#its always the elbows and knees!!!! my knees and feet look fine but! my elbows are most definitely orange!

[keravnous]

treat me like a s!ut ; tangerine x fem!reader (smut, 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 2 here | read pt. 4 here

Tangerine comes home to you scrubbing the blood out of one of his button-downs in the bathtub. He always had a thing for seeing his favourite plaything on its knees.

word count: 9,5 k

warnings: spanking, fingering, oral (male receiving), cumshot, toys, bimbofication, housewife kink (that a thing??), mean/strict dom!tangerine (but he's actually a big softie), negotiated objectification, uh face slapping - once or twice, daddy kink, pet names, spit kink, size kink, name calling, multiple orgasms, edging, (heavy) squirting; this man is into some nasty shit - convince me otherwise, my feminism left my fucking body alright, the angry man™ makes my knees go weak

i listened to kim petras' slut pop ep and listen, it-, I-, so -, yeah. Lost control, I guess. I also saw the pictures of atj in a million little pieces and that didnt help much

thank you mel for encouraging me and thank you v for enduring me while writing this

You barely hear the door of the town house falling shut over the splashing of the water.

You are currently kneeling - very much to the protest of your upper back, which has been causing all sorts of pain during work at the office today - over the tub in your spacious bathroom, water still running into the already half-full, half-bloody bathtub. Your arms are wet up to your elbow from trying to scrub out some nasty and very resistant bloodstains out of one of Tangerine's shirts.

He had been in a nasty pub brawl after last week's West Ham victory and, knowing it was one of his favourite shirts, you had tried your best to get it clean. But even two rounds in the washing machine didn't do much. Thus, you decided to give it a good old handwash.

"Love?", you hear a familiar voice calling out and you huff with exhaustion, sinking back onto the heels of your feet.

"Yeah, I'm in the bathroom!", you answer and a moment later he appears in the opened door, leaning against the frame, arms crossed.

"What're ya doin' there?", Tangerine furrows his brows. He is wearing one of his suits, hair still neatly combed back like he hasn't been out for 8 hours, doing God knows what.

"Hand washing this shirt of yours, stains won't go out in the machine", you pull the fabric out of the tub, water slushing down. There's little improvement. You decide to rub a little harder.

Tangerine says nothing - just watches you, dressed in nothing but a big shirt and what he assumes are panties hiding underneath its hem; watches the way it scoots up every now and then when you scrub with more force, confirming his suspicions. It is a tiny light blue string made from fine lace, one, that he had bought for you a while ago.

He swallows, feeling himself growing hard in his slacks. It is not just the sight of you - even more so it's you doing this for him. Cleaning something up, that he had messed up.

Actually, he's thankful that you are going out of your way to clean up his clothes. He knows that it is a hell of a job to get blood out of any sort of fabric and he feels guilty for somehow putting you through it, especially since it is painfully obvious where the stains come from.

He knows it was your decision to stay - to stay with him - to keep up with the life he leads, and the job that brings in the tons of money keeping you afloat comfortably.

Still, he feels like making it up to you. There is something about you kneeling there, doing chores, that remembers him of something you had said to him a while ago. Something that now has his blood pumping, making him feel like he's about to burst.

"Darlin'?"

"Yes?", you say, brushing a loose strand of hair from your forehead, a few drops of water running down your cheek.

"Get up, love."

You look up, eyes furrowing with confusion. "Why? I am nearly done with -"

"Wanna properly say Hello to my little housewife, me", there is a mischievous gleam in his eyes and it has your heartbeat picking up immediately.

You know what that means. You have been speaking about this: the idea of him coming home after a long, maybe even dangerous day and just taking you, bending you over the nearest surface because it pleased him - that the thought of him treating you like nothing more but an obedient housewife, cleaning up, keeping everything tidy and clean for him, and taking his cock whenever he pleased, made you wet. That the thought of being nothing more than a stupid little hole to him excited you.

The first time this particular thing had come up, had been after Tangerine returned home late after a delayed flight. You'd been up still, cooking him dinner. What was intended as nothing but a sweet gesture of adoration - knowing that he'll be both hungry and exhausted - turned into something else, after he had grabbed your hips from behind and bent you over the countertop for a quick fuck. It made something in your brain click, a new desire taking over your fantasies.

Now, you swallow, his shirt slowly sinking back into the soapy water - with its swirls of dried and darkened blood of some poor soul who was unlucky enough to meet your man on a particularly violentday - as you get up.

"You don't have to, you had a long day", you say softly.

"It's fine, lemme do this for ya", grabbing the nearest towel you dry off your arms and hands before coming closer to him. He stretches one hand out.

"C'mere", Tangerine smiles, all bright teeth and lines around his eyes and you do - taking his hand and then he pulls you against his firm chest, your hands resting on his shoulders. You inhale deeply, taking in his scent - wood, vanilla, orange - that wraps you in like a heavy blanket and you sigh.

"Don't burn yourself out over this fuckin' shirt, dove", he mumbles into your hair, arms wrapping around you, one hand confidently grabbing your ass cheek.

"I wasn't", your nose brushes over his throat, lips peppering gentle kisses to the soft skin. His hand firmly brushes over your tense shoulders, feeling the hardened tendons and both of you know that you are lying.

"Relax, love", he whispers, lips ghosting over your ear, "Let Daddy take care of ya."

And your body obeys to him as quickly as it always does: sinks against him, muscles going a little slack. You allow yourself to surrender to him fully, body going limp and mind going blank as you hand control over to him.

Tangerine's hand brushes through your hair, cups the back of your scalp and gives you a few gentle, patronizing strokes while one of his strong arms wraps around your waist, keeps you pressed against him upright.

"Y'good, love?", he says quietly and you release a satisfied hum.

"Words, poppet, be a good girl."

"Yeah -- yeah, I'm alright, keep going", you whisper against his chest, "Please."

The hand stroking your scalp vanishes, fingers brushing over your cheek and cupping your chin until it is lifting your head up. Your eyes meet his.

"So, what did I say?", Tangerine says sternly, gaze boring into yours.

You swallow, breath hitching a little and your chest heaves with it. The tone of his voice has your head swimming, your tummy tingling with want. The hand on your cheek is warm, the cold tingle of his rings on your skin grounding you.

"What did I say?”, he says again, squinting at you. It makes your knees buckle.

"N-never scrub without a brush", you whisper, lust making you choke on your words.

"Mhm, exactly", he hums, nods, "Then, why didn't ya do it?"

"Because --", you suck in air through parted lips, thighs rubbing together, eyelids fluttering, "Because I am stupid, stupid girl."

"That you are, m'little airhead", he says softly, voice growing deep, "And what do stupid little girls get?"

"Punished", you whisper, eyes glowing with excitement and stomach tingling with it just the same. You know, that he is not really mad and it sure does feel like a lot like it, making you bite your lower lip.

Tangerine nods again, thumb caressing your cheek. "Get on the bed, get naked - ya can still do that for me, can ya, silly? Or did ya little brain already leave your pretty head, there?"

You shake your head, fingers clinging into the expensive jacket of his suit as you stand up straight again, mind already a little hazy.

"Good", Tangerine nods slowly, eyes darting down to where your bodies meet. His hand leaves your cheek and you whine but it crawls down, one long finger hooking in the collar of your shirt and pulling it down. He tilts his head a little, as he's looking at your cleavage, tits pressed up nicely by his chest. You're not wearing a bra and he smiles - cold and cruel. "Get going, love, I wanna see what's mine."

You nod, swaying a little on your feet as you take a step back, arousal pooling in your abdomen. "Don't take too long", he says, gives your ass a lazy slap as you walk past him.

You do as you're told, carelessly dropping your shirt and panties on the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, before climbing onto the soft mattress. Splaying out on your stomach with your feet dangling in the air you wait for him until he finally, finally enters the bedroom. He is still wearing his suit, only dropped his jacket, and is carrying a small pink bag. You know what's inside, stomach tingling at the thought.

Tangerine tosses it onto the bed and sits down next to you, hooks his slender index finger beneath your chin, guiding your head up. His thumb brushes over your lower lip and your jaw goes slack, tongue darting out and rubbing over it. He grins and pushes the digit in, has you obediently closing your lips around it, sucking on his thumb.

His other hand wanders up to his tie, loosens it and then carelessly drops it to the floor, pops open a few buttons of his shirt.

"Stupid lil' thing, hm", he hums, "Sucking on my thumb like it's my cock? That needy already?"

You nod nod nod, blinking up at him and his other hand cups your chin, keeps your head in place. Your tongue rubs over the pad of his thumb and Tangerine licks his lips, eye twitching a little. "Listen here", he bows down a little, voice nothing but a growl, "Ya gonna take what Daddy gives ya, y'hear me? If I wanna see your little cunt cum ten times, then that's what we're gonna do, 'lright?"

You nod around his thumb, excitement fluttering in your tummy but he just tsks at you. "Thought so -", pulling his thumb from your mouth he pats his thigh, "Time for your punishment, love. Only good girls get rewarded, don't they?"

"I wanna be a good girl", you whisper, as Tangerine deliberately and carefully rolls his sleeves up. Eagerly you crawl over his lap and then sink down, upper body on the mattress, hips on his thighs with your ass in the air. You can feel his already rock-hard dick pressing into your stomach and your whole body tingles with lust at the sensation.

"You wanna be a good girl?", Tangerine says, mocking your tone, as one large ringed hand grabs your ass, kneads the flesh, "D'you know what good girls do?"

Biting your lip you shake your head, looking at him over your shoulder, through your lashes. "They don't fuck up simple tasks."

"'M sorry, Daddy", you say cutely and he fucking growls at that, a dark shadow dancing over his blue eyes, turning them navy - into a stormy sea. Tangerine's hand rubs over your ass, the other presses down between your shoulder blades. The stretch in your back is delicious, and the way it presses one side of your face into the mattress has your head swimming, eyelids fluttering. "Legs together, dove", and you obey, pressing your thighs together, "There ya go. What d'ya think? Fifteen?"

You mewl, feet kicking with excitement, wetness pooling between your legs. "Want you to say it", Tangerine's hand plays with your ass, grabs one cheek and spreads it apart, thumb digging into the flesh and kneading it, "Go ahead and tell Daddy you want him to hit ya."

"Uuh", you mumble dumbly, heart racing and pussy already wet, and he scoffs at that meanly, "Wanna - Daddy, please - want you to hit me!"

"For?"

"F-for being a stupid girl."

"Atta girl", his hand gently strokes your ass cheek, "You'll get fifteen - no whinin', no yappin'."

"Y-yes", you nod, biting your lip in anticipation, readying yourself for the first hit. And he wastes no time, gives your ass a light squeeze and then his ringed hand comes down, hits your right cheek with a loud smack. You gasp, eyes falling shut as you feel the tingling burn spreading through your backside.

The second and third hit follow, making you moaning quietly - warmth spreading on your skin, the slight burn tingling.

Tangerine watches your skin slowly turning into a soft pink and grabs a handful, thumb brushing over the forming bruise. He hums quietly to himself, hand wandering down, caressing your inner thigh - his rings are cold, bracelet rustling, and shivers run down your spine.

He squeezes the flesh of your thigh, hand wandering dangerously high and you hum, but it vanishes before being close enough to your cunt. The other hand on your back adds a little more pressure, and you gasp at the stretch.

"Such a pretty girl", he hums, bounces you on his legs a little, "What a shame you're so silly."

You whimper, hands aimlessly darting over the sheets. You want him to hit you again, with your ass already feeling a little sore and the way the slight pain runs straight to your core, makes your pussy so so wet.

"Can't even clean a fuckin' shirt", he tsks just as his hand comes down once more, two quick blows on your left and right cheek, has your ass jiggling with the force of it. He watches it, then grabs a handful and feels you up.

His thumb digs into the flesh close to your crack as he toys with your ass, and you can feel the way it spreads your folds apart. Your pussy is desperate for any sort of friction and you gasp as your clit throbs, rubbing your thighs together.

"Uuh-huh", is all that leaves your mouth dumbly, with his hard cock pressing against your stomach, hot and twitching through his slacks. It's hard to think, to form a coherent thought - all that's on your mind is his thick cock. "Daddy--", you gasp, rutting your hips down on his thigh, fresh wetness running down your legs and onto his trousers.

"Stop - fuckin' - movin'", each word lands another blow and you cry out, trying your best not to move on his lap, but the sharp pain has your hips jolting upward, shoots riiight into your cunt, hole clenching.

"Oh, you're really enjoying this, aren't ya, poppet?", Tangerine scoffs as you moan, your legs falling apart a little, "I can smell how wet you are, darlin'. Lemme see."

Your fingers claw into the sheets, wanting nothing more but the smallest touch. His large hand brushes over your ass, rings cold on your hot and reddening skin and then it dips between your cheeks, brushes down your crack and between your thighs.

"Fuckin' hell", he whispers as his index finger runs through your folds. He wasn't wrong - you are incredibly wet, thick watery slick makes his finger slip over your pussy smoothly as he assesses your arousal. Easily, he slips one ringed finger into you, bottoms it out. Your cunt clenches around it and he marvels at how tight you are, a trembling moan leaving your lips. It's not enough, you want him to fuck you - hard and fast - but it has your chest fluttering nonetheless.

The finger retreats as quickly as it entered you, circles your hole and thehand on your back crawls down, gives your left cheek a light pat that has you squirming.

"Nothing but a set of pretty holes f'me, aren't ya, love?", and you mewl, feet kicking a little as his fingers continue to run through your folds, his other hand now landing another blow on your ass. It stings nicely and you moan, desperately trying to roll your hips onto the finger rubbing lazy circles over your clit.

"D'ya want Daddy to put it back inside?", and you nod nod nod, but he just laughs.

"Words, silly, good girls use their words, don'they?", and you inhale a shaky breath, before lifting your head a little, looking over your shoulder.

Tangerine looks at you, one brow smugly cocked, and it's only the slight flush of his chest visible underneath the unbuttoned collar of his shirt that betrays him. That, and his hard dick pressing against your stomach.

It makes your head swim, blinking up at him dumbly, lips falling agape a little. "Uhh", you breathe, "P-please--"

Tangerine lands another blow on your ass and you gasp loudly, followed by a desperate noise leaving your throat. "Words, slut."

You look up at him with big, watery eyes. "P-please", you say, voice shaking a little, "Finger m-me."

"There ya go", he says softly, finger abandoning your clit and pressing into your hole a moment later. He slips it in with ease, buries it deep inside of you and immediately starts to thrust it in and out.

"Yeah, wan'me to use you, eh love?", he fucks into you fast and deep, squelching sounds filling the air, "Want Daddy to stuff your pretty little hole, don't ya?"

"Y-yes", you plead, feeling his finger brushing over your walls, his golden ring against your hole. You can hear him hum and then his hand comes down for two more hits on your ass, has you clenching around his finger, moaning against the sheets.

Tangerine wastes no time, adds a second finger, stretches your tight hole out with the way he pushes them in, cold rings slipping in a little.

The sensation nearly has you going insane on the spot, rutting back on his fingers which earns you nothing more but another blow on your right cheek. "Keep on movin' and I tie you to a fuckin' chair for the rest of the day, whore", and you moan, hips stuttering and he pushes a third finger in.

Obscene squelching sounds of your hole being fucked and filled, of your slick wetting his fingers, emerge between your legs and you gasp as his digits brush over your favourite spot. Your loins ignite with it and your abdomen clenches, cunt squirting against the palm of his hand.

"Please, p-please - oh - fuck, fuck", you brabble, eyes tearing up and he tsks, shakes his head.

"Ah ah ah c'mon, words, love. Don't ya curse - you're too pretty to curse like Daddy always does, aren't ya? M'pretty lil' thing, eh?"

His hand comes down on your ass hard, has you gasping loudly, wincing in pain while his fingers continue to fuck you.

"One more, baby", and your hips buck, "Can my slut take one more?"

Tangerine's hand caresses your reddening ass, where a bruise in the form of his hand forms, an angry red and dark red where his rings hit your skin. His bracelet rustles and he grabs a handful, jiggles your left cheek. "Y-yes", you moan, his fingers rubbing your walls, making your legs tremble.

"Ready up", he says and you can hear him grin. Still, nothing can prepare you for how hard his hand comes down and how loud the blow echoes off the bedroom's walls, how the pain shoots through your ass and right between your legs, has you crying out with both: pain and pleasure.

Your walls contract around him as your lower belly contracts, squeezes his fingers and he knows what's about to happen, knows your body like his own.

"Don't you fuckin' cum, now", he says sternly, with his fingers pumping in and out of you, pushing your slick in and out in and out, and then in once more, as he nestles his fingers deeply in your tight and hot cunt halting any movement, "Be a good girl and hold it fo' Daddy."

Your muscles clench and your thighs contract, as you're giving your best to hold back your release, chest heaving as you moan into the mattress.

Tangerine leans down a little, his other hand wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "Don't" - he whispers, the fingers inside of you start moving again, their pads very very slowly rubbing along your walls - "You" - his tongue darts out, licks over the shell of your ear, moustache tingling a little, "Cum now."

Your chest heaves with every ragged breath that you suck in, hips trembling and cunt squirting against his fingers, lust pulsating wildly through your loins and making your head swim as you are trying your best to just not cum. Tangerine chuckles lowly, gaze wandering over your body, taking in the way your legs tremble and feet kick - he can feel the way your walls clench around his fingers and he really, really wants to get you on all fours and just bury his cock inside of you, fucking you senseless until you're a brabbling, drooling mess. His dick is so fucking hard, pressing against his slacks and it has him on the edge, the beast inside him tearing at the seams, but he knows better than to just act upon it, wants to make it better for you.

Tangerine watches the muscles is your legs and back relaxing over the passing minutes that you warm his fingers, walls and pussy growing plush and warm warm warm, as you hold him inside of you, breath slowing down a little with it, too.

"Mhm, there ya go", your hole flutters around his fingers as he pulls them out and you mewl, legs wobbly with your denied orgasm, cunt aching for just another small touch. You can feel it pulsating, your clit throbbing.

"Daddy", you whine helplessly, hips lifting a little, "N-need your cock." And he's gonna give it to you, feels like he's about to burst anyways.

"Shh shh", Tangerine coos, sticky hand rubbing over your sore ass, the slight pain igniting your lust even more, has fresh wetness pooling between your folds, "Good girls get rewarded, don'they?"

You nod frantically, thighs rubbing together. "Well," you can hear the grin forming on his face, "Get on your fuckin' knees, then."

Tangerine parts his thighs a little and you scramble from his lap hastily, sinking down between his spread legs. Your ass is sore and burns and as you sink on to your thighs you can feel the sting, eyes tearing up a little and you blink up at him - hands resting obediently on his knees.

"Look at ya", he whispers, a dark shadow dancing over his eyes, as he licks his lips.

Tangerine cups your face with both hands, carefully brushing a few loose strands from your cheeks and forehead. Your hands brush over his thighs, feeling his muscles twitch beneath the expensive fabric and then you lean in. You're all cock-drunk, needy and wanting with your cunt pulsing between your legs. Your tongue runs over the outline of his clothed dick, leaves a damp stripe behind and Tangerine groans, eyes growing even darker. "Fuckin' hell, you really need't be stuffed, huh", he watches you running your lips over his bulge and he feels like he's about to burst; creaming into his pants like he's fucking 16 and living on the streets again, watching some hooker giving a City man a gobby behind a dumpster.

"Stop it", Tangerine husks, grabs your hair, and yanks your head away, breath already a little ragged, "Fuckin' behave ya'self."

Your eyes gleam up at him and he grins, thumb brushing over your temple gently. "C'mon, get my dick out, will ya?"

You comply, fingers hastily fumbling open his belt and pulling down the zipper, opening the fly of his pants and yanking his satin boxers down.

Tangerine inhales sharply as his long and thick dick springs free against his abdomen, tip flushed pink and glistening with precum. Your mouth waters at the sight and he wants to drag it out, he really wants to, feel arousal pumping through his veins - gets high on it like only adrenaline usually does it for him.

But it's physically impossible - the way you're looking at his hard cock with watery, dopey eyes and flushes cheeks while kneeling in front of him naked has his boner fucking aching. "Fuckin' get to it already, slut."

And you do, one hand grabbing his dick at the base, tongue darting out and licking a wet stripe up to the tip, flicking your tongue over it and licking his precum up.

You love his cock, you really do. Nice and long and thick, cut and resting between neatly trimmed pubic hair. You love the way he fucks you with it, too, how it never misses the spot that has you seeing stars and white spots, how it feels like it has been made for your pussy and yours alone.

You love how it tastes, salty and musky, and you wrap your lips around its tip, resting it on your tongue - not sucking, not licking - just feeling and tasting his dick.

It's fucking huge anyways, looks like it too, wrapped in by your slender fingers. You close your eyes, tongue swirling around the tip before your close your lips around it, gently sucking while your hand strokes the base of his cock.

"Mh, that's how it's supposed t'be, ain't it, sugar?", he hums, hands brushing through your hair, "Me coming home to ya, my pretty little housewife, ready to please."

You hum around his cock, slowly letting him in deeper, tongue rubbing over the bottom while your lips suck. You can hear him breathe deeply and your gaze flicks up to him.

Tangerine looks down at you, eyes dark and shining with lust, one hand gripping the edge of the bed, his chest flushed. The look on his face makes you wet wet wet, wanting to please him.

You keep your eyes on him as you take more of his dick into your mouth, relaxing your jaw but still gagging a little as the tip grazes your throat. He chuckles meanly.

"C'mon love, you can do better than that, can't ya?", Tangerine fists your hair and you hallow your cheeks, your jaw going slack as you let him in further.

You want to be good for him - good girl good girl good girl - your body practically igniting with every little praise he grants you and you want to hear it again. Thus, you move your head around his cock, sucking him off, tongue rubbing over the bottom his dick.

Quickly, you are overdoing it, choking, and gagging around it, eyes tearing up as you hastily suck in a few breaths through your nose.

"Look at ya, all pretty tits and tight holes, but no fuckin' brain", Tangerine mocks, thumb stroking your cheekbone, rubbing over your temple, and then wandering through your hair, cupping the back of your head, "You look so pretty with my cock in ya mouth like that. Only thing you're good for, eh?"

He doesn't wait for you to regain your breath, rolls his hips once, holds your head in place as he thrusts into your mouth.

You relax your throat, letting him in, the tip of his cock hitting the back of it. Still sucking in air through your nose your eyelids flutter, readying yourself for what you know is about to come.

Knowing him, you're not wrong as he starts to roll his hips again and again, groaning with the sensation of his dick burying itself deep in your throat.

Tangerine watches how his cock vanishes in your mouth, bulges your throat a little and he can't hold back anymore. His hand grabs your neck, thumb pressing against your scalp and starts to fuck into your mouth. "Fuckin' hell", he huffs, your spit slicking his cock as he slips in and out of your mouth.

You moan, sending vibrations through his cock that has it twitching in your throat, making your eyes tear up, gagging a little.

Being used by him like this has your heartbeat picking up, bruises on your ass still stinging and cunt throbbing and you rub your thighs together, hands clawing into his slacks.

"Yeah, that's it -- get's you all fuckin' wet choking on my big cock like that, dunnit?", it does, has you sputtering around the thick base, spit running down your chin, wetting his trimmed pubes.

Holding your head in place Tangerine fucks into your mouth, groaning and moaning occassionally, watches your chin turning wet with spit, eyes wet with tears - your thighs rubbing together. The way he ruts into you has his bracelet and chain rustling.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ", he groans and you can feel his thighs clenching underneath your touch, the muscles underneath his waistcoat hardening and his cock twitching, pulsating on your tongue. You know he's close and you ready up for --

Suddenly, Tangerine pulls his dick from your mouth - has you gasping for air - and takes your hand, the one still firmly resting on his thigh. He holds it in his and then wraps it around his cock, your hand resting beneath his on his dick as he starts to jerk himself off with it. His hand is so much larger than yours, cold jewellery hard and heavy against your fingers, that wrap delicately around his hard cock.

"Keep your eyes open 'n look at me", he rasps, and you can feel his dick twitch in your hand as your gazes lock and then he moans, deep and feral - thick, hot ropes of white cum shoot out of his cock onto your cheeks. He strokes himself through his orgasm with your hand, sucks in a sharp breath as he paints your face white, marks you up.

Your eyelids flutter as you try your best to keep them open, his cum missing your eye by mere millimetres.

Tangerine groans as the last bit of cum lands on your face, goosebumps raising on his skin. His dick slowly goes flaccid after he sucks in a few breaths. Looking at you, he grins, licks his lips.

His free hand brushes through your hair, keeps the strands out of his cum, gently stroking your forehead. "Put m'cock away, will ya?"

You comply, kitten licks cleaning the few droplets of cum from the tip and then his hand lets go of yours, allows you to carefully put him back into his boxers, pulling the zipper back up.

Watching your blown-out dark eyes and puffy lips, he sucks in another deep breath, cheeks reddened a little and the colour spreads down down down his throat, tints his chest in a pretty pink beneath his chest hair, vanishes underneath his unbuttoned shirt. "Y'wanna cum, too, hm silly?"

And you nod, nod, nod.

"Atta girl, jus' a second - we should get ya cleaned up, shouldn't we?"

Tangerine's slender fingers run through his cum plastered on your cheek, scooping some of it up before tapping your lips. You open up obediently and he wastes no time pushing them in, feeding you his cum like it's cream. "There ya go, lick 'em clean", and you do, tongue swirling around his fingers, before he pulls them out and moves them across your face, collecting some more of his cum until he is pushing them back into your opened mouth, "Least that ya clean up well."

You can feel your cheeks turning red, the taste of them mingling with his cum and the remaining taste of sucking him off, has you moaning around his fingers. "Maybe I should fuckin' cum on everything I want'ya to tidy up? Would you like that, whore?"

Your eyelids flutter, nodding like you are fucking possessed. "Yeah, bet you love that. House would be fuckin' spotless. Bet I could fuckin' shoot a load on the floor and you'd lick it up, huh?"

You hum around his fingers and his lips tilt up. "And what would you say then, hm?", his clean fingers, sticky with your saliva, slip from your mouth.

"T-thank you for keeping me busy", you croak.

"So ya do have manners after all", he mocks, looking genuinely amused and gives your cheek a light pat, rings connecting with your sticky skin, "Alright, get back on the bed. I ain't fuckin' done wit'ya."

Tangerine gets up, grabs your hand, and helps you back on your feet, watches your naked form as you crawl onto the mattress. He is still fully dressed and your whole fucking body tingles as you catch him staring, eyes roaming over your flushed backside, your plush and aching cunt resting firmly and exposed between your thighs as you kneel on all fours before rolling on your stomach. You bite your lower lip and - deciding to make a show out of it for him, to finally, finally get what you want and need - you stretch one leg out delicately, arching your back a little.

Tangerine huffs. You look so fucked-out, used, with your swollen lips and dark, lustful eyes. Your cheeks are flushed and your hair a mess, nipples hard and cunt all puffy. But you can't help it - you feel like you're on fire, hands darting out for leverage as you spread your legs, exposing yourself to him.

He kneels between your spread legs, the mattress dipping a little and his hands run over your thighs. You hum, gaze flicking over his strong arms, as one of his hands brushes higher, over your hip and waist, cups your tit and squeezes your nipple.

"Back to actin' like the whore you are, eh?", you squirm as he toys with your nipple, pleasure shooting through your body, fresh wetness pooling between your legs. His other hand brushes up your thigh and his fingers quickly dip between your legs, running through your slick. "C'mon, spread your legs f'me", following his command your knees fall to the side, giving his gaze way to your wet and aching cunt.

Tangerine licks his lips, giving your tit one last squeeze before running down your body, spreading your folds apart with both hands.

"Jesus Christ, you just have the prettiest cunt, don't ya?", Tangerine's thumbs stroke your outer labia, pulling them apart while he watches your cunt throb, hole fluttering open, wanton for his attention. "Wouldn't want to fuck another one, 's perfect."

He grabs the pink bag that had been laying discarded on the mattress and ziiips it open, reaches inside. You stomach tingles as he pulls your favourite vibrator out of it, tosses a bottle of lube onto the sheets. It is slightly curved and has just the right girth and length to be sufficient; you love to fuck yourself with it when he is away, having him cooing pretty things into your ear over the phone while he jerks himself off to your sweet sounds.

Your breath hitches and you watch his every move, cunt aching for any sort of friction and the unspoken promise of being fucked by him with the toy has you going a little dizzy. It's not quite like being fucked by his dick, but it's strong and usually leaves you with shaky legs.

Tangerine's gaze flicks over your face and a smug grin dances across his lips, one hand running over your thigh. "Y'gonna let Daddy have some fun with your cunt?", he brushes the toy over your sensitive clit and the cool silicone has your hips bucking immediately, "Wanna see ya come, such a pretty thing." You roll your hips onto the cold and quickly dampening toy, the friction being nice enough to make you moan quietly.

"P-please", you whisper, "T-turn it on."

Tangerine lifts an eyebrow. "You gotta speak up, whore, don't act like you still got cock in ya mouth."

His command has you blushing, eyelids fluttering. "C-can you", you swallow, speaking up a little, voice shaky, "Can you please turn it on?"

He scoffs, one hand grabbing your thigh. "Oh, of course. Why didn't you say that earlier, hm?"

And then, his thumb presses down onto the little button, has the vibrator coming to life in an instant, presses the tip down on your clit.

"Oh my god", you gasp, throwing your head back, hands grabbing the sheets. "Jus' me, love", he grins, licks his lips and presses the toy flatly onto your cunt. The vibrations are running through your abdomen, and you moan lewdly, grinding against it.

Your cunt pulsates and your clit throbs against it, mouth falling agape - moaning and panting in rhythm with your hips rolling onto the toy.

"Look at my silly little whore", he grabs your chin roughly, his gaze boring into yours as you look at him heavy-lidded, mouth slightly agape. Tangerine runs the vibrator through your folds and you arch your back into it. Squeezing some lube onto your cunt he is running the toy through it, until he decides it's slick enough and pushes it into your hole with one rough, quick stroke. Your hips buck with the sudden intrusion, the way you can feel it vibrating inside of you has you moaning, throwing your head back.

Tangerine gives you no time to assess to the feeling as he starts to immediately fuck you with it fast, obscene sounds filling the air as he pushes the toy in and out of you.

You gasp loudly, closing your eyes and fisting the sheets below you. Incoherent, dumb little sounds escape your throat as you moan and gasp, lips parted a little. The stimulation quickly becomes a lot, nearly too much, has your head falling to the side and eyes darting open, watching how his hand shoves the toy in and out of you. It's also not enough, had your stomach tingling and loins feeling they are on fucking fire, a strong pulling sensation in your lower belly that makes you feel like you might go insane.

"Daddy", you plead uselessly, clenching around the toy, "'S not enough."

"Ah, you poor thing - too bad", Tangerine tilts his head a little, smiles at you meanly, "You'll take it."

His hand abandons your chin and runs over your chest, roughly cupping your tit and giving a light slap before running back up up up, over your throat and then grabbing your chin again. Your gazes meet and something dances over his, dark and dangerous and you know that he is holding back just a little. And you know, that you don't want him to. Do it you mouth and his eyes fall shut for a split second, before opening up again, dark navy hazy with lust.

Your brain goes all foggy and swims with anticipation, as his hand vanishes. It comes back down on your cheek with a loud smack, throws your head to the side.

You moan like you are some cheap whore out of some fucking porno - high-pitched and loud -, throwing your head back with your hands grabbing the sheets hard as your body rocks down on the vibrator.

Tangerine scoffs at you - watches the way your slick mixes with the lube and spreads around the pink shaft - makes his fingers all sticky with it - shakes his head a little. "Needy fuckin' thing."

It's all too much and your legs fall shut, knees pressing together as your body tries both: to flee the immense stimulation and to embrace it, drown itself in it. But Tangerine is having none of it, grabs your knee forcefully and spreads your legs back apart, grabs your thigh and holds it down onto the matress. You whine, chest heaving and body shaking, has your tits bounce with it - his eyes follow the movement hungrily.

"'S too much", you whine, throwing your head to the side, eyes falling shut. You feel like you're on fire, toes curling and eyes rolling back, your cunt all plush and plump and throbbing and so so ready to fucking cum already but you just can't, it's just not enough.

"You'll take what I fuckin' give ya", and your whole body rocks with it, the pent-up pleasure running rampant through your body and you pull one knee up, angling your leg, feeling the toy gliding in deeper. You moan desperately, eyes watching how it drills into you, hips and legs starting to shake.

Tangerine grins at you, tilts his head a little. "Oh", he pouts at you playfully, cocks an eyebrow while his eyes gleam down at you, "Does she wanna come? Does she, yeah?"

His tongue kisses his teeth as his thumb flicks over the button on the vibrator. The sudden increase of the vibration has you gasping loudly, a very vocal Oh leaving your lips, followed by a high-pitched moan. One of your hands darts out and grabs the pillow above your head, giving you some more leverage to thrust down onto the toy.

You can feel the vibration of the toy pulsing through your whole lower body and it has you gasping with it.

"Yeah, that's it, innit?", his thumb presses down on your clit, rubs small circles and it has you coming loose, finally, a near scream ripping from your throat, shaking, and rocking onto his thumb and the vibrator. You squirt, wetting his arms and wrists, jewellery shining with your juices and the sheets get sticky and wet with it. Tangerine whistles lowly, watches how you come undone in front of him - tits bouncing and cheeks flushed - moaning and gasping, the ecstasy has your face in a near angelic expression.

And it gets him so fucking hard.

He knows that you will be ready for him again in no time, edging you leaves you wet and horny even after an orgasm and he just has to feel you now.

Tossing the toy onto the mattress, he runs a finger through your hot and sticks folds, has you whining and squirming. He feels you up, asses your slick and teases your hole for a short while, until sweet sweet moans replace your whining, until he can feel your clit throbbing beneath his finger.

"C'mon", Tangerine unbuckles his belt, "My stupid little whore has another one in her, don't she? One more f'Daddy?"

You whine, knees falling apart like you are his personal fucking sex doll, hole clenching around nothing. Your hands run over your tits, squeezing them while you watch him getting undressed - shredding the waistcoat first, followed by his tie and shirt and then his pants - one of them wanders down down down your body, lazily circles your clit.

Your eyes dart down to his hard dick that springs free as he tosses his boxers away, curving against his abdomen, the taste of it still on your tongue and your head swims with it.

"Don't ya fuckin' touch yourself", he swats your hand away and leans in, spits onto your hot and plush cunt, thumb immediately rubbing over your sensitive clit. Your legs shake, hips bucking and it takes only a few strokes of his finger for you to squirt again, adding fresh wetness to the sticky sheets below you. "No one touches you like I do, eh?", and you shake your head, eyes tearing up a little with lust, "Mh, thought so - not even yourself. Always need me to get ya off nice and proper, don't ya?"

He's right. Whenever he is gone and allows you to touch yourself over the phone you do come, but it's nowhere as good, toe-curling and le-shaking as it is when his tongue and fingers are on your cunt, dick buried deep deep inside of you. And thus, you nod -Yes yes yes escaping your lips like a chant.

He is so much taller, so much stronger than you - could snap your neck in a blink of an eye, rip your throat out with bare hands - and it has your head swimming while you watch him stroking himself, tip of his hard dick flushed pink and your brain practically shuts down fully at the sight. It tips you over, has your mind enter a foggy state and limbs going slack as subspace embraces you.

"You like that? You like being my slut, don't ya?"

"Y-yes, Daddy -- l-love it", you moan sweetly and then he looks up at you, lips curling into a crude smile.

Stretching his hand out towards you, he tilts his head a little. "Spit then, slut", and you do, leaning forward and spitting into his hand. Some of your saliva runs down your chin and he scoffs at that, wets his dick with your spit. You watch how he spreads your saliva around the flushed skin and your lips fall agape, a soft moan crawling from your throat. Your legs spread further, hands running over your thighs - up up up - spreading the lips of your cunt apart.

His gaze flicks up, watches how you expose yourself to him, practically offering him your hole, stretching it out for him. "Jesus Christ", he huffs, feels his heartbeat picking up and then he grabs your ankle forcefully, pulls you closer. You barely have any time processing him manhandling you as he lines his cock up with your entrance, pushes in with one strong stroke, buries himself fully in your pussy.

He grabs your hands and pulls them away from your folds, carelessly drops them at the sides of you body, holds your hips up by your waist - watches the way you split on his dick while you gasp and pant.

His cock is so much bigger than the toy, longer and thicker and you gasp as he pushes in. The way your hole stretches around him is delicious, slight pain igniting your loins. No matter how often you take his dick, you are never fully used to it - the dull pain increased by a tenfold with your overstimulated and plush cunt, welcoming his cock home. "Ssh, there ya go, take it all", Tangerine coos, and you moan as his cock pushes in all the way, rests between your walls, hot and pulsating.

"Such a tight fuckin' cunt", he hisses, as you squeeze around him, while he starts to move slowly inside of you. Tangerine watches your lower belly bulging a little with his large cock, sees where it is fucking into you through your skin. One of his hands hooks around your knee, lifts your leg up a little, the other one gently caresses the small bulge in your lower stomach, feels himself beneath your skin.

Tangerine starts to roll his hips faster, angles his thrusts deeper as he looks at you, brows furrowed a little, hand cupping your lower stomach. You whine and mewl with the agonizingly slow way he pushes his cock into you, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches your face slowly coming apart, eyelids fluttering while you watch him fucking into you.

"You feel so fuckin' good, takin' me so well, eh", Tangerine's thrusts speed up, and your body slightly rocks with it, your hips meeting his. Your head falls to the side and you loose yourself into the way he fucks you - losing all track of time, your body going a little numb, feeling nothing more than his cock inside of you, his hands on your body.

"You fucking slut - fuckin' made to only please me", and you hum, a little drool gathering in the corner of your mouth, slooowly creeping out and dropping onto the mattress. Tangerine's gaze follows it hungrily and his eyelids flutter, while you look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Shit", he huffs, hips bucking into your hole wildly, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into them hard.

You are so fucking pretty to him, all fucked-out with your body obedient to him and your mind buried deep deep in subspace and a part of him wishes you'd never come back - staying in this blissful and stupid state, chasing nothing but pleasure and waiting for him at home, on your knees and offering your waiting holes to him.

And Tangerine can't stop his mind from going there, conjuring up the delicious image of you bend over the kitchen table in nothing but a tiny apron, cunt stuffed with some fucking toy, waiting for him to come home and take you. And that's what he'd do, drenched and dripping in blood, would leave red stains all over your soft skin when he grabs you, pushes his dick into your hot cunt.

It makes him moan, head falling forward a little, a few strands of hair coming loose. He has to hear you say it, feels his balls tensing at the thought. His eyes dart up at you through hooded eyes and dark lashes.

"Who d'ya fuckin' belong to?", he growls.

"'M all yours, fuck fuck fuck", sweet sweet moans fall from your lips and it has him going fucking feral. Tangerine moans deep in his throat, wraps one arm around your waist and with all his strength pulls you up, rests you on his muscular thighs. His shins are resting on the mattress as he hammers you down onto his dick and it has you seeing stars, the way his body presses against you, cock pushing into your hole deeper and deeper.

Desperate for any sort of leverage your arms wrap around his neck, fingers clawing at his shoulders while you turn into puddy in his arms, as he lifts your hips up and bounces you on his dick, manhandles you while you fuck yourself with it. Your tits bounce against his firm and sweaty chest, his breath tingles on your throat.

"There ya go", he grunts as you roll your hips, toes curling with the way the thick head of his dick brushes over the spot that has you seeing stars. You moan and gasp, head falling back as you rock onto him, chasing your release.

"D-daddy", you pant, breath hitching in your throat, blinking away the tears forming in your eyes. It's all too much but not enough and you need him to say it - need him to tell you that it's alright, that you're allowed to come. "'M gonna cum, p-please, I-I -- y-you", you whine incoherently, looking down and watching how his cock drills into you, your juices wetting his pubes and abdomen, running down your thighs, sounds of naked skin slapping onto each other filling the air.

There's a heavy pull in your loins and you gasp loudly, sweetly, hips stuttering.

Small tears of pent-up arousal run down your cheeks and he cups your face with one hand, leans in and licks them away, tongue gliding over your cheeks. "Shh shh", he murmurs, his dark blue eyes prettily framed by long lashes as they transfix your fucked-out gaze, "I'll let ya cum, love - whenever ya want, jus' let go."

"C-can't", you stutter, goosebumps on your skin as you gasp, fingers entangling his dark locks that curl right above his shoulders and pulling on them lightly. And that, that gets him fucking going.

Tangerine moans loudly, his cock twitching deep inside of you. He grabs your chin roughly, holds your head in place. "You fuckin' slut", he growls and you can't help but to tug again, completely out of it and unaware that it might have consequences for you - you just need to feel his cock twitch inside of you again.

It does, has you moaning, lips falling agape. "Fuckin' behave", he growls and then, in a blink of an eye, his hand leaves your chin and connects with your cheek with a loud smack, throwing your head to the side. It tips you over.

You squirt heavily around his cock as you cum, milking him, while rocking down on it and spreading your slick, making it shoot up and wet his abdomen, skin glistening with it. His trimmed pubic hair rubs your overstimulated clit and you release more wetness, obscene squelching sounds filling the air.

Tangerine's cock pulses inside of you as he comes, too, shoots thick ropes of hot cum into your cunt that seem endless while filling you up. You squeeze around him and you feel so so full, his cum already pooling at the base of his dick, pushing out of you, and mingling with your creamy release.

He roughly pushes you back onto the mattress, hands grabbing your knees and then he is rutting into you with near inhuman strength, fucking both of you through your cojoined orgasms. Tangerine's cum squelches in and out of you and you cry out as waves of pleasure roll through your body, makes your limbs tremble and squirt shooting against his dick, wetting his pubic hair and abdomen like you're a broken hose. You can feel it run down your legs, dripping down onto the sheets.

"Fuck fuck fuck", you cry out, shaking wildly and then everything goes white - your own body feeling far far away. Your limbs feel so so heavy but you also feel light, like flying, not a single thought remaining as you feel your orgasm running through your veins, making you shake with it.

It takes a while for your body to snap back out of it, slowly drifting back into reality. The first thing you feel, is a warm body pressing against your back.

"Are y'lright, love?", Tangerine whispers, strong hands running over your arms, your sides, your hip. Your body feels so, so heavy as your mind is slowly coming back.

"Yeah", you croak, throat sore and voice raspy.

"Don't ya move, dove - I'll get ya cleaned up", you turn your head and blink at him, still a little out of it and he smiles at you, presses a soft kiss on your sweaty forehead, his stache tingling a little, "You did so good for me, didn't ya? 'M so proud of ya."

You nod lazily, your hand brushing over his strong forearm. "Thank you, babe", you whisper quietly, all worn out and tired, "I really needed that."

"Mh, you're welcome, love."

***

It's the faint smell of coffee in the air that carefully tickles you awake the next morning. Outside the opened window birds are chirping.

The first thing you notice is, that your legs hurt. The second thing is, that the other side of the bed is empty.

You call out your lover's name, his actual, real name but there's no answer. Groaning, you get up, legs heavy and sore from last night, and walk out of the bedroom. You can hear water running and follow the noise.

"Babe?", you peek through the half-opened door of the bathroom. There he is - in all his glory, with no shirt on - freckles dusted over his back like stars, scars and tattoos on full display, a cigarette dangling from his mouth while he is hunched over the sink. His hair curls over his shoulders, a little damp from what you assume must have been a recent shower. The air is still a little damp, despite the opened window. You can hear water splashing.

"Mornin'", Tangerine says, puffs out a cloud of smoke.

"No smoking indoors", you sigh, suppressing a yawn and he chuckles at that, deep in his throat.

"'M sorry, love, won't happen again."

"We both know it will", your hands brush over his shoulders and then you lean against him. You inhale his scent, feel his warmth against your palms. The muscles in his back and shoulder are working, flexing beneath the skin and you close your eyes, feeling the way his body works beneath you. He is oddly alive like this and you hope that he'll be home for a long time, won't leave again soon.

"Why are you up already?", you mumble against his firm back.

"Wanted to wash the stains out", and he sounds so, so annoyed by it, "But it's no use - it's either gonna be the dry-cleaner's or the bin, innit?"

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #smut #tangerine bullet train #tangerine imagine #my writing #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you

[atrwriting]

Hello!!

Could you do aemond and his wife having sex for the first time

oh boy can i

alright buckle up folks this isn’t my usual rodeo so let’s get crackin

minors please exit stage left

as always, warnings: SMUT!, loss of virginity, oral, p in v penetration, dubcon because no one can actually consent in this universe

—

one by one, you plucked your pins from your hair and laid them on the vanity. you sat at the stool, giving your new husband, aemond, a few minutes to enjoy the fire before the “great consummation” would take place.

from the reflection in the mirror, you let your eyes linger on the features of your new husband. he appeared to be gnawing on his cheek and tapping his fingers every so often. the flames illuminated the shadows on his face, which revealed his high cheek bones, sharp jaw, and fine skin. you found yourself trying to conceal a smile at the sight because while arranged marriages rarely worked out, having an attractive husband had its bonuses.

once you had finished removing all of your hair pins, you unlatched your dressing robe to allow your silk dressing gown to be seen. the friction of the cool fabric against your nipples and skin caused a shiver to run up and down your spine, and lead you to the fire and, in turn, in front of your husband.

he appeared to be deep in thought as he chewed on his cheek and played with his own fingers. you didn’t necessarily want to bother him, but you also didn’t know him well enough to know if something was on his mind or if he was waiting for you. you took your best shot.

you glided over to his seat and quietly sat down in your knees between his legs. your hair fell down all around you, framing your face as you stared up at his. your supple lips parted when he had allowed his own eye to ghost over you. in turn, you placed each of your hands on his legs and gently slid them up his shins and stopped at his knees. there was not a word or expression from aemond as he watched you.

“the flames suit your features, my prince,” you spoke.

he hummed in response. “as they do you, princess.”

you smiled softly at him. “i’ve never… done anything like this before, but i would like to please you, husband, if you’ll let me.”

his tongue flicked on the back of his teeth. “for duty, i suppose?”

“yes, but…” you trailed off, growing nervous. “not just for duty.”

he quirked an eyebrow and stared at you. “lay on the bed,” he barked.

your eyes widened as he suddenly stepped from the chair and began his way to the bed. you scrambled to your feet and tried to keep up with him, but before you approached the bed, he was already standing at attention with his hands clasped behind his back. you bit your lip and sat down on the bed in front of him.

he swallowed. in a curt voice, he stated, “your direction was to lay on the bed. not sit.”

fuck. you feared this would happen.

you had attempted to play nice out of lust and survival, but it appeared none of that mattered to the man you had just met only a few hours ago. your teeth sank into your bottom lip before you fell backwards onto the bed.

you didn’t move. you couldn’t.

you heard your new husband undressing himself at the end of the bed. the ripping of his laces unnerved you to your core, especially since aemond seemed as uncomfortable as you. you didn’t realize it until now, but you thought about the fact that you might’ve preferred if he was actually into the idea of bedding you. now? it felt like you were violating him as much as you felt violated.

before he climbed on top of you, you pushed yourself up on your elbows so you could watch him. you were going to do your best to fix this.

“do you not want this, my prince?” you asked.

“you do?” he curtly replied, breath fanning over your face.

you scrunched your eyebrows at him. “i felt lucky to have as young and handsome of a husband as you, truly. do my looks not please you?”

it was his turn to give you a look of confusion. “you do please me. very much.”

you swallowed. you raised a hand to stroke his cheek underneath his eye patch with the back of your fingers. “forgive me, husband, but you seem about as uncomfortable as i do. i’m uncomfortable because i’m nervous about… it hurting. i’m a maiden. what is bothering you?”

he swallowed thickly. “my days are spent fulfilling the duties of a prince. i do not… i do not spend as much time with women as my brother.”

you nodded. “we don’t have to… if you do not wish it, husband.”

“i do wish it,” he replied. “i find you… very pleasing. i also found myself concerned that you might not find my scar pleasing.”

you shook your head as you continued to stroke his cheek. “you shouldn’t worry, husband. i don’t think anything could tarnish your handsome features.”

he smiled lightly at that. “you are sweet, my dear. may i… kiss you?”

no words left your mouth as you returned his smile. you leaned forward towards his face, and he followed in suit.

you flattened your hand against his cheek as he kissed you softly. he had both palms pressed into the bedding beside each side of your face, caging you in between his large muscled arms. his tongue slipped across your bottom lip, and you parted yours to allow him access. his tongue melded and dipped with yours as warmth spread throughout your body. a wandering hand of yours found itself slipping down and over his taut chest, his broad shoulders, and to the firmness of his back.

“you are exquisite, my dear,” his whispered against your lips. “i must taste you.”

to your dismay, he stopped kissing you. however, once his lips connected with the skin of your neck, a low hum began to build in the deepest part of your throat. the sensitivity of your untouched skin sent shivers up and down your spine, and finally ended at your core. he kissed down the valley of your clothed breasts before he began to raise the fabric of your nightgown to collect around your waist. he kissed the skin of your naked stomach, and stopped right before your public bone.

“would you let me, my dear?”

“please, husband.” your voice was thick and full of want and a certain type of desperation that only maidens possessed.

he smiled against your skin before he parted your legs and dipped his head between your thighs.

that humming in your own throat became so strong your eyes were forced to screw shut as your head was thrown back against the bedding. your fingers found the soft tendrils of aemond’s long hair and began to weave itself through it as his tongue lapped against your sensitive bud. you bit down on your bottom lip harshly to stifle the small gasp that threatened to tumble from your mouth.

“oh…” you moaned. “that’s — that’s —“

“tell me, my sweet,” he spoke against you. he slid a finger inside your warm wet entrance as he continued to twist his tongue around your clit.

“that — feels —“

he chuckled darkly against you as your hips writhed against his hold. “you won’t use complete sentences for your new husband? terribly poor manners.”

you would’ve laughed if you weren’t engulfed in each of aemond’s movements against your core. “i’ve never felt — this feels — so good.”

soon, you felt a tight pressure in your lower abdomen coupled with a sense of urgency and wildness in your mind. there was a part of you that felt so fearful you wanted aemond to stop and ask him what was happening, but once aemond began to curl his fingers into the roof of your cunt as he sucked on your clit, you were done for. you involuntarily threw your head back and let out a strangled whine as you fisted at his hair. warmth had spread throughout your entire body as your vision went hazy. your legs began to shake as aemond continued his assault on your core, and you could’ve cried from how good the overwhelming sense of pleasure felt.

“oh my gods,” you gasped.

aemond had climbed back on top of you and engulfed you into a kiss. you tasted the tanginess of yourself on his lips and tongue, and it made you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer.

“you taste divine,” he spoke against your lips. “that was supposed to be to help with the pain, but i believe i enjoyed that more than my lovely wife.”

you shook your head and giggled against his lips. “i doubt that, husband. that was the most amazing i have ever felt. i want to feel you inside me now…”

he gave you one last kiss before he held the tip of your chin in one hand. “i will do my best to lessen the pain.”

you nodded and gave him a smile.

aemond positioned himself above so he could easily guide his cock into your cunt. your eyes widened at his size, believing nothing that big could fit inside of you as his finger even felt like a stretch. the tip of his cock found the opening of your folds and he pushed in slightly.

the burning was the first thing you felt. it felt like a tear in the most fragile parts of you and your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you tried to withstand the pain.

“do you want me to—“ aemond began, but you cut him off.

“it’s okay,” you whispered. “i think just need a moment.”

aemond dipped his head lower to press a small, soft kiss to your lips. you were grateful for his tenderness and you didn’t realize until that moment how truly lucky to be with someone who didn’t take pleasure in hurting you. it seemed like the bare minimum, but part of you grew more enamored with the man above you and soon the pain began to subside because of it.

once aemond rocked his hips into yours and completely sheathed himself within your cunt, a breathy gasp pushed past your lips. the tip of his cock was nudging against the exact place his fingers inside of you had found moments before.

“oh gods,” you moaned against his lips. “that feels so good…”

“your cunt tastes and feels divine, my sweet,” he spoke into your ear. “i can’t help myself.”

at the sound of your pleasured moans, aemond’s rhythm immediately picked up. his hips rocked into yours as your cunt clenched around his cock. the noises your core was making were obscene and made a blush rise to the tips of your cheeks, but there was no denying that there was nothing more erotic than a husband who knew how and wanted to please his wife.

“please, don’t stop, aemond…” you whimpered. “it feels so, so good…”

his breathing was ragged against the base of your throat. immediately, he stood onto this knees while keeping your bodies connected together. you pushed yourself to your elbows as he grasped you by both hips and began to slam himself into you.

a loud, involuntary yelp left your lips as the new angle allowed him to hit that sweet spot inside of you directly and without fail. feeling bold, you reached a dainty hand down to play with your sensitive bud as aemond had moments ago.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned. “keep doing that, wife. keep using those pretty fingers yourself feel good for me.”

his words. oh god… his words. the devil himself could not have been so erotic, enticing, or tempting to succumb to the most drowning of pleasures. with a loud cry of his name, you came for the second time that night all around his thick and long cock as he continued to fuck himself into you.

“squeezing me so fucking tight —“ aemond gasped. “fuck, that’s good —“

“finish me inside, husband,” you whined, looking up at him with doe eyes. “please, aemond…”

“seven. fucking—“

aemond fell onto you and came inside you with a throaty groan. he rocked into you a few more times as you kissed his neck and cheek, reveling in the feeling of how his cock twitched inside of you. when aemond had come down from his high, he gasped your small chin in one of his large hands and kissed you deeply.

“i already adore you, wife.”

—

hope you liked it <333 xox

#aemond stannies #aemond x you #aemond fluff #aemond #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond the kinslayer #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond fic #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction

[wildemaven]

Duality Of A Man

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader / AU

WC: 1379

Warnings: T; Mentions of food; that’s all.

A/N: I literally woke up this morning and threw this idea at @heythere-mel and @kteague and couldn’t get it outta my head. I’m calling this AU because of the nature of the plot, but there’s canon sprinkled through it still— I really tried to stay true to his character as much as possible. I don’t want to reveal to much and spoil everything. Not beta’d and mistakes are my own doing.

Masterlist / Part 2 / Part 3

You wake long before his blaring alarm. The fan’s oscillating buzz streaming through the dimly lit room.

You turn to see he is in fact still in his sleepy state. You leave him be, a few more hours will do him good— the long hours at his latest job site really doing a number on his tired body.

You take caution as you slip from the bed. Slow movements as your feet hit the cold floor, a jolt to your waking senses.

You swipe the nearest shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor. A quick once over before you’re pulling it over your naked form— his shirts are always comfier.

The slow pull from your dresser drawer, it’s usual creaking undetectable as you sift through its contents finding your favorite biker shorts.

One last look at your boyfriend, his handsome face cradle by his lumpy pillow that he refuses to replace. His dark curls messy, suitable to his laid back nature.

He looks the most relaxed when he sleeps.

You make your way to the kitchen to get the coffee started. The old machine, another item Joel refuses to replace, takes nearly twice as long as it should to produce the amber liquid, thankfully your jumpstart on the day will get it made before Joel has made it downstairs.

Breakfast will be a quick task this morning, fried eggs and bacon are a regular staple when Sarah is gone for the weekend at a friends house.

Sarah is Joel’s daughter, but you love her as if she were your own. You and Joel got together a few years back and he was hesitant in introducing you to her, rightfully so. You told him to take his time and you’d be happy to meet her when he was ready. It took all of 6 months for that meeting and you had instantly clicked with her bubbly personality.

The low hum of the stereo drifts through the kitchen. The well-done bacon placed onto a paper towel covered plate, draining off the excess grease. The eggs producing their sizzling pops, the edges crisp and yolks just barely done— Joel’s favorite.

Two broad arms find their way around your waist, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck— you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Joel! You fuckin’ scared the shit outta me!” Your elbow sending a slight jab into his stomach.

“Ow!” His arms tighten up, pulling you back into him. “Mornin’ Babe.” His voice still raspy and low. A quick kiss to your temple before he starts to move about the space.

“Breakfast is done. Coffee should be ready— we really need to get a new machine” You mention as you set the plates of food down on the kitchen table.

“Nothin’ wrong with it. It’s still makin’ coffee. Ain’t broke, no need to go replacin’ it.” Pulling two cups from the cupboard and pouring you each a cup before making his way to the table to join you.

Your eyes roll in response. The man has a weird fixation with keeping worn out dilapidated items— his other charming qualities are what won you over.

“What are your plans for the day? Sarah should be back by late afternoon. Thought we could go get burgers and ice cream?”

He nods, as he continues to chew, fork preparing his next bite. “Yeah that sounds fine. Just gotta go grab some tools from Tommy. Mrs. Adler mentioned needin’ some help fixin’ a few things. Figured I could go after a shower. Should be done in ‘bout an hour or two.” He looks to you to make sure you’re okay with it.

You lean back in your chair, one leg perched up on the edge, your coffee cup on your knee. “Yeah that will work. I’ll give you that Tupperware container to take back over.” You take a slow sip from the steaming cup. “I swear I could eat myself sick off of her cookies. Those things are dangerous, but delicious.”

His dimple peaks through his grown out beard as he smiles at your statement. Gulping down the rest of his coffee, he places his empty cup on top of his egg yolk covered plate. “Thanks for breakfast babe! Delicious as always.” He says, wiping his greased cover fingers on his sleep pants.

“You’re welcome.”

The dishes clinking together as he sets them into the sink, then moving back towards where you’re still sitting at the table. Quick exchange of “I love you’s” and a sweet exchange of kisses before he retreats to take a shower.

Anticipating Sarah’s arrival in the next few hours, you make work to clean up the kitchen and get a few house chores done— remembering the pile of dirty clothes at the foot of your bed.

It takes you no time to whip through each task before you find yourself relaxing comfortably on the couch. Flipping through the home improvement magazine you’d picked up while grocery shopping the other day.

The house didn’t need much improvement. To an outsider it would seem in perfect order. But Joel being the handy man he is, you seemed to find ways to spruce up areas that needed the help. Just last year he replaced the backsplash to something a little more up to date, less drab and 80’s.

The ringing of the door bell catches your attention. Neither you or Joel were expecting visitors, and Sarah knows well enough to let herself in.

You fold the corner of the page you were on, setting the magazine on the coffee table before getting up to answer the door.

When you open it you’re met with a women you’ve never seen before. She’s beautiful, must be in her early 30’s if you were to guess. She’s looking around outside before she realizes you’ve opened the door.

“Hi. Can I help you?” You ask.

“Um, yes. Hi, I’m Kelli.” Her hand extended out to yours, you politely shake it hoping she’s going to grant you with a reason for stopping by. “I’m hoping you can help me out. I’m looking for someone and from what I’ve been told, he lives here.”

You’re not quite sure where she’s going with this. You’ve never seen this Kelli woman in you life and never once have you heard Joel mention her either. She must have to wrong house, and you’ll gladly point her in the right direction once she gives you this man’s name.

“Um, okay. Who is it that you think lives here?” You question her as nicely as you can.

She begins to dig into her purse, pulling out a worn picture. She looks it over briefly before turning and holding it up to you. “Have you seen this man?”

You were ready to say no you hadn’t. But the truth was you had. The man in the photo was upstairs at this very moment showering in your home. It was Joel staring back at you, just a younger version of him.

Your mind reeling as you try to figure out why Kelli is at your front door looking for Joel. She clearly knows him and sounds like she went through a lot of trouble to find him.

She explains straight away why she’s looking for him. You can’t seem to take your eyes off the photo in your hands. Her explanation making zero sense to you. You get her number and tell her you will give her a call tomorrow, you need to still talk to Joel about it all.

The sound of the water shutting off signals Joel’s finished his shower, meaning he’ll be bounding down the stairs momentarily.

You sit back down on the couch, your fingers tracing over the photo. The sound of his boots hitting the steps break you from your trance.

“Hey, heard the door bell. Who was it?” He says as he enters the living room. He falls into his signature pose, hip cocked out and hands resting at his waist.

You stand, eyes still locked on the photo.

“Babe? Who was— What’s that ya got there?”

“Joel— Who’s Kelli?” His face drops instantly.

“Who’s Kelli and why did she say your name is actually Francisco Morales and that she’s your wife?” You spill as you hold the photo out for him to see.

“Fuck—“ Is all he manages to get out.

next

#Joel Miller #TLOU #the last of us #tlou au #Pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader

[entertext]

HGSN Voice Comic: Original Voice Dramas

Translations for the two official voice dramas done by the voice comic team:

Afterschool at the family restaurant

On the way back home from school

==

Afterschool, at the family restaurant

'Hikaru': (yawns)

Yoshiki: Stop pushing around your cherry tomatoes with a fork, its bad manners

'Hikaru': Aw, but I hate cherry tomatoes... Apologies to the farmers, but every sentient being in the world has a dislike or two

Yoshiki: (sighs) fine, pass them over

'Hikaru': Mn.

Yoshiki: Cherry tomatoes are delicious though

'Hikaru': Yoshiki, you're like... really good at looking after people. A caretaker-type?

Yoshiki: Caretaker? Who's taking care of you?

'Hikaru': 'Cause every time I leave anything on my plate, you're finishing it off for me

Yoshiki: That's just because its bad to waste food, so I have no choice but to eat your leftovers

'Hikaru': Hm? Other than that, whenever there's an important due date or something, you always send me a reminder the day before

yoshiki: hey, apron tomorrow

yoshiki: math quiz tomorrow

yoshiki: dustcloth

'Hikaru': But to be honest, I'm always finding it really helpful, its actually useful

Yoshiki: That's 'cause you always forget so quickly. And even though I send them, you're always leaving me on read...not that it matters

'Hikaru': (laughs) Maybe the reason you're so meddlesome is 'cause you're a big brother

Yoshiki: Ah...well maybe. Come to think of it, my little sister's also a picky eater so I'm always eating her leftovers

'Hikaru': Then I'm also triggering your big-brotherly-ness, huh? Onii-chan~

Yoshiki: Gross... and stop taking advantage of me. You could stand to do things properly on your own instead of relying on me once in a while

'Hikaru': Hmm, that's true. I guess I'm so used to you being around that I'm always depending on you. That's no good now that we're second-years. Gotta become independent soon. By the way, what's the upcoming test supposed to be on again?

Yoshiki: Ah, this guy's a lost cause

===

On the way home back from school

'Hikaru': Hey, Yoshiki. Let's pretend we're elementary school kids

Yoshiki: What?

'Hikaru': Until we're back home we'll act like we're elementary school kids again

Yoshiki: Hm..like what? ...What are you doing pointing at your feet?

'Hikaru': See this white line? If you step off of it... the world will end!

Yoshiki: Haha..I remember that. Alright, I got it

'Hikaru': Ah! Look, your foot's a little off the line

Yoshiki: Hah? Your foot's already off the line

'Hikaru': It's fine for me, I have 3 lives

Yoshiki: No fair, when'd you say that? What hour, what minute, what second, where was the earth around the sun when you said that?

'Hikaru': (laughs) Wow, you're good. That's got big elementary school energy. Hmm... alright, say "tree" 10 times fast*

Yoshiki: Alright... trel-

'Hikaru': (pfft) What's trel!?

Yoshiki: I tried to say tree and elbow at the same time...

(both laugh)

Yoshiki: Damnit... alright then, 'Hikaru'. Say "black bear" 10 times fast

'Hikaru': Black bear black bear black bear black bear black bear black bear black bear black bear black bear black bear... done!

Yoshiki: What animal lives at the South Pole?

'Hikaru': Huh? The polar bear, duh! You can't trick me with this!

Yoshiki: But there aren't any bears at the South Pole...

'Hikaru': (gasps) Aughhhh, that's truuuue. I've looooost

Yoshiki: ...This was a competition?

--

* The referenced playground trick in Japanese:

A: Say pizza 10 times fast

B: Pizzapizzapizzapizza...

A: Now, what's this body part called? (points to elbow)

B: Knee (hiza)

A: No, its an elbow (hiji)!

#hikaru ga shinda natsu #the summer hikaru died

[that-g3-artist]

sorry if this is random but you have such a good grasp on anatomy and proportions in your art!! any tips on how that you’d be willing to share?

Thank you!! My anatomy is far from perfect, but I'm always willing to share what I've learned :)

Here are some things that really help me when I work out proportions

Break things down into basic shapes

I always start with the same basic shapes when I sketch out a pose: head, chest, hips, shoulders, elbows, knees, hands, and feet. They're framework for figuring out how the body is moving. I also use a few reference points when I place things--for example, the elbow should always line up with the waist and the wrist should always line up with the crotch.

these simple shapes also help me when I need to put them into perspective for a more complicated pose like these

Reference!!!!

I'll admit I'm really bad at this. I don't often use references for my doodles even though i really really should (i'm just lazy). But it genuinely helps! My art improved tenfold after I took a life drawing class.

There are lots of stock photo resources (like adorkastock) that make great practice. If you're trying to focus on anatomy, then I would stick to photo references--studying different art styles can be very useful, but not if you're trying to master the basics.

slight caveat with references though--it's fine to copy a source closely if its just for personal practice, but if you're going to be posting it anywhere, make sure that a) you have permission to post it and b) you credit them properly. Art theft isn't cool, even for learning!

Don't shy away from the challenging parts

A common mistake I see from beginning artists is avoiding the hard bits--hiding the hands behind the back for example. No shame, I used to do it too, but it really does no favors in improving your art. Do it bad! Then compare it to a reference, figure out why it doesn't look right, and try again.

Practice practice practice

Everyone says this, and it can be frustrating, but a lot of this stuff really just comes from doing it over and over and over again. I've been drawing for over a decade, and only now am I somewhat happy with how my art looks (and even then, not always lol!) The human body is complicated, and it takes a while to figure out how it works. Be patient, and give yourself the time to improve :)

Hope this helps anon!

#g3 does a talk #art advice #once again: my anatomy is nowhere near perfect and i am aware of this #i'm sure i'll look back on the stuff i do now in 3 years and think it looks like trash lmao #tbh those examples i included probably aren't the best demonstration since i did all of them in like 20 minutes max #but they're my most recent work and they're full body with some complicated poses so whatever

[mouschiwrites]

Hiii!!!

Its me again from the sick Jay request <3 (Loved it btw!)

I was wondering if I could request Zane with an insecure reader who has a birthmark? I have one that goes over my shoulder and down my back, and I hate it 😭

Thank you! Have an amazing day/night!!

YAY I always love to hear from you!! So sorry this took a while, friend!! Also sorry for getting sappy in the closing note-

Word count: 882

Ninjago - Birthmark (Zane x reader)

Cooking with Zane was always fun. Even if he was doing most of the important work, leaving you to wash vegetables or stir the pot, you still enjoyed it. How could you not? Zane would hum quietly to the music playing, a peaceful smile on his lips while he worked. You loved watching him like that; completely immersed in his work, work that he loved, blind to the world around him.

You couldn’t see Zane now, as you were facing away from each other, but his soft hum told you he had that look on his face that you so adored.

Suddenly compelled to see that look, you hastily chopped up the last potato and lifted the cutting board, sashaying across the kitchen to deliver the chopped veggies.

Zane’s back was still turned to you; he was focusing on the multiple pots on the stovetop. You decided to announce your approach, knowing he was too zoned in to sense you.

“Hey Zane, I have the—”

In the same moment you opened your mouth, Zane turned around, pot in hand. You collided roughly, sending both of your bearings sprawling all over the floor.

You blinked, finding yourself flat on your back with potatoes and celery all over your lap and a metal pot noisily wobbling to a stop.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” Zane was at your side immediately, looking you over with eyes of concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were behind me.”

Still a little dazed, you shook your head. “No, no, I’m fine. Can’t say the same for the veggies and… whatever was in that pot.” You looked at your sleeve, which was soaked to the elbow in liquid.

“It was only water, but it was very hot. Are you sure you’re okay?” Zane was staring at your arm, gently lifting it by the hand and peeking under the drenched fabric.

“I’m fine, Zane. The water is pretty warm, but not scalding. Kinda nice, actually,” you chuckled, letting Zane pull you to your feet by the other hand.

Zane looked at your arm for a while longer before returning it to your side, satisfied that you weren’t hurt. He held out his hand expectantly. “If you would give me your soiled shirt, I will fetch you another.”

“You’re sweet.” You grinned, peeling off your shirt without thinking and handing it to him. Luckily you were wearing a tank top underneath. Not that it really mattered; you two were alone.

You dropped to your knees and began picking up the vegetables while you waited for Zane to come back.

“Y/n! Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” Zane’s voice had regressed to its concerned tone, and you turned to look over your shoulder with one brow raised.

“I’m fine. Why—is something wrong?”

“Your shoulder.”

You froze. Turning around abruptly, you tried to play it off while you discreetly pulled the tank top so it covered more of your shoulder.

“What mark? Oh thanks for the shirt, I’ll just take that from you—”

Zane held the shirt up and away from your reach. “If you are hurt, I would like to help you.”

He maneuvered smoothly behind you, and before you could turn away, his hand was on your shoulder, holding you in place.

“This is not a burn,” he observed, sounding more perplexed than concerned.

You sighed. “It’s… a birthmark. I’ve always had it.”

“You sound bashful.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t like how it looks.”

“Why not?” You didn’t need to turn around to know that Zane was doing his characteristic confused head-tilt.

“It’s ugly! Now can I please put the shirt on?” Angered, you wrenched free of his grip and whipped around to face Zane with cold eyes.

Zane was looking at you innocently. There was nothing but love for you in those blue eyes, eyes that blinked, unchanging, while you glowered at him.

“I don’t think it’s ugly. I think it’s beautiful.”

Your face softened. You found yourself no longer able to meet his eyes, and you lowered your gaze downward. Zane moved, bending to keep eye contact.

“Y/n,” he began softly, holding your arms firmly, “you’re beautiful. Every inch of you.”

Tears pricked your eyes. A little bubble of hope popped up in your chest, and you struggled to push it down as you stared into Zane’s ever-genuine eyes.

“It’s true.”

The tears spilled. You threw your arms around Zane, burying your face in his apron.

“Do you mean it?”

You felt Zane’s fingers tracing your birthmark as he began to hum to the music. “I do.”

You squeezed harder, letting Zane’s apron sop up your tears until they stopped flowing. He just held you patiently, soothingly rubbing your shoulder and your back.

When you pulled away, you looked directly up at him, a little smile on your lips. “Thank you.”

“For what? I only told the truth.”

Before you could think of a response, you nearly tripped on a hunk of potato.

“But perhaps we should clean up this mess now,” Zane chuckled, putting a protective arm around your shoulder.

You nodded, taking the new shirt from his hands and staring at it for a second before placing it on the counter and crouching back down to pick up the veggies with Zane.

Thank you so much for this request!! And thanks for reading! Remember that YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL because ITS TRUE!!!! <333

I love and care for each and every one of you :)

(divider by saradika)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #zane julien #zane julien x reader #zane x reader

[fanfictionlibrary]

In the Shadow of Comfort

A poly Sebastian Sallow x Reader x Ominis Gaunt fanfiction.

The reader's house and gender are not specified.

Warnings: depression, mention of trauma and death, swearing

Author's Note: This is a rather sad poly fic. I wrote this for a friend of mine who is going through a hard time. But I am planning to write a fic with Sebastian and Ominis that is lighthearted and funny. It might take a while, though. Please, be patient. Love you <3

A blank stare was plastered on your face as you sat on a sofa in the Room of Requirements. You had placed your elbows on your knees, leaning forward and holding the weight of your chin with your hands.

On the outside, you appeared calm. As calm and peaceful as a still lake. A lake that almost looked frozen. Not even the wind could create ripples to break its solid-looking surface. But underneath that surface presided anything but quietude. Underneath that surface raged a storm. A powerful storm that would never break through the veneer of calmness because the anger you felt was subdued by your sadness.

The wetness of that sadness slumbered in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall. But the tears would never roll down your cheeks because they were, in turn, kept in check by your anger.

Your feelings were confused. They scrambled aimlessly inside their home. A beautiful house that you were the caretaker of and that you knew as your body. Usually, as the caretaker, it was your job to reach your hand out to all of these feelings - happiness, anger, sadness, frustration, love - but this time, you didn't possess enough strength to look Anger and Sadness, those pesky inhabitants, in the face.

This time, you just couldn’t say, “You are a part of me. You can’t be that bad. So, live freely inside of me. Teach me how to overcome my fears and show me the path to my goal. I accept you in your purest form.” Now all you could do was run away from them, locking yourself in a room. But Anger and Sadness followed you, banging relentlessly against the door and crying for your attention. But not seeing them meant you didn't need to see yourself. Your feelings just wanted to be with their caretaker, but you couldn’t bear them anymore. Anger and Sadness were your least favorite inhabitants in your house of feelings. They were awfully persistent. However, you wouldn’t answer the door. You couldn’t. 

But why were you in this depressive condition? Honestly, you didn’t really know. All you knew was that this gloomy state sometimes caught you in the most random moments. For instance in class when you were brewing a potion or learning new charms. Or when you were out with your friends, drinking a well-deserved butterbeer and taking advantage of the freedom after classes were over, making the best of “your oyster” as Sebastian liked to call it. 

This sadness and anger were most likely tied to the events that you experienced during your fifth year at Hogwarts: Professor Fig’s death, Lodgok being killed by his own brother, defending the last repository, fighting Ranrok, seeing Anne suffering from her curse, trying fruitlessly to save her, witnessing Sebastian spiraling into the Dark Arts and losing control, Ominis and Sebastian’s fight, the family trauma the Gaunt experienced, defeating Rookwood… And. And. And!

Bang.

Bang.

Bang!

Your feelings continued to pound against the door.

Being the Hero of Hogwarts was great and all, but those events had left a mark. A mark that expressed itself in a frustrated emptiness. You had never opened up about this emptiness to anyone. Even Sebastian and Ominis, your best friends, only knew you as a strong person who always spoke up about injustice and took shit from no one. With one exception. Sometimes your own shit got to you. That was fine because you were not no one to yourself. You were somebody special to yourself, meaning your shit mattered and you had to deal with it. 

The shuffling of small feet brought you out of your reveries. You looked to your side, seeing Deek approaching with a cup of tea. 

“Deek brought you something to cheer you up.” He bowed and placed the hot liquid on the table in front of you. “Deek doesn’t want to cross a line. But he thinks talking to your friends about your feelings might help.” 

“Thank you, Deek.” You took the cup in your hands, relishing the warmth emanating from it and breathing in the rising steam, deciphering the flavor. It was a classic Earl Grey tea. “But I don’t even know what I should tell Sebastian and Ominis. Where would I start?” 

Deek fiddled with his fingers, looking unsure at his feet. “Maybe a simple ‘I am not well’ would suffice? Don’t complicate matters when you can make them easy.” 

“Hm…” you hummed in agreement. “That is good advice. I’m grateful, Deek.”   

That was indeed good advice, and you would put it into action. Late in the evening, you had worked up enough courage to seek out Ominis and Sebastian. Either they were in the library or the Undercroft. However, if they were not at those locations, they had most likely gone to bed already. You had partly set yourself up for failure. You hoped that Ominis and Sebastian had decided to rest already, so you needn’t talk to them, which was why you searched for them so late. But when you got to the Main Hall of Hogwarts, they were standing at the fountain talking in low voices. Sebastian fell silent when he saw you, and Ominis sensed his shift in demeanor, going quiet, too. 

“We have been looking for you all day,” Sebastian said accusingly, crossing his arms. But he couldn’t hide that he was genuinely concerned. His chocolate eyes scanned you up and down, looking for physical injuries. Have you been outside of Hogwarts again, going toe to toe with dark powers? Little did he know that he wouldn’t find wounds or bruises. He had felt for some time now that you were hurting from the inside. 

“We have been worried,” Ominis chimed in. He knew it was you due to the tone of Sebastian’s voice, what he had said – they had indeed searched for you tirelessly – and the light, typical succession of your footsteps. “You missed all of your classes.” 

You halted in front of them with an apologetic expression on your face. Since Ominis couldn’t see it, you pressed his arm gently. A signal that you two established. It could mean different things based on the context it occurred in. Seamlessly, his hand slipped into yours, intertwining your fingers. His head was turned towards you, but his eyes were focusing on a point next to your head. 

Sebastian’s large, comforting hand reached out to you. You always felt so safe in them. Solicitously, he placed it on your head, ruffling your hair lightly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You nodded, biting your lip. A tear slipped, rolling down your cheeks. Finally. “I’d love to.” With these two, your sadness and anger finally appeared to be in equilibrium. Your feelings felt lighter, and suddenly they had enough room to express themselves. Inviting two friends to your house of feelings was so worth it. The rooms appeared wider, there was fresh air, and a burden was lifted off your shoulders as you entrusted the permanent inhabitants Anger and Sadness to your lovely guests. 

“Would you like to talk in the Undercroft?” Ominis's soft voice rang out. He was already pulling you toward the direction of your clandestine hideout, and you followed along. 

Sebastian linked your free arm with his, smiling understandingly. 

It would probably be redundant to elaborate in detail on what was said between the three of you that night. You, of all people, knew best which words and gestures were exchanged. Lingering touches, soft whispers, decorous kisses, maybe? Who am I to tell? You know better. You are in charge. 

However, none of you returned to your common room(s) that night, finding peace in your companionship.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #poly relationship #slytherin supremacy #slytherin #hufflepuff #gryffindor #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts houses #harry potter #love #sad

[something-bout-the-weather]

Red Carpet Ready / Matty Healy x Reader

Thank you to the anon that requested this one! It is a little bit of a prequel to Bodyguard. I hope you enjoy Matty being a gentleman ❤️

“Matty, can you come and help me zip up my dress please?” You shout.

Once you’ve been zipped up, it is only your shoes to go before you’re ‘red carpet ready’. You’ve not given any hints to Matty about what you are wearing tonight. So, you are excited to see his reaction to the form-fitting elegant black dress you have carefully chosen for this event.

“Coming baby, one sec,” Matty shouts back from what sounds like the other side of the house.

You are both excited and apprehensive about tonight’s event. Going to the Brits with Matty and the rest of the band is always a lot of fun but you can’t disguise your anxiety about the red carpet and about being surrounded by paparazzi. It comes with the territory of being a ‘rockstar’s’ girlfriend but it never makes it any easier.

Just before your anxieties completely take over you, Matty walks in the door. You watch as he immediately freezes and takes a sharp intake of breath before looking you up and down with a huge smile on his face.

“Holy shit love, you look fucking incredible!” He exclaims, before walking towards you and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Worried about your makeup you've spent hours on smudging, you reluctantly take your lips off his and take that as your opportunity to take in his finished look. His usually unruly curls have been tamed, somewhat, and he is wearing an incredibly well-fitted black suit, white shirt and black bow tie.

“Don’t look so bad yourself Matty,” You joke before affirming, “No seriously Matty you look extremely handsome.”

“Kind of don’t want to go any more, love. Think I’d rather take this dress straight back off you,” Matty says with a wink.

“I put too much time into this look for it to be ripped off me Mr Healy. So, pretty please can you zip me up?”

“Of course darling,” He says as you feel his cold hands take hold of the dress’s zip and gently pull it up your back.

Once the zip is at the top he turns you round to face him, and gently kisses you before pulling back, looking straight into your eyes and saying, “I���m so lucky.”

Despite the fact you’ve been with Matty for a while now, these compliments still manage to make you blush like there is no tomorrow.

In an attempt to hide the blush, you walk to where your shoes are placed in your wardrobe, doing your best to hide your blushing face from Matty.

“I’m going to need you to help me down the stairs in these Matty,” You explain putting the heels on your feet.

He instantly pops out his elbow for you to take a hold of before asking, “Are you ready to go m’lady?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be!"

-

The car ride to the venue hosting the Brits seems quicker than usual. Despite the faster journey, Matty’s observant eye spots your knee bobbing up and down with anxiety.

“Are you okay baby?” He asks concerned.

“I’m fine, just a bit nervous about the red carpet and all the paparazzi is all,” You explain.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll be with you the entire time. No one will hurt you.” He says reassuringly, putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close to him.

“Thank you Matty, I love you,” You reply gently placing your head on his shoulder.

“I love you too baby.”

-

As the car comes to a stop outside the red carpet, Matty immediately gets to his feet, opens the car door and steps out before turning back towards you with his arm extended for you to grab. You intertwine your fingers with his and carefully step out of the car. As you begin heading towards the start of the red carpet Matty’s hand leaves yours and finds its new home on the small of your back.

The pair of your pose for a couple of pictures together, the flash of cameras surrounding you taking you by surprise. Still, you smile knowing you will soon be inside the venue. Matty sensing you are a little overwhelmed brings his mouth to your ear and whispers, “You’re doing great baby, I’ve got you.”

The rest of the band and their partners aren’t far behind you. They pose for a few pictures in their own pairs and you have a few taken as a big group before you hear the paparazzi shouting for just band members. Matty hesitantly leaves your side and you share a look which you hope reassures him that you are good.

Pictures done, the band collectively agree to avoid any and all interviews and head further down the red carpet and into the venue. Matty finds his way back to your side, his hand back on the small of your back as you all walk towards the venue entrance.

“How are you feeling beautiful? “ Matty asks, almost shouting to make sure you hear him over the noise.

“Other than being a little chilly and the usual anxiety, I’m ok,” You explain.

“We can’t have you going chilly, love,” He says and before you can stop him, he takes off his suit jacket and gently places it over your shoulders. The warmth you feel is instant.

“Better?” He asks.

“Much, thank you.” You say before kissing his cheek.

The entrance to the venue is finally in sight but so is the huge crowd of journalists and their camera crews. You know that you will be sitting at your table inside the venue soon but you can’t take your mind off the crowd of people you are going to have to walk through beforehand. Matty senses your apprehension about the situation as he always manages to do.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you,” Matty says reassuringly, placing a hand on the small of your back and gently guiding you into the venue.

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty the 1975 #matty healy the 1975 #the 1975 #matty x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #the 1975 fic

[erdogan-nevra]

Left Behind

Date: March 16th and beyond

Locations: London, Porto

Medea was silent in the chair next to her. Or as next to her as she could be as they were in separate pods across the aisle. She doubted the woman wanted to talk but even if she did, it would have been drowned out by the constant thrum of the airplane.

Nevra had never demanded anything from the Rutherfords in the entirety of her employment. They likely would have given her whatever she asked for, within reason, but she had never taken advantage of that. Advantage of their generosity and what giving it to people meant. Most would mistake it for loyalty or comradeship. A chance to tell the people who worked for them that they cared when really it was a chance to show the rest of the world how much fucking money they had. 

Fine, let them throw it around. The eleven hour flight would be more bearable in first class. 

~

“Wait, I’m coming. Wait, wait!” The knock had been soft at first but grew the longer she took to disentangle herself from her blanket cocoon on the couch. The hallways of her little cottage was already narrow and when Sabir zigged the same time she did, Nevra found her knees slamming to the carpet. She shook her head and nudged the dog away, talking loudly before she even opened the door. 

“I didn’t think you’d come thi-”

Ayaz. Not who she’d expected to see but Nevra smiled nonetheless. Maybe he’d remembered her birthday as well and was bored enough to come wish her so in person. She crossed her arms and put on a small pout. 

“I hope my present is hiding somewhere in your coat because I don’t see one and I’ll be honest, if you didn’t get me anything, I might just cry.”

It took her three more beats to understand that he wasn’t there to wish her a happy birthday. 

What was that look on his face? 

“Ayaz?”

“Nev, let’s go inside.” 

She didn’t know why but her heart started racing as he put a hand on her back and shut the door behind them. 

~

We will be landing in Porto Velho in twenty minutes. Please have your arrival card and any items to declare ready and in hand.  

She could feel Medea’s side eye and decided to ignore it. Neither were traveling as their namesake and both had only a carry on. A few changes of clothes was all that was needed for this trip. 

The plane rolled into port with a soft bump. Nevra was on her feet in seconds. 

“Easy there.” Medea’s voice snaked through her consciousness, squeezing uncomfortably, suffocating her with its very presence. 

Ayaz had suggested the woman come with her and when Nevra had told him she didn’t need a babysitter, he shrugged. Yet her arrival at Heathrow and the sight of his ex-wife told Nevra enough. They didn’t trust her, not right now. Not with-

Nevra smiled at the customs worker. When they’d gotten off the plane and ended up here was beyond her. Everything blurred together now. “No, nothing to declare. Just here for a business trip.” Her face remained calm and inviting. Learning to play different parts had been one of the main skills she’d learned as an assassin. She’d never imagined she’d be using it in her daily life just to reassure people she wasn’t going to throw herself off a bridge. 

Medea was next to her again. The Turk could feel her resisting the urge to take her elbow and guide her to the car that was waiting outside. Both women knew what would happen if she touched Nevra. She’d practically bit her head off at Heathrow to prove it. So unlike her. Then again, none of her actions had been like her the past few days. 

What would he think of it all?

~

“Nevra, did you hear what I said?”

Dead. 

Dead. 

Dead.

The snap of fingers echoed in the air. 

The person she’d chosen to love was dead. 

The person who had chosen to love her was dead. 

He was dead. 

Fingers wrapped around her wrists, pressure building each moment she kept silent. 

She had always been the one to leave when things came down to it. Her community, her friends, her fiancé. Nevra always made the choice. It never made it any easier but she had always been in control of who entered and left her life. That way she always knew who to blame when those horrible days eventually showed their faces. 

Who could she blame for this? 

Not herself. 

The drug dealer? Absolutely.

The women and men who joined him for god knows how long until he’d been the unfortunate victim of a bad batch? Sure.

Kerem and his anger, his unfuckingreasonable anger toward their situation? If she tried hard enough. 

Not herself though. 

But Berat…

“Nevra, come back.”

No, she would never, could never blame him. She had chosen him and she wouldn’t blame that person. Even if-

So now she was the one left behind and god did it fucking suck. A harsh laugh escaped her lips. She finally noticed Ayaz and saw the look of concern at her outburst.

~

Blood splattered her face as the assassin pulled the trigger of the gun resting at the base of the man’s skull. It was messier than normal but he hadn’t come quietly and she was pissed off enough not to care. Medea on the other hand looked less than pleased. Blood also splattered the toes of her shoes. She took one look at Nevra’s blood covered face and audibly exhaled through her nose. 

“At least you used a silencer.” She could barely hear the words over the roaring in her head and the sounds of passing cars on the street at the end of the alley.

A burner phone appeared in the older woman’s hand. A quick picture and a moment before confirmation before she tossed it into a barrel, followed by a lit match. A tiny part of Nevra wanted to burn the dead man as well but that wasn’t the job. This job was finished. 

She took out her own phone and pressed the name at the top. Three rings before it picked up. Time difference, right. He wouldn’t care though, not really. 

“Another one.” 

Ayaz sighed on the other line and he kept silent for a moment, no doubt debating how long he should indulge her desire to lose herself. 

“There’s a woman in Launceston…”

~

“You’re sure? No possibility you’re wrong?” Her throat felt like she’d eaten a handful of gravel. She felt her hands begin to shake in Ayaz’s grip. A shake of his head and a slight bow but he never averted her eyes. Never severed that last tether of support she needed. 

Nevra looked toward the front door and slowly allowed the realization that Berat would never walk through it again to wash over her. How was she supposed to get through everything without him? 

They’d talked for hours and nights on end of how it had been so simple to choose each other. How, once they’d said screw it and thrown caution to the wind, life had been so much happier. Their happiness had been a choice, her choice. 

This was not her choice. 

This is what it felt like to be left behind. 

If he was going to leave her behind, then she was going to leave everyone else behind too.

“Give me a job.” 

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t said in anger or sadness or despair. It wasn’t a want but a need.

It looked like he was going to refuse her so she shook her head. No, don’t stop me.

“Give me a job.” 

~

The second plane was just as comfortable as the first had been. First class again, only this time Medea had done something unexpected. She’d bought out the entire first class. Nevra knew she was standing at the back of the area talking to the hostesses. She didn’t care what she was telling them. No one bothered her though. 

As the woman settled in the back, the Turk settled in the front. Maybe her babysitter had gone through what Nevra was going through. Maybe she expected her to use the privacy to break down and cry or throw a tantrum or let all hell loose. Nevra intended on refraining from each one of those things. 

If she was going to cry it would be on her own terms. Her grief would be her choice. Everything from here on out would be controlled by her because fuck this feeling. A better person would have taken the opportunity to understand, this was how she’d made other people in her life feel. Before, she would have been that better person. 

Now she wasn’t and didn’t care to be. 

Berat Yalaz would be the last person who would make a choice for her and the last person to leave her behind. 

The thought made her sigh.

#self para #the reason she's not at the awards #berat #ayaz #medea #I cried a bit

[birgittesilverbae]

“I seriously regret letting you move in with me” avatrice? 👀

haps (early) baps sheree

//

"Beatrice," Ava calls, a hint of a whine sneaking into her voice. "What should I wear?"

"Where are you and Chanel going?"

"That new club downtown, I think."

"The one with that horrific neon sign?"

"That's the one."

Out in the living room Beatrice falls silent, and Ava stands with her hands on her hips and peruses the contents of her closet. The very meticulously colour-coded contents of her closet. "Beatrice!" Ava calls again, louder, "did you organise my closet?"

"I might have," she replies carefully.

"How am I meant to find anything in here?"

"By colour, clearly?"

"That doesn't– That makes absolutely no sense, Bea. Oh, man, I seriously regret letting you move in with me."

"Letting? I seem to recall being asked whether I would like to move in with you."

Ava waves a hand. "Potato, potahto. Either way, I am harbouring Regrets. Capital 'R' Regrets, by the way. Where's my baby blue crop top?"

"With your other blue shirts."

"For what reason?!"

Beatrice hums the hum that means she's caught on that Ava's just dicking around and as such has all but tuned her out. "Because it's blue," she says flatly, "clearly."

"And it's not with the other crop tops because?"

"Because it's blue," Bea repeats, "clearly. If you don't subscribe to my organisational choices, maybe tell me the next time you ask me to hang your clothes, darling."

"Fine." Ava locates the crop top and pulls it on before heading back out into the living room. "You really don't want to come with us? It's a Friday night, a whole wide world of possibilities out there for us, and you'd rather take up residence on the couch and watch–" She glances at the television and then turns to face it, eyes going wide. "Is that iguana being chased by snakes?" 

"It is."

"Holy shit." Ava settles on the edge of the couch cushion, elbows on her knees and chin cupped in her hands.

"Ava, darling, you've got to finish getting ready before Chanel gets here."

"Just, lemme see how this plays out." She stares enthralled until the iguana makes its daring escape, then pops back to her feet. "Okay, I see the appeal, but you're absolutely positive you don't want to come with us?" 

"I am, Ava. You haven't gotten alone time with Chanel in a couple of months, I'm not going to infringe on that. Go, have fun, and wear those high-waisted denim shorts." Bea gets a sharp glint in her eye. "They always make your ass look even more fantastic." 

#warrior nun #ava x beatrice #avatrice #myfic #mywn #ask #dearsheroozle #love u sheree

[rockitmans]

Person A burns their tongue on hot chocolate and Person B offers to kiss it better.

We get into a heated debate in class, and I honestly don’t really care that much, but I’m having too much fun watching you get all fired up

I was admiring a bird and wolf-whistled to get its attention but you walked directly in my path and thought I was whistling at you

They're all taken from the doc I sent you a while back with the many, many prompts that sometimes give me inspiration overload lol <3

This was meant to be a drabble but the thought got away from me, I can only apologise. Have a 1.6k word 4+1 style thing based on #1.

Hope you like it Gwen ❤️

Warnings: Mentions of blood, homophobia and bullying consistent with canon.

~~~~~~

Kind of Magic

one

When Blaine is five, he meets Kurt for the first time. He likes Kurt because Kurt is good at playing dress up and and draws really straight chalk lines when they play hopscotch. But mostly it's because he's kind of magic. 

Blaine learns this after a nasty fall leaves him with a split knee and bruised pride. The nice nurse bandages him up and gives him a sucker and tells him to be brave and Blaine tries, he really does. But it still hurts a lot and he feels a bit wobbly when he goes back to Kurt. 

"Did she not give it the magic kiss?" Kurt frowns, seeing the way Blaine is hobbling.

"Magic kiss?"

"Yeah," Kurt says, like this should be obvious. "When I fall down my mom always gives me a magic kiss to make it all better."

"Oh." Blaine thinks about this. It's not something his mom does, nor his nanny, but it seems reasonable. "She gave me a bandage but no kiss. Maybe that's why it still hurts." 

"Useless," Kurt declares with all the confidence of a wronged five year old. "Come here."

They sit on one of the benches and Blaine draws his knee to his chest, rolling up his pants leg to reveal the bandage. Kurt tuts, like the idiocy of adults can only continue to astound him. 

"I'm going to kiss it better," he announces grandly to no one in particular and then plants a swift kiss to Blaine's bandaged knee. He looks at Blaine expectantly. "Good?"

Blaine flexes his leg. He's sure it does feel a bit less sore. And his pride is virtually all the way back in tact. He feels practically buoyant. "Yeah!" he cries brightly. "Thanks, Kurt."

"It's all about the kiss," Kurt says seriously.

two

When Blaine is twelve, he and Kurt are racing up and down the block on their bikes when he manages to hit the sidewalk at the wrong angle and send himself sprawling. Kurt is by his side in a moment, gentle hands helping him sit and brow creased with concern. 

"Are you okay? The ground actually shook."

"It did not," Blaine protests, rubbing his elbow. "I'm fine. It's just this." He offers his elbow and Kurt hisses. Blaine cranes his neck and sees the smear of blood. He looks away again. 

"We're gonna need to wrap that," Kurt says and helps Blaine to his feet. "Come on."

"Will you kiss it for me?" Blaine teases, remembering countless childhood healing kisses. It's just a joke, one based in nostalgia of simpler times, but Kurt freezes. 

"We can't do that any more," he snaps but he doesn't look angry. He looks terrified. Blaine doesn't understand it at the time, though he grows to. Over years of whispers and locker shoves and dumpster throws. He understands that Kurt, even at twelve, was realising something that Blaine hadn't quite gotten to yet. 

"OK. It was just a joke, Kurt," he says mildly. 

"Those kisses won't help anymore," Kurt says firmly. "Kissing other boys will only hurt." 

"OK," Blaine repeats, bemused but following Kurt's lead. Just like he always does. 

three 

When Blaine is eighteen he finally fights back. It's hopeless of course. But something in him snaps. The years of harassment that he's suffered, and Kurt even worse than him, crystallises into a single misguided punch square against Azimo's jaw. 

It hurts. A lot. He splits the skin on his knuckles and is only lucky that Azimo is too stunned to instantly enact horrible retribution. He runs. And because it's what he always does, he goes to find Kurt. 

Kurt is heading to class but diverts the second he sees how rattled Blaine is. 

"Bathroom, come on," Kurt says, steering him to the quietest one by the art rooms. He gets Blaine to sit on the counter while he carefully dabs at his knuckles with damp toilet tissue. "What happened?"

"Punched Azimo," Blaine admits. 

"And you're still alive?"

"Clocked him right on the jaw. I think it surprised him enough for me to get away. Or he's concussed. It's probably wrong to hope that someone is concussed though."

"If that person is Azimo or one of his stupid gang, I think it's allowed. Pretty sure there's exemptions for wishing pain on homophobes. And punching them."

"Well thank God," Blaine sighs. "That's not going to save me later though."

"No," Kurt agrees quietly. He doesn't ask why Blaine did it. One of them was bound to snap eventually. Instead he looks into Blaine's face and smiles mischievously. "Want me to kiss it better?"

Blaine rolls his eyes. "Ha ha." 

"You think I won't?" Kurt says, eyes sparkling with the challenge.  He's incredibly gentle, twining their fingers to bring Blaine's hand to his mouth and skimming a light kiss over his knuckles. 

Blaine's heart jolts into his throat. He and Kurt have touched a thousand times a thousand ways. But there's something so shockingly intimate about the gesture that it steals his breath from him. 

"I thought we didn't do that anymore?" Blaine says because if he doesn't say something he'll literally combust. 

"They'll hate us anyway," Kurt says. "It doesn't matter what we do. They hate us anyway for what we are. So I'm going to kiss my best friends battle scars. Because it's all I fucking can do." 

"Kurt-"

"I'm sorry, you know?" Kurt interrupts. "If you weren't so close to me I think you could have flown under the radar. I think you could have been okay."

"That's ridiculous," Blaine says firmly. Because it is. For many reasons. "I never could have hidden who I am. I would have suffocated. And I would never want to go anywhere you can't go. Even under a radar."

Kurt flushes, pink and pleased. "You're ridiculous," he says softly. But his lips find Blaine's knuckles again. 

four

When Blaine is twenty he breaks up with his first serious boyfriend. Apparently Derek can't handle how much Blaine talks about Kurt. Or how much time he spends with Kurt. Or the fact that he lives with Kurt. Or… the kissing thing. 

"It's just a bit!" Blaine tries to explain. "Like kissing something better. Purely platonic."

"It doesn't feel platonic," Derek says. 

Clearly Derek is an idiot who has never experienced wonder or love or friendship. It doesn't matter how Blaine argues his case, Derek won't be swayed. 

"You should want me to kiss your hurts away," Derek tries later. Which is just ridiculous. Because Derek isn't magic the way that Kurt is.

Blaine knows it's over between them, then. Kurt is as much a part of Blaine as a limb at this point and any boyfriend of his is going to have to understand that. 

Kurt in fact, is the one that is there to pick up the pieces. With cuddles and ice cream and some well chosen insults towards Derek.

"Honestly, Blaine, he wore crocs. I'm so glad I don't have to bite my tongue about it anymore."

"You didn't bite your tongue," Blaine points out. "You insulted him to his face on the one occasion it happened and have basically complained about it non stop ever since."

"But I could have been so much more scathing," Kurt says. Which is probably true. 

Blaine sighs and snuggles into Kurt's chest. He feels hollow. He and Derek had been together over a year. And all that was for nothing now. A year of memories now tainted with the pain of Derek's ungrounded accusations. Tears spring to his eyes and he tenses, biting his lip against a sob. 

"Is there anything I can do?" Kurt asks, soft against the shell of Blaine's ear. 

"Just hold me," Blaine says shakily. "I don't think this is something you can kiss better."

"Maybe not," Kurt concedes. But he tries anyway, tucking Blaine closer against him and dropping comforting kisses into his curls. 

five

Blaine is twenty two when everything finally starts to make sense. Newly graduated and still living with Kurt and both making ends meet with odd jobs until The Job comes along. But they're happy, and that's all that matters. 

He's on his way home when Kurt calls him with the news of a good audition. 'Good' based on vibes only, he won't know about callbacks for days yet. But Blaine wants to celebrate the victory anyway because that's what roommates and best friends do. 

He picks them up a hot chocolate at the truck just down the block from their apartment. It's simple but they both always agree that it tastes the best and stays hot the longest. 

"Hey, sweetheart," Kurt greets him happily when Blaine steps through the door.  

"Hey, you. I bought us hot chocolate. To celebrate your success."

Kurt laughs, shaking his head slightly. "Amazing," he says, taking one and cradling it in his hands. "You're amazing."

"Oh, you," Blaine jokes, but it makes his stomach flip in a way that's happening a lot lately. He hides his uncertainty by taking way too big a sip of hot chocolate."Fuck!" he yelps as the scalding liquid hits his tongue and makes his eyes water. "Shit shit shit." 

"Are you okay?" Kurt says, clunking his own drink down in alarm.

"Yeah," Blaine sighs. "Just burnt my tongue like an idiot."

"Oh…" Kurt looks at him and the moment seems to stretch as their eyes meet. "Want me to kiss it better?"

Blaine is half a breath from making a joke of it. Rolling his eyes and dismissing it. But Kurt's gaze is steady. He's smiling, but not in a teasing way. In a hopeful way. He's completely radiant, the most insanely gorgeous person Blaine has even seen. 

Blaine is reminded about all the times Kurt has offered to soothe his hurts across nearly two decades. How Blaine has never even considered forging a path that would take him from Kurt's side. How their lives are irretrievably entwined and always will be, no matter what happens now. And he thinks oh. 

Blaine nods slowly and Kurt's hands find his jaw and there's a pause that seems to take less than a second and an entire lifetime all at once. And then Kurt's mouth meets his. And it is kind of magic. 

#my fic #klaine #klaine fanfiction #ficlet #asks #cerriddwenluna #look Gwen another fic with the word magic in that you can get me with in future 😝

[silversoulstardust]

this is for @olyollyoxenfree , for encouraging my horny kazurei brainrot lol ily oly <3

have a 1.9k words of porn with barely any plot. MINORS DNI

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

Miri’s arrival in the household had thrown everything off its axis.

It wasn’t enough for her to make it difficult for Kazuki and Rei to carry out their duties as a hitman, or mess with their regular day to day life schedule as two childless men, which was, okay, not as normal as any other two childless men living together because they weren’t assassin with sporadic schedules and irregular sleeping patterns, but with Miri’s presence around the house since Christmas, it had been increasingly difficult for Kazuki to get laid.

Which was fine at first.

Because they were tired most of the time. They chased her around, made sure she was alive and well fed, enrolled her in the best school with the best of everything, providing for her from top to toe with expensive goods and high quality school materials, all the while trying to make ends meet because holy shit having a child was so goddamn expensive. And they were so, so tired. Whenever Kazuki was feeling horny during their down time and having had to choose between sleeping and fucking, nine out of ten times he chose sleep. And Rei shared the same sentiment.

But once all the dust had settled, he started feeling it again. He had an itch that only Rei could scratch. Just watching Rei shirtless on the treadmill with sweat glistening on the beautifully carved back muscles made his dick twitch, reminiscing all the scratches he used to leave on those pale skin. 

The problem was, Miri’s presence was constant. She would be at home whenever they were at home, so when they wanted to get down and dirty, she was always in the way. Miri would walk in on them in the kitchen, or barge into their bedroom after having a nightmare, or climb into the bathtub that was already too cramped up with two adults in it. At this point, Kazuki was worried to do more than just make out with Rei, because what if Miri caught them in the middle of the act, with him on his knees and Rei’s dick deep in his ass? That little girl would be scarred for life.

The opportunity, however, presented itself on one lazy Sunday afternoon, after they had a hefty meal for lunch. Miri was playing a video game against Rei and Kazuki was elbow deep in soap suds doing the dishes while humming to random songs that popped up in his brain. It wasn’t until it was too late that he realized the apartment was devoid of sound of carts crashing and random explosions, and his eyes flicked from the greasy plate in his hands to the video game screen paused on the TV, only soft background music playing from it. A beat later, he felt two strong arms wrapped around his waist, and a nose buried itself on the side of his neck, inhaling deep as Kazuki was pulled into a tight embrace from behind.

“Miri’s asleep,” breathed Rei against his skin, and it sent shivers down Kazuki’s spine. “Let’s do something productive.”

“I am being productive,” Kazuki resumed his washing, working through the pots now, keeping his voice steady. “And there’s a child sleeping literally five feet away from us.”

Rei rubbed his face against the side of Kazuki’s face like a docile cat, and somehow managed to get his hands under Kazuki’s shirt, skating his fingers against his ribs and chest. “I saw how you looked at me while I was running two days ago, Kazuki. I know you want me,” said Rei, oddly confident. “We’re hidden behind this big kitchen counter, she can’t see us from the couch. And she’s asleep. There’s that. Come on, I’ll be quiet. You just need to be quiet too.”

Kazuki turned his face slightly to look at Rei’s determined look, his eyebrows knitted in a twist. “Wait, are we doing it here?” he asked in a loud whisper, eyes bulging out almost out of its sockets. “You’re out of your fucking mind, Suwa Rei.”

Rei never truly smiled, not sincerely anyway, but there was a mischievous smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His hand snaked down south to palm Kazuki over his sweatpants, his dick already half hard from having this conversation. The fact that Rei was plastered to his back and his hands roam free touching him all over was not helping. “You need to be more honest, Kazuki,” replied Rei, slowly moving his hand up and down, gently cupping his erection that was growing by the moment. “Just let me suck you off.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, then a heavy sigh followed. There was no way of talking Rei out of this whenever his mood strikes. “The magic word.”

“What?” Rei’s scowl deepened, confused.

“The magic word, Rei,” repeated Kazuki as he rinsed a small pot. “Say the magic word and I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

Rei let out a groan and rolled his eyes. “Please let me suck your dick. There. Happy?”

“Yup. Happy,” Kazuki grinned, placing a quick peck on Rei’s cheek. “So how are we doing this?”

Rei let his arms around Kazuki go and took a step back. He then pulled Kazuki back from the sink, but still close enough for him to work on the dishes if he hunched forward. With the flexibility of an acrobat, Rei slink down and kneeled between Kazuki’s legs, with his back and head against the cabinet door, and his face right in Kazuki’s crotch. Another shiver coursed through his body when Rei buried his face right in the pubic mound, inhaling it like it was the most intoxicating thing in the world, feeling Rei’s breath warming up his skin. From where Kazuki was standing though, he couldn’t see what Rei was doing, because his view was obscured by the apron.

“I can’t see you,” whined Kazuki, adjusting his stance so it was optimum for Rei to fuck his dick with his mouth.

“Then remove the apron,” retorted Rei, as he pulled Kazuki’s sweatpants and let it pool around his ankles. 

“But I’m doing dishes,” but Kazuki’s complaint went unheard because in one quick swoop he felt wetness enveloped his length, much like a sucker punch to the gut that threw him off his game, causing him to buck forward. He dropped the pan he was holding back into the sink, thankfully the clatter was muffled by the clogged up suds water. There was a pause in Rei’s movement, and Kazuki froze in position too, waiting to see if the noise had awoken Miri from her afternoon nap. Moments passed, but no other sound filled the space other than soft background music of Wario Cart and small running tap water in the sink. 

Kazuki moved his pelvis to let Rei know it was safe for them to continue. Rei took the hint, taking Kazuki’s now raging hard cock deeper and deeper into his mouth, inch by inch, until he could feel Rei’s nose buried in his pubes. Kazuki finally had the opportunity to appreciate the velvety sensation of Rei’s warm and wet mouth, the push and pull on his erection hitting at the back of Rei's throat in an embarrassingly sloppy rhythm. It had been too long since they last had this. Kazuki had to bite his lower lip hard to clamp a loud moan that was threatening to rip out of him from how good he felt, with molten orgasm coiling at the base of his stomach bidding its time to spill. 

He was completely lost in the ecstasy that none of the dishes were done. There were still a couple of pots left in the sink, submerged in the soapy water untouched. Every time he attempted to wash up, Rei was pulling stunts with his genitals; teasing the slit with his tongue, or cradling his scrotums and sucking it like a treat in his mouth, or simply deepthroating himself with Kazuki’s raging cock. He could feel Rei’s satisfactory hums and moans, feeling the vibration from the back of his throat through his dick. It took everything Kazuki had to stand tall and not cave from the overwhelming  sensation, hands tight against the edge of the sink, knuckles white.

A sudden movement from the couch took Kazuki by surprise. He instinctively crowded Rei against the cabinet, drawing his legs shut to cover his presence, even though Miri was on the other side of the kitchen on the couch and couldn’t possibly see where Rei was. There was a punctuated groan that escaped Rei as the movement shoved Kazuki’s hard cock deep inside his mouth. 

Miri rubbed her eyes, voice thick with sleep and eyes still half-lidded. She took a stock around the apartment and asked, “Where’s papa Rei?”

“Papa Rei went out to the convenience store to get something,” Kazuki managed, keeping his voice and breathing even. Rei was adjusting himself, probably not wanting to suffocate to death from a dick in his windpipe, head bobbing away and still sucking Kazuki off at a time like this. Unbelievable. “Go back to sleep, Miri, and when you wake up again he’ll definitely come back with your favorite pudding.”

For a moment it looked like Miri wanted to protest, but the gravity pull over her eyelids were much stronger than her will to stay awake. She managed to raise a thumbs up before slumping back down on the couch, and it was quiet again moments later.

Rei took the opportunity to ramp up his movement. With one hand he gripped the base of Kazuki’s cock and moved it in tandem with his mouth, up and down, up and down, up and down in crescendo until Kazuki’s knees buckled and he whites out, coming inside Rei’s mouth with Rei’s name falling out of his lips. 

It felt like they just completed an intense mission, what they just accomplished. Kazuki finally threw in the towel and shut the faucet, giving up on dish washing to sit on the floor next to Rei. It was only after that he realized Rei was stroking himself with one hand as he was sucking him off, and he was on the verge of spilling his load. Kazuki took it upon himself to lend a helping hand. With a few strokes and kisses on the corner of Rei’s jaw, thick ropes of cum splattered against Rei’s chest and the kitchen floor.

They sat quietly next to each other, steadying their breath. Kazuki removed the remnant of his cum that was dripping from Rei’s chin using his hand and wiped his fingers against Rei’s already sullied shirt. They exchanged a gaze, staring deep into each other’s eyes before Kazuki laughed and a small smile cracked open on Rei’s face. 

“You’re a freak,” said Rei, amused. “You got off getting sucked out in the open apartment with other people in it.”

Kazuki scrunches up his face, mockingly offended. “Says the freak who suggested we fuck in the kitchen with our daughter sleeping five feet away from the counter.”

“That was a close call,” Rei mused. They both leaned back against the counter, letting a comfortable silence settled between them. Kazuki may be imagining it, but it sounded like a small huff of laughter escaped Rei’s throat, and it sounded really sweet. “Looks like we’re gonna need Kyu-chan babysitting service for this particular need after all.”

#buddy daddies #buddy daddies fanfic #kazurei #suwa rei #kurusu kazuki #rei x kazuki #chromie writes #chrmz.txt #im gonna put this one up on ao3 tomorrow bc its already 1am here lol

[kradogsrats]

I could not get the “Soren and Viren!Harrow work out together” idea out of my head, so here, have a BIG OL’ CUP of dad feelings, drenched in ALL MY TEARS.

--

The doctors had recommended Harrow exercise regularly. It will help restore your sense of ownership over your body, one had said. You’re used to doing things that he never did. The muscle memory isn’t there.

Neither, Harrow reflected for probably the hundredth time in just that hour, was the muscle. He had by no means ever thought of Viren as being frail or weak, but certainly no one would ever have called the man physical.

But the exercise was helping. Both to build the muscles, and with his other symptoms--he didn’t spend his first moments awake every morning convulsively dry-heaving, anymore. Looking at his hands no longer gave him vertigo. He could even think of them as his hands, his shoulders, his--well, he still had some work to do to get to face.

It wasn’t Viren’s face. He wasn’t sure anymore whose it was.

A drop of sweat landed on the ground in front of him. He lowered himself toward it, arms burning, then raised himself back up.

“Come on, King Harrow!” Soren, doing two, possibly three push-ups for every one of Harrow’s, was barely out of breath. “I want to see that nose touch the ground! You’ve got five more in you, I know it!”

The first few times Soren had joined him in the hazy pre-dawn light of the practice yard, they had both stayed silent. Harrow’s critical mistake had been that the first time Soren tentatively corrected his form, he’d been grateful. Apparently that had given Soren license to devise a multi-day full-body workout routine that Harrow knew was impeccable in its balance and intensity for building muscle and endurance.

Knowing that did not stop him from hating every second of it, however.

Harrow struggled through five more push-ups, with Soren’s encouragement or in spite of it. You’re the one who wants to be able to swing a sword again, he reminded himself grimly.

“Next up, it’s your favorite,” Soren said with a sing-song voice, springing lightly to his feet. Harrow also stood, but with significantly more effort and not a little reluctance. He would rather have stayed lying face-down on the ground.

Soren beamed at him. “Squats! Let’s go!”

Harrow sighed heavily, but assumed the starting position--feet spread, hands raised to his head.

Legs had been a frustration from the start. The old injury dealt by Thunder had never seemed to impede Viren much, and Harrow had always assumed he carried the elegant staff everywhere for show--then he had found himself barely able walk without assistance. Even now, his gait felt unnatural, and the muscles still cramped at odd times, locking the knee and rendering the entire limb useless.

Building up to the point of being able to do squats had been long and hard-earned, with the reward of... more squats. But the strengthened muscles helped with both preventing pain and keeping his balance reliable, so it was worth it. Probably.

Soren was already moving, working up and down on only one leg with the other held straight in front of him. Harrow sighed again.

His first few squats were fine. Then his leg abruptly seized and dropped out from under him.

He landed hard, knocking the wind out of himself. Before, he could have rolled, or at least been able to properly break the fall. Now, he had to just lie there and wheeze for a moment.

“Dad!” Soren cried. He was at Harrow’s side immediately. “Are you okay?”

He sat up slowly, with Soren’s concerned support. The leg was still locked, muscles painfully knotted and unresponsive. Wonderful.

“Here, hang on,” Soren said. “This will help.” He lowered Harrow back until he was resting on his elbows. Then, starting with the calf, he began to slowly work it with his hands, alternating brisk squeezes and pressing deep circles with his thumbs.

Harrow hissed at the sensation of muscles being coaxed to un-knot, letting his head fall back to face the slowly lightening sky.

“Soren,” he said, “You know I’m not--”

“Yeah,” Soren interrupted quietly. “Sorry. It just... slipped out.”

“It’s all right. I miss him, too.”

He wanted to say more. I’m sorry. He should be here, instead. It was supposed to be me. I failed. Empty words that sought comfort, but brought none. All that he could do was add this to the weight of his sins and carry on.

Soren silently worked his way up the leg, going more slowly as the muscles got larger. He paid extra attention around the site of the original wound, circling it thoroughly with touches that began gentle and built until Harrow grunted with pain through his gritted teeth.

“Did you do this for him?” Harrow asked, closing his eyes against a particularly vicious assault from Soren’s thumbs.

“No.” Soren snorted a mirthless laugh. “That’s why I learned it, I guess--but he never let me.”

His hands stilled. “I loved my dad,” he said, finally. “How could I not, right? But I didn’t--I didn’t really like him very much.”

Harrow raised his head to look at him. “He was a difficult man to like,” he acknowledged.

“And,” Soren swallowed and looked away. “I know he didn’t like me.”

Harrow didn’t know what to say to that. Could he deny it--tell Soren that of course Viren had loved him completely, fiercely, the way he deserved, but couldn’t show it? Was it his place to deny it?

Would it even be the truth?

Soren returned to massaging his calf, working back down to finish at the ankle. “What I’m saying is that--that Callum and Ezran are very lucky to have you,” he said. “And I’m happy that they still do.”

He stood, extending his hand down to Harrow. Harrow looked up at him, silhouetted against the morning sky--the sun would creep over the castle walls, soon--and took it, letting Soren help him upright. Once on his feet again, he didn’t release Soren’s hand, instead pulling him into a tight hug.

“Your dad didn’t know what he was missing,” he said quietly. “I wish he’d had the chance to find out.”

Soren, who had stiffened when Harrow embraced him, slowly relaxed. Then he buried his face in Harrow’s shoulder and hugged back.

They stayed that way for a long moment, Harrow releasing the hug only when Soren did. He kept one hand on Soren’s shoulder for balance as he shook out his leg and pretended not to see him swipe a hand across his eyes. “Thank you,” he said when the moment had passed, indicating his leg as he flexed his knee. “It feels good as new.”

Soren cracked a smile. “Oh, does that mean I don’t have to go easy on you tomorrow, then?”

Harrow groaned. “Never mind, I take it back. You’re awful.”

The sun spilled down into the practice yard, warm and dazzling. “I know,” Soren laughed. “The worst.”

#the dragon prince #harrow #soren #no editing we cry like men #OH NO I MADE MYSELF REAL SAD #DID NOT THINK THIS THROUGH #kradogsfic #ouroboros au

[ironfoot-mothafocka]

In a rut

Grór breaks her leg — sometimes, boredom is worse than broken limbs. Part 2/3 for @mrkida-art

—

Grór stared at the ceiling, her eyes once again tracing the molded ridge around its edges. The ghaspar-powered lantern had flickered out and died an hour ago, but she hadn’t bothered to re-light it again even though it would have taken her a couple of moments to find a match. Instinctively, she flexed her right leg and her knee bumped against the boot cast that encased her shin.

One more week of this, she thought. One more week of just lying here doing nothing. She could walk without a crutch now. She could run (well, she could canter along awkwardly, but the point was that it didn’t hurt anymore). She could do everything that Old Fram the healer had told her father that she was not to do until the bone knitted itself together completely — to Grór, it was simply an arbitrary number of weeks that Old Fram had pulled out of his arse.

The door of her room creaked open and Grór blinked as bright light from the hallway cut a patch across her bed. Ixil’s brown eyes glowed in her direction like Tiger’s Eye lit up from behind and the points of illumination remained as he crossed the room. She couldn’t even be bothered to greet him but turned her head listlessly as he rummaged beside her for the matches and lit the lamp.

“How’s your leg?” he asked. The bed sagged as he sat down and he tucked his legs to his chin. “Fine. It’s been fine for a week now, but father doesn’t care. He still thinks I’m an invalid,” she ground out. She looked over at Ixil and a rush of jealousy bubbled inside her. He had gone out on hunting and scouting expeditions, while she was due to die of boredom at any moment. “Want to punch something?” Grór blinked. “Always,” she said slowly, raising her eyebrow. Ixil swung his legs down and snatched up Grór’s pillow, holding it in front of his stomach. He grinned at her and nodded down at it. “And you think some feathers are going to protect you?” Grór snorted and jumped to her feet — at least, one leg jumped, whereas the other dragged behind her. “Aye. That, and my rippling stomach muscles, prince,” retorted Ixil quickly.

Grór cracked her knuckles and shifted her weight to her one unbroken leg. The two dwarves circled one another like predator and prey, Ixil’s eyes gleaming brightly. She quietened her mind and focused, making a few fake passes to get Ixil’s back up. “Just fucking punch me!” the Stiffbeard snarled. Grór grinned and feinted to the side. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you—” The blow landed square in the middle of Ixil’s stomach, but he was ready for it. Despite stumbling backwards, he flexed with the punch and only a fleeting grimace told of any real pain. “See your arms haven’t lost any strength during your bed-rest,” he wheezed, and Grór laughed. Part of her wondered if he was just doing this to make her feel better, but she really had put all of her frustration into that one. The Stiffbeard tossed the pillow to one side and instead spread his arms wide as if he were about to pick her up like a bear. “Come on then,” he said. Grór didn’t need to be told twice.

She rammed him, shoulder smashing into sternum like an uncontrolled minecart ricocheting against a rock wall, and Ixil dropped with the prince on top of him. Grór didn’t need to work hard to pin Ixil to the floor, leaning her full weight against him and gripping him tightly with her thighs like an encircling snake. Through gritted teeth, Ixil panted and groaned, eventually getting enough leverage to grasp Grór’s broad back. His fingers entwined together and elbows clenched around her ribcage as he tried to prise her off him, but she held fast and her one good knee jabbed forwards into the soft spot over the other dwarf’s kidneys, eliciting a sharp yelp.

With a surprising turn of speed, the Stiffbeard surged upwards, driving the prince away from him and back onto her feet. Perhaps he had just faked being pinned to the floor, lulling her into a false sense of security before striking? Grór didn’t have time to mull over this, but was annoyed nevertheless at how easily he seemed to free himself. They stood with arms locked like the horns of bulls doing battle, brows mere inches apart, grunting, pushing and pulling in all directions. Sweat dripped down Grór’s forehead and into her corners of her mouth, slicking the black, angular outline of her royal tattoo, and Ixil’s own facial markings, bands of dark ink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, were pulled tight as his face contorted in effort. “Give up,” he grunted. “You first,” she replied.

They both broke apart as though branded when the door flew open behind them. Instinctively, Grór knew who it was without turning around and her stomach plummeted to the bottom of her cast.

The tongue lashing they both received from Old Fram was legendary, even to Grór, who considered herself a veteran of Fram-bollocking. Neither of her brothers had been berated this hard for this long, and Frór and Thrór watched with gloating expressions, ducking behind their hands to whisper and chuckle when they were sure they wouldn’t be heard. She glared at them, knowing that they would lay into her as soon as she got out of earshot of Fram, her father, and uncle Borin. She dared not to look over at Ixil, whose tawny skin had paled. His eyes glistened and he looked as though he was about to cry or faint. Grór knew why, though: his formidable-looking mother, Bivrik, stood just behind the king and looked like a ravenous hound straining against a leash — her face puce and her lips moving silently with curses. Once Fram had decided he’d had enough of them, and left the royal reception room to a ringing silence, Grór rolled her shoulders and turned to face her father. She fixed her face into what she hoped was a mask of solemn contrition. “Am I free to leave?” “Sire,” King Dáin said, his eyes flashing at his daughter. “Am I free to leave, sire?” Grór replied, trying her best to keep her voice neutral. Prodding the bear that was Fram was bad enough without riling her father more than he was already. Dáin nodded stiffly and pointed to the far door, which Ixil was being dragged out of by his mother, his arm held aloft in a pincher-tight grip. Bivrik’s furious whispers were as loud as a nest of angry cockroaches, and Grór knew it would be a long while before he was allowed to see her again. Ignoring a couple of choice, snide comments from her brothers, she stumped to her room and slammed the door behind her, breathing heavily. Why did limbs have to break? Why did everyone still treat her like a child?

She threw herself back down onto the bed and screwed her eyes tightly shut. The ghaspar lamp slowly dimmed into darkness, until she once again lay in the black and silent bedroom, her pillow forgotten where it had been thrown aside. Another week of this. One entire bloody week. And this time, there would be no Ixil to break her out of her mood.

#gror #fror #thror #lotr #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings #dwarves

[toiletwipes]

WHEHRHE THANK YOU okay okay. Okay.

I just think the way Wilbur tilts his head with his eyes all big makes him look like a lost puppy and I wanna kiss him breathless

-🌙 anon (💗🔪)

Alfjsjdjdhf now the thought is in MY head and I dkfjskfjdhf

sitting on your floor while you organize your laundry, its all folded right now but your drawers are a mess. your good friend, wilbur, well, he was a bit of a nuissance when you had things to do. he always wanted to hang out and always wanted to be close. but you firmly told him, no, i have to do my laundry, its been sitting in various baskets for months, this needs to be done.

well he listened fine, but he's laying on your bed, staring at you, being hopeless and whatnot.

arms crossed and his chin supported by his elbows for maximum staring.

"do you mind?" you bit out, eyebrows scrunched as your nose did too, feeling just a bit annoyed as yet again, he wasn't being any help when you clearly remember him saying he'd even help.

"not at all, i'm quite comfortable, thank you."

you rolled your eyes, pulling out another drawer and leaning on your knees to stuff a pile of jeans in there. "you know, you said you'd help me," you said, trying to see if he was doing this on purpose.

"i said i'd help if you needed it but honestly you're doing great."

you leaned back on your knees to face him, hands coming down to slap your thighs, "really?"

"really really," his smile made you squint your eyes, pushing his face away as you continued to shove the laundry in. and when the clothes were cleared and your floor was found, you stretched your legs out and leaned forward to grip the arches of your feet, feeling just a bit accomplished today. who knows what you'll do next, maybe you'll cook dinner, wash the dishes-

wilbur cleared his throat and when you looked up you found yourself dangerous territory. his head tilted to the side and eyes wide, a slight pout on his lips and you hope you didn't have that big of a reaction because right now your head's kinda empty and your eyes are wide too and you're feeling breathless because goddamn you wanna kiss your beautiful, useless, hopeless best friend now.

"can we get food now?" you blink as he had tapped your face now, pout seemingly gone and his face is normal.

"yeah, yeah. food." he cheers silently, rolling off your bed and leaves you in the dust of your bedroom, probably heading to the kitchen. you try to fan yourself, having a warm face and big as hell pupils, you're gonna have problems with pretty boy here.

#🌙 anon #(💗🔪) #anon asks #wipes answers #c: wilbur #but i was kinda leaning towards simpbur ngl but like. pretty boy simpbur pretending to be normal #but he's failing so bad #skfjskfhfh

[unholyhymns]

can i get one for 'will it all work out'? (I promise this isn't as general as it sounds haha)

He’s gone off, for one reason or another, to watch the coronation. He doesn’t care for kings or crowns or fine jewels. He doesn’t care for crowds. He likes music and revelry as much as any other person, probably, but you’d hardly need to go to a coronation to get those things. Why he left is anyone’s guess.

When his best friend asks his sister if he said anything before he left, she helpfully supplies: “He said something about a beheading.”

And they know that is not a good thing in the slightest. Yes, there are the obvious reasons behind why a beheading is not a good thing (for at least one person involved), but they know better than to assume just the face-value badness of it. Because it’s supposed to be a coronation and their friend has a habit of doing this; leaving his house to attend some event he doesn’t like while muttering about something chaotic happening. 

And it always happens. And no one but them ever remembers, afterwards, that whatever goes down isn’t what was supposed to happen. Even he doesn’t remember. The last time it was a wedding of some distant relative that he’d reluctantly attended, but not before murmuring something about a forest fire.

The devastation could be seen for miles. 

He doesn’t even cause these things; not as far as they can tell. He attends the events, watches as the chaos unfolds, and reacts with the same shock and surprise as any other bystander. And they have since learned that making him leave early does nothing to prevent the chaos, and he’s impossible to keep at home. 

So what they do is find him and drag him out of the fray before he gets hurt because– weird soothsaying and chaos bringing aside– he’s their best friend and no one else is going to bring him back safely. 

This time when they find him, standing amongst the crowd looking bored, they spot something sitting on his shoulder. A fairy, they’d guess, given the small size. A pixie? It sits there, kicking its feet, giggling in anticipation. Their friend seems not to notice it, and they watch as the pixie rests its elbows on its knees and leans to rest its chin in its hands. Of course. They should’ve known.

They move on instinct, stalking towards their friend and snatching up the pixie before they can even think better of it. It squeaks, clearly not having expected it, screeching something angry and spluttering, but they’re annoyed and determined and have plenty of experience with them and their shenanigans.

They carry the pixie out of the crowd before anyone notices them, ducking into an alleyway and hissing, “You. Are you behind all of this?”

It gives them a wide, toothy grin.

“‘Course not. That’s above my pay grade. I just hitch a ride.” It worms its arm out of their fist to point towards their friend. Their friend who is, admittedly, a good head or so taller than most people in the crowd.

“Find a new ride,” they say, shaking the pixie slightly to drive their point home. “I deal with you lot enough during the holidays.

“Sure, sure, yeah. Scout’s honor,” it says, making a small motion over its chest, before giving them an assessing look. “Are you for hire?”

“No.”

#my readings