffee shop, two weeks later.

I got inside that morning and saw you at the counter waiting for your drink. I recognized you immediately.

Without a second thought, I walked up to you. Before I could say anything, you looked up and recognized me, too. A smile tugged your lips when you saw me.

“Hi,” I greeted you.

At that moment, I realized I had actually spoken to you. Why did I do that? What was I going to talk to you about?

“Hi. Glad you haven’t got a coffee yet,” you quipped. Making me stutter.

“Oh, no, no. I wasn’t thinking of spilling my coffee on you. I mean-” I stumbled over my words.

“Don’t freak out. I was joking,” you hastened to explain. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

“A joke. Yeah. Uh. I knew that,” I said, trying to sound casual.

Why was it so hard to sound casual?

“Yeah. I figured,” you chuckled. “Will you tell me your name this time?”

That day, my fate was sealed.

We exchanged phone numbers, and against the odds, I was the one who called first.

That was followed by text messages and some coffee dates.

We both were pleasantly surprised at how naturally the conversation flowed between us and how much fun we had together. Forgetting our first encounter where I couldn't stop stuttering, as the weeks went by, I relaxed enough to be myself.

I can recall the time I told you I loved you. I was a nervous wreck, and as the words left my mouth, I only wanted to take them back because I couldn't stand the idea of being rejected by you, of losing you.

You were the one who told me not to be afraid of telling the truth because you felt the same way. I can swear it was one of the best days of my life. A passionate kiss sealed our confession as we vowed to be each other forever.

Nothing of that remains now, though. And I know that the one to blame is no one but me.

---------------

It's a quarter after one

I'm all alone, and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control

---------------

Why did things go down between us? We were perfect for each other. People told me that often, and I believed it, too.

After dating for over a year, I asked you to move in. I was excited to begin a new phase in our relationship, although you were a bit reluctant. Not for lack of love or wanting. You said you were head over heels for me, but you have been cautious about your love life. The last time you had a serious relationship, things ended pretty badly for you. That time, you swore not to go through something like that again, so you were careful about protecting yourself.

I knew that, too. You told me what happened to you a few months after we started dating. I swore I would never hurt you. I loved you, and I would never do anything to harm you.

I’m now sitting on the same couch where we spend so many movie nights. The same where truths were told, dreams were discussed, and we planned a future.

With a drink in my hand, I glance at my phone over the coffee table and feel the urge to hear your voice. I want to grab the device and dial your number even if you told me not to call you again, even if I agreed not to contact you again.

But I miss you, even if every day I tell the world I'm doing better and I will get over it.

The truth is I don't know how to do it without you.

I need you now.

---------------

And I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now

---------------

Never did the silence overwhelm me as much as it does right now. It’s past midnight, and I can only think about what I should have done differently.

Maybe I should have opened up about what was happening before. You always knew I had a hard time expressing my feelings, but with you, that never was an issue. That’s why I can’t figure out why I did differently this time.

You told me I didn’t love you anymore, and that’s farther from the truth. I couldn’t stop loving you even if I tried.

Why did you say that, though?

Because I stop nurturing our love.

Because I took it for granted.

I made you doubt your worth and how important you are to me. I stopped listening. I stopped seeing. You gave me the signals, and I overlooked them.

Yeah, the job seemed more important at the time.

Of course, lives were on the line.

It's funny because none of that matters to me right now.

Missing you is something I never thought it could be a reality. How could I think about that when you were by my side to stay? Even the times I hurt you, you said you were to keep up no matter what. It was an unconditional love until it wasn’t. And I can’t blame you for leaving. It's all my doing, and I deserve to be alone. I deserve it, but I can’t stand it.

---------------

Another shot of whisky

Can't stop looking at the door

Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind

For me, it happens all the time

---------------

There are times when you think of me. I do think of you every day. When I wake up alone in my bed or when I drink my first coffee in the morning, you are not teasing me by pouring all the sugar from the container.

I think of you when I check my phone, and there are no texts from you. When at night I don’t want to go to bed because you are not with me to let me love you.

I can still hear your footsteps on the hardwood floor of this apartment.

I can recall, like yesterday, the times we danced in this very living room. The time you build a fort with cushions and blankets just because I told you once I loved that as a kid.

The nights when you let us watch foreign films so I could translate you whispering in your ear. The same nights when the movie ended were long forgotten because we were making out just like the first time.

I don’t think I can stop recounting every single memory we shared: the good ones and the bad ones.

Because, of course, I, too, remember the fights, the arguments, the silent treatments. But above all, the talks and our agreement of never going to sleep mad at each other.

---------------

It's a quarter after one

I'm a little drunk, and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control

---------------

With the alcohol running in my blood now, I can’t stop thinking about if your affections belong to someone else now.

Of course, I can’t be mad or blame you for it.

But my heart aches when I think about it.

I know I lost you the moment I allowed you to walk out that door.

But the damn phone is still there, tempting me, pushing me to call you. Even if I don't know what I could tell you.

Or maybe I do: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I love you. I miss you. I need you.

Would you believe me this time?

It’s wishful thinking. A naive one?

I don’t think any word I could say right now can do some repair to the pain I caused you. But I could try.

I grab the phone with trembling hands and start typing the first three numbers: 8-6-7...

I can do this so that I will continue: 5-3-0... just one more digit.

But I know you’ll not answer. And if you do, it’s unfair to you for me to do this. I should respect your wishes. It’s the bare minimum I can do.

So I toss the phone again over the coffee table, and the tears run freely this time.

---------------

And I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now

Guess I rather hurt than feel nothing at all

---------------

If anything, I feel jealous of the person who will love you the way you deserve and will call you his.

In the same way I did a time ago.

Maybe I just need to get used to the idea. I lost you, and there is nothing I can do even if I still need you here.

I had the privilege of you letting me love you, and I’ll be grateful for having the chance.

Curling on the couch, I see the damn phone watching me again, defiance me. I’ll not give in this time. I owe you that much.

I was so immersed in my new determination that I could barely register the two knocks on my front door. It’s past one am, so I just assume it must be on a neighbor's door.

But then I hear another two knocks again. It is louder this time and impossible to ignore.

Grumbling, I stood from my spot.

I already know who it is. Derek Morgan has been adamant about pulling me out of my misery in the way he only knows: going out.

I could pretend to be deaf and pretend I didn't hear anything. But I know Derek; he won't settle, and he will use his spare key to get in anyway.

I open the door, ready to scold him for showing up at my door at this time. But words kept stuck in my throat when I confirmed Derek was not the one who was standing at my door.

“Hi. I’m sorry for showing up here without warning. I guess I didn’t think this thoroughly.”

My mouth opens and closes several times with nothing to say. At the lack of words, you continues talking.

“I thought I should call you first. But I wasn’t sure if you would pick it up. But if it’s a bad moment, it’s okay; I can go.”

Does telepathy really exist? I don't know, but I don't want to question it either.

“No, no. It’s okay. Would you like to come in?”

Your face shows something similar to relief. A bit of anxiety, maybe? I’m sure I’m not doing better.

What kind of test is this? I don’t know, but if it is the last chance I’ll get to do things right, God helps me to doesn’t fuck up.

------------------

A/N2: Bonus point if you know where her phone number comes from.

------------------

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lilacsandpetals · 8 months

Text

Frozen Blossoms Pt. 5

Bi-Han x F! reader

Tags and notes: Arranged marriage AU, SFW, exploring emotions. Pre-MK1/MK1 AU

Last part here.

Next part here.

I hope I caught all the spelling and grammar errors.

You went back to bed after Bi-Han left. Or at least, you tried to get some sleep. You didn’t realize you’d be so worried for him in that moment. But he would be fine, wouldn’t he? He was Lin Keui after all. Still, irrational as it may be, you were concerned. Even so, the logical part of your brain told you that your husband would return sooner rather than later.

—————

Well, you were wrong. It had been days, almost a week had passed. Your anxiety was growing with each day that went by. You couldn’t comprehend how everyone else seemed at ease. You went about trying to adhere to your regular routine, but at times it was difficult to focus. Remembering simple protocols became difficult. Your execution during training lessons was lackluster. Your instructors had noticed the shift in your performance but you had a suspicion that your father-in-law prevented them from fully reprimanding you as of late.

You longed to reach out to Bi-Han and figure out how he was doing. Yet contact was minimal in order to maintain the confidential and secretive nature of the Lin Keui. The Grandmaster had stated that unless a serious incident had occurred, you were advised to not reach out to your husband.

You considered going out, perhaps visiting your family. Yet you were advised against doing so at the moment. And to be honest, you were troubled by the idea of Bi-Han returning when you weren’t at home.

Since when did such a thought bother you so much?

While waiting for the days to go by you realized that you hadn’t gotten to know many individuals around the clan’s grounds. You knew your in-laws. Technically you could be called acquaintances with your tutors and perhaps a few other staff and clan members. If Bi-Han was going to become the Grandmaster and you would stand by his side, you figured establishing a good rapport with as many clan members as possible would prove helpful. So you had begun to venture about the estate, greeting individuals you’ve yet to put a name to. Most would be respectful, but brief as they had responsibilities they needed to attend to, and you assumed your chatting would be a bit burdensome.

A good number of the other clan members were married, and you had run into their spouses here and there. You didn’t mean to, but the more you spoke with some of them, you ended up working into the conversation how you were worried the longer your husband was off on a mission. They always responded with assurance, that the feeling was normal, and that it would fade the more you got used to it. But here you are, sometime later with the same tension constricting your chest to the point that you’d wake up in a panic in the middle of the night.

If you had known that you’d have to endure such loneliness and worry regularly, would you have agreed to the marriage? Well, even if you had known, you doubt that the full gravity of the lifestyle would dawn on you back then. And frankly, denying the betrothal request would cause tension and misfortune in your family’s clan. So really, you wouldn’t have had a choice either way.

You decide not to dwell on that too much and glance at the books at your bedside. You were quickly getting through the stack. Especially since you had only recently begun spending time with your husband, and once you two had spent proper time with one another, he was called away. Reading had then become a solace of sorts from the loneliness. Maybe you could get some new books soon? Your eyes then drift to the flowers, they were starting to wither.

Would Bi-Han get you new flowers? Would he accompany you to the market? You wonder when he’ll be back. Maybe you two could spend some time together again.

Goodness, here you go again. Since that day you spent together, you had gotten into a habit of somehow circling nearly all your thoughts back to him. What was wrong with you? Had your husband really planted a place so firmly in your heart?

In truth, he has, and his absence makes your heart ache. You feel like a forlorn, lovesick teenager.

A sigh escapes you as you fall back onto your bed. Your hand makes its way to his pillow, snatching it from its untouched spot and into your arms. You hug it close to your chest.

Bi-Han truly wasn’t as bad as you thought he was. You did consider him a brute at first, but your interactions slowly started to break down that constructed image you had of him. Yes, he was stern, he could be blunt, and avoidant. But he had begun to show a side of himself you found endearing. He could appear so contemplative and protective. He was always so gentle when holding your hand. You even missed his prideful banter.

And you missed catching glimpses of his eyes. They had gone from a shade too ominous and void, to something entirely warmer. Dark and enchanting.

You took a deep breath, squeezing the pillow a little closer to you. He kissed your forehead before he left and you still linger on that action of his. You wonder if he’d kiss your cheek when he comes back.

You ghost your fingertips over your lips. You wonder what his lips taste like.

—————-

The mission had proved exhausting, every time they came upon a point of completion, they’d be met with more strife brewing elsewhere. To the point where Lui Kang required their consistent assistance and they had ended up all the way in Outworld, dealing with a small group whose practice in stirring up trouble had spilled into Earthrealm. Of course, Lui Kang had kept the peace during the ordeal and resolved any issues with the aid of Empress Sindel. But this wasn’t the first time that a situation like this had occurred, and he assumed it wouldn’t be the last. Pursuing consistent negotiations for the sake of peace sometimes began to feel futile to him.

On occasion, he wished they could take a more aggressive approach to assert their stance.

Then there was the issue of brewing tensions between surrounding clans, disagreements amongst them, and some disdain still lingered over his marriage to you. Of course, he hadn't brought that up to you, nor does he intend to. There would be no reason to stress you out over matters he could quickly stomp out on his own.

Despite all these occurrences, and his outward dedication to addressing them, these neverending missions had been dethroned at the forefront of his mind more often than he was willing to admit. You had been running through his mind all week. The thought of you had been distracting him and while he was on a mission no less.

Detestable of him really.

Had this happened weeks ago he would want to return home to wring your neck for causing him to lose focus. But it was different now.

He found it enjoyable to think of you.

It gave him something to look forward to. Someone to return home to.

He wondered if you had eaten properly, if you had rested enough, had you kept up with your training?

Did you miss him?… he missed you. He missed your playfulness, he missed your gentleness, he missed how increasingly lovely you had looked before he left. He felt as if he had grown closer to you before his departure. Would he be able to pick up where he left off with you?

He hopes so.

So as the group makes their way back under his lead, he can't help but find himself pondering. He wonders what would’ve happened that night if he didn’t have to leave. For the first time in a long time, he wishes he hadn’t left at all.

He wonders if you realized how enticing you looked. With eyes looking up at him so innocently at the veranda, and lips that looked oh so soft. Or when you had laid down in the bed. Did you not realize how effortlessly alluring you looked? Your hair tousled, your nightgown bunching up at the curve of your hips and exposing part of your thigh. He really can only imagine what else could have happened that night if he had been more forward. It’s laughable that the only time he is unable to advance forward is when it comes to you.

Consummating the marriage had still been a thought that seldom crossed his mind, but now it had started to creep up frequently. Oddly enough, had you two made use of the marriage bed that first night, he would’ve found it easier to complete that responsibility. He would be detached, acting upon crude necessity.

Again, it was different now.

Now there were emotions that entangled him. Concerns on whether his performance would live up to your unknown expectations. Worries about how you’d respond to his touch. Perturbation on how it would change him. It was all uncharted territory.

He didn’t have an extensive insight into matters of that kind. His experience in that area was somewhat lacking.

He honestly never gave it much thought, he was always too focused on his responsibilities and any tasks at hand to be caught up in lust to the extent of seeking it out at the risk of his honor. Had he struggled at all in the past, he’d take care of it himself. That is how he went about it as an adult.

His responsibilities within the Lin Keui came first, as they always have. Or at least he would attempt to adhere to that standard. He found himself faltering to maintain that status quo when he was young.

Although discouraged, it was known that sometimes members of the Lin Keui would sneak off to a nearby brothel and ‘fulfill their needs’. When he was younger, curiosity had gotten the best of him and his brothers, leading them to sneak off just to see what all the excitement was about. They had just barely infiltrated the establishment through a side entrance when they were promptly caught, kicked out, and sent home to a furious father who had punished them all severely.

Other than that, there was a point long ago where Kuai Liang had convinced him to sneak out and meet a few girls during the Qixi Festival. Kuai Liang had an easier time interacting with them, while he himself was more reserved. And then Tomas had tagged along. Tomas appeared much younger at the time compared to Kuai Liang and himself, so the girls found him ‘adorable’ as they had put it. He didn’t see the point in entertaining them at that time. One of the girls there did take a liking to him, she looked visually pleasing. She kept trying to hold his attention but he barely kept up conversation as chatter spewed out of her mouth in an attempt to keep him engaged. She even kissed him at the end of the night. It felt awkward and she had secured a strong hold on his neck, he hesitated to place his hands on her but kissed back as best as he knew how. However, he pulled away when he felt her tongue poke at his lips. He attempted to maintain his composure until they departed that evening. On his way home with his brothers, he frequently wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. All those love stories his mother and Kuai Liang would go on about made it seem like a first kiss was a life-changing experience. They were clearly wrong as that had not changed his life for the better. Kuai Liang teased him, saying that he was better with the girls, meanwhile, Tomas lamented that he hadn’t gotten any such tokens of affection.

Now that was all the experience he had recalled. It made him wonder what your past was like. He tries not to think of it, but the thought that you may have had romantic interactions in the past made him burn with envy.

If you had past lovers, he would make sure to surpass them in every manner.

—————-

Kuai Liang and Tomas know their brother. He is cold and harsh in nature, much like the power he was blessed with. But they are quick to catch Bi-Han smiling to himself when he thinks no one is watching.

—————-

They stop at a village on the trek home. Bi-Han is not such a cruel leader that he’d push his forces so far when the mission has already been completed. He allows them an opportunity to catch their breath. The stop is brief and he rests against the brick wall of a building. His eyes scan his surroundings when they come to a halt. Kuai Liang and Tomas seem preoccupied. He cannot tell what they are speaking about, so he makes his way to them.

“What about that one?” Tomas says.

“No, I’ve already bought this one. This suits her best.” Kuai Liang responds.

Bi-Han furrows his eyebrows, who were they speaking about? “What did you buy?”

Kuai Liang smiles and holds up a golden hairpin, “the red jewel at the center reminds me of Harumi, fierce and passionate, I’m sure she’ll like it.”

Tomas smiles “Always the romantic.”

Bi-Han eyes the gift briefly. Was he supposed to get you something as well? What color did you even like? He regrets not asking you before.

There’s a slight shame that emerges within him, he has failed to get to know you well within these past weeks. He will have to atone for his shortcomings.

So he slips away; just briefly to examine whatever the shop has to offer. His eyes travel over the array of pieces, trailing over them all until he sees a simple silver chain harboring a blue jewel in its center. Blue was his choice of color, but it simultaneously reminded you of him, calm and sincere.

Before he knows it, he’s made the purchase and he continues on his way.

—————-

The sun has begun its descent and the moon begins to rise in its place. And so another day has passed without your husband. Or so you had thought. You had returned to your room after a meal. Rummaging through your belongings to pull out a woven shawl. The seasons have begun to shift and so the once manageable cold of the locale has become quite unbearable. You finally locate one suitable to your needs and toss it onto your bed. Now if you could only find warmer nightwear.

“Wife.”

The sound startles you and you quickly stand to your feet. When had he returned? You weren’t expecting him at this moment. You finally get a good look at him as he stands in the doorway. He is handsome as always. His mask is off, and he appears stoic. Yet you catch a look in his eyes that comes off as a mix of weary and longing. You want to hug him, should you? Would he reciprocate it? You don’t know. So you fail to move forward and instead shoot him a small smile, “Bi-Han, I’m glad you’re home.”

“As am I.”

His body is crying out in exhaustion, all he wants to do is unwind, but the eagerness to show you his gift takes precedence over that. His hand searches through his pocket to pull out a silver chain adorned with a gem of sapphire. He motions for you to come to the front of the mirror and you oblige. “Try this on.” He carefully places the necklace in your hands and you attempt to get it on, but the hook is giving you trouble. Your husband waits but a few moments before taking the two ends of the necklace within his fingers. You slide your hair to the side, so he’s better able to hook the chain. His fingers are cold against your warm skin and he leans in slightly, making his breath tickle the back of your neck. Your shoulders slightly tense. When the necklace is secure his hands move to rest by the crook of your neck, looking at your reflection in the mirror. He’s never touched you there before.

The shade of blue suits you. You hold the jewel between your thumb and index finger briefly, smiling at your reflection. It rested just at the valley between your breasts. The way your chest rose and fell as you breathed only exuded a greater sense of allure to him. You were focused on the necklace, so much so that you were caught off guard when he bent down and quickly placed a kiss on the side of your neck. “You look good,” he mumbled just barely above a whisper. He quickly turns around and makes his way out the door. You would go after him but you felt frozen in place, your cheeks heating up, and your heart beating hard.

——————

He didn’t even mean to do that. But your skin felt so soft, your fragrance hinted at scents of lotuses and lilies. The dim lighting illuminated your exposed skin in such a way that it ignited something within him, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to fully act on it.

So he flees the scene and pushes away any thoughts of embarrassment. His body is used to brutal conditions, but even he longs for undisturbed relaxation on rare occasions. Despite his cryomancy, he is keen on a hot bath. The warm water is soothing to his aching muscles and welcoming to his pains. He lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes. He hopes you like the necklace, it’s not much but it is something. He hasn’t had the desire to shower anyone with gifts before, but you may be slowly changing his mind.

The sound of a hesitant knock pulls him out of his state of relaxation. He snaps his head towards the private bathhouse's entrance. You stand there tentatively in the doorway. “What are you doing here? Go back to your room, now,” he scolds.

The steam emanating from the hot water twirls around the room, keeping the image of one another rather obscured.

“You didn’t close the door all the way and I heard the water running,” you say sheepishly. “I was going to ask if you wanted help. I can tell you’re tired.” You just wanted to be around him, he left quickly, and he took longer than you anticipated to return. You yearned to satiate your loneliness.

He was tired, but he wouldn’t say it. “How would you even help me?”

“I can wash your hair,” you respond and lean up against the frame of the entrance. You hope he accepts your offer.

Bi-Han contemplates it for a moment, he supposes it would save him the hassle… and he did long for your presence. “Fine, you may enter, but watch your eyes.” You stifle a laugh as you walk forward. “What do you find so amusing?” he asks with an annoyed expression. “Nothing, nothing.” He had no reason to worry, you wouldn’t peak. You pull up a chair and sit behind him. “Lean back a bit, please.” He heeds your request and you begin massaging his scalp with the needed products.

Now this was relaxing. He did feel rather self-conscious earlier. He was taking a bath so he was entirely exposed, but that worry melted away as your hands worked what he might equate to magic. They were slow and methodical, releasing the tension that constricted his skull. And so he finds himself serene enough to close his eyes once more.

You’re close to him again, this is probably the longest that you’ve seen him with his hair down. “You look good with your hair down,” you say softly. “Oh, do I?” he responds just above a whisper. You exhale lightly, “you do.” You continue in silence, for how long, you wouldn't know.

But you do know that you appreciate every second of it. For once, you finally feel at ease. You’ve once again reached that brief moment of domestic bliss.

You run your fingers through his hair, it’s softer than you thought it’d be.

Your eyes trail down the sight of his neck and upper back. Scars riddle the skin that is visible to you, some more faint than others. You assume they were obtained in training and battle. In moments like these, the full weight of Lin Keui’s ways bear down on you. There is honor to it, but at a greater cost to oneself. And you know it’s his duty, it’s the way of the clan you married into, yet your heart clenches at the thought of it.

The scars that adorn his body are many and you can’t help but lean forward to press your fingertips along one. The scar is extensive, nearly a clear cut minus a few jagged edges. Your fingertips graze along the expanse of the mark and you swear you feel him shudder against your touch.

“Do any of these still hurt?”

“No, none of them.”

“They must have hurt when you got them.”

“Yes, but I am grateful for it.”

You don’t respond, being grateful to retain such pain bewilders you. Bi-Han notices your lack of response. “It taught me discipline and is proof that I’ve survived prior ordeals. That is all.”

You take that as a note not to continue with further questions, at least for now. Your eyes fall to his bicep, “Your wound from last time is healing.” He opens his eyes briefly to glance at his arm before closing them again. “I appreciate your aid that night.” You smile slightly to yourself.

“Lean forward.” Bi-Han obliges and you get a basin of water to wash his hair. His eyes remain closed as you gently pour it on him. His wet hair sticks to the front of his face, obscuring his eyes. The image of such an intimidating man in front of you like this, causes you to let out a laugh.

He moves his hair out from in front of his eyes. He’s about to snap at you and ask what you’re laughing about. Yet he retains a moment of pause. You’re laughing, and it’s the carefree laugh that he’s been yearning for since you two had married. The one you had so openly shared with others. You’ve finally graced him with the pleasure of hearing it on his own. So he doesn’t stop you, instead, he takes hold of your hand and brings your fingertips to his lips. He presses a chaste kiss to them before letting go.

“Thank you.” He leans forward, crossing his arms and resting against the edge of the tub.

You smile faintly and sit on the rim of the bathtub. You’re slightly anxious, but work up the courage to hastily move his hair to the side and press a kiss to his forehead in a rather bashful manner. “Thank you for spending time with me.”

You see his mouth twitch into a smile for a brief second, and you are content.

The room begins to become even more humid.

But something is holding you back from leaving, tension has building up in the pit of your stomach and it’s causing your heart to tremble within your chest. So you remain there, inches away from him.

Your perfume makes him feel dizzy with increasing desire. The world around him begins to fade into silence, and the only thing that he can hear is your shallow breathing.

Your breath mingles with his.

And neither one knows who leaned in first.

But his hand rests on the back of your neck and your lips have collided with his. They are rough, tasting like the tea you once shared with him.

And you’ve never kissed anyone like this before.

Desperation and longing seep into the way your mouths move against each other. His heart has begun to pound against his ribcage and he wonders if yours has too. Your lips are softer than he could have ever anticipated, and the moment they break away from his, he silently mourns.

Heat has risen to your cheeks and you look away briefly, smiling to yourself and slowly getting up. “Goodnight Bi-Han.”

He takes a shaky breath. How unlike him. What have you done to him?

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

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Thanks for reading 💙

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