#if that’s what it takes to keep the peace.)

[freedomfireflies]

Counterpunch*

Summary: The one where Harry comes back from a boxing match to find you overstimulated on the bed.

(Based on this concept!)

Word Count: 3.1k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, pain kink, size kink, overstimulation, squirting, daddy kink

By the time Harry returns home, you’ve already cum 5 times.

It’s been a long few hours. Three and a half to be exact. And in that time, you’ve been edged, teased, tortured, and spent. You’ve been left to sweat, writhe, cry, and drench the poor sheets beneath you. 

The vibrator between your thighs is relentless. As cruel and sadistic as the man controlling it from somewhere across town. A pre-programmed punishment that only ends for a few minutes at a time, giving you just enough peace to catch your breath before preparing to do it again.

When you hear the apartment door open, you’re thrilled. Your aching muscles call to him as you strain against the silky ropes keeping you trapped to the bed. Your voice is raw from the excessive whimpering and whining but you cry out his name, nevertheless.

And he’s fucking thrilled.

His smirk is wide and condescending as he leans against the doorframe to watch you. You catch his newest marks through the tears in your eyes. Tonight doesn’t seem to be as bad. He’s got a subtle bruise beginning to form near his eye and a faint cut along his eyebrow. 

But he doesn’t seem too concerned with his appearance. Rather yours. The way your skin is damp, the way your pussy is red and swollen, and the way your lips quiver as you plead his name and beg for mercy.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he murmurs in a soft, low call. And somehow, even just the sound of his voice helps calm you. “What’s your color?”

“Green,” you answer weakly, fingers curling into your palm. “Green, but…but please, Har…”

He chuckles to himself and glances toward the ropes around your wrists. He left them loose enough that if you had felt scared or wanted to stop, you could easily slip yourself free, turn the toy off, and call him. Something you were almost tempted to do at one point, but…the truth is, you loved the pain. You thrived off the idea of him coming to find the mess you’d made. That you’d been a good girl and done what he’d asked. That you took your punishment and you took it well.

He strides closer. Slow, like stalking prey. He looks now toward the vibrator between your thighs as it buzzes and hums in a rhythmic pattern, giving you just a taste of pleasure without ever actually letting you swallow. 

He smiles brighter. “Oh, you poor thing. S’all red, isn’t it?”

You nod weakly. “Can’t…can’t take it anymore. Hurts. And s’empty.”

“Empty, huh?” He tuts to himself and takes a seat near your left leg. Close enough to send chills down your spine as you catch a whiff of his cologne. You nearly cum for the sixth time right then. “I bet.”

You whine harder and attempt to reach him. But he’s still too far and your chest aches. “Harry, please—”

“What, Cherry?” He brushes a piece of hair from your cheek and the gentle touch of his hand makes you want to cry. “Do you need some help?”

You nod again, fast and fervent. Desperate to feel his skin on yours. Overstimulated or not, he’s the only one who can fix you. Make it better, make you whole. Fill you to the brim the way only his cock can.

“Yeah? Well, let’s see.” His eyes trail down your naked chest, along your stomach, and back to the toy. Studying it almost curiously before he reaches for the tie keeping it snug to your thigh and flicks it free. 

The vibrator is taken away, turned off, and discarded. Leaving your pussy to clench and unclench around absolutely nothing while he moves to the foot of the bed in order to see.

Slowly, his large hands push your legs further apart, allowing him just enough room to settle his body between. His face is inches from your throbbing cunt and the collection of arousal that’s drenched the sheets below and he seems thrilled. Exhaling a pleased breath that fans across your swollen clit and makes you jolt.

“Shh,” he coos, pressing your hips back down almost forcefully. “You’re okay, Cher. Just wanna check on you, hm? See how she’s doing.”

His thumb finds you first. Reaching out to swipe down your clit and through your folds as you arch from the mattress and gasp something pitifully close to his name.

“So sensitive,” he muses, almost to himself. “And so wet. Just can’t stop soaking yourself, can you, honey?”

You only gasp for air, desperate to squirm away from the painfully sweet sensation.

He flicks the digit across the delicate nerves and sighs to himself when he sees a large drop of your arousal drip down onto the sheet. “There you go,” he whispers. He shifts a bit to get closer before parting his lips with a gentle exhale.

And the feel of his breath on the swollen bud brings tears to your eyes. You’ve never felt this kind of pleasure before. The kind that hurts and feels euphoric all in the same wave. You want to push him away and drag him closer. It’s strange but addictive and you peer down at him through stained lashes pleadingly. 

He does it again, taking hold of your thighs in order to lift them toward his cheeks, as though caging himself between your legs and suffocating himself with your pussy. Giving you no other choice than to let him have you.

“S’so pretty,” he says between torturous breaths. “God, could stare at you all day, baby. Your little hole looks so sweet like this.”

He brings his hands back to your folds and spreads you. Giving him the perfect view of the way your hole flutters and begs for his cock. His finger. His tongue. Anything.

You mewl to yourself and watch the way those pretty green eyes of his glaze over with lust. “Harry…”

“What?” He glances up and smiles. Feigning oblivion. “What’s the matter? You don’t mind me playing with her a bit, do you?”

You find the strength to shake your head.

“Good girl.” He pulls your pussy back again before dipping down to ghost his mouth along your clit. “Taste like fucking heaven. Always taste the best when you’re desperate.”

He makes a V with his fingers to keep you spread and lets his tongue do the rest of the work. He flicks and licks and savors the taste. The slurping sounds are sinful and pornographic, and your entire body begins to shake as you’re teased.

“Har…Harry,” you mewl, desperate to reach for his curls. “Harry, it hurts—”

“I know. But this is what you wanted,” he reminds you, glancing up while you drip from his chin. “Color?”

You swallow thickly. “Still…still green, I just…I need…need…”

“Need…more?” That arrogant smirk returns. “Oh, I know, sweet girl. Just aches without me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, please—”

He hums, one large digit slowly pushing past your fluttering walls. “How’s this?”

A sigh catches in your throat. It’s good, but it’s not nearly enough. And after 5 orgasms already, you don’t want to be teased any longer. You want the main event.

And he knows this, which is why he pushes and pulls his finger from your cunt at a tortuously slow pace before adding a second. 

“Harry,” you wail. “Harry, please—”

“Uh-huh. If you complain, I won’t give you anything at all,” he tuts. He licks your clit while adding a third finger, too. “I’ve already been nice enough to let you have all this fun without me. Do you really want me to stop?”

Your bottom lip quivers. “No…”

“Didn’t think so.” He sucks you into his mouth before nipping at your clit with his teeth. Your back arches from the bed, tits covered in a glossy sheen of sweat, and his lashes flutter as he looks at you. “Fuck.”

You feel proud. Even when he’s trying to dominate you, he can’t help but be mesmerized by you. Desperate to adore you. Appreciate you. Let you know just how much control you really have over him.

Your fingers twitch, desperate to thread through his curls. And sure, you could slip yourself free now, but where’s the fun in that? You know eventually he’ll set you free and that moment will make everything else worth it. To hold him and be held by him. 

Still, this consistently slow thrusting of his fingers inside your used and abused cunt doesn’t scratch that itch. So you whisper, “Please…Harry, please I need you. I can’t…I can’t, it hurts, Har…please.”

“I mean…I’d love to, but m’having so much fun like this,” he coos with an air of false sympathy. “Besides, I don’t think your little cunny can take me right now.”

Your expression falls as you look down your body at him. “What…? Why?”

“Think she’s too sensitive,” he says, running his thumb back over your pussy while you whine. “Look at her. All swollen and pitiful. Think I’d split you in half if I tried, baby.”

“No…no, I can take it—”

“Can you?” He meets your eye while reaching into his sweatpants to pull his cock free. And the sight of him—red tip leaking pre-cum that’s just begging to be tasted—makes your mouth water. He is big. And maybe he’s right. Maybe it would ruin you, but the truth is…you want him to. “I’d have to go slow, and it might hurt with how overstimulated you are.”

You pout again. “I can take it,” you blubber, tears returning to your eyes. “Just let me try. Please…please let me try.”

He seems genuinely touched now as he watches you cry, moving up your body to press his lips to your cheek. The first time you’ve felt truly close to him in hours.

You sigh happily at the feel of his mouth near yours, even if he’s not directly kissing you yet. In fact, the warmth from his body is enough to slow the racing in your chest, and you whisper his name as he leans back.

“My good girl,” he praises, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up. “Brave girl, too. Just wanna make me proud, don’t you? Even if hurts.”

“Yes,” you agree softly.

“I know, Cher.” He kisses your other cheek, right over the stain of tears. “You know I don’t actually want to cause you any pain, don’t you?”

Another nod.

“Good. Because I’d never forgive myself.” He plays with your bottom lip a bit before smiling. “And honestly, I hated leaving you here like this. Knowing I wouldn’t get to watch.”

You nuzzle into his palm and trail your eyes down the parts of his body you can see. “Did the fight go okay?”

“Mhm. I won.”

“Obviously.” You giggle. “Are you in any pain?”

He dips down to brush his nose against yours. “Not anymore.”

You frown. “Har…”

“Not bad pain, I promise.” He shuffles back down between your legs and lines his cock up. “Plus, you know I like it.”

“I know…but I worry,” you tell him. “Some of those bruises look bad, Har.”

“I know,” he echoes. “But I’ll take some painkillers and be fine. Until then, I can pretend they belong to you.”

You feel a deep sigh leave your lungs when he brushes the tip through your soaked folds. Even now, despite his condescension…he’s careful with you. He knows what you’ve been through, and he never wants to give you more than you can take.

“Want you to do something for me, okay?” he calls softly before getting into position. “If it starts to hurt…I want you to bite down on my lip. As hard as you can. Deal?”

Your eyes widen as you nod quickly, anxious to have his mouth on yours. 

The moment he pushes in, he kisses you. Swallowing the heavy moan that melts from your throat.

You do as instructed, clamping down on his bottom lip when you feel that poignant stretch and he groans in response. And the two of you are nothing but a mess of noises and animistic fucking. His nails scratch down your skin, tongue dancing circles around yours. 

Then, his hand comes to your throat. The same hand that causes so much harm to the men inside that boxing ring. The same hand that’s been shattered, broken, and torn. The same hand that wears a variety of scars and scratches, and the same hand that you love more than anything in the world.

It closes around your neck, gently and purposefully. Enough to excite you but not enough to scare you. Instead, you succumb to it. To the weight of his body on yours. To the peaceful trance you feel lulled into as your mind grows distant and all you really understand is the feel of his hips slapping against yours.

“Cherry,” he calls after you’ve gone quiet. “Baby, are you with me?”

You nod lazily, lashes fluttering. “Yes…feels good.”

“Yeah? S’it making your little ache go away?”

“Uh-huh…feels good.”

He smirks. “Good. S’it getting hard to talk to me?”

“Mmm…”

He chuckles to himself before kissing you again. “Honey, I think you might be going into your subspace.”

“What?”

“S’okay, don’t worry,” he assures you gently. “Not a bad thing. Just means I’ve been playing with you so long that you’re starting to feel a bit…spacey. Needy, in a sense.”

“Oh.” Your brows furrow. “But I’m always needy for you. Does that mean I’m always in it?”

 He shakes his head. “This is a special kind of needy. And it means I need to be extra careful with you.”

“Okay, Daddy.” You stop, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’ve never called you that before.”

“No, you haven’t,” he agrees. “Do you want to call me that?”

You think. “I don’t know. Do you like when I do?”

He rolls his lips into his mouth before nodding once. “Honestly? I kind of do. But that name can mean different things for different people. And I don’t want you to say it if it makes you uncomfortable. I like to hear you say my name, too.”

Another pause. “I like it,” you decide. “Feels…dirty. But good.”

“Just like you.”

You giggle. “Then you can be Daddy?”

“I can be Daddy.” He squeezes your tit in his palm. “Fuck, I never thought I’d like that so much. But I really love the way you say it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He dips down to take your nipple in his mouth, giving it quite a bit of attention before moving to the other one. “Just reminds me how fucking sexy you are. Cause you are. You know that, right?”

You feel your skin warm and you try to hide in the crook of his arm. However, he quickly snatches hold of your jaw to force your eyes on his.

“Baby, you’re beautiful,” he tells you earnestly. “You’re so fucking beautiful and I still don’t know why you waste your time with me. But I’m very grateful. And I love you. A lot.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” you whisper, pushing your lips together as though begging for a kiss.

He obliges. “Think I should let you cum now?”

“Yes, please.”

With that, he fucks you. Hard and deep into the mattress with a tenderness you don’t imagine you’d ever find anywhere else. Because even when he spanks your leg and squeezes your throat and sucks on your tongue while demanding you cum undone for him…he loves you. You can feel the way he loves you through every brush of his body against yours. Every thrust of his cock into your rather abused pussy. Every promise of his adoration.

And it’s everything. You bite so hard on his lip, you taste blood. And he loves it. He curses to himself and begs you to do it again. So, you do.

He plays with your clit, pinching it tight between his fingers that are slightly stained with blood from tonight’s fight. He rubs and he presses and he uses you like some sort of toy. And maybe you are. Maybe you’re his to use and abuse any time, day or night.

And maybe you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Shit, know you’re close. Huh, baby?” he hisses in your ear. He moves his hand to your chest and gropes it in his large palm. “You trying to hold back for me?”

You nod. “Want…want to feel you first.”

He laughs before his features twist with pleasure. “Well, that’s not our rule, is it? And I know you want to, so…let Daddy feel you, okay? S’gonna feel so good…gonna soak my cock and clean it up. Make me proud.”

And you do wanna make him proud. Wanna do anything to make him feel good. Wanna make him throw his head back as he fists your hair and fucks himself down your throat. Stomach clenching…thighs flexing…back muscles rippling.

The image is lewd and beautiful and everything you’ve come to adore about your stranger from the diner. And just the promise of getting to be witness to his pleasure tips you over.

And you cum.

But you don’t just cum. You squirt. All over his cock, and his bedding, and his thighs, and your thighs, and you make a noise that sounds so depraved, you don’t even recognize yourself.

And through this orgasmic fog, you hear the way he moans your name and gives you two sharp thrusts before following suit. Along with soft whispers of, “Holy fucking shit, Cherry. My god…y’just squirted, didn’t you? Fuck me…fucking hell, baby, m’so proud of you. Did so good…so good, honey. Feel amazing…that was the best thing I’ve ever seen. You’re so goddamn hot.”

You feel proud, truthfully. Exhausted…but pleased. Because he’s so happy right now, a dopey little smile on his face as he drops his face into your neck in order to catch his breath.

“Was that…okay?” you ask softly, desperate to run your hands over his body the way you always do after he cums. 

“Baby,” he nearly sighs, “that was so much more than okay. That was perfect. Why, are you okay? You feel all right?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper. “That was…fun. Don’t think I’ve done that before.”

“Don’t think you have, either.” He lifts up to run his thumb over your cheek and study you. “Lot of firsts tonight, hm?”

“Mm.” You nudge yourself back into his hand and he laughs. “Daddy?”

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“…can you untie me now? So I can touch you?”

“Fuck—shit, yes. Sorry, baby.” He quickly reaches up to undo the knots and gently guide your hands out. Once your arms are back beside you, he offers a rather guilty look. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head and run your fingers down his back. “No…this is much better.”

“Good.” He gives you a quick peck. “I think you deserve a bath, hm?”

“Ooo, yes, please!” You pause. “Will you stay with me?”

“Cherry,” he nearly tuts. “Of course I will. Where do you think I’m gonna go, hm? I’m yours.”

Your eyes brighten. “Mine?”

He kisses you again and it makes your heart soar.

“Yours.”

Ew why did I miss them 😭 THANK YOU FOR READING, ILY SO MUCH AND HOPE YOU'RE ALL HAVING AN AMAZING WEEK AND WEEKEND!!! 💞

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[erwinsvow]

random but i can see rafe giving shy!reader like a large amount of “pocket money” and she’ll always wait until she’s fully broke and runs out (if she doesn’t have a job), she’d be so nervous to ask him for more.

at first you're so shy around rafe you can't even find it in you to question what the money is for—you just assume it's some sort of test. you keep the cash in your pretty pink wallet until it's so full it won't fit in your purse.

rafe has no reason to be giving you money—you've got your own, your parents', that is. and suddenly you start to question everything, start overthinking like normal. does rafe think you're reliant on him for money? if so, is he mad at you because of it?

one day when he comes over to your place for once, claiming he wanted to get away from his noisy house to the serenity and peace of your bedroom, you dig out the wallet from under your bed and drop it next to him. he's laying on the mattress, sprawled out playing chess with a robot. the wallet lands with a thud.

like always, you let him speak first.

"what the hell's this?" he asks, lifting the thoroughly packed leather.

"i'm giving it back," you state, trying to remain a little firm. it's so hard around him though.

"jesus, kid," he comments, flicking through the cash. "did y'spend any of it? huh?"

"n-no," you stammer, suddenly nervous. "i kept it safe for you, like you wanted." you look at him with big, confused eyes and he looks back at you in disbelief.

"s'not for that, baby. it's for spending. for nice things, y'know, all the crap you like."

"crap?" you question back.

"stuff. books and records and ice cream when m'not around. y'know, pocket money."

"but i already have that," you reply. "did you think i didn't? did i ask for it?" suddenly confused, you wonder how you gave rafe this implication. "sorry, rafe."

"why are you apologizin'?" you perch yourself next to him.

"i guess because i didn't spend it.."

"well, stop. just use it for somethin' nice. for yourself, not me." he clarifies because he knows you—knows you'll go find him a new polo or golf glove if he didn't tell you otherwise.

and the way he says it—you comply, pressing a kiss to his cheek, mind floating to all the ways you could use it—a new beach read, a new bikini for boat days, ice cream nights with wheezie and a big tip for the nice girls who worked at the parlor.

you were used to spending your dad's money, now you were spending daddy's money. it wasn't that big of a change after all.

and it's really not.. until you run out.

you never had to ask your parents twice for anything, but rafe gives you cash and you don't question why, but now that you're used to getting things from rafe's money, you don't want to revert back. in all honestly, it felt nice when someone asked you where you got something from and you could tell them your favorite words.

"my boyfriend got it for me!"

credit cards are unlimited, but cash runs out. and asking rafe for more seems like the absolute worst thing in the world, especially when you were so hesitant to even start using it.

approaching the door to rafe's bedroom, you pace infront of it for a moment, thinking of the right words to say. ward walks by and smiles at you, though he's confused at what you're doing. panicked, you run in, standing in front of your boyfriend while he's looking at something on his desk. rafe glances up when you walk in.

"hey, kid."

"hi." it even comes out nervous. rafe shuts his laptop at the sound of your voice.

"what is it?" he asks, and you blink back in response.

"what's.. what?"

"y'think i can't tell when you're off? c'mon, start talkin'." you give in immediately.

"well... it's just, um, this cash. your cash. i ran out. and, um, this book i wanted releases out tomorrow. and i told wheezie i'd take her to the movies because that book we both like is a movie now, and it comes out this weekend, and y'know she's a child so-"

"yeah. m'aware."

"sorry," you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up. "sorry." he gets up from the desk, and you wonder if you really messed up by demanding so much.

"what'd i tell ya? stop apologizin'." when he gets close, rafe does what he always does, lifting your chin up so you're looking at him, his fingers resting on your jaw. "what'd you think? i'm gonna say no to you?"

"maybe. i'm being kinda greedy."

"nah, kid. be as greedy as you want." when you smile, he laughs at you, at how nervous you still get, how worried you are that you're doing something wrong. "besides, i got some ideas on how y'can make it up to me."

sounds like a win-win for you.

#this was so fucking cutie pie #i love them #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

[codtrashsammy]

This is... love? (Simon Riley x Reader)

- SMUT SMUT SMUT - MDNI MDNI MDNI -

First time writing smut in a loooong time, so bare with me. Had an idea and ran with it. I hope you like it tho!

Simon Riley can fuck. But what about the first time you make love? Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You

Warnings: crying during sex (not the bad kind tho, promise), explicit sex, p in v, praise (heavy heavy like on god), gentle love making <3 bc our boy can fuck, but what about other stuff too?!

Of course, you’ve fucked. Simon has been your boyfriend for 3 years now, you’re definitely comfortable to explore that part of your relationship now.

Simon has had you bent over every piece of furniture in your flat, has had you in every bed in your house, in the shower, on the floor, a couple of times on the balcony even. He’s had you pinned to walls in sketchy bar bathrooms, he’s had you in the back of his nice looking truck, the bed of that same truck- fuckin’ everywhere. That’s all it’s been, it’s been fucking. Rough, fast- always fucking godly, of course, but it’s primal. Animalistic, and you love it- you truly do love it. But this time you want to do things different. You want to slow it down, you want to fucking relish in the man you’re lucky to call your own. You don’t want to fuck, you want to make love to him. Simon has always been… not exactly averse to your softer affections, as he’s always a very willing participant, but you sometimes notice he seems… overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite handle the raw, genuine emotion behind a soft, tender, lingering touch. His cheeks heat up, he gets this certain look in his eyes, and while he’s never been mean about it- he backs away from it. He shies away from it. 

You’ve tried talking to him about it- you’ve tried many, many times to bring it up to him. And yet the bastard always has a way to switch up the conversation, to change things around, to slip past the topic so easily- he can spin straw into gold with that mouth of his.

So, you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands.

You’re laying in bed, cuddled right up to him, your leg thrown over his hips and an arm thrown over his chest while you lay on your side, your head nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm. Simon’s hand idly plays with the ends of your hair, his arm wrapped around you, simply holding you to him as if to make sure you don’t slip away. 

Simon is seemingly lost in thought, eyes closed and body more or less relaxed- as relaxed as Simon can be when the man is always seemingly on alert to every little sound. 

“Hey, Si,” You murmur out, your fingers idly tracing random shapes against the fabric of his shirt. He hums to let you know he’s heard you, but otherwise doesn’t really react. Fuck, you love this man. You love every inch of him, everything about him. You even love that he always leaves the toilet seat up (you swear he does it out of spite) because you know you’d miss it if he wasn’t around to keep doing it.

“Can I try something?” You ask, tone soft and relaxed, casual. Not at all portraying the thoughts in your head, your secret little ‘mastermind’ plan. 

“Tha’s quite vague, ain’t it, love?” Simon grumbles out, voice low as if to match the atmosphere of simple peace and quiet. “Hmm…” You trail off, a playful smile growing on your face- not that he’s looking to see it, “I think it’s pretty simple. Either yes or no.” You quip with a nod, moving to lean up, resting your weight on your elbows so you can look down at him with a soft, gentle smile. And of course at feeling you move, his arm moves from around your shoulders to around your waist- always touching you, never wanting you far when he’s finally home. (You don’t realize home is you- but of course he’s never quite told you that). Simon’s eyes open at your movement, too. Pretty brown eyes, half lidded in his more-or-less relaxed state as he looks up to meet your gaze, his gaze soft in the way it only ever is for you- his mask resting along the nightstand by the bed. There if he needs it- but it’s rarely needed with you around. A warm light, easily able to lighten up even the darkest depths of his mind to keep his demons at bay.

“....yes?” Simon offers after a few moments of contemplation, a curious look in his own eyes as they scan over your face- looking for a hint of what possible fuckery you could be up to at this point. Your soft smile stretches out into a soft grin as you lean down, pressing your lips to Simon's and letting your eyes flutter shut. One of your hands come up, tracing softly up his chest, up his throat, along his jaw before settling to cup his cheek.

You can feel his breath hitch the slightest bit at the soft touch, the lingering touch. This is the kind of kiss that usually overwhelms him, but maybe he’s in a good mood tonight. Your thumb softly caresses his cheek while your tongues intertwine, and you can feel the moment Simon tries to speed it up.

You pull away, eyes still closed, your lips brushing against his as you speak, “No, no,”

And you promptly place your lips back against his own, not giving him time to start spitting his bullshit about how he’s going to make you see stars if you don’t stop teasing him- because that’s not the goal here. 

You shift your body, moving to straddle Simon's hips (a feat in its own right), keeping one hand cupping his cheek while the other moves to the hem of his shirt, slowly running over the skin above the waistband of his pajama pants, before delving under the fabric and feeling the softness of his tummy, touch so soft and gentle, so loving against his body.

Simon doesn’t know what to think, his own hands seeming to hesitate before they come to rest along your thighs, squeezing the fat there a bit roughly- but that’s okay, you can teach him. 

“Love your hands, Si,” You murmur as you finally pull away from the kiss, only to trail kisses down his jawline, slow and soft, occasionally nipping at the skin.

Simon let's out a grunt, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs before moving to cup your ass, pushing your body to force your clothed cunt to grind against his already hard cock, and a breathy moan leaves your lips from the stimulation- but damn it, you’re doing this your way this time.

“I’ll stop,” You warn, voice still soft, but there's… an edge to it for once, one stating that you really will.

A soft groan leaves Simon's lips, along with a scoff at the absolute audacity of you, “Love,” Simon says, in warning more than anything. 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” You’re quick to say, before leaning back to meet his pretty, brown-eyed gaze, your hands moving to lift his shirt which he eagerly enough helps with, throwing the fabric away and down to the floor like it was the very thing that killed his family.

…a bit much, but you can understand his eagerness.

“You’re so beautiful, Simon,” You murmur out, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as you trail your hands across the familiar expanse of his chest, fingers running through his chest hair, thumbs brushing over his nipples before trailing down his sides. Your palms run over the subtle softness of his belly, where you know there is muscle hidden underneath.

A hiss leaves Simon's lips, and you can feel his cock twitch from where you’re perched in his lap. “Bloody ‘ell, love, the fuck ya doin?” Simon mutters, hands moving to grab your hips.

“Jus’ be good for me, yeah?” You murmur out, a soft, adoring smile on your face as you finally look up to meet his gaze.

The sight alone is enough to make you pause slightly. He’s not like this when you’re fucking- and you don’t even have his dick in you yet! His cheeks are flushed, not from exertion, he’s just flustered, his bottom lip between his teeth, brows pinched together with pretty glossy eyes. Almost like he could cry- but not quite. 

“You’re always so good for me, Si,” You murmur, grinding your hips against his own and letting out another breathy moan at the feeling, his hands tightening their grip of your hips in response. Just one look and you can tell he’s overwhelmed already- or at the very least getting there. But he hasn’t once told you to stop- he’s simply tried speeding you up, which you have no interest in. Not this time.

You grab his hands, kissing each of his knuckles before slowly dragging them underneath your own shirt, placing his palms against your breasts, his thumbs already swiping at your nipples, at the already peaked buds there. “Always takin’ such good care of me, my love,” You praise, and you reward him with another slow grind, beginning to set such a slow, but lovely pace, just enough friction to make you want more- but that’s the goal. A slow build, no rush, no desperation, just… slow. Loving. Gentle. Tender. Simon visibly gulps, his hands squeezing the flesh of your tits with a groan before he’s tugging your shirt off and adding it to the growing pile on the floor. He tries to buck his hips, tries to get your movements to speed up- but you simply lift up, ending the contact altogether, and send him a pointed look.

“Do ya not want me to fuck ya, love? What’s all this then?” Simon says with a huff, eyes narrowing slightly as they meet your own. Anyone else would say he’s frustrated- and yeah, partly he is. But you know your Simon, you can see that glossiness to his eyes, can see the slightest twitch of his brow- he’s overwhelmed- he’s not sure how to handle this, the softness, the gentleness. Simon likes to say he can’t be soft, can’t be gentle, can’t be loving. But it’s been 3 years with this man- you know he can. He just needs to be taught- it’s simply something he’s never had before, it’s not like he was born with the knowledge. “No,” You answer with a pleased, breathy sigh, resting your hips back against his own and beginning that slow grind once more, feeling his cock twitch at the action. “Don’t wanna fuck, Si. Jus’ be good for me, baby. Jus’ sit here, look pretty for me. Always so good for me. Jus’ let me love you, sweet boy,” You murmur out, eyes meeting his own and holding their gaze.

You trail your hands down his arms along his shoulders and collar bones, quite literally loving every inch of his skin.

Simon’s cheeks get hotter, the look he gives you is entirely overwhelmed, spooked even. Like the thought of being loved is absolutely horrifying alone.

“Be good? Kinda kinky, innit?” Simon mumbles out in response, looking at you with a quirked brow.

But you don’t stop. And he doesn’t stop you.

Clothes continue to fly off, positions change, but somehow you manage to remain in full control for once. And he lets you. Sure, you have to correct him at times, have to remind him to slow down, all with soft smiles and gentle praise- and he eats it up like a starving hound.

Even now, as moans and breathy praise leaves your lips, Simon being vocal, a rarity on it’s own, at least to this extent.

“Feel s’ good around me, love, fuck, so good,” He fucking babbles, his cock dragging along the walls of your drooling cunt at a slow, but steady pace. You’re underneath him now- stereotypical missionary- but it’s divine.

You pull Simon’s head down, pressing his forehead against your own, your legs wrapped loosely around his hips as his cock drags deliciously over all those sweet spots inside, the soft mound above his cock pressing against your clit with every. Single. Thrust.

It’s a slow build up, so slow, and while he focuses on clenching his fists into the sheets above your head, resting on his elbows on either side of it, you focus on touching him, praising him.

“Always so good to me, baby,” You practically purr the words.

“I love you so much, Si, so much,” You say, breathless as your back arches, forehead pressed to his and eyes closed in bliss of the slow building pleasure.

“Like you were made jus’ for me, sweet boy,” Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders, one of them tangling in his hair.

“Love how you make me feel, Simon,” You moan out, legs tightening their grip around his hips.

If your eyes weren’t closed, you’d see how Simon is looking at you right now. Simon is looking at you like you’re a fucking goddess… but the vision is blurry, from the pure overwhelming, unshed tears in his eyes. God, he’s pathetic, isn’t he? Crying? During sex? But he can’t even entertain the thought- thoughtful praise continuing to spill from your lips as he continues his slow, languid, deep thrusts. 

He focuses on the feeling, on the way your words are soothing parts of him he didn’t care to recognize were broken, he focuses on the way your hands trail across his skin so fucking lovingly- as if he’s actually worth something. As if he’s someone and not a monster. As if he doesn’t have hundreds of lives taken by the very hands you praise for touching you.

No- no, none of that matters right now, as for the first time in his fucking life Simon Riley doesn’t fuck- he makes love. 

“God- g-gonna make me cum, Simon- fuck- love the way you make me cum-” You whimper out, back arching into him and fuck, Simon can’t take it anymore.

Simon doesn’t know what to think. Sure, the pleasure is mind-numbing, your pussy always feels so fucking good when it’s wrapped around his cock like this, but it’s damn near tripled by the pure feelings you’re forcing him to feel. The way his chest burns, but it’s so good- he can fucking feel the love you have for him, the way you hold him in your heart, the way you think of him as though he put the very stars in the sky for you and you alone. And he would- fuck he absolutely would. He’d give you the world should you ask for it- fuck he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

He doesn’t speed up- he wants the slower build up, too, doesn’t want to rush it, but he’s going to shatter if more praise leaves your lips so he presses down, slotting his mouth against your own, a minor distraction really.

You can feel the wetness to his cheeks.

You know it’s not sweat.

Your hands move to cup his cheeks so softly, so lovingly, so gently. You moan into his mouth as the pleasure builds until that band finally fucking snaps, and you’re on cloud nine.

Simon buries his head in the crook of your neck, his hot, thick cum shooting ropes into you as your cunt squeezes his cock like a vice, truly milking him for all he’s worth.

You’re both panting, but Simon's head stays hidden- you know why, you can feel the tears against your neck, but you don’t say anything.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you come down from your high, nuzzling your cheek against the top of his head.

“Love you so much,” You whisper out, running a hand through his hair, still slightly breathless.

You can feel Simon place the softest kiss to your neck, arms squeezing you almost too tightly, but you don’t say anything. 

You know your Simon. He’s not a monster. He’s not a killing machine. He’s a man- your man. Simon’s not unlovable, he’s not broken. He’s not stupid for simply not knowing. He’s not stupid for simply needing to be taught.

And you love him. Gods, do you love him. You’ll teach him. You’ll teach him it’s okay, he’s safe here, in your arms. He’s safe to love, to cry, to breakdown, he’s safe to get the very things he’s never had- and you’ll give them willingly.

You don’t know how long you stay like that. His now soft cock still buried in your cunt, his tears have subsided awhile ago, but he’s still unwilling to move from his spot- not that you’re complaining. 

It’s so quiet you barely even hear it, but fuck, you’re so glad you did.

“Love ya,” Simon mumbles against your skin, his voice so quiet, hoarse and rough. But so very soft, so very gentle. Yeah. Simon Riley can fuck like a god. But Simon Riley is learning how to love you fully, how to make love to you fully- and he wouldn’t change a thing. Neither would you.

#simon riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #smut #tw crying #ghost x reader smut #simon riley smut

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

My girlfriend requested this

Hazbin men trying the period simulator. Somewhat of a follow up to my period post so this is based on the reader having severe period pain due to PCOS/ENDO

Lucifer

The man is sweating before you even attach the simulator. He knows he fucked up. He only agreed to this because he loves you a lot.

He handles the first 3 levels ok. You tell him very few women experience that little pain and that usually 4-6 is the average.

Those levels make him tense. He's uncomfortable, but still pretty able to work and do normal things. 5 has him pausing to do deep breaths every now and then. (If this is the canon timeline where he birthed Charlie he compares it to bad kicks).

6-8 he's pretty much doubled over. If you tell him that's the level you experience, he will cry. Literally begs forgiveness since again, period and labor pain is technically his fault. He is so sorry. If he didn't have issues with his Dad before he does now because this is fucked up. God's fucked up for doing this.

He doesn't make it to 10, he's crying by level 9. This is labor levels of pain. He gets why all you do is sleep. Treats your period like a sacred ritual after that. Preps for weeks. He goes full Bible, sheltering you for the duration of it so you can have peace and quiet. Please never hook him up to this again.

If you wear it at anything from an 8-10 and tell him "It's close, but I've hurt worse" he's gonna sob and then try and fight his Old Man again. He'll settle for offering to have your bits removed for you.

Vox

Once again this man hates admitting he was wrong. And yeah he knows your periods are really bad, especially now he's witnessed it. But it's still a huge knowledge gap for him and he doesn’t really take the time to think about it.

He handles 1-5 well. He's mildly uncomfortable by 5, but thinks that if this is the average experience, then it's not such a big deal. Tell him the statistics on how many people with periods actually experience 6-8 because that's actually the majority, and he's just confused. How is the average pain level not the most common?

6-8 has him gritting his teeth and glitching, but he refuses to stop and keeps trying to work. Is starting to wonder how you went so long working with this level of pain without him noticing.

He makes it to 10, but by then, he's unable to move, clutching his abdomen and sparking and glitching. Tells you it feels like his entire insides are being squeezed. The fact that he can feel it in his groin. He's kind of afraid of period sex with you after that because of how much he felt it. And you said it's caused cramps from your ribs to your knees. He's like... genuinely scared of your period and pain tolerance.

He's going to snuggle the fuck out of you afterwards and apologize for not appreciating how much you still do for him when you're not feeling good. How he didn't see how hurt you were. He does a lot of research after that and not only does he spoil you by buying whatever you need for your periods and giving you time off, he looks into treatment options. Even if that means chopping the useless fucking things out. Sinners can't have kids anyway so who needs ovaries and a uterus?

He's more convinced you should just be rid of the damn things when you wear it and 8-10 is "Yeah, this is close, but it doesn't really cover how much of my body hurts".

Valentino

Is only doing this because he was dared to by Velvette. Or if this an au where he's trying to be a less toxic person. But really I think it's also to prove that you're all being dramatic. It's a perfectly normal body function and his employees are just trying to get out of work.

He gets all the way to 6 before he starts to realize he may have fucked up. Especially when it's explained that this is what most people experience.

By 10 he's gritting his teeth, chain smoking, clawing at things. He refuses to give in, but he can count on one hand the number of things in his entire life and death as a pimp and a whore that he's experienced that come close to this level of pain.

No one told him his dick was gonna hurt. Sitting hurts. Breathing hurts. He doesn't even try to eat. He won't ever admit to being wrong, but he does behave more leniently with his actors when they're on their periods.

If you put it on (and lets say he actually cares about you) and setting 8-10 is "Yeah, this an average day for my cramps. My bad days are like..5 or 6 levels worse" it's gonna rearrange his brain a little. He might be a little afraid of you and some of the other actors with periods because your pain tolerances are so high. It threatens his ability to control you and them. But on the other hand, that's kinda hot???

Alastor

Has never once doubted that people who experience periods undergo serious struggle and has nothing but respect for women (and trans people he just associates it with women more because of the time period and his mama) who work through it.

He is actually the one who heard about the simulator through Rosie and asks you to show him your experience. Just to better understand you. He knows you're the type to try and function through the pain (probably because society ingrained into you that your pain doesn't matter).

Initially, he wants to skip the lower levels and just have you set it to your pain level. You tell him that's a bad idea, and to be honest, you're not sure if this thing goes that high. He asks you to check and you set it to the highest setting and say, "It's pretty close. It's been worse, but this is a rough idea," he's a little frustrated but still tries it.

You agree to set it to 4 and tell him 4-6 is what most people report feeling. He acknowledges it, registers it as unpleasant, but otherwise is fully capable.

7-9 has his ears flat, his smile is more a snarl. This is uncomfortable. Not what he considers painful but certainly irritating. It makes sitting, stretching, and eating feel much more difficult.

10. There's static visble around him. His teeth grind. Actually painful. Not the worst pain he's experienced, but he hates it. He hates the way he feels it in his back and hips as he walks. He hates the way taking deep breaths (which for someone as dramatic as he is and with the transatlantic accent, breathing technique and posture is important) stings. He hates the way it causes his stomach to cramp and churn. He hates the ache in his thighs and groin that make sitting feel stiff and ackward. He can only picture how blood loss would make this worse. Tired, losing nutrients, the headaches, the increased moodiness. It's no wonder you sleep, so much, but he wonders how the Hell you sleep like this? He's snappy and short tempered because of the pain (and again he gets why you would be if you weren't sleeping so much).

How does this affect how he treats you?

Not much. He still expects you to know your body and your limits. He would never dare to presume otherwise. He still helps prepare whatever you need for your time of the month and still meal plans for you, though he perhaps finds ways to ensure you get all the iron and vitamins you need without cooking steak and other big, heavy meals, since he now understands how bad your stomach hurts.

The only really noticeable change is how much more protective of you he is. Your time of the month hits, and Alastor hates being more than a few moments from you. He growls, pins his ears, and his antlers grow when people get too close to you. He's more prone to letting you snuggle with him when you want, trying to comfort you.

Angel Dust

Another who volunteered. His girl besties insist he doesn't have to do this, he's got the pass. He still wants to do it though, for solidarity.

He also starts on 4 and handles it well. He handles all of the levels pretty well, even 10. By 7 it's obvious he's sore, maybe a bit more withdrawn, exhausted, trying not to move too much or eat too much. Just trying to find a comfortable way to exist. The sad problem is, Angel already has to do this after rough nights at Val's.

He's used to sitting being uncomfortable and aches in his groin and thighs, cramps in his stomach from muscles clenching constantly. 10 is the only level where he's visibly ill, hunched over, lower arms curled around his midsection protectively.

He and the girlies all curl up together and nap and chat and snack on easy to digest junk food and granola bars. He's the first one to say "I bet it's even worse for you gals, but I tried".

He gets it. He's one of the girls. Honestly, kind of becomes a favorite when the ladies have period problems. (If you're dating any of the others and Angel is openly your favorite after this it is gonna cause a lot of dramatic pouting, posturing, and tantrum throwing.)

Husk

I'm going full balls to the wall on Veteran Husk. This man has seen some shit and dealt with his fair share of pain. Like Angel he takes it the best, with very little outward reaction. He's used to stiffness and nausea. The pain in his crotch is a little off putting, but it could be worse.

He's more cautious how he moves, rests more, occasionally a cramp causes his ears to pin back or a small hiss. Overall he takes it like a champ.

Offers you endless amounts of supportive words for dealing with this as well as you do, for days on end. Also is deeply sorry you even have to put up with this shit. Offers all sorts of tips on how to do stretches that help with easing cramps and stiffness without pulling something. Tips of foods/protein drinks to keep on hand to make sure you're maximizing how much nutrition you get. Man's a whole ass survival guide.

He only offers advice if you ask, though. He's not mansplaining how to handle your own body. He genuinely wants to help you, and that's the best way he knows how.

When you're on your period and just want something soft and warm he doesn't even bitch about it, he just settles on top of you and purrs, offers a massage, maybe offers a sly grin and a "no man left behind" joke as he helps you through these dark times.

BONUS:

ADAM

Would only do this if you challenged him, he has to prove his masculinity. He is definitely nervous as fuck though because he's seen yours. You and Lute already forced him to sit through a whole PowerPoint on women's anatomy and shit. He remembers how shitty he was to Eve, even if hers were in comparison, not that bad, just scary and new.

You forcing him to learn about and acknowledge female health is making him scared of pussy. This isn't gonna help.

3 and 4 make him whiney. He's uncomfortable. His groin feels weird. This sucks. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS ISN'T EVEN THE AVERAGE?!"

By 5-7 he's actually on his knees, curled over his stomach. He tells you getting stabbed hurt less. This is making him re-evaluate his entire view on women (again he knows about trans people, but because of personal history equates periods to women. Wouldn't hate if a trans person had a period, it would just take his brain a second to process). He whines that you and Lute shouldn't be more badass than him.

"I thought men were supposed to be tougher and stronger. This pain tolerance horseshit is a lie. You guys suck."

He insists on going to 10 because quitting is for losers. He may actually throw up at 10 though. Every time the stupid simulators sends out a pulse and his stomach clenches, he groans. He's in the featal position, there are tears. One hand clenches his stomach the other is cupped around his groin. He's apologizing so much and he doesn't even remember what he's apologizing for. At one point its just "I'm sorry...oh fuck this...sorry about...ugh just...just men?! I guess. Fucking shit ass. Men suck. Women are...fucking great. Aces. You do this shit every month? For like 5 days....what the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck."

You feel a little bad, but Lute is definitely filming this. Afterwards, he tells you you're a badass and any person shit talking people for bitching about period pain (Not that a lot of Winners do, but ya know, obviously they let some questionable people into Heaven if Adam and Lute got by) he's gonna beat the shit out of them. Like "Do you even fucking know, bitch? They're literally so much fucking better than you. Absolute queens. You try doing literally anything when it feels like your dick is falling off and your insides are trying to claw outside your body!"

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel lucifer #vox x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel adam

[harrysonlylover]

Pink & Blue*

Summary: Curiosity gets the best out of Harry and Y/n, so they decide to ask about the gender of their baby.

Trope: CEO!Harry

Warnings: lactation kink, crying, doctor check ups ,pregnancy talk and intimate gender reveal.

Please do not read if this upsets you🤍

WC: 3.2k

CEO H Masterlist

Sunlight sneaked through the open window, casting itself upon sleepy bodies. The soft puffs that left Harry and Y/n’s mouths were hidden by the sound of the birds chirping.

This is how their mornings started.

Warmth, love, and bliss.

They rarely slept with their bodies at a distance. It didn’t matter who was the big or small spoon—they would be attached either way.

This time, Harry’s head was resting near her bump. A gesture that he developed recently, even in his sleep.

His arm was wrapped around her to keep her close while his face was directed toward her bump.

She knew that he liked sleeping in this position even if she preferred seeing his face first thing in the morning and kissing it.

When her eyes fluttered open, her hand immediately reached down to scratch his head with a sleepy smile creeping up her face.

“Baby…”. Her drowsy voice tried to lull him out of his peaceful sleep.

“Hmm.” He stirred, pressing soft pecks to her bump before slowly lifting his body to her level.

“Missed you.” He whispered lovingly in between morning kisses filled with warmth.

“I was right here!” Their foreheads rested against each other as they soaked in this memory. Harry fought his exhaustion to open his eyes and admire her sleepy face adorned by the sun.

Waking up next to her always felt like a dream.

The next few minutes were spent with a mix of soft touches and pecks. It wasn’t too early in the morning but Harry overworked himself the previous night.

Y/n’s hiss got his eyes to open almost instantaneously looking for any sign of discomfort with a glance to her bump.

“Love?” He balanced his body using his elbow, feeling energized already out of slight worry.

“Your arm brushed over my nipple.” She replied with a chuckle as Harry lowered his gaze to her chest.

Y/n loved wearing thin tops. They were mostly floral and sometimes her tits literally spilled out during her sleep. Her hormones were raging and she felt like her boobs would not stop growing.

She wasn’t complaining per se, she loved her pregnant body—but not as much as Harry did.

“Sorry, my darling. They look painful, eh?” He pressed a kiss to her temple, with his hand gently kneading her breast in his palm.

“Oh—“. She moaned obscenely at his touch, closing her eyes once again to savor the feeling.

“Fuck Harry, they’re so full.” She tugged at her top, pushing it down because the slightest friction messed with her.

Harry was somewhat dreaming. He stared at her sore perky nipples with puppy eyes like it was a treasure.

“Sweet honey, you’re aching?” He cooed, leaving gentle kisses over her chest. Her hand tugged at his hair signalling her need for him.

“Fuck—the pumps didn’t arrive yet.” She groaned in frustration, remembering the pumps that were supposed to be delivered two days ago. She had ordered many supplies that she’d need for the pregnancy and given how painful her tits got sometimes—why not order these pumps to try them out?

“Now I wouldn’t be a good husband if I left you aching, would I?” The moment he used his raspy morning voice—Y/n knew she was a goner.

“What about our appointment?” She tried to reason, fighting against the sight of her sleepy yet sexy partner gazing at her engorged breasts.

They’re supposed to find out if Peanut is a boy or a girl today. It was too tempting to not take an appointment.

“I don’t have to cum my sweets, just want to relieve you.” His tongue licked one of her nipples sending shivers throughout her body.

“Is that what you want baby? To empty these beauties?” This time his grip was harsher and he swore he felt her spread her legs for him. Simply from the touch of her husband.

“They’re so full H, and sore and—“ Her whining was cut off by his sweet yet lustful tone.

“I’m here baby. Gonna let daddy have a taste?” Her immediate nodding with her hand at the back of his head pulling him further almost made him cum in his pants.

His eyes took in her engorged veiny breasts marveling at the beauty of her body. He couldn’t love her any more. Her pregnancy had been a wonder, even if she disagreed.

Her soft whimper pulled his attention back as he latched onto one of her nipples, not hesitating to suck harshly.

It elicited a hiss from her mouth with her hand resting on the back of his head, encouraging him to devour her.

The sunlight was warming their semi-nude bodies. Harry in his briefs and Y/n without panties and a barely worn top.

He clung onto her with his hand wrapped around her bump contently. Having him relieve her of the heaviness was a blessing.

It got uncomfortable sometimes making her feel like she was going to burst.

“Fuck H, go easy please.” She tugged at his hair, causing him to unlatch as drops of milk dripped down his chin, tainting his scruff.

The nipple he was sucking on turned red and grew perkier than before. Another droplet of milk threatened to fall making Harry pull his tongue out to catch it.

“Went a bit hard on you, didn’t I?” He kneaded her breast with his palm, not forgetting to leave a kiss on her sternum.

“Harry it’s really painful—“

“I know mama, I really do. You’re an amazing woman.” He cooed, giving his attention to her other nipple. He sucked on it gently for a few seconds before pulling away.

“Doing so good to feed our baby, eh?” His cooing was different than usual. It had an undertone of lust—sexiness, and the deep “Daddy” voice he used sometimes.

“Mhmm” Y/n allowed her body to slide down a bit. Their position was unknowingly erotic to her. The way she supported her partner while he helped her with the soreness and pain from the pregnancy that he caused.

“That’s it, mama.” He sucked gently but consistently on one nipple while rubbing the other.

It felt so crazy to experience what her body was going through. She could sense her milk getting ready to drip into his mouth, slowly relieving her from the heaviness.

Her spread legs allowed the breeze to overwhelm her exposed cunt that was growing wetter by the second.

She knew that not all couples liked this sort of play—but with Harry, everything felt erotic.

He seemed content to suckle on her full tits—enthusiastic even. He swallowed what she offered him, trying not to get too caught up with sucking and turning rough.

“Hmm giving daddy his breakfast.” He pulled away with a grin and white stains around his mouth.

His raspy morning voice mixed with his pretty face and eagerness to satisfy her did not help the need to reach the orgasm that her body was begging for.

Her nipples were already sensitive as it is and seeing her lover nursing from her fueled her need further.

“Fuck—“ A particular bite had her rolling her head backward, and Harry was content with the milk pouring into his mouth.

“My perfect wife.” He groaned, swallowing what she gave him excitedly.

She couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his lips stimulating her heavy, full breasts. Her areolas were already enlarged thanks to her pregnancy—but the overall experience and sensation were irreplaceable.

“H—too much.” She tapped at his cheek, pushing his head slowly away from the intensity of the stimulation.

She wished she didn’t have to pull him away but if he stayed any longer, she could’ve cried from pain and pleasure.

“Had enough mama?” He licked his white-stained lips, staring at her with puppy eyes and messy hair.

“Hmm feels a bit better now, but it can get painful.” She swiped her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp before earning a low hum.

He pressed soft kisses all over her chest, making sure to be gentle while hovering over her stimulated breasts.

She welcomed his gesture while allowing her hands to roam over his soft skin painted by the sunlight.

“My sweet love.” He was swarming her body with kisses, paying extra attention to her bump.

“H! The appointment!” She suddenly recalled their scheduled ultrasound appointment.

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall and let out a childish whine. Y/n hated being late as she was already lifting her pregnant body to get up.

“Baby, you didn’t have breakfast and take your vitamins—“

“The appointment—“ She scrambled inside their bathroom to clean herself up as Harry pouted at the idea of her leaving the house on an empty stomach.

He knew that deep down it was simply her excitement for knowing the sex of their peanut, and honestly, he couldn’t blame her.

Harry’s CEO attitude possessed him outside of his work hours sometimes.

If he wanted something done, he’d make it happen.

On the way to the clinic, he insisted on stopping at a local bakery to grab a fresh croissant with a cup of fruits for Y/n.

She didn’t object, secretly admiring his love and effort. Besides, she could never say no to a chocolate-stuffed croissant.

“Do you like it, baby?” He questioned, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb while his other hand rested on the steering wheel.

“Mhmm.” She nodded in between bites before splitting a piece from the croissant and feeding it to him.

“Ooh, nice crunch,” Harry remarked, ignoring the crumbs that fell on his Gucci suit.

Y/n ate the last strawberry in the cup before taking her vitamins that he grabbed on the way out.

“It’s not proper breakfast by the way. I’ll prepare something for you when we return.” There was something about the way he said it that made her stare at him to take in his words.

Maybe it was his manly attitude, the sunglasses on his face with the visible scruff—or the way he rotated the steering wheel with his palm.

Either way—she was close to drooling.

“Whatever you say, Daddy.”

He let out a chuckle before bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing the ring on her finger.

The ride to the hospital was short—enough for Y/n to nibble on something and ease her nerves.

Once the car was parked, Harry stepped out and walked over to Y/n’s side, opening the door for her and helping her to balance herself.

“How are you feeling, my love?” His hand was wrapped protectively around her bump as they walked inside the clinic.

“Nervous—I don’t know what to expect.”

“Me too. But we’ll love our peanut the same no matter what.” He rubbed her back to ease her a bit.

“Yes of course.” She smiled eagerly as it suddenly felt too real.

They miraculously made it to their appointment on time and were checked in immediately without having to wait.

The ob-gyn that followed Y/n through her pregnancy was the best in her field—Harry made sure to choose well.

She welcomed them enthusiastically, checking in on Y/n’s pregnancy and jotting down a few notes before asking her to lay back on the examination table and uncover her bump.

“I didn’t expect you guys to ask about the sex!” The doctor poured ultrasound gel on Y/n’s belly as she chatted with the excited couple.

Harry stood next to his partner, holding her hand and squeezing it for support.

“We got a bit antsy.” She smiled recalling how eager they were to find out.

“Well let’s see together because the last time you visited it wasn’t clear.” She shot Y/n a warm smile before beginning to move the transducer over her belly.

Harry caressed Y/n’s head, pressing a kiss to her temple as they both waited for the doctor to say something.

They were intently watching her facial expression which suddenly flashed into something unknown before returning to normal.

Y/n was about to ask if her baby was okay before the doctor spoke.

“So amazing and perfectly healthy.” Y/n swallowed down her throat with relief.

A few moments later, the doctor stopped her examination and helped Y/n wipe the gel off her belly.

“I know how private and intimate you guys are, and before telling my patients the sex of their baby, I offer them another option.”

Harry’s knees almost buckled from the anticipation and he had to remind himself that he couldn’t shout at the doctor because she was not his employee.

Y/n seemed perfectly calm although he knew that she felt anxious.

“I can send the results to a bakery of your choice and have them deliver a cake using the traditional color reveal method by tomorrow, and you can enjoy it privately.” She seemed like she genuinely had their best interest in mind as she glanced at the couple awaiting their answer.

“It’s up to the missus.”

Y/n let out a deep exhale, rubbing over her bump as if she was speaking with Peanut, asking them for advice.

“Well… I am impatient but that does seem intimate and lovely. I think it’d be nice.” She glanced at Harry asking for his opinion, and the tears threatening to spill from his eyes did not go unnoticed by her.

“Please do send it to the best bakery you know.” He nodded at the obgyn as he cleaned Y/n’s bump from the gel.

“Congrats Mr & Mrs Styles, you’ll be overwhelmed with joy.

2 days later

The movie displayed on the TV echoed in the spacious living room, followed by chuckles sounding from Y/n’s lips.

“Still watching Paddington love?” Harry strolled toward her shirtless with shorts riding up his thigh. He passed her a bowl full of chocolate-covered strawberries before joining her on the comfortable couch.

“Yeah, it’s so funny—Hey! Go wear something before I get pregnant again.” She frowned as she nibbled on the strawberries, staining her mouth in the process.

“Hmm.” He held back a laugh and rested his head on her bump.

“The marmalade sandwiches get me every time.” They were watching part 2 after spending the morning laughing at the previous part.

“Such an underrated movie.” Harry’s voice was muffled due to the strawberries he stuffed in his mouth.

“Exactly!”

Their laughter was interrupted by the bell ringing making Harry pause the movie.

“Did you order something?” Y/n inquired as he opened his phone to check the front camera.

“No… I think it’s from the bakery.” He scratched his head and walked toward the front door.

She placed a hand on her growing bump as she lifted herself off the couch and tried to figure out what was happening.

In a few seconds, Harry returned with an eager smile planted across his face.

“C’mon, baby.” He wrapped an arm around her body, guiding her to the kitchen counter.

“Oh shit this is really happening.” The box in his hand looked so luxurious that you wouldn’t know a cake was inside of it. On top of it was a small envelope that most likely held the official report from the doctor.

“Do you want to film love?” He rubbed her cheeks, trying to ignore his increased heart rate.

“It’d be a nice core memory.” She scrambled to get her phone and placed it in a corner that had a good angle.

“Okay…” She breathed in and out, with Harry by her side trying not to cry on the spot.

They unwrapped the box carefully, with their hearts ready to rip out of their body. The cake was covered with white frosting and painted with silver letters:” Boy or girl?”

“Let’s grab wine glasses.” She had seen some videos where they used glasses instead of knives and thought it’d be more fun.

Harry got the cake out of the box carefully as he swallowed down his throat. Once Y/n gave him a glass, they stood next to each other, sharing glances of love and support.

“Okay ready?”

“On three love.” He nodded reassuringly.

“One…”

“…Two…”

“…Three.” They pressed their glasses into the cake, with their eyes still on each other before they slowly moved them in unison toward the cake.

“Huh?”

“What’s that?”

They questioned as they shared a puzzled expression. The scene in front of them had them beyond confused.

The piece of cake in Y/n’s glass was pink while Harry’s was blue.

“I—what—“

“Fuck’s sake—I swear if they messed this up.” Harry clenched his fist as he dug his glass into the rest of the cake.

The pieces came out the same as before: pink and blue.

“Babe calm down.” Her confusion didn’t stop her from thinking straight as she rubbed his back to ease him before grabbing the small envelope.

She ripped it open almost immediately, scanning her eyes over the written report. Harry observed her facial expression as his knuckles tightly gripped the counter.

The moment her lips trembled, he felt the knife he used to cut the cake going through his heart.

“Oh my god…” Her hands and voice shook together as she looked up at Harry with glossy eyes.

He was paralyzed—unable to move or speak as tears silently rolled down his cheeks.

“It’s a boy and a girl.” She covered her mouth with her hand, letting out a sob before wrapping her arms around Harry.

Harry’s world was spinning, overwhelmed with the events and his wife’s body against him.

Her warm tears fell against his skin as he hiccuped—already on the verge of sobbing. His happiness seemed to double but so did his love.

“T-two babies?” He asked again with a broken voice. It felt too good to be his reality.

“Baby twins.” Y/n faced him with a red face and puffy eyes as tears streamed down her face.

No matter how overwhelming, Harry could never forget this moment and would later on re-play it in his head.

Their foreheads rested against each other as they shared soft kisses and tears. Eventually, Harry’s sobs morphed into laughter as he went down on his knees and smothered her belly with kisses.

“Daddy loves you peanuts.” Y/n wiped her face and smiled at his actions. He whispered something at the end that seemed to be only audible to his two babies.

“Heyyy already sharing secrets with them?” He rose to her level, giving her a toothy grin that wiped the pout off her face.

He pulled her closer, cradling her face with his hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you. Most perfect Mama.” He whispered softly before burying his face in her neck, allowing more tears to fall.

“And you’re the most perfect Dad—oh god we’re having twins!” The idea still seemed so surprising and didn’t quite settle in.

They had a lot of love to share and things to discuss. After all, it’s a double trouble.

“Now I know why I’m always so hungry. Your babies consume everything!”

Harry’s laughter echoed in the kitchen as his dimples popped making Y/n blush as she caressed his skin.

“You and our babies can take everything and anything you want.”

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry smut #harry styles story #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry x reader #harry fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles mature #harry styles book #harry styles masterlist #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #ceo harry #ceorry #ceo au #harry styles request #harry fic #harry blurb #harry styles wattpad

[scuderiahoney]

Every Second

charles leclerc x reader

masterlist

summary: the world is ending. you’re right where you belong. 2.6k words

warnings: major character death (apocalypse au, everyone dies), charles & reader have a daughter, talks of death/afterlife/end of the world, it’s mostly sad not gonna lie

a/n: had this idea a LONG time ago, finally finished it today. loosely based on the music video for Older by 5SOS. see also: Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe & FINNEAS and I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers. you get the vibes.

The world is on fire.

For once, you mean that literally. You’ve been saying it for years, in reference to politics and pollution and the general temperature of the planet. But now, the world is literally on fire.

Charles is pacing laps around the whole apartment. He’s unable to sit still, even now. The tv is on, the volume low, photos flashing by on the screens. There’s a countdown, ticking along at the bottom of the newscast, telling you exactly how many minutes you have left before the whole thing falls apart. You’re not sure how they seem to know. You won’t take the time to find out.

The next time Charles walks by you, you reach out and grab the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He stops in his tracks, and your fingers brush against his skin. He doesn’t look at you, hasn’t for hours. He stared at the ceiling, now. He’s angry, you can tell. It’s eating him up inside.

“Amour,” you say, calmly, quietly. “You will wear a path in the carpet.”

The irony of what you’ve just said doesn’t hit you until he lets out a bitter laugh. You realize, then, that by tomorrow there will be no carpet. There will be nobody to see the path he’s worn. Everything around you will cease to exist.

It’s funny, the end of the world. It doesn’t feel like you thought it would, though you’re not sure you spent much time devoted to the thought. You had worries, sure, but they always seemed so distant.

“We should wake her,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I want… every second.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Okay, I’ll get her.”

“No. Not- I’ll go with you,” he says, twisting his hand to grab yours, then repeating, “I want every second.”

You stand up from the couch. He keeps your hands linked as he follows you to your daughter’s room. She’s asleep in the crib, barely one year old, head full of dark curls and a smile that bears his dimples. She looks peaceful. For a moment, you hate to disturb her. It’s the last time you’ll pull her from her crib. You understand, now, why he wanted to come with.

Charles walks over, reaches in with one arm, and scoops her up. It’s only then that his eyes meet yours, as he cradles her to his chest. The two of them make such a perfect picture. You’ve seen it before, after races when he’s tired and sweaty but always wanting to hold her, when he gets back from long trips and she clings to him for hours, when he gets her up in the morning and brings her to your room to wake you up.

He swallows tightly as she shifts in his arm, pressing her tiny round cheek to his neck. You tug on his hand, lead him back out to the living room. He squeezes so hard you think your fingers might fall off.

It won’t be long now before your daughter is fully awake. She’s already beginning to wiggle slightly, her eyelids fluttering. You don’t dare to try and let go of Charles, but you head for the kitchen and start warming up a bottle for her.

It’s what you’d do any day. It’s odd, because the apocalypse is breathing down your neck but your baby still needs to be fed. Other things, you’ve chosen to neglect- the trash will stay in the overflowing can in the kitchen. The mail will go unopened, bills unpaid. There’s a layer of dust on the fireplace mantle that will stay there until the mantle itself ceases to exist. You warm up your daughter’s bottle, though, and try to listen to the sound of the microwave instead of the sound of your husband’s crying.

She’s awake, now, and tugging at your hair with tiny fingers. Charles untangles your hands and wraps his arm around your waist instead, uses it to pull you into his chest. His grip is so tight it would almost be claustrophobic on any other day. Today, if you could melt yourself into one person with him, you would.

The microwave beeps, and you both jump. You grab the bottle, turn to your husband, your daughter. She’s yawning, her head on his chest, her hand still caught in your hair. She doesn’t know. She won’t ever know. There are so many things she won’t get to learn. You’ve dreamt of this your whole life- of love, a family, people to call your own and a home to spend your life in with them. In the end, your time has been so short lived. There are only so many minutes left. The clock on the TV counts down, and your chest aches with every second. You will lose them today.

Charles seems to sense your train of thought. He leads you back to the couch in the living room. He half sits, half lays with your daughter, legs up on the sofa, and holds his other arm out for you. She’s beginning to fuss, because she’s hungry- the most simple of human predicaments. When you sit down, he pulls you into his chest, to face him, your back to the tv. Even on the last day, he will try to shelter you. He curls his arms around you and your daughter while you hold the bottle to her mouth.

“My girls,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “My beautiful girls.”

You’d thought, when you had gotten pregnant, that Charles would want it to be a boy. A mini him, someone to teach karting and racing and follow in his footsteps. But before you even found out, he’d been insistent it was a girl, that she was going to be just like you, that he was going to be wrapped around her finger, same as he was around yours. And when she was born, his dark hair and your eyes and the tiniest fingers you’d ever seen, Charles had bawled his eyes out, holding her in his arms, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead.

He’d been so excited, told you all of his plans. There’d been days on the boat with her, days in the water, days at races with giant headphones to protect her ears. Her father had doted on her and loved her, had talked about her every chance he got. She was going to grow up with all the love the world could possibly have to offer and then some, surrounded by it, bathed in it.

It’s not fair. You’ve had years to live, you’ve gotten to be your own person, but she’ll never get that chance. You suddenly feel short of breath, chest tight, heart racing. Charles feels it and wraps his arm tighter around you. You stare at your daughter’s face, her tiny eyelashes, the little slope of her nose. She deserves so much more time. You rub your finger over her cheek as she drinks the bottle.

“S’not fair,” you mutter, blinking back tears.

“I know,” he says, murmuring the words against your forehead. “It’s not.”

There’s so much more you could say, but the words won’t come. How do you put that into words? The terrifying, all consuming fear of what is coming. There’s no stopping it now. Maybe it’s not worth dwelling on.

“You know,” you say with a sniffle. “She’ll never have to be afraid.”

Charles nods. “Nobody will ever hurt her.”

You reach out and hold her hand, her tiny fingers in yours. Her skin is so soft, unmarred by the world. She will never face heartbreak. She will never lose anyone. She will never have to worry. She’ll also never make her first friend, or have her first love, or her first job or first car, or… the nevers pile up and weigh heavy on your chest. The whole weight of the world is on you.

You press your cheek to Charles’ chest and let the tears flow. It’s silly to hide it. He holds onto you tightly.

There can’t be much time left, now. You can feel the seconds slipping away like grains of sand through your fingers. You have this uncontrollable urge to kneel on the ground and try to scoop them all up. The bits and pieces of your life together with him. You want to hold it all close to your chest, try and shelter it from the impact.

“The wine,” Charles says. “The wedding wine.”

You’d saved a bottle. It was meant to be opened on your tenth anniversary. It’s in the cupboard in the kitchen, a white bow around the neck, a label with a photo of the two of you custom printed by a friend. You’ve been married for three years now. At the time, ten years had felt so far away. Now it slips through the gaps in the cupped hands of your heart.

Charles passes your daughter into your arms and stands up. You cradle her to your chest and press your lips to the top of her head. You whisper to her, remind her how much she’s loved, how much you care for her. Charles returns with the bottle and two glasses, and the corkscrew you’d been gifted as a wedding present. You try not to dwell on it, try not to think about his brothers giving it to you, engraved with your new last name and with a note to accompany it- When you argue, or feel sad, or happy, or anytime, stop and share a bottle of wine together.

You take their advice- of all the times to take it, now feels like your best bet, though you’ve lived by little things like that your whole relationship. When Charles was gone for extended time periods for races, he always returned with a special bottle of wine, always made sure to set aside his first day back just for you, and eventually, for your daughter too. It was one of the things that bothered him most, he’d told you- he never felt like he had enough time. Stretched too thin between all the things and people he loved, everything that’s important to him. He pours you a glass of wine and hands it to you, and you wait while he pours his own. You clink the glasses together and take a sip. It tastes the same as it did on your wedding night, and fresh tears fill your eyes. All your family and friends, there to celebrate the two of you, and now it all comes to an end.

There are picture frames on the wall behind the couch. You stare at them, the tears in your eyes blurring the photographs, but you know what you’d find there. The wedding photo, when he’d kissed you for the first time as your husband. There’s the photo of the two of you on his first day at Ferrari, smiling bright and wide and happy and not having any idea how important you’d become to each other. There are family photos- just the three of you, and ones with your extended families, too. There are landscapes from your vacations together, pictures of you with friends out at parties, your whole lives, hanging up on the wall. All the photos will be destroyed, soon, along with the rest of the world.

Your daughter is dozing off against your chest. You turn to try and take a peek at the countdown on the screen, but before you can, Charles grabs your head and holds, firmly. It can’t be long now. Sometime this morning, just after sunrise, you think they said on the news last night. There’s sun filtering in through the curtains. Your breath gets caught in your chest. The dawn of a new day, of the very last day.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, lips against your forehead. “Don’t panic.”

“The world is ending, Charles,” you choke out, voice frantic. “We- we’re going to-“

“I know,” he mumbles. He knits his fingers with yours, right on top of your daughter’s back. “I know. Stay with me. Feel me? Feel her breathing? Just stay right here, my love. You are safe here.”

You’re not, you’re the least safe here that you’ve ever been, but you know what he’s trying to say. You feel the soft rise and fall of her back beneath your hand, feel the way he squeezes your fingers. Stay here. Stay with me. You take a deep breath against his neck, wondering if you can breathe in enough of him that he’ll be a part of you forever. Forever. What does forever even mean, now?

“It’s not enough,” you mutter. “It wasn’t enough time. We deserved more time.”

He nods, and when he speaks, his voice sounds raw. “It wasn’t. We did. But it never would have been enough, my love.”

“If you had more time,” you start, and you hear him choke on a sob. “What would you do with it?”

He’s quiet for a moment. There’s a million different options, a million different answers, a million things still left to do. You wonder if he’s thinking of the same thing as you, though.

“I would spend it right here,” he says, and you fall to pieces. “Right here, with you in my arms, and our daughter with us, and I would tell you how you are the love of my life and- and how I will find you, in the next life, and we will spend forever together. Over and over and it will never be enough,” he sniffles, his tears falling against your forehead.

“Give me a million more years, and I would like to spend them all with you,” you tell him, voice thick with your tears. “Every second.”

There’s a loud noise from somewhere outside. Your heart should be racing, but it isn’t. Charles wraps you up closer, pulling you around your daughter, trying to cradle both of you in his arms. This is it. If there’s anywhere you’d want to spend your last moments, this is the place.

“I will see you soon, my love,” he says into your skin.

Neither of you are religious, and you haven’t talked about your thoughts on the afterlife in any serious sense, but in that moment, you believe it, and you know he does too.

“Nothing could ever keep me away. We said forever,” he adds.

“I love you, Charlie,” you say, leaning up to kiss him. “Forever and ever.”

As the world falls apart around you, you bury your face in his neck and let it happen. There’s nothing you can do, now, except spend every second with him, with your daughter. All the seconds you have left.

…..

The Ferrari factory is bright and shiny, full of people who stare in awe. They have a new driver today, a new prodigy who’s meant to bring victory back to Maranello. You’re feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of it, by the people staring, by the buzzing underneath your skin. It’s too much, but you can’t back out now. You’re being lead through the crowd, and you hope you don’t look as terrified as you feel.

“Oh, and this,” your new team principal says, “is Charles. Your race engineer. You’ll be working very closely together.”

Charles turns around, eyes already sparkling. He grins, a dimple divoting his cheek. He’s cute. He gives you a warm feeling in your chest, like something familiar. When he shakes your hand, you swear you feel a spark. You’ve never met him, you’re almost sure, but it feels like you know him, or maybe, like you used to. It’s the strangest feeling, but it’s a comfort in this sea of strangers.

“Welcome to Ferrari,” he says, and it’s the millionth time you’ve heard it today but you could cry, still. For some reason, it means more coming from him. “You’re going to love every single second.”

Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @arian-directioner @racingheartsposts @sakuramxchii @mynamejeff5 @c-losur3 @casperlikej

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc blurb #charles Leclerc angst #charles Leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 blurbs #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 angst #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula one fanfic #formula one oneshot #formula one blurb #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot

[traffytaffy]

OP Men and proposing💍

Ft. Law, Kid, Sanji, Zoro.

Sorry i haven’t posted in a bit. I had like no ideas, but this was actually requested by my best friend who was going through “marriage fever” lmao.

Requests are open!

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Law;

-Marriage isn’t something he’s concerned with but if it is something that you’ve shown interest too, then he’ll consider it. But expect a proposal after several years of being together.

-He would prefer something quiet.

-Somewhere that only you can hear the way he speaks to you in his gentle voice as he tells you everything he loves about you. 

-He wont get on one knee but he would be right next to you, thigh-to-thigh, hand-in hand… as the close contact of his warmth radiates off of him and onto you.

-He would probably pick the night time so it would be more peaceful as the moon and stars are out (also so you don’t see his deep blush)

-He looks embarrassed at first but decides to just be upfront and honest.

-He would pull out a diamond ring. It wouldn’t be too extravagant,something minimal but filled with love.

“Would you…accept this? And make me the happiest man…once more?”

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Kid;

-Marriage doesnt really pass his mind. If youre with him. You’re his, not a paper or a ring can tell him otherwise.

-I dont think he would care about the logistics of it, but he decides to take matters in his own hands once he sees someone flirting with you…

“Married?”

You nod to get the person flirting with you away…

“I don’t see a ring on ya finger”

-After…beating their ass. Kid would make you a custom ring with an engraving of you and his initials.

-Instead of getting on one knee. He just hands you the ring, his flustered face not able to meet your eyes and all he says is:

“Keep it on, you hear me?”

-And thats all you needed to hear to know you’re a married partner now…without even saying yes.

(You can not convince me he’s not a big softie)

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Sanji;

Do i even have to say it?

He has every…little..thing… planned..

-Its Sanji, you should know he would make a proposal the most romantic gesture he has ever done.

-He’d probably buy you bushes of flowers. Petals running up and down the beach where you find a candlelit dinner waiting for you. And of course… he cooked it all.

-French wine. The best of the best.

-His suit was fresh and crisp, not one single wrinkle in its fabric. You actually felt a bit under-dressed but he assured you that you were the most beautiful thing to him no matter what you wore.

-You felt like an idiot cause out of all the extravagant dates and romantic gestures hes done for you, it took him getting down on one knee for you to finally understand what was happening.

-He has a long speech. You probably have to shut him up by giving him a kiss midway through and saying “please shut up. Of course its a yes” in a sweet and playful way obviously.

-Cause he didnt need to say every great detail about you for you to know your answer was always going to be a yes.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Zoro;

Probably accidentally got lost and made it to an office where he can file for marriage.

(Kidding…well maybe..?)

-He probably would propose if its something you want. As for him, its not really a big deal.

-He actually does try to plan it out to the best of his ability, asking his crew members for help.

-He loves you so much and wants this to go as planned that he even asks Sanji of all people for help. Sanji takes care of cooking a special dinner for you two.

“Im only helping you cause its for y/n”

But secretly, he wants Zoro to be happy as well.

-When it happens, you two are alone on the deck of the ship, sharing a drink after the two of you ate the dinner Sanji had made for the two of you.

-When the time of the night came that he thought was right, he is sweating profusely.

“Can i talk to you?”

-You nod and listen as your beautiful eyes stare into his, causing him to stutter.

-He doesnt have a speech or anything, he believes the words should just come to him.

But they dont.

-He pulls out the ring and looks at everything else but you.

-He holds the ring out to you while rubbing the back of his head nervously.

“Marry me?”

#one piece #trafalgar law #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #one piece eustass #trafalgardwaterlaw #roronoa zoro #eustass x reader #law x reader #zoro x reader #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #law x y/n

[scarletttries]

When Fallout Characters Fall In Love... (Fallout Show Request)

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader, Maximus x Reader, Norm x Reader

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has sent in a request for the Fallout show, please keep them coming as this is definitely the show that I'm thinking about the most at the moment! Also let me know if you want a part two of these headcanons or something similar :)

The Ghoul:

- Cooper Howard couldn't put his finger on exactly when he had accepted that the life he now led would be one devoid of love, but it was a hollow feeling he carried in his chest wherever the wasteland took him. Maybe it was in the decades he'd spent wandering and gaining a reputation as a heartless cowboy without an ounce of mercy. Or the fact that he hadn't met anyone that had stirred up a single emotion inside him, fearing the aching betrayal of his wife would haunt him even as lifetimes passed. Maybe it came to him in the way he flinched each time he caught his reflection in the few unbroken windows he passed, flesh slowly forming caverns and creases where once there were only the faintest of lines that showed endless signs of life. The wasteland was no place for love. That's what he had decided.

- But even in the fall of civilization there's room for a surprise, and you were certainly one of those..

- He heard rumour of you before your bounty crossed his desk, a runaway scientist from a mysterious body known only as The Institute, a target to everyone for the sheer volume of classified knowledge you might possess.

- A life on the run was no easy one, and Cooper knew that better than anyone, so it didn't take long for him to track you down to a small town just on the outskirts of the radiation's no man's land. His gun was cocked as he strutted towards the half open door of the rundown house he'd narrowed your location down to, glancing at the poster in his hand one last time before he burst inside. Even from the poorly illustrated version of you, he could see your eyes were kind, almost hopeful, like you still believed science could make right what had gone so wrong in the last 200 years. He almost felt a tinge of guilt as he steeled himself for a fight, saying a silent prayer that you wouldn't be behind the walls in front of him.

- Stepping in carefully he expected traps, or an army of robots to jump to arms, but instead he found you travelling alone, a small satchel of papers clutched in your arms as you stared him down with a calm resolve that caught him more off guard than any weapon.

"Do you still believe there's hope for this world Mr Howard?" Your voice was soft, not the trembling fear he was so used to hearing. You stared up at him without a trace of disgust in your expression, your eyes locked on his as he considered your question, and then lowered his weapon.

"And what if I do?" His heart ached at the question, so hardened by years of cynicism that even the idea of hope and goodness were almost too heavy to bear. He felt more human than he had in years as you slowly inched towards him, the creaking floorboards beneath you cutting through a tense silence that had The Ghoul feeling like he was back on a movie set, everything so perfectly orchestrated to have his stomach in knots. And then you extended your hand to him and gave him the most genuine smile he could remember receiving in this whole sorry chapter of his after-life,

"Then I think we could really make a difference. Together." Your pip-boy screeched as his irradiated hand stretched out to reach yours, but you didn't flinch, gently squeezing the twisted flesh as you shook on what you bought felt in the depths of your souls was going to be a meaningful partnership.

- It would be a straight forward life trying to use your research to get the world back on track for there to be joy and peace again. But with The Ghoul by your side you can expect; a personal bodyguard who cares more about your safety than his own by far, a gleaming look of pride in his eyes any time you tell him which Cooper Howard film was your favourite, the slow and steady acceptance that he is still worthy of love even in his new twisted form, and Cooper being endlessly grateful that you are the person who wants to give that love to him.

Maximus:

- All Maximus had ever wanted was to be a knight of the Brotherhood. He wakes up every morning and does his best every day just to try and earn his spot in this family of welded metal and unflinching loyalty. It wasn't until you arrived on the base that he started to realise there were other ways he might form a family.

- A nearby village had been half destroyed by raiders until the Brotherhood stepped in, clearing out the violent scavengers and bringing anyone with skills they could utilise back to base for assessment. Maximus was sitting alone, nursing the most recent wounds inflicted by his so-called brothers when he watched you march in alongside two soldiers, the final evacuee of your faded community, a distance in your eyes that he felt akin with from his own home's destruction. You could feel his eyes on you before you spotted him, a rag damp with blood pressed to his nose as he sat huddled against a corrugated iron shack.

- Despite the sheer joylessness of the situation, Max couldn't stop himself from sporting a smile, waving at you like you had locked eyes across the schoolyard not some barren military base. Whatever he hoped for in that moment seemed to pay off as you waved back, a small laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his blood soaked grin. He watched as the knights around you escorted you to the medical tent for a check up, waiting until they left their guard posts beside you to sneak behind the off-white fabric, following some unknown instinct he'd never felt call to him before. You bolted upright where you perched on one of the medical beds as he appeared, visibly relaxing when you recognised him from outside and once again waving in his direction. His mouth worked faster than his brain in that moment, heart hammering in his chest as the words gushed out with his new found affections,

"I used to live in Shady Sands. I know what it's like to have your home destroyed, your family hurt, everything changing all at once. But you're safe here with the Brotherhood, and even if it doesn't feel like it today, things are going to be okay eventually. Also I'm Maximus and if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm, like, around all the time, and no one else really wants to talk to me so I'm probably going to be available... " He trailed off as he tried to recover what had ended up a far more embarrassing sentence than he'd hoped, his lungs burning as he realised he'd forgotten to take a breath through his whole winding spiel. But when you smiled at him any shame seemed to float away, and as you patted the bed and nodded for him to take a seat beside you, the once lonely squire suddenly felt much closer to finding a family than he had surrounded by his brothers.

- As you settle into life on the base, you and Maximus only grow closer. Expect; late nights of sneaking out of your dorm so you and Max can stare up the stars and plot your escape from this life, fantasising about what a life beyond these walls and this world could be like for the two of you, someone who has your back no matter how bad things get and how low you feel, and truly some of the most god awful flirting you will ever hear.

Norm:

- Growing up in the Vault, Norm had always been told the value of belonging to a community, and how everyone in the vault was just a big happy family. But none of that stopped Norm feeling like an outsider, like he didn't quite operate on the same wavelength as the rest of the cheerful strangers he shared his deep underground walls with. After a few of the annual exchanges between vaults, he had all but given up on hoping to meet anyone he felt he could actually feel close to.

- When his overseer father had finally decided it was his turn to continue the vault's legacy and be part of what Norm considered an archaic tradition of arranged marriages between the linked vaults, Norm couldn't have been more resistant. He pleaded for the council to reject his nomination, begging them not to force some young hopeful to be subjected to his notable lack of enthusiasm for the rest of their life in this dutiful swap, but with limited options of eligible young men, he soon found himself staring down the doors of your vault. The suit previously used by his fellow bachelors had been tailored to within an inch of its life to try and fit his slight frame, the shoulders still feeling like they hung off him, threatening to swallow him up along with ground as he watched the round door slowly start to roll open.

- He thought this whole thing was stupid and outdated, and he knew there was no way he could actually find someone to love and love him in return behind those doors, so why was his stomach so full of butterflies as slowly your face started to appear in the artificial light of Vault 33. He waited to see you throw him a false smile, going through the motions as much as he had planned to, or even a look of disappointment that he was not the man you had been picturing as the door crept open. Instead he really thought he saw sincerity in your eyes, a thoughtful understanding as he choked out his name, his stammering not going unnoticed by his sister who quietly chuckled behind him.

"It's really nice to meet you, Norm." You spoke each word with intention, like it wasn't just a rehearsed greeting but an honest confession that sent sparks flying in the air between you.

- Suddenly the pressure of matrimony didn't feel so all consuming. And maybe this system was more advanced than he had appreciated. And there might be a small chance that he wasn't destined to spend his life feeling like he was on the outside, that he might finally have someone that could take him as he is, darkness and light, for better or for worse.

- Whether you stay in the vaults, or make your move to the surface world, with Norm by your side you can expect: Sarcastic comments muttered under his breath at inopportune moments just to see the way you fail to contain your laughter, being the sounding board for all of each other's thoughts and feelings no matter how serious or silly they might be, Norm clinging to your side through everything knowing that he only feels himself when he's stood in your light, and being the one person Norm would do absolutely anything for, bringing out the bravery and intelligence that was always just below the surface of this sweet man.

#writing #fanfiction #requests #one shot #falllout #fallout #fallout prime #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper Howard headcanons #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard imagine #fallout the ghoul #fallout show #fallout headcanons #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul headcanons #maximus x reader #maximum headcanons #norm x reader #norm maclean #fallout norm #norm headcanons #norm maclean headcanons #norm mclean #fallout requests #fallout prime requests

[envy-of-the-apple]

Ruptured Amethyst; Splintered Tanzanite

Dark!Satosugu x reader - Yakuza Au

Synopsis: In hopes of paying off your debt, you start working for two dangerous men. Soon, you realize they want more from you than money.

Word count: 9.2k

(Warnings: dark content, sexual coercion, dubcon, noncon, oral sex, piv sex, threesomes, gun, blood, violence) Ageless blogs will be blocked

In this job, you quickly learned that it's better to just keep your head down. 

Do what you were called for and leave. Do nothing but sit on your computer and look at numbers. Stepping out of your makeshift boundaries led to nothing but trouble.

It worked perfectly like that for the first few weeks you were brought here. The other workers never bothered you, and it took you a moment to realize they were in the same boat as you were: owing a debt. You wouldn’t quite say things were peaceful; every so often, one of Geto’s men would hurl someone through a table, but things were manageable.

And then Gojo came back.

You hadn’t met Gojo, yet. He was overseas on a business trip when Geto brought you in. You hadn’t met him, but you’d heard enough to make you want to stay away from him. Ijichi had told you enough stories to make you want to sink into the floor altogether. You just had until the end of the year until your debt was paid. It was the beginning of September, right now. Surely, you could avoid him until then, right?

“Ah, you’re the one Suguru was talking about.”

It was your fault. It was entirely your fault. Ijichi had begged you to stay after work for a bit longer and desperate to pay the debt off, you had agreed. No one else was supposed to be in the office besides you and him.

But Gojo didn’t follow other people’s rules. It'd take you a while before you fully understand that.

You could do nothing but stand there, wobbling in your heels as Gojo loomed over you. His sunglasses were tilted, cresting over his nose as he scrutinized you. You clutched the laptop closer to your chest, as though it’d save you somehow.

Gojo didn’t look dangerous. If you had seen him on the street, you would have assumed he was a model. Tall, long hands, pretty features. Gojo doesn’t look dangerous. Gojo is dangerous. He doesn’t need the gun (casually on his side, right in your line of sight) to prove it.

You say nothing. You don’t know what to say. So far, you’ve only dealt with Geto. Geto with his fake smiles and soft words of thinly veiled threats. As intimidating as Geto was, you felt safe enough with him to answer his questions. Speak when spoken to.

Gojo was uncharted territory. Should you speak? Should you greet him? Should you get on your hands and knees? Gojo was new. You had to deal with something new, alone.

You opt to stay silent, hoping that’s the best move. It’s not. Above you, Gojo’s clicking his tongue. He leans down, stooping his head low to get a better view of your face. You stare at him until it gets too much and you’re turning away. He likes that even less, grabbing you by the chin so you’re facing him again.

“You mute or somethin’?” He asks, tilting your head like he’s assessing you.

“No,” you finally murmur. It was a question, correct? He won’t get mad if you answer his questions.

He doesn’t seem mad. But he doesn’t seem happy, either. If anything, he looks a little disappointed.

“I really don’t get it,” he’s talking, but it’s more like he’s saying his thoughts out loud, “Suguru would not shut up about you. Thought I was gonna see something more exciting. You’re so...”

He trails off as though even describing you would be a waste. The thought that Geto speaks about you to his partners scares you, but you’re wise enough not to pry. Instead, you wait. Waiting often works. You’ve been cornered by Geto’s men (before they knew he was the one who brought you), most just want to intimidate you, they get a kick out of fear. When you give them what they want, they usually leave you alone.

Gojo doesn’t leave, even when you’re sure your horror is printed on your face. Obvious to even the blind. Instead, he leans back, eyes trailing down your outfit. Despite how most of the stuff done here was off the record, Geto still prioritized a professional workplace. You were expected to put on a clean blouse and skirt every day.

You yelp when Gojo tugs on the fabric of your skirt, bunching the material on your thighs. Forgetting where you are, who you’re with, you grab his wrist.

“Don’t be like that,” Gojo chides as though you were being the unreasonable one, “I just wanna look. Seriously, what was that guy going on and on about—”

“Satoru.”

Geto’s voice stops the both of you. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a less than impressed look. You’re relieved when he’s more focused on Gojo than you.

“Sugu!” Gojo cheers, a complete 180 from his past demeanor. He lets you go and you sink against the wall in relief. “I’m home!”

“I can see that,” Geto retorts, but there’s an odd fondness laced in his tone that you’d never heard before.

The kiss they shared was violent. Tongue and teeth and messy. Gojo reached up, scrunching Geto’s hair, dragging him closer. Respectfully, you glanced away. You don’t yet leave. You know better than that, especially now that Geto is here.

“How many times have I told you to stop harassing our employees?” Geto sighs, once he’s pulled away. His tone is filled with exasperation, as though he were talking to a child.

“I didn’t do anythin’,” Gojo responds. When you finally turn back, Geto is shaking his head.

He smiles at you.

“Apologies, my dear,” he states, “you can leave. Remember to tell Ijichi you’re going.”

You eagerly nod before scurrying away. You can hear Gojo scoff, another murmur from Geto. You couldn’t care less what they’re saying, more than happy to grab your things, bid Ijichi goodbye, and leave.

Keep your head down, and don’t ever bother with what they are doing.

🗡

Technically, you weren’t in debt, your father was.

He had close ties to the underground. You weren’t sure of the details, you were so young when your mother left with you in tow. She was always stingy with the details, but she never failed to remind you that your father was a stupid man who worked with dangerous ones. She passed away right after you graduated from college. You’d mourned her.

Now, a part of you felt grateful she passed just before she saw your life fall apart.

They came in the middle of April. You remember that day purely because of the flower blossoms littering the sidewalk, the first sign of blooming spring.

There were three other men besides Geto that day, and you hadn’t known his name back then—just the man with long, pretty hair. They were all waiting for you, loitering right beside your home. When you hesitated, slowed to a stop, the man with long hair smiled at you. Geto calls your name. When you don’t respond, his smile widened.

“That is who you are, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nervously said, “sorry, but—but who are you all?”

He introduces himself. The other three don’t bother. You don’t yet realize that they’re only henchmen, mere puppets for Geto.

“Apologies, but this is a rather sensitive subject. Can we talk someplace private?”

You don’t want to let these men into your home, but his soft words and intimidating company coax you into agreeing. You lead them up the steps, praying to God that you were wrong about this—whoever they were. When you unlock the door, only Geto follows you. The rest wait outside. You don’t know if that’s better or worse.

He seats himself right on the sofa. It’s your apartment, and yet his mere presence makes you feel like he’s the owner. You loiter next to the door, twiddling your thumbs.

“Would you like tea?”

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you a polite one?”

It was more for you than for him—scurrying to the kitchen, away from his searing purple eyes. It’s a reprieve to start the burner, pour water into the pot. You take as much time as you can, but eventually, you have to come out.

Geto says nothing when you place the cups down. He takes it, humming at the taste. You don’t touch your cup.

His tone is soft. His words aren’t.

Your father did far worse than work with dangerous men. He’d stolen from them. He was already dealt with, his punishment had sent him careening off the Earth far sooner than your mother. Still, the topic of the missing money was still there.

Something that had fallen onto you, his next of kin.

You were already crying once Geto finished. Your body is wracked with sobs. You can barely suck in a breath.

“Please—please,” you’re already saying, “he—we—I swear we never received any sort of money from him.”

He takes your hand within his own, curling his fingers around them. Coming from anyone else, it would have been a nice gesture.

“I’m aware,” Geto comforts, “we know you haven’t been in contact with your father for more than a decade.”

His fingers are warm. They trace your cheek as he gently wipes away your tears.

“But in this line of business, family matters, no matter how estranged, my Dear.”

You look at him through your tears. He’s beautiful. Long black hair. If you touched it, you bet it would feel like silk within your fingers.

It’s his eyes that truly suck you in. Purple. It’s a rare eye color, you’ve never seen someone with purple eyes until now. They resemble amethyst, unpolished, but still just as beautiful.

“My partner would have much less...humane ways of dealing with this situation,” Geto continues, “but I think you could be far more useful warm rather than cold, do you agree?” You shrivel in your spot, already having an inkling to what he’s saying. It’s not like you haven’t already figured out where this was going. You’ve heard the stories of what dangerous men do to those who’ve wronged them—to the vulnerable girls who accidentally trip and fall into their trap, forced to work in brothels and debase themselves all for the sake of keeping them rich.

He laughs right then. It’s rich, deep, startling you out of your misery.

"Come now, it's the 21st century."

Geto smiles. Fake. Unsafe. 

"Women are worth far more than just their bodies." 

It turns out that even the Yakuza had paperwork.

It was a menial deskjob, on the surface, at least. If you don’t think too hard about who you’re working for, it could be a regular office. It’s not like any of the work you are provided with is illegal, but you doubt you’d put it down on your resume.

Your education had saved you. Ironic that it was your father who instilled your desire to learn.

If you don’t think too hard about it, your new ‘job’ wasn’t horrible. As notorious as they were, your new employers weren’t downright cruel. You still got paid. You had a contract. Things could honestly be a whole lot worse.

It was still very hard to get used to, especially in the beginning.

Something you learned very quickly was that the men around here did not like it when women had an attitude. You were far too meek to have one, but the other few women who worked with you became your teachers, showing you exactly what the men would do if you didn’t stay in line. You were more than happy to listen, and even then, your eagerness to learn didn’t help. In order for the lesson to truly sink in, you needed trial and error. 

You stepped out of line exactly once. And then you never did it again.

It had been an accident. You’d forgotten that Geto had an important meeting that day. You knocked on his door, shuffling some documents in your hand. It was muscle memory to just go in because he’s never said anything but come in before.

They’d all stared at you, eyes lingering up and down your body. One of them grins. Immediately, you look at Geto. Horrified. Ready to grovel at his feet if need be.

His eyes flashed dangerously. Purple turned into sharp magenta knives. Geto tilted his head.

“Come here, dear.”

You take one step. Another. Then another. The way they look at you makes your stomach twist and sink but Geto only looks at you expectantly. When you linger at his side, his lips quirk.

His grip on your waist is gentle as he guides you into his lap. Your cheeks burn, but you don’t dare move, not even when the men start laughing at the free show. Geto only curls a hand on your waist, keeping you in place as he leans back again.

“Continue, gentlemen.”

The rest of the meeting continues with you on Geto’s lap. You don’t look at any of them, hands balled into fists at your sides. You feel naked. The air within the room is stifling. You refuse to look anywhere else but the floor.

The conversation goes back to business. Despite the compromising situation, he put you in, Geto’s hands don’t wander. He's content to keep his fingers on your waist until the room filters out and everyone leaves.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Geto.” You murmur, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He doesn’t answer, at least not to that. He just sighs, sinking into his seat. Still, Geto doesn’t let you get up. Not yet. He waits until you’re looking at him, still smiling that fake smile.

This had been a punishment. The next time you made a mistake, you doubt you’d be let off so easily.

“Learn quickly, my dear.”

You nod. You apologize again. When Geto finally lets you go, you are quick to stumble away, pushing your way out the door. Purple eyes follow you out. You don’t think they stop looking until you’re out of the room, curled into your desk, steadying your heartbeat.

You stepped out of line exactly once. You never did it again.

Despite being under Geto, technically, Ijichi is your direct superior. You thanked the Gods for it. Ijichi was the only person here you were certain didn’t have blood on his hands. He was in a similar situation as you were; stuck working off a debt that he didn’t owe. You two bonded on your shared misery. He was the one reprieve you had in your new life.

Unfortunately, now that Gojo was back, Ijichi was far busier. It gave you little time with him. You suppose you were always welcome to join them, but considering your first encounter with Gojo, you’d much rather not.

It’s not like you hadn’t had similar encounters before Gojo's arrival. In the very beginning, one of Geto’s men tried something remarkably similar. You can still remember his hand on your hip, his other hand slowly unbuttoning your shirt while other men stood to the side laughing.

It hadn’t lasted long.

You didn’t realize he was shot until he was already on the ground, twitching in pure agony. He screamed and cried louder than you had. Blood was already dripping to the floor.

Geto had already tucked away the gun, striding away as though nothing happened. He didn’t say anything, the incident was never mentioned. Even to you, his statement rang loud and clear.

You were off-limits.

Clearly, Gojo didn’t care about the unspoken rule.

So far, Ijichi hasn’t acknowledged him. If anything, your superior is hunched behind his computer, typing away, rarely taking his eyes off-screen. You admired his concentration, but it was hard for you to follow suit, considering that Gojo had taken a seat right next to you.

His stare is impossible to ignore. You can feel it even as you desperately try to focus on the screen in front of you. As if he can tell you’re intimidated by his mere presence, he leans over, shoulder pressing against your own. You could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Watcha’ workin’ on?” He asks as though he can’t already see.

Still, you falter. “Um—”

“Um’” he repeats, “that’s all you’ve been sayin’. Hey, Ijichi—” The man in question jolts up, eyes already panicked.

“Your assistant always this jumpy, or is your personality just that infectious?”

“Sir, uh—” Ijichi starts before getting cut off by a tsk.

“See? Again,” Gojo sighs, “I see why you two get along so well.”

You and Ijichi exchange glances, unsure what to do. When Gojo says nothing more, you decide it’s okay to resume work again, typing away.

Childhood friends, Ijichi told you back when you were still morbidly curious. Gojo had come from a lineage of powerful businessmen. Geto had more or less worked his way up. They became partners somewhere along that time.

It’s hard to imagine them as friends or as anything more. They’re so different. Geto is so controlled, measured with every response he takes. Gojo is more like dynamite, ready to go off at any moment.

You suppose the only similarity is how unreadable they are. To this day, you can’t tell whether Gojo dislikes you or not. Every action you take seems only to disappoint him, yet he constantly hovers around you.

It takes another minute for you to be on the keyboard before Gojo decides he doesn’t like you working peacefully. The chair creaks under his weight as he shifts closer. His head rests against your shoulder. With his new position, you can feel his breath on your collarbone as an arm casually wraps around your shoulders. You don’t dare react, but you send Ijichi a panicked look. He looks sympathetic, but he doesn’t move to help you. You can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his inactions.

“You never answered me, by the way.” He murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear.

You respond as diligently as you can, making sure you use as few word fillers as possible. It’s clear Gojo doesn’t like that. Or rather, he doesn’t like the nervousness your voice exudes but you doubt you could fix it, especially with his presence around.

“Sounds boring.” Gojo interrupts your rambles. “You don’t do anything else more entertaining?”

“No, sir,” you reply, “I’m only in charge of paperwork.”

Despite the other co-workers you have, you are still an anomaly. Everyone here has had an experience holding a gun—even Ijichi. It’s clear Geto ‘hiring’ you was a change in pattern, something you would always be grateful for. If he hadn't, you wouldn’t want to know what was in store for you.

That’s probably why Gojo was so curious about you. However, considering how close they were, you were now wondering why Geto hadn’t explained it.

“How long have you been working here—hey,look at me when you’re talking.”

You turn, and for the first time, you willingly face Gojo Satoru. His sunglasses are tilted down, and you can see his eyes now. They are blue, so painfully blue, like an ocean, curled up tightly within his eyes. Glittering tanzanite stares back at you—beautiful gemstones that glisten beneath the fluorescent light.

Gojo tilts his head, and you remember that he asked you a question.

“Three weeks, Sir.”

He doesn’t seem all that pleased with your answer. You wonder if you should have lied instead. He’s embarrassingly close, and the position he’s forced you into doesn’t help.

“That quick, huh?” Gojo murmurs, and he sounds a little impressed, “how many times have you and Suguru fucked?”

You gape at him, horrified at even the insinuation. It takes a while for you to even find your voice. 

“I—we’ve never. Never.”

Gojo narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. C’mon, I'm just curious.”

It feels even worse that Gojo's question isn't even unreasonable. Geto has always treated you differently. Softer. Kinder, if you wanted to be charitable. It isn't a stretch to assume you've been doing favors for the man, in this line of work, it must be a normal occurrence. Yet, you haven't. Apart from that one blunder weeks ago, Geto has never touched you inappropriately. 

Still, you shake your head rapidly, feeling heat flush in your cheeks. Being cornered and interrogated like this is humiliating, especially in front of everyone. Ijichi is nice enough to look away while you’re being humiliated, but you know he’s listening. You know everyone’s listening.

Thankfully, Geto intervenes.

“You.” A sigh of exasperation. “Get off.”

Gojo rolls his eyes, but you almost cry in relief when he pushes away and stands up.

“We were bonding,” Gojo argues, though, like everything he says, it sounds like a tease.

Geto’s murmuring something else, and it’s clear that this interaction between them is normal. It's almost a repetition of what happened last time. Both times, you’d been the commonality.

Gojo leaves eventually, shooed away by his partner. The office finally grows quiet when the white-haired man disappears to God knows where. You feel like you can breathe again, but Geto still has not left.

When you look, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and you’re strangely reminded of a stressed mother. Finally, he lets out a breath, opening his eyes and staring down at you.

“I apologize for his behavior, my dear,” he says. There’s a hand on your shoulder, mirroring the touch Gojo gave you.

“He’s excitable, like a dog.” You don’t think that part was for you, though you don’t think you could ever even fathom comparing the terrifying anomaly that is Gojo to a mutt. You don’t respond. Geto squeezes your shoulder.

“Come to me if Satoru goes too far. I always take care of my people, don't I?”

He doesn’t leave until you give a nod. His hand finally retracts, allowing you to sink into your seat. You watch him until his figure disappears from view.

“I’m taking a break,” you say, not even a minute later.

Ijichi gives a nod as you push yourself up away from the computer. You spend your break the way you usually do: tucked inside the bathroom, trying to wonder how your life turned out this way.

🗡

Sometimes, you accompany Geto on his trips.

You don’t want to, but it’s not like you can reject his ‘requests.’ It’s part of the job, whether or not you can refuse is up to Geto’s whims.

The trips aren’t too bad. Most of the time, it’s a meeting with other dangerous men. You mainly just sit in a corner, peering down at the ground, trying your best not to be noticed. It works, most of the time. The few perks of this new life is how seldom the people of the underground want to associate with you, especially when you're with Geto. His presence is everywhere, a blanket of protection bestowed only to you. These days, you feel safe even when walking home alone at night.  

The trips aren't too bad, but Gojo's insistence on tagging along changed even that. 

You should be sitting up front. There's a perfectly vacate passenger seat, right beside Ijichi, the least dangerous man in the vehicle. Gojo had practically dragged you into the car with him, holding you hostage. Geto slid into the seat beside you, effectively trapping you between the two men. 

Despite your attempts to keep your body to yourself, every other minute, your thighs brush against theirs. It's a miserable affair, but neither comment on your breach of personal space. They're both too invested in their own little worlds. Geto peers peacefully out the window, enjoying the city life pass by. Gojo is glued to his phone, tapping away every so often. 

It's tempting to sneak a peek at them in their natural states, relaxed, unbothered. You don't stare for too long. 

Every so often, their worlds will collide. Geto will point out a cat. Gojo would reach over you, showing Geto something funny on his phone. Unfortunately, Gojo catches your lingering eyes.

"Wanna see?" He doesn't bother to hear your response, shoving his phone in your face. 

It's a cat video, of all things. You almost wanted to laugh at how normal it is, but you're too intimidated to do anything but give a strained smile, more designed to please. You expected something darker. More blood. More screams. On the screen, the orange kitten lightly bats at a ball of yarn.

"Got a cat?" Gojo asks, tucking away his phone. 

"No, Mr. Gojo." 

He tsks, but before your blood can freeze, he says, "I told you: It's Satoru." 

He's been insistent about it these past few days: Satoru. Satoru. Call me Satoru, as though you'd even dare. Beside you, Geto rumbles out his disapproval. 

"Don't be childish, Satoru." He chides.

The car rolls to a stop eventually. The relief in your lungs expands. Ijichi gets out first, followed by Geto. Before you can move, a hand grabs you by the chin, halting your movements. 

"You're not leaving this car until you say it, pretty thing," Gojo tells you. "C'mon. Sa-to-ru." 

Behind you, Geto sighs, but he doesn't move to stop him. Right, Geto promised he'd step in only when Gojo goes too far. Clearly, this is within his bounds. 

You wilt under the hardened tanzanite. 

"Satoru." You mutter. 

Satisfied, Gojo releases his hold on you, hopping out the car, humming a happy tune. 

Geto holds his hand out to you. You'd be an idiot not to take it.

"Bear with him today, dear," he tells you when you step out in the pavement, "he's in a mood." 

Amythyst sears into you. You can only nod. 

Even then, Geto doesn't release you. He gently maneuvers your arm until your elbow is interlocked with his. He takes his time, walking into the building, mindful of your heels. Ijichi and Gojo are already ahead. Gojo takes a look behind him, spots the two of you, scoffs, but doesn't do much more. 

It's another thing you don't know how to feel about. The two have always instigated less than friendly gestures toward you. Yet, neither of the two have expressed any kind of jealousy. You know they are clearly lovers, yet the way they allow their significant other to behave with you makes you feel a bit nauseous. 

 Most likely, they see you as a pet. Not even a threat to their relationship. It makes sense. In their eyes, you're probably a scared gazelle in the middle of a lion's den. Cute. Something to play with. 

There's another theory in your head that you're pushing away.

You follow the same procedure you've always followed. You stay still and silent, like a doll, right beside Geto. Strange men come up to him, greeting him with smug smiles. They barely give you a glance. That's good. It means they know you're one of Geto's. 

Gojo being there changes the dynamic. He's more serious, in this setting. You sit right next to Geto's side, listening as Gojo talks. They both do that a lot. Talking. Negotiating. Scheming. You're a bit disappointed in yourself at how easy it is to let the words swirl around until there's nothing left to understand. It's easy to ignore them now. The horrors they partake in. The horrors you are indirectly part of. 

Are you allowed to be innocent now that you work under these people? You've never pulled the trigger yourself, but is that an excuse? Morally speaking, you're the same as the men you are terrified of. 

How laughable. You came to that conclusion right when they were discussing the price of narcotics. 

Sometime later, you find yourself alone, roaming down an unfamiliar hall. It's foolish to be out without Geto or Gojo or even Ijichi, but Geto had an errand he wanted you to run. Now that it was complete, you needed to return back to him. 

Except, you had no clue where he was. 

You were lost. You should have known this would happen. Why didn't you pay more attention to where you were going? This wasn't any old building. Dangerous men lurked around, even the weaker ones carried guns and weapons. 

It was only a matter of time before one of them caught you. 

"Hey. You." 

You were considered one of Geto's, but without him in sight, you were nothing. You knew that. It's why you cower immediately. 

"I'm busy," you speak quickly, "My boss, Mr. Geto, he's—" 

His hand is rough and scared and filthy on your skin. You are basically thrown against the wall, cornered against this stranger. He smiles. His teeth are yellowed and filled with tarter and plaque. 

"C'mon, there's no need to rush. 'Just wanna have some fun. How much?" Disgust rolls off your tongue, but you don't have the courage to reveal it. 

"I'm not like that," you mutter, "I'm not for sale." 

But, aren't you? You've sold yourself to Geto, haven't you? Underneath his thumb, his whims. What makes you so much different from a hooker?

"Sure." And then there's a shift in his eyes. His face scrunches up, like he's just tasted something sour. 

"Hold on...you're—you're that bastard's kid, aren't you?" 

He says your last name, the name your father gave you with so much spite that you nearly flinch. In that moment, you realized that your father had messed with a lot more people than just Geto. 

"Yeah yeah, you're a spitting fucking image!" He gripes you harsher. "Your daddy fucked me over while you're sitting over here nice and pretty? What the fuck?" 

He's dead. He's dead and you hadn't spoken to him in over a decade, but his ghost still wants to punish you for being his kin. And this man is his executioner. 

You're expecting something violent. Something that hurt more than his hand's squeezing your bicep. Perhaps he was, perhaps he would. Unfortunately, for him, Gojo interupted his plans. 

You didn't even know that it was him, at first, on the floor, on top of the man. Gojo, despite his hungry smile, eager eyes, was always so angelic. He isn't supposed to be using his hands. He isn't supposed to inflict violence, not by himself. 

He's punching him. The man isn't a man anymore, reduced to a mere punching back. Gojo doesn't stop until he breaks skin. He doesn't stop until you can hear a distinct crack. 

Satoru doesn't stop until Suguru tells him to. 

"Don't kill him." Geto warns. "It'd breach the agreement." 

You can feel his presence, always silent, never revealing himself until he wants to be known. So unlike Gojo, who is hungry for even a second of attention. More than happy to spill blood over it.

Gojo grits his teeth, as though he's debating to even listen. He stands up eventually, chest heaving. His knuckles are caked in blood. It's not his. His glasses are off. His eyes are blown wide open like he's just hit the greatest high of his life. Geto calmly hands him a clean towel. You don’t want to know how many times this situation has repeated.

"Who gives a shit." Gojo bites out, his eyes , trailing to you, and you flinch away. He looks like a wild animal, growling and spitting. You don’t want to be next on his plate. Geto steps in front of you, barricading you from his sight.

The man on the ground had recovered enough to pathetically crawl away. It such a stark change to how he was just a few minutes ago, when he was lording over you, drunk off of his power. 

Gojo steps on his calf. The broken thing gives a strangled scream. It only makes Gojo’s manic grin wider.

"Let him go. You made your point," Geto says, "calm down." 

Firey blue eyes. Bright and violent. You don’t know how Suguru is able to withstand the intensity. Even you’re wilting when it’s not even directed towards you.

"Calm down?” Satoru asks. “You want me to calm down? Did you see what that bastard was gonna do to our—" 

"Satoru." You've never heard Geto use this tone before. "Not here. Not now." 

A silent battle warred between them. Tanzanite bore into amethyst. Which gem would rupture first, splinter into defeat? 

Eventually, Gojo looks away, cursing. He glares down at you, as though he were blaming your weakness of all things. In a way, he’s not wrong to.

"I'll wait outside." 

And then he's gone, striding down the corridor. Geto watches him go, before glancing down at you. 

"Did he hurt you?" He asks. 

You're not supposed to lie to him. You nod. 

Geto pulls on your sleeves until he can see the imprints. Light bruising, nothing too horrible. You'll survive. Geto looks less than pleased. He glances down at the remnants of the man, the imprints of blood on the floor. You pitied the person who'd have to clean it up. 

"I apologize, dear." He sighs. "I should have kept an eye on you." 

He stares at the blood some more. Then, he smiles. 

"Perhaps, it's better if I just let things run its course, this time." 

You blink at him. He ignores your silent question. Instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, gently leading you outside. The car is already running. This time, Geto silently ushers you into the passenger seat. You take it immediately. Gojo hadn't taken his eyes off of you. You're grateful for any barrier. 

This time, the car ride was silent. You don't relish in it. If anything, it just feels like the calm before the storm.

🗡

Soon, what Geto was talking about became apparent. 

The man who had nearly been killed by Gojo had talked. You don't know what your father did to these men, perhaps you never will, but they didn't let you forget his crimes. If they couldn't get to him, then clearly, his kid was the next best option. You know it was them. It would be no one else. 

Someone broke into your apartment one weekend. Everything was ruined. The TV was shattered and broken. Your mattress was tossed onto the floor. Every plate, cup, and bowl was smashed onto the floor. They took nothing, but they broke everything. 

You hadn't been home that night. Ijichi needed more work from you. If you had, if you had come home that night, alone, locked the door, slept in that bed, then what would have—

Geto finds you on the stairs of your apartment, curled into a ball. You watch with bloodshot eyes as he observes the damage, clicking his tongue. He doesn't look particularly shocked.

You do nothing when you feel his hand on your shoulder, brushing against the sleeves, a feign of sympathy. You don't even care to ask how he came even though you never called him. Geto has a keen sense for you. 

"It'll get worse." His voice comes. Soft, and sure. 

Yeah, you knew that. You'd been naive, following after Geto with wide eyes. You thought that if he was untouchable, then so were you. 

He speaks about an enemy group, people with debts with your father, just as he did. Of course, he knows who did this to you. You’d be more surprised if he didn’t.

You don’t care. His words go in one ear and out the other. The reasons don’t matter. Your home is still destroyed. It’s no longer yours.

"They got my phone, too," you mention to your discarded cell phone. "My emails, messages." 

You're trapped, with nowhere else to turn. All the doors are shut and bolted, and only one remains open. 

You turn to the devil. 

"Can you...help?" 

The angler fish uses its darkened habitat to its advantage. Hundreds of miles beneath the water's surface, it produces its own light as an olfactory bulb. It's an excellent predator, swinging its bio lantern around in the dark sea, the only light around for miles. 

Geto tilts his head, a smile on perfect pink lips. 

"You want my protection? It's a steep price, darling." 

You feel like an empty well, forced to give and give until you're all dried up. Who could be so greedy? Who could be so willing to take?

"I've given you everything." It's barely a whisper. "What else do I have left to offer?" 

He doesn't say anything to that, not at first. Geto kneels in front of you, a slender hand lifting your head up by the chin. Fingers trail down to your neck. Not choking, just holding. His thumb lightly presses into your throat. 

"Not everything," Suguru says quietly. 

He's right. You hadn't given him everything. So far, you have always been one of Geto's people. You were Geto's employee. You were indebted to him, but you weren't conquered by him. 

Not yet. 

He's kneeling in front of you, holding your soul in his hands and demanding for your heart. In a way, you find it a bit funny. You just don’t have the will to laugh anymore.

He's smiling again when he can tell you're finally starting to understand. "We couldn't have been that subtle, were we? Satoru never failed to express, at the very least." 

No, they never tried to hide it. Even in the beginning, when you first met Suguru, you saw the hunger. You just tried to ignore it. You tried to keep your head in the sand, hoping it would pass. It makes you wonder if you had just agreed on that very night, led him into your bed, and bared it, would things have been different? 

"I can leave. We can pretend this never happened," he coos, "it's all up to you, sweetheart." 

He's making it seem like you had a choice. In a way, you did. You're choosing between two monsters. A known and an unknown. It takes longer than you'd like to figure out which one scares you more. 

You take the bait. The angler fish siezes its prey. 

"One night?" You're trying not to beg but it's coming out anyway. "Just—just one night?" 

Geto leans forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It’s not an answer.

🗡

Despite the many months you've worked with him, you've never been to his home before. 

It's not a house. A villa maybe. The property stretches itself stretches for miles. Filthy rich. Bleeding gold. 

Geto—

("Suguru," he corrected you in the car, "considering this isn't really business, anymore.") 

—had ushered you throw a double-door entrance. You couldn't even admire the architecture. Not when Gojo was already standing there. His eyes were hidden away, tucked underneath his glasses, but you still felt his stare. And all too wide smile stretched on his lips. He greeted Suguru with a kiss. For the first time, you looked down at their hands. 

Matching rings. 

You felt sick. 

'It's all up to you, sweetheart' Suguru's voice rings through your head all through a dinner that's really nothing but a flimsy padding for the rest of the night. Food was served, wine was poured, all in a bid to ease you into it. As of right now, it's still your 'choice'. You know, without a doubt, if you backed out now, they'd let you go without a fuss. Suguru or Satoru themselves might drive you home. You'd crawl into bed without a scratch.

But you don't. You stare at your plate, picking at it when they ask questions. Satoru's in such a good mood he offers to feed you. 

It's mostly because it doesn't feel real yet. You feel like you're watching yourself go through the movements. Eat. Speak when spoken to. Smile when prompted. Empty. 

You only come back when you're standing in their room, and the door locks with a click. 

The window blinds are drawn, but there's no light to seep in. The moon is already out. You wonder how many hours you've already spent here. 

You take another step towards the bed. Then, you turn around. 

Satoru and Suguru stare right back. You feel their heavy gazes immediately, flicking your eyes down to your feet, playing with your sleeves. 

Satoru laughs, perceiving the terror as shyness, or maybe he doesn't care. He steps forward first. 

"Don't be like that." He lightly chastises you, tucking one arm around your waist. "We'll be nice. Promise, baby. We're gonna be so so good for you." 

He finds your lips, then. Satoru kisses like the sun, all fire and passion. Sinking into you, wanting to melt. It's impossible to turn away and ignore his presence. He gropes at your chest, your waist, trying to feel all of you at once. When he finally lets go, you feel dizzy. 

Suguru's kisses ground you, makes remember where you are, who you're with. He's like the Earth you're crashing back into from your high. You hurdle through the atmosphere as his hands grasp at your throat. He never squeezes, but it's more than enough to sober you. 

"You smell so nice, baby," Satoru says from his place at your neck. You flinch when teeth sink into your sink, but you don't complain. 

"That's creepy, Satoru." Suguru chastizes him.

Serpentine eyes stare into yours. You don’t get the chance to hide before you feel his breath on your cheek. Suguru tugs at the hem of your dress.

“Take this off.” He whispers into your skin. “And get on the bed for us, sweetheart.”

This is the lesser monster. It’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you pliantly nod, hesitantly gripping the fabric of your dress. It’s horrifically easy to take it off and let it drop by your feet. You can’t bear to look at them anymore.

The soft duvet sinks under your weight. It looks expensive. Silky pillows. On either side is a nightstand covered with trinkets and personal items. You spot one of Suguru’s shirts on the floor, and it takes you a second to realize this is their room, not an impersonal guest room they use to fuck the less fortunate.

They stop paying attention to you. Satoru moans loudly into Suguru’s mouth. Suguru fiddles with the buttons on Satoru’s shirt, close to ripping it off entirely. Satoru palms at the tent in his pants as he unbuckles his pants. Suguru loosens his tie. They’re so violent with each other. Dread soaks through your palms, and you curl even further within yourself. You prayed this was all they wanted from you—someone to just watch, someone less interactive.

It’s not. When they pull away, their lips are swollen. Satoru leers at you, licking at his busted lip. You can’t seem to cry anymore.

They’re both half-naked. You can see the tattoos spread on Suguru’s hand, crawling up to his shoulder. Another peeks just behind Satoru’s neck. You only get a glimpse before he’s on top of you, eager for a continuation.

“Shit, you’re so soft.” He hisses as he squeezes your bra-covered breast. It doesn’t stay on for long. You wince when his fingers trace over your sensitive tits.

Your hands squeeze into fists, because you choose this, choose them. Satoru’s more than happy to sink into your breasts. His warm tongue swirls around a nipple before fully taking it in his mouth.

“Like a baby,” Suguru says. Satoru scoffs, tossing him an impressed look.

“Shut up.” Satoru releases your breast with a wet-sounding pop. They’ll be marks there tomorrow.

His fingers trail down your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. They linger on the band of your panties.

You can’t help it. It’s instinct.

He freezes when your fingers snap around his wrist. There’s no strength behind your grip, he pauses more out of surprise than anything.

His eyes, filled with hardened tanzanite, shoot up to yours. You think, if they’d be anyone else’s, you would have envied them.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Suguru. The silence is crushing.

“Sorry.” You feel pathetic apologizing, but it’s outweighed by the fear. “I—I’m sorry. I was just—”

“It’s okay, dear,” Suguru coos. “Satoru just scared you, hm? He’s such an idiot, isn’t he?” He violently smacks Satoru on the head. You flinch at the sound. Satoru just whines, rubbing at his temple.

“Mean.” Satoru childishly says, but he’s slower now, rolling down the hem of your panties.

Suguru is quick to distract you. He’s busy with his own bottoms before he’s taking you by the chin.

His cock is already leaking precum. He’s big, and you don’t think you’ll be able to do want he wants. Suguru smiles down at you, he doesn’t need to say anything. You’re swallowing down your self-hatred before opening your mouth.

You take him in just when Satoru buries his face between your thighs. The two of you have very different reacts. Satoru just hums, finding your clit to lick. You gasp, your legs jolting as you accidentally take Suguru even deeper.

He’s nice enough to let you go at your own pace. There’s a hand on your head, petting you, easing you through the process. Even then, your mouth is stretched uncomfortably wide. Tears prick at your eyes. Suguru’s face gets blurry. You don’t think you want to look anymore.

Below you, Satoru is enjoying his meal. He’s slobbering on your pussy, eating you out like it’s his last meal. His hot tongue finds his way into your sopping hole. You squeeze your eyes, a muffled whine comes from your mouth. The only loss of control Suguru shows was how he ever-so-slightly gripped your head.

By then, you’re unintentionally squeezing Satoru’s head in between your thighs. It’s so much. Pleasure tingles up your spine as Satoru continues to worship your pussy. His nose grinds into your clit and, for a moment, you’re wondering how he’s even breathing.

Suguru’s close. You can feel it every time his balls slap your chin. He’s speaking now, words stilted and heavy. It’s the only hint you get that he’s only holding his control by his teeth. That thought scares you. At any moment he’d snap, choking you with his cock, let you suffocate while he fills your dying mouth with his cum.

“Good,” he’s hissing out, “so good—good for me. C’mon, baby, take it.”

Satoru’s hand squeezes your ass, urging you to arch off the bed. You come like that, pressing your thighs around Satoru’s head, moaning around Suguru’s dick.

Suguru barely gives a grunt before something salty fills your mouth. You have to swallow it down. It burns your throat.

The air tastes sweet by the time Suguru’s cock leaves your mouth. You’re sucking in deep breaths, breasts heaving. Incidentally, you hadn’t suffocated Satoru. He’s kissing his way up your body. A trickle of Suguru’s cum had escaped your lips. His tongue presses against your chin before he pushes it back into your mouth. You can taste your tangy essence on his lips.

“Gotta’ swallow it all,” Satoru says with a teasing lilt, “he gets mad when it’s wasted.”

You can only nod. He gives you another wet kiss before he pulls away.

They switch places, Suguru moving over until he’s between your thighs. His large cock lays on your cunt. He’s still hard, his cock twitches when he angles his hips down, letting the head run over your leaking slit.

“The only reason he's going first is ‘cuz he’s been pining for you for months.” Satoru murmurs into your ear. Strangely enough, Suguru doesn’t comment. Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend what that means.

You hold your breath just as he presses himself inside. You’re almost grateful Satoru took the time to prepare you. His salivia, and your stretched walls make it easier for Suguru to bury his length inside you.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You hiss. Satoru feels enough sympathy to coo at you, kissing your neck, trying to distract you from the pain. It doesn't help, not even when Suguru presses light circles into your clit, easing his way through.

Suguru’s giving a harsh laugh when he’s fully seated inside, his hips meeting yours.

“Feel good, hm?” Satoru goads, reaching up to nibble on Suguru’s ear.

“Shit, so tight—fuck.”

Your hips twitch and you’re clenching down on him. Suguru doubles over, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, darling.” Scarred hands grasp your neck. “I’m going to ruin you, aren’t I?”

Your bottom lip wobbles. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat. A gazelle in the lion’s den. To them, to men like them, you suppose you’re nothing more.

“Suguru.” You whisper because your voice is failing you. “You-you promised you’d be nice.”

Silence. And he’s laughing so hard his shoulders shake. They both are.

“We did promise that, didn’t we?” Suguru glances at Satoru. “Next time, then.”

He pulls his cock out of you slowly, dragging his head through your cunt. He’s so slow and deliberate that you think it’d feel better if he just went ahead and fucked you already.

And he was, technically. His hips rolled back into you, his cock disappearing inside your wet pussy with each thrust. It’s so much that you’re willingly arching your back, trying to do anything to alleviate the intensity.

Beside you, Satoru is pulling out his cock, his eyes never leaving the lewd sight of Suguru fucking himself into you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he’s cursing under his breath, fisting his cocl in one hand, “so fuckin’ hot.”

Suguru growls, grabbing Satoru’s stiff cock, crudely pumping his hand up and down. His movement are getting more erratic losing his pace, his patience. You’re at your end too, almost crying when someone squeezes your sensitive tits.

“How does it feel, darling?” Suguru asks with a ragged breath. His eyes are blown, you don’t even think he’s looking at you, anymore.

When you don't give an answer fast enough, Suguru snaps his hips punishingly in response. You give a sharp wail.

“I said.” Suguru hisses through his teeth. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can barely suck in a breath. You’re losing oxygen too fast.

But you’ll die if he keeps doing this.

“Good.” You tell the truth. “It—it feels good, Suguru.”

He grins, serpentine. You’ve lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing. His fingers descend on your clit.

“That’s my perfect darling.”

You sob when your walls clench around his cock, milking him dry. Your orgasm triggers his own. He curses, and something is spilled into your used cunt. Out the corner of your eye, Suguru and Satoru are kissing, going together like rabid dogs. Satoru shudders, and then all three of you are a panting mess.

You take in deep breaths, barely caring when Suguru lets out an exhausted laugh, collapsing into your chest. He licks at your sweaty skin. You just sink your head further into the pillows

It was over. It was finally over.

“You got it everywhere.” Suguru suddenly says, disgusted. He wipes Satoru’s cum off your stomach.

Satoru just snorts.

“I didn’t have a hole to dump it all in.” He snarks back. “Twice, by the way. So selfish, Sugu.”

“Quit whining.” Suguru groans. “You have your chance now, don’t you?”

What? Exhaustion blinks away.

Suguru stays by your side. Gojo is the one moving, rising from the blankets. He places his hands on either side of your hips, spreading your legs.

Geto catches your panic, easily catching you before you can even do anything. He hushes you while Satoru settles himself between your thighs, his cock pressing right at your slit.

“The night’s still young, dear.” He sounds almost sympathetic. “Be good for just a bit longer.”

By the time they’re finally done with you, it’d been hours. You can’t count how many positions they put you in, how many times your holes were filled by their cocks or their fingers or their mouths. You’re barely coherent by the time Suguru is tucking you under the soft duvet.

You feel sore and used and dirty. His soft words, filled with praises, just make you feel worse. Despite how exhausted you feel, you’re just waiting until they finally get bored of seeing your body and kick you out.

You’ll call a cab home. You’ll cry yourself to sleep. You’ll be okay.

They’re taking a while to get to that part. They’re mumbling soft words too each other, it sounds too intimate to be something you should be overhearing. Satoru’s at your back, hands curling around your waist, another brushing Suguru’s mussed hair. You can feel his soft breath at the nape of your neck.

Suguru’s eyes are on you. Amethyst watches you intently.

"Satoru,” he finally says, “go uphold our end of the deal." 

Gojo groans, annoyed. He snuggles closer to you. "Why me? You go do it." 

An adoring smile crinkles on Suguru’s lips. It makes him look younger.

"Because I don't trust you alone with this one for the night. Go."

“Ass.”

He sighs, but Gojo sits up, letting the covers shift off his naked body. 

"Stay right here for me, baby, 'kay?" He leans over, pressing a delicate kiss on your hairline. Despite everything that happened tonight, this was the most intimate thing he'd done to you. It's too...loving.

When Satoru leaves, you wait for a few moments. Suguru had yet to tell you to go. It probably meant that he didn’t want to waste his breath dismissing you. You take the hint, rising from the bed.

His fingers snap around you wrist just as your feet touch the floor.

“Where are you going?” His voice doesn’t sound accusatory, but you flinch anyway.

A wobbly smile makes its way across your face, you hope it comes across as submissive. Weren’t you done? The deal was made, that meant you could leave now, right?

"I—I need to go home?" Suguru gives a doting smile, as though you said something adoringly naive. He barely pulls on your hand, gently leading you back under the covers.

You follow because the gun glints by the nightstand. 

“Is that the best idea right now, dear?” He asks, “Who knows if those men have come back? I’d hate to see them find their target, wouldn’t you?”

He draws you into his chest. Your head is tucked underneath his chin.

“And besides, Satoru will be disappointed if you left without saying goodbye. It’d be horrible to deal with one of his tantrums so late at night.”

He buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Why don’t you leave in the morning? I’ll be sure to drive you back myself. By then, I’m sure Satoru will have made the proper arrangements. Don’t tell him I told you this, but—” Suguru drops his voice as though he’s scared someone might overhear”—he tends to be more efficient when you’re in the picture.”

You don’t know what he means by that, and you don’t think you want to know. Still, you lift your head, finding the courage to stare at him.

His eyes are such a beautiful color. Glittering purple in the moonlight. You’d stare at them all night if you could.

“I can leave in the morning?”

Suguru hums, kissing your forehead.

It’s not an answer.

#yandere jjk #yandere #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark content #yandere gojo satoru #non con touching #yandere geto suguru #dark geto suguru #dark satosugu #yandere satosugu #tw:blood #tw:noncon/dubcon

[astrologydayz]

MERCURY IN HOUSES - SYNASTRY🧡

MERCURY IN PARTNERS 1ST HOUSE = house person can be very attracted 2/interested in the Mercury persons mind/voice/language/the way they speak/articulate themselves🗣️. They can also be very attracted 2 Mercury persons hands/fingers - or notice them very quickly! House person feels understood on a very special level here - Mercury is always a step "ahead" in knowing what the house person does next/Mercury sees right through the house persons reactions🫶🏼 - why they react the way they do, & why they have the worldview that they have - mercury doesn't judge, or criticise but listens, understands, &gives their advice/opinion if needed🧡. House person can become more mindful, but also more expressive, more talkative/vocal, or much more social in life because of the Mercury person<33. Conflicting aspects can show issues because house person can feel criticised/judged here/issues bc Mercury can't understand the house persons way of seeing/doing things.

MERCURY IN PARTNERS 2ND HOUSE = something about the way the Mercury person communicates, makes the house person feel so fucking comfortable, & secure🔒<33. House person can find much value in the way the Mercury persons communicates/find much value in their mind/mentality here. Mercury can hype the 2nd house up a lot - always being in their corner2, & being very vocal about it<33 - which adds even more security 2 the house person. House person can be very trusting of the Mercury person here - always listening, & taking their advice, when it comes 2 their income - finances/self worth/values/material possessions - they can also talk about/discuss those things a whole lot together in general❤️. Conflicting aspects can show arguments/conflicts over money/arguments because Mercury can make the house person insecure/issues bc Mercury can be 2 into giving their advice/opinion, when it ain't needed.

MERCURY IN PARTNERS 3RD HOUSE = These two can talk 4 daaaaays, & they would not get bored🗣️ - trust😭. Mercury person can make the house person smarter/more knowledgable on certain topics, or in certain interests they both have😍<33. These two are the ones still talking in a moment where they're really supposed 2 shut up😭😭🤣😻😻. House person feels understood on a mental/intellectual level here<33. The Mercury person could also talk a whole lot 2 the house persons siblings/cousins - or that can be something that these two talk about/discuss a lot - house persons siblings/cousins. Conflicting aspects can show issues between them, because they can argue a whole lot/issues because they can't find mental peace together.

MERCURY IN PARTNERS 4TH HOUSE = Mercury person can be very interested in the house persons childhood/upbringing/family/or family history here - always asking questions<33 - It could also be something that these two talk about a lot in general<33. If house person has any childhood trauma/family trauma = mercury can help them with REALLY talking through it/help them come 2 a place of "acceptance"❤️‍🩹. Mercury person could also talk a lot 2 the house persons mom/family members. House person feels heard, & listened2 when they run into any family issues/home issues - Mercury can also give them advice here, when it comes 2 what's the best thing2 to do in those types of situations🫶🏼<33. Conflicting aspects can show miscommunications/arguments over/because of house persons family/issues because house person can feel pressured 2 talk about the things they wanna keep 2 themselves.

MERCURY IN PARTNERS 5TH HOUSE = house person can find the Mercury persons humour 2 be the best ever here - house person can laugh, & be entertained by them 24/7😍🥰<33. These two could be the ones always having their own fun when they're at a party/out having fun with friends - inside jokes can also be a very big thing between them😘. People can also feel kinda left out when they're with em, like they can't really catch up2them😭😂. Mercury person can show a big interest in the house persons meaning of romance/fun/their way of being creative/in their self expression, in the house persons kid/s🧡<33 - or those topics are something they can talk about/discuss together a lot<33. Sex could also be something they talk about/discuss a lot together💋<33 Conflicting aspects can show them having two different kind of humours - house person can get offended/arguments, or miscommunications over/because of kids/issues bc conflicts can arise when one, or both is out enjoying themselves/having fun.

MERCURY IN PARTNERS 6TH HOUSE = these two can be in contact all day, everyday<33. House persons everyday life could have gotten a lot more interesting/exciting when the Mercury person came into the picture🥰 - Mercury person can get the house person out more/get them 2 be more vocal/mindful in their everyday life❤️/or help them communicate more clearly when it comes 2 their work - coworkers<33. Mercury can be very interested in the house persons everyday life/routine/health here🫶🏼 - or they could talk a lot about those things together<33. Mercury person could also want 2 give the house person their advice/opinion on those things a lot<33. Conflicting aspects can show arguments/conflicts in their daily life together/arguments, or conflicts over petty/small things.

MERCURY IN PARTNERS 7TH HOUSE = the way the Mercury persons mind works/the way they communicate - with others, & in general is just what the house person search 4 in a marriage💍/stabile partner🔒<33. Mercury person can help the house person with communicating better/more clearly in their relationships - when/if house person runs into any arguments with others - Mercury can also help them with how 2 properly solve them, & help put things into perspective🫶🏼. House persons important relationships/partnerships/business deals/contracts could also be something the Mercury person is very interested in/interested in giving advice on💅🏽<33 - or those things can be something these two discuss/talk about a lot. Conflicting aspects can show arguments/conflicts bc of/over house persons relationships/arguments because house person can feel like their wants/needs doesn't matter 2 the Mercury person/issues bc they got two different ideas of where their connection is supposed 2 go.

MERCURY IN PARTNERS 8TH HOUSE = if house person has any obsession issues/traumas💔 that they need 2 work through = mercury can put things into perceptive 4 the house person, & help them start their transformation/rebirth at last - House person could have been avoiding change, before the Mercury person came along, & sat things straight/told them wassup🗣️. Mercury is interested in all the things the house person wants 2 escape from/keep 2themselves forever. House person can feel very close 2 Mercury here, bc they talk about everything together - Mercury person could know the house persons darkest secrets💜<33. Oral sex/handjobs/fingering can be/feel very transformative 4 the house person here/or it can be something they're really into with Mercury here, bc of the intimacy they bring with it💋<33 - Dirty talk from Mercury could also be something that really gets the house person going. Conflicting aspects can show issues between them because of secrets/lies/issues because one can be way more taboo/darker focused/minded than the other. MERCURY IN PARTNERS 9TH HOUSE = Mercury is very interested in the house persons philosophy/"journey" in life/very interested in where they've travelled2, or want 2 travel 2✈️🌍/interested in their beliefs/religious views/higher thoughts/or in their education📚 - these things can also be something they talk about/discuss a whole lot together<33. If house person is gunning after a higher education = Mercury can help them read up on their shit/help them with studying📖 - kinda like a teacher, & a student = Mercury being the teacher, & house person being the student here. House person can look up 2 the Mercury person, & trust their judgment/guidance on a whole lot in life<33. Conflicting aspects can show arguments over/bc of in laws/issues bc house person can feel like Mercury is always trying 2 "one up them" - like "they always know better"/conflicts bc they got too different beliefs.

MERCURY IN PARTNERS 10TH HOUSE = Mercury can make the house person more expressive/vocal/mindful in public/make them more mindful/vocal in/about their career here🗣️<33. Mercury can also be very interested in the house persons worldly goals/social status/career, & can help them make future career plans - guide/advice them 2 what the "wisest"/best moves 4 them 2 take 2 move upwards are💅🏽 - Mercury person being the house persons "professional advisor" here kinda energy<33. Mercury can talk the house person up a whole lot 2 others🫶🏼😻 - up their reputation a whole lot/or even defend their reputation/career if needed🗣️<33. Conflicting aspects can show arguments over/because of house persons reputation/career choices/issues because Mercury can talk/gossip a whole lot about the house. MERCURY IN PARTNERS 11TH HOUSE = Mercury can be very interested in the house persons community/social media/humanitarian goals/social circle - network/dreams here - or it's something they can talk about/discuss a whole🫶🏼<33. Mercury could also interest the house person with a new cause worth fighting for together💋<33. House person, & Mercury person can be seen out networking together a lot🤝/they can be seen out being vocal about the causes they fight for✊🏽/are interested in together<33. If they don't have the same friend group = house persons friend group/social circle can see the Mercury person as humorous, talkative, vocal, & very expressive here<33. Conflicting aspects can show arguments/miscommunications because of the house persons friends, or arguments over them/arguments because of the house persons dreams/social media. MERCURY IN PARTNERS 12TH HOUSE = these two can have a telepathic connection🫶🏼 - House person could also receive messages from/about the mercury person in their dreams here😴<33. Mercury can read the house person like an open book📖 - they could ask the house person many many questions, but really already know the answer 2 each one😘. These two can talk a whole lot about their addictions - or past ones/their fears/phobias, spirituality - their spiritual beliefs, spiritual connections/bonds♾️. Mercury person can bring light 2 the house persons subconscious habits/mind, & it's either really really appreciated💋, or really not so much🙂‍↔️ - look at aspects. Conflicting aspects can show issues because Mercury can seem questionable/worrisome 2 the house person/issues because house person can feel distressed/troubled when Mercury is around them.

THANKS4READING LOVE! I APPRECIATE U ALWAYS💜. MASTERLIST

#astrology #astro community #synastry #mercury #10th house #12th house #astro notes #Mercury in houses in synastry

[borathae]

↳ Full Art

"You both had a stressful day and relax with a warm bath. Soon the tension gets too much and you decide to do something about it."

Pairing: husband!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Smut

Warnings: switch!Yoongi, switch!Reader, sharing of a bath, making out, lots of touches, nipple play for both, neck kisses, grinding, some dirty talk, praise, he keeps calling her beautiful :'), lotus position, cumming too soon (f. receiving), hair pulling (m. receiving), rimjob with him bend over the edge, handjob, he is just a devoted hubby who loves his wifey oh so much, she loves him just as much <3

Wordcount: 3.6k

a/n: boongles won the poll. you besties have spoken and i am here to deliver <3 i love this lil dude so much, you guys :(🤍 ps: i'm sorry for the delay, life got all too much and i didn't have the energy to finish it in time :(

Yoongi is relaxing in the bathtub when you disturb his precious peace. 

“There you are.”

Yoongi peels one eye open, watching you undress without saying anything. You are talking as you get more and more naked, blind to his rather annoyed state.

“I literally had the weirdest day ever. First the bus driver refused my cash so I had to call a cab instead, then I went to work and nothing happened but then at lunch, I went to Nukim and my card declined. I had to run to the nearest ATM to get more money and broke my heel on the way back. So with one broken shoe and lots of embarrassment I had to continue working and now I’m cold because it’s really windy all of a sudden and I didn’t bring a coat. Oh wow, the water’s so nice. Mhm.”

And you are inside the bath, facing him. 

He is still looking at you with only one eye, tapping his fingers on the edge of the tub. You finally let the situation sink in. He has a glass of whisky by his side and the candles burning. His favourite album to relax to is running in the background. 

“Did you wanna be alone?” 

“No, go ahead. I was just trying to catch a quiet hour”, he says sarcastically.

“I am so sorry. God, I didn’t think. I can leave again if you want me to.”

He dismisses you with a shake of his head, peeling himself off his comfortable position to kiss your cheek.

“Stay. It’s fine.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want to ruin your Me Time.”

“It’s fine. You’re already in the water now. I hope you don’t mind me being quiet though.” 

“No, go ahead. Some quiet will do me well too.” 

Yoongi relaxes again, picking up his glass of whiskey to take a sip. He enjoys it on his tongue, then swallows it with his eyes closing and his head falling back. He keeps both arms under water, relaxing his facial muscles.

You settle back as well, closing your eyes with a sigh. You feel comfortable in relaxing because you know that Yoongi was honest with you. He doesn’t mind that you are here because if he was, he would have told you. You had him telling you to leave him alone a few times in the past, so if he had minded he would have told you. He is honest like that, just as you are always honest with him. It’s what makes your marriage so nice and healthy.

You finish his relaxation album in silence and then Yoongi breaks it by moving around. You open your eyes. He is using his phone, bending over the edge of the bathtub this way. You try not, but still stare. He is sticking out his butt, giving view to his part most private. It looks so pretty and pink. You get glimpses of his balls as well. The warm water made them just as pink. You really want to run your tongue over him. 

Yoongi settles back down after picking out the next album, meeting your eyes.

“Oop”, you let out, looking to the side quickly. 

“Did you just ogle me?” 

“No?” you lie with a nervous chuckle.

Yoongi cocks up his brow.

“Maybe”, you confess, lowering your head, “sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“You’re so dirty sometimes”, he mumbles and relaxes again, closing his eyes.

Now that this conversation is over, you need a few moments to relax as well. You don’t have dirty thoughts per say, but you still don’t want to settle back anymore. The twenty minutes of silence you shared before were already enough to bring you down and now you are craving conversation. But you know better than to disturb him. So you are left gawking at him and wishing for time to pass quicker. 

You stay like this for four songs and then Yoongi sits up to drink. He meets your eyes, covering his chest.

“Why are you staring so much?” he whines.

“Sorry, I don’t know. I guess I got bored.”

“And staring at me is fun?” 

“Immensely actually. You’re really pretty.” 

He scoffs and looks away, reaching for his whiskey. He settles back, drinking it with his eyes racing over your face. He swallows, sits up and gets close. Like this, your thighs are touching and he can run his hand down your waist.

“Your eyes are gonna get stuck if you stare that much”, he whispers with a playful gleam in his eyes.

“No, they won’t”, you chuckle, “you doofus.” 

He chuckles lazily and sips his whiskey. You look at his lips as he does it. He swallows, licks his lips, enjoying the attention with a fluttering pulse. 

“Do you want a sip?” 

You nod your head. 

Yoongi hands you his glass, staring at your lips as you drink from it. You swallow, following it up with a grimace. He laughs, brushing the back of his hand down your cheek.

“You’re cute.”

“It’s good, it’s just strong.”

“Mhm yeah definitely. I felt like it today. Work was stressful.”

“I already figured. Do you want to rant?” 

“Nothing happened. It was just really stressful and left me with a headache.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. Do you want me to massage you?”

He dismisses you with a shake of his head, “it’s already gone. It was strong when I came home, but it’s gone now.” 

“I’m glad”, you say and rub his arms.

Yoongi finishes his whiskey, putting his glass aside before returning to you. He places both hands on your waist, kneading it gently. 

“Your day was weird, you said?”

“Yeah, really weird. So many annoying things happen.”

“Mhm, they sound annoying. Do you still have your shoes?”

“Yeah, they’re broken by the door. I thought maybe you could take a look at them.”

“I’ll take a look at them.”

“Thank you so much, honey.”

“Of course.”

“Did you have dinner already?”

“Not yet, I wasn’t hungry. You?”

“No, I thought maybe we could cook together. You know, with it being Friday and us having no work tomorrow.”

He smiles with his eyes, nodding his head, “I’d like that”, he says and looks at your lips. He rubs the side of your neck, gazing oh so longingly.

The attention makes your heart race. You touch his shoulders, waiting for him to make the next move.

“You’re so beautiful”, he speaks softly, caressing your cheek just once before returning to your neck.

“Oh wow.” Your heart flutters. “You’re so beautiful too, my honey.”

His eyes soften more. 

“May I?” he asks.

“What do you want to do?” 

“Kiss you.”

“Oh. Yeah, you can kiss me.”

Yoongi leans in, getting lost in the kiss with you. He tastes of whiskey at first, but soon you have it kissed away and only his taste remains. This is so nice to both of you. The water is still warm, the music is relaxing, the touches you share are placed so perfectly right. It couldn’t get any better than this. 

He feels so good under your fingertips. His skin is so soft, his body so warm. You can’t get enough of exploring him, tingling like crazy because he can’t seem to get enough of you either. 

Your bodies draw closer as the minutes pass. When you started out, your middles were far apart, by now they are melted together. His thighs are under yours, his hands are either kneading your waist or lingering under your breasts. Neither he nor you have acted on the sudden closeness, but you can’t deny that it is starting to enchant you just a little.

You hope that Yoongi feels the same, giving him a silent signal by brushing your fingers over his nipples. He purrs deeply, pulling your hips closer in a way that grinds your heat against him. His big hand cups your breast afterwards, finally kneading it the way you wanted him to. He took the hint, communicating his own feelings with just a touch.

You and he feel the same. No words are needed, just skilled touches and needy sounds. You keep your own fingers busy with his nipples, pinching and massaging them as you and he fall into a tongue kiss. His purrs become more and more. He is so sexy in the way he shows his enjoyment. You can’t get enough of all the deep, throaty sounds he makes when you are feeling him up just right. 

You answer him with your own needy noises, driving him just a little wild with them. He loves your sounds. They’re better than any kind of music ever could be. He breaks the tongue kiss to kiss your neck instead. He craves more of your noises and neck kisses always do the trick. This evening is no different. With just the first devoted kiss to your skin, you sigh his name, giving him better access by rolling your head to the side. Yoongi lets his breath swirl over your skin as he kisses you, rolling his hips against you slowly as his hands feel up your torso and his lips place kisses all the way from your ear to your shoulder. 

He changes sides when your breath begins hitching in your throat and your fingers keep sliding down his tummy only to stop when they remember that you don’t have permission to touch yet. He won’t give it to you yet, wanting to bask in you a little longer. Kisses to your neck, feeling your torso and grinding against your warmth is all that he needs, while you are meant to enjoy it because you are his goddess and he is there to shower you in bliss.

He is happy to share this bath with you. His initial distaste of having his silence disturbed ceased to exist the moment you and he shared quiet and he became utterly excited to have you with him. Yoongi really likes baths with you. They are both relaxing and sometimes lead to good, intimate sex. He can really calm down from a stressful day like this, finding great happiness in it because he can make you feel good as well.

He straightens up, breaking the string of saliva connecting him with your marked neck by licking his lips. He soothes the hickeys with rubs of his thumb, gazing at you.

“Feels good”, you get out breathily, barely keeping your eyes open.

“Feels good?” he makes sure.

You nod your head, whimpering.

His eyes soften, he cradles your cheek.

“You’re beautiful”, he whispers, making you shiver with just his words. So he does it again, he praises you, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You melt into him, burying your hands in his hair to pull him into a kiss. Yoongi moans, giving you access to his mouth instantly. You know just to kiss him to scramble his mind and get him purring just for you. The heat between your legs increases, the speed of your grinds does as well. Soon it is almost unbearable to handle and the kiss breaks with needy mewls from both of you.

“I really need to-”

“Just do it, I want it”, Yoongi interrupts you, tugging at your hips.

This is all you needed. You climb atop his lap and sink him into you, tilting his head back with a tug to his hair so you could taste his initial moan. He always gets noisy when he sinks inside. Tonight’s no different. He has his eyes barely open, taking what you give him with parted lips. He bottoms out soon enough, whispering a quiet “fuck” as his hands dimple your buttocks.

“Mine”, you whisper, picking up a needy rhythm.

Yoongi rolls his eyes back and closes them completely, choking out a breathy “yours”.

“Say it again.”

“Yours…all yours…”

“Fuck Yoongi, I’m obsessed with you”, you moan and drop your forehead against his’, chasing the ecstasy of being with him in needy grinds. Like this, his cock is so deep and because you never bounce on him, he also never stops rubbing against your favourite spot. His tummy puts pressure on your clit, adding electric bliss to the connection. Fuck, he’s got you charged. Everything about this feels so fucking good.

Yoongi groans, dragging them out until he has to gasp for new air. The tug on his hair is addictive, tasting your shaky breaths on his lips is making him dizzy. He is yours. He really fucking is. No one has ever gotten and will ever get him as hard as you get him. He’s addicted with every second, looking forward to the next one the moment the last passed. He wishes for this to never stop. He loves to love you in such ways. 

His hands are on your hips, helping you move as much as they are trying to keep you moving. He would pass out if you stopped right now. It feels so good that missing out on even one second would be torture. The bath warmed you up so much that your soft walls are burning in the best way possible. Not even the hottest bath water could warm him up as much as you can.

“Feels so good”, he chokes out.

“Yeah, feels so good”, you agree breathlessly.

He shivers, “oh god, I missed you”, he chokes out with his voice just slightly pitched.

“Yoongi”, you croak, suddenly losing every kind of composure as his sappy confession throws you over a surprise edge, “fuck, oh god.”

Yoongi opens his eyes, holding his breath.

“Are you?”

“Yes”, you scrunch your face, hiding it in his shoulder a second later, “you fucking sap, urgh.”

Yoongi chuckles, helping you ride it out with gentle guidance. He really didn’t expect you to climax so soon, but he doesn’t dislike it. It turns him on so good to know that he can make you lose control so soon.

“You’re the sap”, he teases, earning himself a nudge to his chest the moment your high died down.

“You’re awful, fuck”, you get out as you catch your breath.

“Why?” he laughs.

“Cause you made me lose control.”

“So?”    

“Brat”, you say and sink into him, “fuck, that just fucked me. Wow.”

“Mhm, I could feel it”, he says, sliding his hands to your ass to squeeze it, “was it nice for you?”

“Yeah, so nice.”

“I’m glad to hear that, my honey. Uhm. Can I maybe have one too?”

“Mhm, you’re so sexy”, you purr, peeling yourself off of him despite your dizzy head, “I want you to bend over the edge. Okay?”

He gulps, nodding his head obediently.

“Good boy”, you praise, slipping off his cock. “Go on.”

Yoongi scrambles to his knees and bends over the edge, arching his back.

“You know why I want you like this, don’t you?” you ask him, rubbing his hips as you place yourself behind him. His butt looks so yummy. You can’t wait to dig in.

“Yeah”, he sighs, resting his head on the edge in preparation. He already has his eyes closed and you haven’t even started yet.

“And that’s okay with you?” you make sure just in case.

“Yeah, so okay.”

“You drive me insane, seriously.”

With his clear consent, you finally lean down, swirling your tongue down his spine until you have his hole under it. You swerve past it just to rile him up, kissing and licking the back of his thighs until your tongue naturally feels his balls under it. 

“Mhm, my honey”, you purr, sucking on his tender skin while your hands massage his hips. 

“Nice”, he sighs, feeling warm all over. He loves your mouth on him. He really does. You always tease him, saying that he likes it a little too much, but Yoongi won’t let it faze him. He does love it a little too much, but how couldn’t he? When you are so skilled in everything you do.

“Mhm, so nice. So fucking nice”, you whisper between your adoration. You nuzzle into him, giving his balls a little kiss before you finally incorporate your tongue as well. You want to trace every inch of them with the tip of your tongue. He deserves it for being the cutest.

Yoongi shivers, finding it just a little bit more difficult to breathe. He has really sensitive balls and your tongue tickles in the kind of way where he wants to tense up because otherwise it’s too difficult to handle. 

“You’ve got the prettiest balls, my honey”, you lull, sighing happily as you guide your tongue up to his taint.

One flick. Two flicks. You move further up with the third flick, swirling your tongue around his hole without touching it.

Yoongi can’t help but squirm and keen a giggle.

“Heh”, you let out, smiling against him, “needy?” 

“Needy, yeah.” He sticks his butt out more. “Please.” 

“You’re such a delight, fuck”, you purr and finally give him what you denied him for way too long. You press your tongue to his hole, exploring it in circular motions.

Yoongi moans loudly and presses back onto you, feeling a whole body shiver course through him. The short moment where he was outside the water and you licked him everywhere but his hole, cooled him down so much that your tongue feels like addictive fire on his rim now that he finally has it. 

“Good?” 

“Good, good, yeah good. Ah-ahmm.”

You purr and hum deliciously, tracing his rim with just your tip. His noises encourage you so fucking much. He tastes a hundred times yummier when he’s that vocal.

“Good, so good. Ah, ah aah…”

This is better than you had imagined it to be. He is so goddamn yummy. Every inch of him and especially on his pretty rim. You break away to rile him up with your words. Make him needy again, take it away so he whines. 

He whines. Of course he does.

“I've wanted to do this to you ever since I first watched you bend over.”

Yoongi mewls, sticking his butt closer to your face. If you don’t return soon, he will start cursing.

“You’ve got the yummiest butt, my honey”, you purr, burying yourself back in his peach. You moan throatily, flicking your tongue up and down his hole in sync with your hand slipping to his front. You pick up his cock, jerking it off quickly.

“Fuck, ah…fuck”, Yoongi moans, wheezing for air as you make his legs twitch and shake. He expected anything but this and it’s ruining him.

“Like it?” you ask, swirling your tongue quickly.

“Yeah, like it”, he mewls, fucking back onto your tongue as much as he fucks your fist. He won’t last long like this. It is already amazing enough to have you eat his ass, a handjob on top of that is way too fucking powerful for poor, little Yoongi.

“Like it too, you taste so good. Fuck, Yoongi.”

You put pressure on his rim. It gives up embarrassingly fast, allowing your tongue to wiggle inside the first inch. It’s not enough to graze his prostate, it’s not even enough to really fill him, but it still gives him a gentle stretch and Yoongi loves that. He keens your name, thanking you even when he is so utterly out of breath. His cock is twitching in your hand. Your touch is sending constant hot electricity down his legs.

Encouraged by his noises, you keep the rhythm going, feeling on ecstasy yourself. To think that there were times in your marriage where butts were a no-no-zone. That you and he really went years without exploring this area. Oh, you missed out on so much fun. 

You increase the skill, wanting him to catch up on all the fun he missed out. You might have started off late, but you are hellbent on making up for it. He needs his ass ate as if it was your last fucking meal. You slurp, you growl, you suck and feast loudly. And he is shivering over and over again, hearing his pulse in his ears.

“Holy fuck, it feels so good. How are you doing that?” he moans, trembling when you purr into him and pick up speed.

You can do even better. This is what you are trying to tell him right now. You will outdo yourself even if it steals your air and makes your arm beg for a break. You will get him to a point of complete loss of control, where he can only shake and writhe and wail your name. You will and you are.

And Yoongi falls into his most natural state: moaning your name repeatedly until the only vowels his brain knows are yours.

It takes Yoongi seven more strokes and then he announces his orgasm with a pitched moan, followed with whole body shakes and graphic curses about how good it feels. You moan with him, helping him ride it out with skilled touches and your tongue pumping in and out of him. You keep it going until he begins fleeing, doing so with shaky gasps for air.

“No, no more. No more.”

“Mhhm, My yummy peach”, you lull, soothing him with kisses up his spine and your hands rubbing his tummy.

“You’re insane, seriously”, he pants, resting his forehead on the edge of the bathtub while his hands tangle over it. He is still twitching occasionally, recovering oh so very slowly.

You snicker, “yeah, most definitely and you like that I am.”

He scoffs, chuckling deeply, “fuck, I can’t even deny it.”

“Gosh Yoongi”, you back hug him, nuzzling your cheek against his upper back, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He straightens up and turns, hugging you against his chest. You melt with him, humming contently.

“What a way to de-stress”, he says, “wow, I’m done for.”

“Yeah, what a way”, you agree with a smile.

“Sooo, what’s for dinner?” he asks jokingly, making you laugh.

“I mean, I already started with dessert so whatever you want.”

He laughs.

“Don’t say that”, he whines.

“Why?”

“Cause, I’m shy”, he mumbles with an obvious pout.

“Gosh, you cutie you.”

#yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi oneshot #yoongi scenario #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #sub!yoongi #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #bts scenario #bts x reader #bts x you #sub!bts #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan scenario #bangtan oneshot #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #sub!bangtan #sibis art #fanfic: art of the month

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

⋆*·ﾟIf only for a little while... misa x putellas!reader

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all you want is for the time to stop and for you to stay and spend this slow morning in the bubble you created with the woman next to you. but fear fills you when you realise what that means.

or; part of the as the flowers bloom, my heart does too universe (can be read as standalone). requested.

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A soft breeze from the window you'd opened the night before made the curtains dance. The summers in Barcelona could be relentless, and since you'd been sharing the bed with someone this night, that added body heat had made your bed a whirlpool of lava. White noise of the city waking up and starting their commute to work filled your ears. You stretched your limbs and crooned, not having had such a nice sleep in quite some time. The sun was directly casted on your bedroom window, the curtains only slightly keeping its rays at bay as the rest casted on the vase with flowers from your unknown admirer on your windowsill. You looked to your side, where Misa rested, deeply nestled into the covers, hand tightly curling them against her chest. Misa had the most relaxed look on her face. She was still far gone, hopefully having as good a sleep as you'd just woken up from.

Your eyes raked over her sleeping form, watched how she puffed out quiet breaths, how she looked as peaceful as she made you feel whenever she so much as looked at you. You turned on your side, to face her better, leg popping out under the duvet, away from the heat, as you rested your forehead against hers. You closed your eyes again, hoping that sleep would take you once more, wanting nothing more but to fall asleep next to her again. You were already addicted to how it felt.

It wasn't enough. You wanted her arms around you, her comforting touch, her soft eyes telling you that you were her entire world, that you could take the leap and she'd catch you, her voice lulling you to sleep with her promises and confirmations. But Misa deserved the rest after the hectic month she'd had. So you stayed put, careful not to wake her, patiently waiting for sleep to take you or for her to wake up. You deemed it pathetic how much you could miss her when she was literally right here, next to you, or when she wasn't even yours to miss to begin with. She was puffing out air from her nose onto your cheek, a tangible reminder that she was alive and well and not going anywhere.

A group of children laughed below your window, no doubt on their way to school. Next you heard two cars honk at each other, and one of the neighbours on your block threw their door shut with a loud bang. Still, it seemed that none of the outside noises could wake Misa from her deep slumber. The realisation made the corners of your lip turn upwards into a sleepy smile. You looked at the woman, so blissfully unaware of time passing around her. You wondered if she knew you'd stopped the time for her as well.

You shimmied down, dipping the bed and rustling the covers as you tried to find a more comfortable position, realising you'd be here for a while if Misa was so far away. You dared to nuzzle into her warm chest, cocooning yourself underneath her arm as the linen covers got pulled up to your knees. You knew she was a deep sleeper if she hadn’t woken you up by tugging back the covers you’d stolen during the night, so you dared to pull her against you. You covered her sleeping form, further tucking her in.

With the constant rising and falling of her chest against your cheek and your body dipping away into the mattress, you swore you were on cloud nine. This. This was what you'd dreamed of as the hopeless romantic you thought you would be when you would find your one epic love. This feeling was what you had waited to feel during the three relationships you'd had in your life, your first one finding you at age eighteen.

She had been kind. Pretty. Very caring, too. She was similar to you, and perhaps that was why you liked her. You'd lost your virginity to the girl, and even to this day, it wasn't something you felt uncomfortable about when being reminded of it. She'd been a good person. You had been in love, or so you thought, when you'd heard one of your friends talk about her boyfriend, realising you never quite felt your love for her that deep. There was sexual attraction and you cared for her, sure, but if she was the one, surely you would feel a little more euphoric whenever she looked your way, right? It didn't bring out the hopeless romantic in you, but perhaps you just didn't have that side to you after all, you'd thought. She was good to you and you had the most of fun with her, always giggling whenever you were with her. But there was always something missing. The fireworks had quickly dwindled after that realisation and you had both agreed that a friendship was more in order. But you had lost contact when she had changed her major and switched colleges, your only point of contact now from likes on each other's Instagram posts. Still, you were thankful that your first relationship hadn't ended in a screaming match. At least that was something.

Then at twenty-two, there'd been your second love. A thirty year old woman, something that definitely had taken away some of Alexia's life the moment you told her, because someone older than her wasn't meant to date her youngest sister. She was easygoing. Very considerate and caring, almost like an older sister would be. She'd guided you through the insecurities and worries you had as a young adult and her maturity had grounded you and pulled you to her like an anchor. But she always wanted you to talk and open up, saying that communicating was healthy, not realising that you weren't one to easily share what was on your mind. So she pushed and pulled the thoughts out of you before you were ready and didn't give you the time to give your heart some seconds to feel before you could properly express yourself. You hated how she could dominate you that way, how she enjoyed being the older one, knowing she used her age as a reason to have the last word. As soon as you had unsurely voiced your interest in her after she had guilted you into admitting them, saying that surely you would feel something for her after all your talking, she'd staked her claim. But your heart wasn't in it anymore with the way things had gone, and you hated yourself for knowing you'd let yourself get talked into things. And so you distanced yourself, pulled back, slowly but surely. Not picking up calls and rescheduling meet ups. You hated yourself for it, but knew that she would not take it lightly if you would just tell her you weren't interested in her anymore. She'd probably want to talk about it again, thoroughly, and that was something you wanted even less. She'd stressed countless times before that she felt time was running out for her, that she wanted her happy-ever-after, her white-picket-fence kind of life with a few pets and a baby. You didn't know why in the world she'd let herself fall for you, at twenty-two, when she wanted all those things she also knew you couldn't give her yet. So what did you really have to offer her? She had never faulted you for your age, not when it wasn't to her advantage anyway, but you felt the imbalance nonetheless. She wanted things, preferably within the next year or two, while you were far from ready to settle down like that. She had a steady job, an income, her own home and a car. She had her shit together, while you didn't even know what you would be doing tomorrow. That stark contrast scared you off. You weren't on the same page of life, and you knew that. You knew she knew too, even if she refused to acknowledge it. After she realised you were pulling away, she'd blamed you for only using her for her wisdom and guidance, for not letting her stick around to see you blossom into the woman you were becoming, for taking up her time for nothing when she could've been with the guy that had pursued her and she'd denied for you. She was right. You could see how it looked from her perspective, but at least you were free again. Besides, apparently your relationship hadn't been too serious to her anyway, seeing as she ended up with the same guy a week later. It didn't even hurt you when you saw the pregnancy post two months later when you looked her up again.

Then came a time of enjoying your last few months of university, something that once again took away some of Alexia's lifespan. You'd let go entirely, having been scared off by the prospect of adult life from the relationship you had just escaped from. Soon you would have to work for the rest of your life, be responsible, stick to social norms, find yourself a partner to settle down with until your last breath. The lack of freedom that seemed to come with scared the living shit out of you. So, you went out whenever you could. Kissed whoever took your breath away. You needed to know what was out there, what you could get, what you liked and disliked, before you could let yourself decide what you wanted for the rest of your life so that you would not use up precious time and energy from someone again. You tried to keep this from your family as best as you could, knowing they would worry or disapprove. Especially Alexia, who'd never had these kind of young-adult worries. She had her football, her one big love, something to focus on. What happened along the way, she would figure out if it came to it. She'd always been level-headed. That had never been you. You envied her for her tranquility, resilience and perseverance. But you knew you would never be like her, so you had given up trying.

It was through that exploring that you found her. And oh, how you wished you could rewind time and stop you from all the horrible decisions that followed. But that was life, wasn't it? Teaching you its lessons in the harshest ways.

You'd fallen, hard, and it made bile form in your throat even now, years later. She was everything you'd ever dreamed of. Attentive, controlling, loyal and ever-present if you needed her, possessive, kind, only when things went her way, always giving you things and taking care of you, to persuade you to stay, doing everything for you, to make sure you were dependent on her, and spending all her time with you, so that you would not be with your friends and family. She looked like a doting and generous girlfriend, who was clearly head over heels for you. Which she really was, in her own fucked up way. She had you fooled. Hell, she even had your family fooled, and that was serious. But how would they know you weren't happy when you barely saw them? When they thought that was the case because you were so in love that you had only eyes for your girlfriend and not because she'd guilted you into not leaving her alone?

Time passed and while that honeymoon-phase was still there, things slowly turned normal. The more comfortable you got around her, the more you thought she'd love and respect everything about you. That wasn't the case. She didn't like the normalcy of you going out with your friends or sisters, supporting Alexia whenever you could, visiting your mum or uncle. She didn't like that you seemed to take everything for granted now, as she'd said. Her words had surprised you at first. You thought she wouldn't mind you having a life beside her because you would come home to her, talk to her while giggling about the adventures you'd gotten up to, cook dinner for her, wind down and spend the night loving her. You thought she wouldn't need the constant reminder that you loved her, because you were there, you were hers. But she grew hostile after not seeing your commitment the way she wanted. She'd guilt you into things, brought up all the things she'd done for you and made you realise that yes, she had done more for you than you for her, if you looked at it in the transactional way. She soon crossed all your boundaries with her words and persistence, and it had tired you out mentally. You loved her, but not this side to her. She had been so good to you, and she still had her good days. You’d even convinced yourself you could fix her, heal your relationship to go back to how it was, that maybe you had been a little inattentive to her, after all. It had been your first genuinely long relationship, maybe you were just clueless and she was right for telling you what she needed. Because communication was key, right? And you knew it hadn't been your strongest skill in your last relationship either. But then she'd say those things again, filling you with the insecurity that it was your fault. She'd made it sound like you would never find anyone willing to put up with you. That you didn't have it in you to truly love, but that she would love you anyway. You didn't want to listen to her, but when someone keeps making you feel like shit, you eventually convince yourself you start to smell like it. You didn't want to be around her anymore. You didn't want to make love to someone who had made you cry mere minutes before, and she'd let you feel how she felt about being denied like that.

The last straw had been when she'd claimed you on the one day that was reserved for you and your family. You'd cried big silent tears all the way to your date, clutching the bracelet with dolphin and daisy charms your father had given you years ago. The bracelet she still had, by the way, but you wouldn't dare tell your sisters that, wanting them to live their life outside of prison walls. She'd made you feel guilty that those tears were even falling after she reminded you that she was doing this because of that day, telling you how ungrateful you were of her gesture to be there for you during dark times. She'd faulted you for not letting her in again, something that had quickly become one of your biggest insecurities. It was when your phone had lit up with your sister's name, probably worrying what was taking you so long, that you absolutely broke. You'd secretly accepted the call, knowing she would hate it if you would let your sisters invade the time she wanted with you. Alexia had grown incredibly worried by the sobs and mumbles she couldn't make anything of, her body growing rigid with anger when she heard her. Or her words, more like. Words directed towards you, words that broke you to your very core, words that you were crying your young heart out about, words that had made Alexia tear up herself in anger, sorrow and guilt. You, her little sister, the person she was supposed to protect from all the bad things in the world, especially after your father hadn't been there anymore. She'd hated herself for not realising she'd let you live with the devil all this time.

"Hey, sssh,"

You felt the warm pad of a thumb brush against your cheek. Your watery eyes looked up at Misa's warm ones, squinting into the light, but willing herself to open them further because of her worry for you. You realised you were clutching her shirt and that it had woken her up.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," You reared back and sat up against the headboard, quickly wiping your tears away. Ignoring Misa's worried eyes, you glanced at the chipped doorpost of your bedroom, remembering the story behind it. The story that had occurred on the same day where your daydream had just ended. Alexia's eyes would still flit to it each time she would walk into your room, that same guilt eating her up all over again.

"Y/N-" Misa was awake within the flick of a finger, sitting herself up and leaning forward to hold you. Then she halted. She knew the relationship you'd had with your ex, had seen you flinch the first time she'd wanted to hug you when she'd seen you cry on that curb. But that was then, weeks ago. Now, well, she was in your bed now... so she closed the gap, sensing you trusted her enough to do so.

Her cheek immediately rested against your messy hair when you buried yourself into her safe embrace. You should've felt better, but you felt fear eat you up. It terrified you to no end that you were starting to like someone so hard and so fast again, that you were letting her in faster than you'd ever had someone. This wasn't your usual... letting someone sleep in your bed and actually sleeping in it. And only sleeping in it. Together. In each other's arms. Waking up together, even. No kisses and no shy touches. Just... together. But Misa was different, you'd felt that from the start, so you knew you needed a different approach altogether. You needed to change something. Heck, you needed to change too and not let yourself be driven by fear and insecurity originating from obstacles of the past. Still, you knew a lot more needed to be done before that dark cloud looming above you would blow over.

Her arm pulled you closer, squeezed you against her, her warm lips grazing kisses against your hair. Whatever it was that had turned you so miserable, she hated how she had woken up after the damage had been done. That she hadn't been able to distract the thoughts from developing the second she'd see them appear in your eyes. She'd caught you turning quiet on numerous occasions now, usually whenever she was getting a step closer to getting to know you, a step closer to you letting her in. You had opened up to her about your situation, as you'd called it, as soon as you'd realised were things might be going, not wanting to disappoint Misa out of nowhere should you get the need to run. She didn't know everything about you yet, but she did know that whatever you thought was wrong with you, had been put in your head by someone else. It worried her, how she saw you downward spiral whenever you let your heart lead. And she knew this might be too good to be true, to have you in her arms right now and to think that she could have you in them forever. Which was why she cherished it even more. You were hurting, had scars on your heart. She couldn't blame you for distrusting love after never having truly experienced the good kind of love, the kind she could show you. But she would forever blame herself if she didn't wait for you to be ready to let her.

Admittedly, you were already comforted by the subtle scent of her perfume that had stuck to the shirt you'd given her to wear. You'd gotten it a few years ago while accepting a big burger challenge on a dare with your childhood best friend in some questionable joint downtown. Obviously, you'd failed, but they'd given you the shirt anyway after you'd gotten sick in their bathroom. You used to do stupid things like that, but you had been young, fuelled by heartbreak, the need to live with no regrets and by the stupidity of your other half, Abril, who had been one of the best additions to your life ever since kindergarten. You took in a sharp breath, realising that this moment, this entire thing you had going on, could very well be added to the that list of stupid things. You'd promised yourself never to lead someone on again, to not take their time only to pull away eventually. Still, this was Misa. She wasn't just some college fling or pretty face in a club you wanted to kiss.

You felt your heartbeat pick up when she let out a content sigh. This was Misa, you told yourself again, who was giving you all these feelings you had never felt in any of your past relationships. And to top it all off, she was making you feel like this and you weren't even together. Perhaps you needed to stop it before you would truly be deeply in love only for something to make the tables turn and have you want to undo this mistake as well. But Misa could never be a mistake in your eyes. You were. You'd known that from the countless of times you'd been told those three words. But your last ex didn't have to say that you were when you'd come to that conclusion all by yourself after realising what that gnawing worrying feeling in the pit of your stomach was. Love wasn't meant for you, or rather, you weren't deserving of it. Where you were a mistake, Misa was so so so right. She deserved better than the train wreck you were.

"You've got me." She mumbled against your head, sensing you weren't ready to tell her the reason behind your tears, and she was okay with that. It was a boundary you'd set and she respected. You would tell her if you wanted, and if you didn't, she'd find other ways to make you smile again, "I'm here, I've got you."

You sighed against her. Of course she wouldn't pry, wouldn't push you to communicate when you needed to come to terms with your feelings first. And of course, she would be here in your bed just to be with you, without expecting anything else from you or trying to pry your shirt off you with innocent arguments and pleas.

You let yourself go, willed your fears away and let your heart roar. Maybe you could be selfish and think you deserved her love, even if it was only for a little while.

She pulled you to lie back down, gently placing the linen covers over your body, making sure you were comfortable. Her hands rested above your waist over the sheets, her drowsy eyes making your stomach flutter with the utter delicacy of how she looked at you. She didn't say a word, not knowing if you even wanted her to continue to comfort you or if you wanted to forget about it as quickly as you could. So, you grabbed her hand, your thumb grazing over the valleys and hills of her knuckles before you placed a kiss on them.

"I slept really nice."

Misa smiled, adorably, as she finally seemed to properly wake up.

"Me too," She cleared her throat, growing uneasy by the flutters of her stomach as you kept looking up at her through your eyelashes. She'd never come across a woman who was as gorgeous on the outside as she was on the inside, but the proof that they really existed was resting in her arms. It hurt her that much more how you couldn't see how special you really were. How one of a kind you, Y/N Putellas, were.

"Thank you. For letting me stay."

You hid the yawn that crept up behind the covers, "I think that by now, I have more to thank you for." You quipped, that iresistible teasing glint to your eyes reappearing. She loved how you could entice her so quickly, know just how to look at her or what to say to tease her, then pull back just as quickly as if it was only normal to you. She'd been surprised by it at first, having only known your sister who was generally speaking usually more awkward than suave. Still, you were also related to Alba, so that probably explained it.

"Not really," Misa replied and lovingly tapped your nose, watching you scrunch it, "That was just me being a decent human being."

She watched as your grin disappeared, being reminded by the lack of such decency around you that had made you so foreign to being treated right.

A dog barked, people chatted, a tram whizzed by through the street. These sounds had been here ever since you had rented it when you landed your first job after uni. They had accompanied many a lonely night, been background noise to your crying and had lulled you to a slumber after an argument had left you panicking. You were so thankful that your friends had kept the place sacred by visiting almost every day, the memories with them outshining those bad ones. Knowing them, they'd done so with clear intention. It was exactly why you loved them with your entire being.

You swallowed, voice wobbling, "I should keep you around then."

You meant it, you did, you just couldn't help but see the irony in going against the fear that had just yelled at you from inside the moment the words had left your mouth. You were sure the angel on your shoulder was currently sticking her tongue out at the sulking devil on the other side.

Misa saw the conflict, "Well, I'm here if you want me around."

Her promise, one without any buts or ifs, without needing anything in return, made you let go again. At least, for now. At least for a little while.

"I want you to stay today."

She brushed your tousled bed hair out of your face, the simple gesture visibly making you calm down. She wanted to cling to you and never let go, but knew she had to stick to the promise she'd made herself— to let you set the pace.

"Then I will."

She reciprocated the adorable grin that made your face turn into one of pure childlike glee.

"Yeah?" It was pathetic, but you needed her to say it again, to hear her promise and to have it hit you in the heart. Perhaps if it heard Misa's promises often, it would thaw and finally let you love her.

"I promise."

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songs:

something better - sofia camara

heart of gold - griff

you're here that's the thing - beabadoobee

ceilings - lizzy mcalpine

#aaaand after this they got the flu (for those of you who follow the smau lol) #misa rodriguez x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics

[heavenlyysstuff]

Flower Girl

NETEYAM.s x fem! omatikaya! reader

summary . Whenever in battle, he always had someone to fight for, and he was always going to return to her at the end of the day.

language . syulang ‘ flower . sevin ‘ pretty

a/n . I apologise for the no content recently, kinda lacking ideas rn, so feel free to drop any idea you have in my asks!

The war cry’s and yelps of his people around him became a blur, the sky people relentlessly try to kick at their defence.

Since the loss of home tree, the Omatikaya never seemed to know peace again, not with these creatures invading their land and homes.

Neteyam can only watch from afar as his people fight for what’s theirs, set with the task of being a watcher, making sure to alert his father for any more incoming sky people.

He wants to fight, protect his land… the ones he loves. But he knows that at his age, war shouldn’t be something he should have to prepare and participate in.

He can see the difference between the numbers in his people and them. It looks like they are winning this battle, but at what cost?

He knows his people will be leaving with scars, bruises and cuts, he just hopes he can help his family stay clean.

“We gotta get down there bro!” Neteyam hears his brother beside him on his own ikran.

“Dad will skin us.” His reply is stern, and in Neteyam’s mind he knows any of what happens to his brother in the next few moments, it will be up to him to take the blame.

Lo’am shakes of his worry with a tilt of the head and his ikran soars down onto the battlefield.

“Lo’ak! You…Ughhh…” Neteyam yells out, grunting at his brother’s rebelliousnes, but also commands his ikran to chase down his brother.

Back at camp, you help to organise some herbs you and other apprentice heaters had gathered.

Your fingers brush through each herb and help to put them into its designated bowl. You and the other young women have created a circle around a total of 5 bowls, each of them sorting through their own sections of herbs.

Not only did this job help the people of the clan, it helped that the apprentices were always chatty, and when you bring a handful of chatty young women into one place, information is bound to spread.

The women frequently discuss any of the latest happenings in the clan, usually small playful stuff, it helped to keep the group entertained.

You never did much talking, only listened, occasionally giving your thoughts when asked but you don’t mind much, you’re more of a thinker, so when working you usually just zone out into your own little world.

“Aah, Y/n… you have more of those in your hair.” A passing female states when handing a bowl of salve to another woman, she crouches behind you and begins to peck at your hair with her fingers.

“Ayyie.” You lift your hands to shield your hair and lean forward. “I like it like this…” she giggled behind you and gives your hair one minor adjustment before standing up to move around the circle.

“It is quite pretty you have to admit, Ayyie.” Another girl in the group says while looking up from her work. “I just don’t know how you do it everyday, Y/n.”

“The reaction she gets from Neteyam every time seems to keep her going.” Another states, and the circle begins giggling at the fact.

You bring your head down to avoid the confrontation, heat pools at your cheeks and your tail is brought high up next to you. “What are you talking about.” You reply rhetorically.

She giggles more at your clearly flustered reaction, “oh nothing just how he always compliments it and that smile you have all day when he does.” This causes hums of agreement and laughter to flow through everyone in the circle.

“He doesn’t…it’s not like that.” Your words contradict your actions, as your tail sways hurriedly behind you, ears pinning to the sides of your head which of course makes the women around you giggle to each other.

“Oh leave her alone, she can hardly think about him without getting so worked up.” Tee’ron spills out half in your defends half to tease you.

You decide it’s be best if you just stopped talking to avoid getting deeper into your pit of embarrassment, you keep your head down and continue sorting through herbs.

The girls remain giggling for a bit before Tee’ron puts a hand on your shoulder, “sorry, Y/n.” She says in a between quiet laughs, quick to calm her breathing.

“The war party is back!”

Those words were what broke you out of your working frenzy, immediately your head shoots to look outside and your ears perk up.

You are first to stand from the circle of women, hastily making your way outside the hut and out to see the returning warriors, to see him.

You walk slowly and look at every man and woman in hopes to find him, and once you look forward, he’s there.

You wanted to run to him, but with seeing him came seeing his father, and the rest of his family. You didn’t know weather to get any closer, but you decided to take the chance.

You slowly walk towards him, and once close enough you can hear the tone of his fathers voice when speaking to him, he seemed to tone it down once Neytiri spoke though.

You don’t think Neteyam noticed you when you stood behind him, but his father certainly did “Y/n, could you help Kiri with the wounded.” He tilts his head to gesture to his daughter who stood on the other side of Neteyam.

“Neteyam is wounded.” You speak with a somewhat sharp tone, your quick to bite your tongue though and quickly lower your eyes to look to the side.

The Olo’eyktan sighs and looks between you and his son, “go on then.”

You can see Neteyam’s shoulders visibly relax and you bring a hand to grasp his arm, pulling it to lead him away from his family and toward an empty healing hut.

On the way you look behind you, only to meet Neteyam’s mothers eyes. You could never really read that woman, mostly silent and stern. The look in her eyes was nothing new though, she looked between you and her son and a small smile crept out of her, you didn’t see it for too long, as you turn to guide Neteyam into the hut.

You let go of his arm and he instinctively takes a seat of the ground close to the herbs set next to him.

He slowly sits down with one leg sprawled out and the other perched closer to his chest, hissing at the strain the movements cause him.

“Shhh..” you’re quick to calm him, coming close to his side and placing a bowl of salve informer of you. He glances at you before looking back down to the ground in front of him, and he goes silent. Tilting your head, you ask “how bad was it?” While scanning over his form to take in any hidden injuries.

He rolls his shoulder and fixes his posture, “could’ve been worse, I suppose.” He huffs, and fixes his gaze on you. “Hey,” he tilts his head, raising a hand to poke at your hair, “where’d you get these ones?”

You move your own hand up to you hair, grasping his hand in the process, “secret.” He scoffs at your reply and looks offended.

“I’ve been almost everywhere in this forest, I’ll find them soon enough.” He brings your clasped hands down to rest on his knee. You only smirk and roll your eyes. “Sevin syulang.”

You hum at his words, “yea I thought so to.” Agreeing with his words, without thinking he may not have been talking about the flowers… “let me fix you up, okay?”

He huffs in fake annoyance, but smiles once you lather salve onto a wound on his shoulder, your hands warm to the touch.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your hands gliding against his slightly scarred skin, feeling as you make your way from his arms, massaging the muscles up to his shoulders.

Then to his face, where you apply smaller amounts of ointment to the wounds. Your hands gliding across his forehead and along the bridge of his nose, under his chin.

He opens his eyes, and realised how much closer you’ve come, only a small distance between your two faces, but he can still feel the slight circular motions you continue on a scar across his jawline.

Exhaling slowly in thought, he grabs your hand to pause your movements, causing you to look into his eyes with what at first was confusion, quickly turning into a realisation.

You both stay eyes locked on each others for a moment, Neteyam’s unoccupied hand coming up to caress your own cheek, the both of you leaning into the others palms.

In what felt like forever, the two of you get closer, eyes dropping low and foreheads touching. Your eyes drop before he follows, heads tilting in sync and lips finally touching, a gentle and passionate kiss shared.

Pulling away slowly for breath, and then moving back in for another in usion, the two of you entranced by each others touch and addicted to the feeling of your hearts beating together.

After three long and loving kisses, foreheads part and you both slowly open your eyes to what had been in front of you all along.

“I see you, Y/n.” Neteyam speaks after quietly catching his breath, bringing you closer into an embrace, arms around your waist to lift you into his lap.

You relax into his body, arms coming up to wrap around his neck and shoulders, “I see you, Neteyam.”

#neteyam sully #neteyam sully x reader #atwow neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x reader #atwow x reader #atwow #atwow fluff

[runningthroughthegarden]

finally kissing you

the relationship you had with art was complicated to say that least. you had always tried your best to keep your feelings for him a secret. you didnt want to be just another girl pining over him. you were his best friend after all, your job was to support him, not fall in love with him. but that didnt matter anymore, cause you had fallen in love with him. and now you were burdened with the task of having to pretend like he was just your best friend.

-

it was a usual thursday night, after training you would head over to art’s place to study or watch a movie. tonight you decided the homework could wait and put on your favorite movie.

his arms clung around your waist as his head lay softly on your chest. you raked your fingers through his curls with a soft smile on your face. it was times like this you truly thought your relationship could be something more. that soon came crashing down.

“thank you y/n” he whispered so lightly you almost missed it.

“for what?” you softly giggled.

“just everything, i cant imagine what id do without you. dont tell patrick but i think youre my favorite best friend” he replied, quickly gazing up at you with a soft smile before snuggling back into you.

best friend. you knew thats all that this was, but the subtle reminder hit harder than youd like.

“yeah of course” you let out a small laugh to cover the break in your voice, tears threatening to spill.

you could tell by his change in breathing he had fallen asleep. before you knew it hot tears were spilling down your cheeks. this was so stupid. you knew you were just his best friend. but here you were crying as his arms clung around you and his breath tickled your neck.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you slowly slipped out of his grip to grab your things. taking one last look at his peaceful state, you left.

-

waking up on friday morning was honestly a shit show. you felt pathetic and just wanted to forget about all of it. so you decided it was time to move on.

it was no secret you had guys who would do anything to go out with you. you never paid them any attention cause you had art. but it was time to get over him so you decided to text a guy from one of your classes and asked if he wanted to hang out. he of course said yes so now you were in your dorm putting on your best dress to hopefully forget about art.

you truly felt so good about yourself and were excited to hang out with someone that wasnt patrick or art.

the date had gone shockingly well. the two of you had a lot in common and were laughing practically the entire time. still, a part of you ached. you felt yourself thinking back to art but tried to snap out of it as soon as you could.

he had offered to walk you back to your dorm which you kindly accepted. walking through the courtyard as the moon shined down you couldn’t help but wish it was art you were walking with. but you weren’t, you had to stop thinking like this.

“thank you for tonight, i had a lot of fun” you stop, looking up at him.

“yeah of course, im just glad i got the opportunity to take such a gorgeous girl out” he replys with a smile.

a blush creeps up on your face as he slowly starts to lean in. cupping your face with his hand, noses slightly touching.

“hey!” a voice you recognize all too well is shouting from behind you. oh my god.

stepping back from the boy you look to see art standing there. a flood of embarrassment washes over you.

“do you have a problem?” the guy asks putting his hand around your waist to pull you in.

“yeah i do get your hands off my girl!” art comes storming up pulling you away from him.

“you two are dating?” the guy steps back, clearly confused.

“no!”

“yes!”

you and art shout at the same time. looking at him with the most confused look on your face.

“it looks like you two have some things to sort out. i’ll see you in class y/n” he states with a sad smile and walks away.

“what the fuck is your problem?!?” you yell, turning back to face art.

“what is my problem? you’re the one who ditched me to go make out with some random guy!” he yelled back.

“why are you so mad?!”

“im not mad! i just think theres better people you could be kissing” he confesses.

“oh and who would that be?” you ask, angrily getting closer to him.

“me” he whispers.

“what?” every thought you had was now thrown out the window.

“i want you to kiss me” he confesses, stepping closer to you.

“but im just your…best friend” you whisper, feeling yourself get nervous under his gaze.

“y/n i think youre the love of my life”

his hands come up to cup your face.

“so can i please kiss you” he asks, desperation written all over his face.

without saying a word you smash your lips onto his.

#art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #mike faist #mike faist x reader #challengers

[the-fiction-witch]

You are not a Queen. You are The Queen. My Queen.

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Alysanne Targaryen (Daughter of Rhaenyra, wife of Aegon) Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 2437

The carriage bumped and bustled through the king's landing streets, the crack of the whip of the horses echoing in the mad rush. 

Alicent sat across the carriage in her impressive green dress, with golden chains and symbols of the faith of the seven. The crown she has always worn as queen nettled in her brown hair with her veil trailing down her back. She sighs and hardens herself for what must be done. 

Aegon sits dressed in his finery even if he shivered and he slightly cried trying to think of any way he could escape this fate. "Do you love me?" He asked his mother his voice plaid it like a joke but she didn't know the strength it took for him to utter those four words, and the deep tethers within him that those words and her answer would hold. 

"You imbecile," she shook her head, 

Her answer was enough of an answer for him to understand, but he felt compelled to speak once more, "Where is Alysanne?"

For a moment there was silence, and it spoke more than her words ever could, but after a time she speaks, "I send word for her but she could not be fetched. We couldn't wait."

He chuckled, "She is my wife." He glared, "We couldn't wait five minutes for her?" 

"every moment we wait risks the wrath of dragon stone."

"Yet you had time to change your dress?" he glared, 

"She would remain where she is safe, with the children." 

"So if Rhynera comes to burn the red keep we will all be in the dragon pit, except my wife who is in the red keep." 

"That is not what I intended-"

"Maybe not but its a helpful circumstance," 

"We should not speak of this," 

Aegon tried to protest but they arrived at the dragon pit, before anyone had much time to think Aegon was forced from the carriage and taken inside no matter his arguments.

The High Septom prepared the oils as the smallfolk were forced through the streets and ushered into the dragon pit until it was full, A small stage was set up with Alicent, Otto, Cristen, Helena and Aemond all waiting, preparing for this moment. 

Otto steps out to address the crowd, "King's Landing! Today is the saddest of days! Our beloved king, Viserys the peaceful... is dead!"

Muttering of shock comes from the crowd, 

"But it is also the most joyous of days!" he continues, "For as his spirit left us, he whispered his final wish that his firstborn son Aegon should succeed him"

more muttering but soon applause echos through the dragon pit, 

Members of the city watch rush the dragon pit pushing smallfolk as they do, they make a path to the stage half to keep smallfolk out, and half to keep aegon in. Horns ring out in royal tones as the armoured men raise their swords. 

Aegon does not wish to do this but he is forced out, so he takes slow and gradual steps a tear slipping from his eye as he begins the walk, the swords dropping behind him one by one, Each step makes him want to run, makes him want to fight his way out but with each one he is cementing his fate. 

His family's fate. 

His people's fate. 

His city's fate. 

His realm's fate.

He glances back and sees the swords are preventing his way, he really has no way back now. 

He holds 

"It is your good, great fortune to be here, to witness this. A new day for our city. A new day for our realm. a new king to lead us." 

He looks up and meets eyes with his mother a rage boiled inside him, that all this was her doing. 

When he climbed the steps she came and held his cheeks kissing his forehead, leading him by the hand to the Steptom of the faith of the seven. 

He looks to Otto who two gives him no choice he simply nods to him,

So Aegon kneels, 

silence rings out, 

"May the warrior give him courage, may the smith lend strength to his sword and shield, may the father defend him in his need, may the crone lift her shining lantern and shin his way to wisdom." the Septom says and with each anoints his head with oil, 

The crown is then taken from its pillow. The crown of Aegon the conqueror, sharp spikes of Valyrian steel with gems and jewels of finery. 

"The crown of the conqueror, past down through generations." Sir Criston takes the crown and places it on Aegons head even if the crown doesn't fit him right, "Let the seven bear witness, Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the iron throne." 

For the first time in what feels like hours, Aegon lets out a breath, feeling the weight of the crown on his head, he gets to his feet and looks to everyone in attendance seeing how each bows to him,

"All hail his grace! Aegon second of his name, king of the Andals the Roynar and the First Men. Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm!" 

The bells toll out as cheers erupt for him, 

Aegon looks out to see the faces of all those who cheer, all those who look at him with joy, none of them know the death and destruction he brings. But even so, he can't help but feel a pride, and a swell of his ego as he takes Blackfyre from his belt and thrusts it into the air. For a moment he is swept up in his own family's pageantry and feels a joy to be king. 

But it doesn't last, as a rumble comes from below and suddenly dust and stone erupt up from the floor of the pit, people scream and try to run but there is no way to get away as the floor crumbles under their feet the red queen comes though the floor the dragon crushing smallfolk and killing hundreds in her wake otto tries to demand the doors to be opened but people are already dying, as Rhaenys sits on top of her dragon as the dust clears.

Alicent jumps in front of Aegon putting herself between the dragon and him,

The Red Queen screeched at everyone before turning and flying out and away into the sky. 

Aegon remains in the dragon pit, the pageantry of the moment long faded, the true death toll of his day hitting him, the weight of the sword in his hand and the crown on his head causing him to ache. He had such conflict in his heart, as he truly thought it all though. 

He never wanted this... and yet it was done. 

He never thought he was the heir... yet now the crown rests on his head.

His coronation... left hundreds dead. 

This moment... had surely begun a war that would tear apart his family, his realm, his house and all that he held dear. 

And in all of it, he stands alone, or so he thinks. 

Alysanne walks the up the stairs he walked up, her eyes looking only at him. Her gown is a body of green velvet, with silver threat lacing the bodice, black leather sleeves tight to her skin all the way to her wrists, a large skirt of green velvet with black flames embodied on the bottom, a long cape from her shoulders of a sheer black fabric cut like dragon wings. Her hands behind her back as she reaches the stage, she bows to him dipping her knees and lowering her head before her eyes meet his once more. 

His wife, in this moment, she is the light in this darkness. but there is so much sadness in him as he looks at her starlight eyes. 

"I am sorry Alysanne," He told her, 

"I hardly believed it to be true," she began, "Once word reached me." 

He felt unable to speak,

"Oh Aegon..." she said, "what have you let your mother do to you?"

Aegon looks at her with a mixture of guilt and shame, his throat tightens with emotion as he takes in her words. "I didn't have a choice,"

"I know." she nodded, "You are the king," She said almost not believing her own words,

He looks away, his mind filled with sorrow and anger, he is king, but he isn't happy. "This... already ways heavily on me... I cannot carry it alone." 

"If you are a king... I suppose that makes me a queen," 

He feels the weight lift a little, to know that she is beside him in this, "I am not a King. I am the king. You are not a queen. You are The queen. My Queen." he gives her an affectionate smile,

"so it would seem," A smile escapes her, but soon fails, "what- What is to happen to our children?" Her voice was full of fear,

Aegon's heart sinks as she asks, he knows his children are in danger, he feels already like he has failed them and his wife, he knows no matter what he can't protect them from this. "I do not know..."

"Forgive me, I should not sour your victory with my concerns."

"You should, concerns are now my most important matters." He told her, "I am sorry Alysanne, truly, I wanted to share this moment with you more than anyone. I am so sorry you were left behind,"

"... well, it's over now. it doesn't matter."

"It does. you are my queen and the fact you where not beside me for this moment... it breaks my heart."

"I admit... I am upset. that your mother had called this, not just for the politics and the show of the realm but... she wore her finest dress, her gold and her jewels, brought your family here, coronated you in front of thousands, gave you a crown, a sword, and the title of king... and I. Was left at the red keep with our children. Like a nursemaid." she explained, "I wish I could have been here is all..." 

He felt his blood boil that she felt this way, he took her hand and squeezed it, "I wish you could have been here, I wanted this to be for us. I wanted to take the crown with you by my side to take your own. I wanted our children to be here to witness the crown that may one day be theirs. and my mother robbed us of that... I am sorry, truly sorry. and I know I can never repay the injustice done to you." he explained, "You are my queen... and... you do not even have a crown." 

"I do." she said, as she revealed her other hand, "She gave me this when they arrived back to the red keep." she said and in her hand sat a small tiara of gold and green. No larger than a hair clip, and for a moment he remembers the crown his mother had worn today a large headband of gold and emeralds His own wife. His queen. Was tossed a crown, Without even being given a coronation. "I... I hardly wish to wear it at all... seems... foolish," 

Aegon stares at the tiny tiara and feels an intense surge of anger at the treatment his wife has received. It is a reminder of her insignificance in his mother's eyes, and it hurts him deeply. But he doesn't want her to be sad, he wants her to be proud of her new station. He looks at her, her face filled with a mixture of anger and sadness, and he doesn't want her to feel that way. He wants to make her happy and to make her feel wanted and accepted. "Wear it." He says, firm but gentle. His voice is a command, but also an appeal. He wants her to wear this crown, to let the world know that she is his wife and his Queen and that he is proud of her. He wants everyone to know that she is the Queen, no matter what his mother says or does. 

"There's no point..."

"Here," He takes her by the hand and tugs her with him to stand in front of the banners, he takes the small tiara from her and smiles, he gives it a clean on his shirt to make sure no fingerprints are on it before he does is most epic and dramatic voice for her, "May the warrior give her courage, may the smith lend strength to her sword and shield, may the father defend her in her need, may the crone lift her shining lantern and shin her way to wisdom. May the mother be an ever-sweet light in her life, may the maiden keep her safe, and may the stranger's visits be few," He explained, "The crown of ... uhh... the most beautiful of queens," he makes up as this crown had no name, 

she chuckles at him and he gently but sweetly presses the tiara into her hair, crowning her as his queen, his hands run down her hair and he kisses her lips softly, 

"Let the seven bear witness, Alysanne Targaryen queen of the seven kingdoms." he proclaimed, "All hail her grace! Alysanne Targaryen, queen of the Andals the Roynar and the First Men. lady of the seven kingdoms, protector of the realm, beloved bride and mother. My queen. My sweet queen," he cooed, 

"Thank you Aegon," she smiled, 

"You're welcome, and I promise you. You shall have a crown more worthy of your beauty and title." He smiled, 

"I think we have more pressing matters than a crown Aegon," she said,

"True," He nodded as his heart sank, "... you said once, not long after our children were born, that perhaps it would be best to cut or losses, to fly to Dragonstone with the children to meet with your mother, to cleave to your mother and beg for her mercy." 

she shook her head, "... it's too late for that Aegon, no matter what side we are on. Blood will be spilt, and the only way to keep our children alive is to be on a side of our own." 

He nodded and briefly smiled, "You took to talking queen fast," He chuckled, 

She smiled, "Aegon darling, I have been talking and acting like a queen for as long as I can remember. Our family ensured that. Come. The children wish to see their new king, and we have much to do." she explained taking his arm, he nodded and squeezed her hand happily walking with her even if the two were beyond scared of what now was to be done. 

#hotd smut #hotd fanfiction #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd aegon #hotd imagine #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #aegon smut #aegon ii targaryen #king aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #house targaryen #house of targaryen #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon aegon #aegon fanfic #Aegon imagine #house of the dragon aegon targaryen

[ladysroom-zaza]

can you write about sub!reader x pussydrunk!giselle? how she’ll go down on reader anywhere and everywhere, especially at the beach if somehow readers bottom gets undone “out of the sudden” iykwim — and if reader has a strap she’ll eat/please the other hole before riding reader and stuffing her/your face in her/your boobs

Two things are sure in life: death and Giselle eating you out at any chance she gets, and on the first one I have doubts. No, but seriously, the girl is obsessed by your pussy, I don't if it's the taste or the scent, but she can't live a day without doing it at least once.

And she's so obsessed that she has done it everywhere: at your house obviously, at her dorm, at her company, in an empty street, in a museum...do you get what I mean, right? She doesn't give a fuck, when she's the mood (always), she will just spread and use her tongue to give you pleasure.

Aeri loves summer tho, and the reason has to be that she can look at your gorgeous body in a bikini and literally go crazy. She will get real touchy. "Mmh, baby, let me help you with the sun cream" or "Baby girl, let me give you a massage" are just some of the most comment excuses she used to touch your body.

And as if it was magic, every single time your bottom gets undone. You just sighs, knowing that in a couple of seconda Giselle will make her move. And in fact, her tongue is already lapping around your pussy, her hands to keep your legs widened and still.

As a sommelier of wine, she will gets her time, savoring your skin, your folds and finally your inside, touching every cm with her tongue, eventually getting drunk on it, not stopping even if you already cum 4 or 5 times. Her hunger for your pussy is not something that she satisfy quickly.

And when you'll beg her to let you rest, a grin will appear on her face. "Fine, but can you take something from my bag? I brought a toy for me", she asks you, giving you candy eyes. You nods, everything is good to get a bit of peace.

But it was actually a trap: the moment you lean forward to get the strap, her tongue attacks again; this time is the turn of your ass. Spreading your cheeks, Gigi will start another session of savouring.

Her expert tongue once again is able to make you cum, also with the help of her hands, rubbing against your pussy, until your legs just quit. Now, you are really exhausted, so tired that you don't even notice the japanese girl while makes you wear the strap.

"Come on, sweetie, I still want to have fun", she teases you, while slowly sitting on that huge strap. You let her do, still breathless from too many orgasms, but once again, you have difficulties in recovering and we all know who's to blame.

Given that riding your strap was not enough for Giselle perverted mind, she decide to choke between her boobs. "Ohh, baby, suck my tits, be a good girl", she whines, pushing with strenght your head in her chest.

And it's such a sweet pleasure to stay between those two soft pillows, that are continuously hitting and slapping your face. "Baby, I'm cummiiiing...", she moans loudly, finally stopping her madness and laying on your body, your face totally covered by her boobs. Your girlfriend is definitely a pervert, but you won't change for anyone in this world.

#kpop thoughts #girl group x reader #kpop smut #kpop x fem reader #girl group smut #kpop girls #aespa smut #aespa x fem reader #aespa giselle #giselle x fem reader #giselle smut