#also if you are asking if I am going to send this man my dirty socks shhh

[loonylupinblack3]

Period Trouble

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, nothing else i think?

Summary: you wake up with your period and are forced to go on a mission with Logan of all people

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: literally obsessed with this man rn so ofc i had to write about him. also wolverine has enhanced senses including smell but its like…. barely shown in the movies so i had to search it up to be sure, and some part of me still doubts it but for the purposes of this fic he does have it

You woke up with a groan, immediately curling into a ball. You were early. You were early and you hadn’t emotionally or physically prepared for having your period today, yet the world seemed ready to punish you, burdening you with an early cycle.

You checked the time, cursing every god and deity you knew when you realised you were supposed to have woken up half an hour ago. Wincing, you got up, your body screaming at the movement. Already your stomach was aching, the ghosts of cramps to come caressing your body. 

There was knocking at your door, quiet yet firm. You already knew it was Storm on the other side of the door, no doubt in search of a reason why you failed to get up on time. It was going to be a long day.

You yelled out to Storm, promising to be out in five minutes, and got up, groggily looking for your clothes. When you’d tamed your hair and brushed your teeth, you exited your room to find Storm waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

She took one look at you and sighed. “What are you wearing?”

You looked down perplexed. “....my clothes?”

She raised her eyebrow. “You’re on a mission today, remember?”

Fuck. You nearly let out a whine. You were not in the mood to go skulking around doing Xavier’s bidding when you had a constant throbbing pain assaulting your stomach, unreasonable mood swings, and exhaustion weighing you down.

Storm sent you a questioning look. “You up for this?”

The mission was nothing big. Professor X needed you to collect some sort of rare herb that had recently been shipped into the nearest city, something he needed to complete a super secret experiment you weren’t privy to. He’d just asked for help and you’d volunteered.

Oh how you regretted that decision now.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you muttered. “Let me just get changed real quick.”

Getting into your previously decided upon outfit, a plain inconspicuous one intended to blend in, you left your room again, this time with no complaint from Storm. Your stomach gave an uncomfortable clench and you sighed, making a mental note to find some nurofen before leaving for the mission.

“Why aren’t you in your outfit?” you asked, just realising Storm wasn’t wearing what you two had agreed upon yesterday.

She winced slightly. “Can’t go. Filling in for some classes.”

Your face soured but you tried not to hold it against her. Storm loved her students, and given the choice of helping them or Xavier with a low level mission, she’d obviously choose her kids. You couldn’t blame her exactly, but it meant you’d have to go on this mission alone, while not impossible by any means it would make it slightly more difficult.

You sighed. “That’s okay. I can go alone.”

When Storm winced even more your eyes narrowed in suspicion, following her with caution. “Storm…..”

She sighed guiltily. “Xavier didn’t want you to go alone. The herb’s too valuable.”

You tilted your head slightly as you entered the house’s foyer. “So who am I going with then?”

Storm’s eyes darted ahead, and you followed her gaze to find Logan Howlett leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He smirked at you, “you’re looking at him sweetheart.”

You resisted the urge to groan, instead sending Storm a dirty look. You didn’t necessarily dislike Logan, but he was a lot to deal with, and you were already tired from your day that had barely begun.

You couldn’t say all that with Logan standing there however, so you muttered a, “lovely,” and walked past the man to the garage.

He followed you silently, no quip or smart ass comment which was strange for him. You’d just entered the garage, heading towards one of the cars, when you glanced back at him and found Logan stopped in the doorway, staring at you with a frown on his face. Or rather, a deeper frown than usual.

“What is it?” you asked him, standing at the hood of the car.

Logan’s eyes roved your body, searching for something. “You’re injured.”

It was your turn to frown. “What? No I’m not.”

He took a step forward, almost as if he was planning on looking for your alleged injury himself. “Don’t bullshit me Y/n, I can smell your blood.”

You made a face. “What are you talking about…..” you trailed off when you realised it, perhaps the most mortifying moment in your life.

Logan could smell your period blood. He thought you were bleeding from an injury. 

You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He scoffed, walking towards you until you were face to face. You tried to step back and felt the hood of the car against your legs. “I can smell the fucking blood seeping out of you Y/n. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him. “I can assure you, I am not injured.”

You moved to walk past him but he caught your wrist, forcing you back into your position pressed against the car. “If you think I am going on this mission with you while you’re wounded, you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m not-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot darl? Is that why you’re denying being hurt while I can literally smell it on you-”

You cut him off. “I’m on my period, Logan.”

He paused, staring at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. You waited for him to speak, feeling embarrassed and furious about it. Why should you be embarrassed of your period? He was the one who was pushing you, prodding you, forcing you to tell him the source of the bleeding. If your answer made him uncomfortable, that wasn’t your fault nor your concern.

Eventually he spoke. “Alright then. Get in the car. I’m driving.”

You scowled at him. “Says who?”

He didn’t even bother looking at you, already in the driver’s seat. “Says me.”

You sighed but didn’t argue further, silently getting into the passenger seat. Logan started the car, reversing it out of the garage and driving down the long winding driveway till you got to the street.

“It’s an hour's drive to the city, give or take,” you told Logan, setting the GPS up on the car.

Logan barely glanced at it, eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t even respond to you. You sighed and turned away, looking out the window as the scenery passed you in flashes.

As the drive continued, you noticed Logan sending you glances every now and then. If you really focused on them, you’d almost say they seemed worried, concerned even, but they were always too quick for you to tell for certain. You were too preoccupied with your cramps that had started up anyway, and the lack of nurofen you’d forgotten to grab.

Finally, you arrived at the city, driving into the hustle and bustle of the crowded area. Logan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, obviously not a fan of the traffic the city provided. You watched the stream of people through the window as Logan looked for a space to park, muttering under his breath.

You were mildly entertained at the amount of road rage he had, cursing every car that wasn’t at least 10 metres over the speed limit. His jaw was clenched, hand fisting the steering wheel, yet he still looked at you here and there, like you were actually wounded.

When he eventually found a parking spot the two of you got out of the car and you looked at the address Xavier gave you.

“Should be somewhere along this street,” you murmured, eyes flicking from the piece of paper to the busy street.

Logan moved behind you, so close you could feel your back against his chest, and looked at the paper in your hand. He let out a grunt and moved past you, walking forwards. You frowned and hurried your pace, not wanting to lose him amidst the crowd of people.

Luck was certainly not your side, because soon enough you’d lost him, unable to see his black leather jacket in the throng of people. You hesitated, wondering if you should look for him or just go straight to the address, when you felt an arm around your waist.

“Stay close to me,” Logan murmured into your war, his voice gravelly. “Don’t wanna lose you again.”

You glanced at him as he continued walking, not moving his arm from your waist. “How’d you find me?”

He gave you a smirk. “Followed the smell of blood.”

Again you felt your cheeks heat but you glared at him defiantly, refusing to be embarrassed. He smirked at you, flashing his teeth, as you arrived in front of the address, a plain building home to some sort of florist. 

Logan finally took his hand from your waist, walking to the door with you trailing behind him. A bell gave a little jingle as you entered, and you were immediately assaulted with the smell of flowers. Different sorts of plants took up every corner of the room and Logan’s face soured as he looked around, obviously not pleased with the environment.

An old woman sat behind a desk, watering a plant with a mini watering can. You walked up to her, Logan hot on your heels. When you stopped in front of the desk Logan was so close behind you you could actually feel his chest against your back.

“Mrs May?” you asked.

The old woman looked at you with a smile, her eyes crinkling. “That’s me. What can I help you two lovebirds with? Bouquet of roses? Lilies?”

You opened your mouth, surprised, and tried to find something to say. Being mistaken for a couple shouldn’t have affected you so much, especially while on a mission, but you were flustered and could still feel Logan’s chest right against your back, his warmth almost dizzying.

“We’re not here for flowers unfortunately,” Logan spoke, saving you. Except why didn’t he specify you weren’t a couple? Did that not matter to him, what some old lady thought, or did he enjoy the idea of being thought of as your boyfriend?

Oh god. What were you thinking? Stupid period hormones. 

The old lady looked at you two curiously. “Then how can I help you?”

There was a pointed silence and you realised Logan was waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat and spoke the random sequence of words Xavier had you memorise, that would inform Mrs May just what type of buyers you were.

The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head slowly. “Ah, yes, let me just go to the storage room quickly, I’ll be back….”

Mrs May tottered around the desk and through a side door, half hidden behind the multitude of plants covering the area, leaving you alone with Logan.

You took a step away from him and turned around to look at him, finding him staring at you with a frown on his face.

You frowned back at him. “What’s up with you today?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “What is up with me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed Darl but you haven’t exactly been up to par yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. “That’s not what I meant, and besides, I’m on my period.”

Logan stared at you, arms crossed. “What did ya mean then?”

“You’ve been acting strange. Less talkative and annoying like usual.”

Logan snorted. “Ever the lady.”

“I’m serious. What’s up with you?”

Logan sighed and took a step forward until he was towering over you and you had to crane your head up to look at him. “You are what’s up. I can constantly smell you bleeding, and I can’t get it out of my mind that it means you’re hurt. You’re driving me crazy sweetheart.”

Well…. That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Logan smirked down at you as if he knew that, and enjoyed surprising you. You cleared your throat as your eyes darted to the floor. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

Logan chuckled. “Not your fault no, but it is your doing whether you mean to or not.”

You swallowed, looking back up at him. “Well…. Don’t you constantly smell when people are on their periods?”

“It’s different with you. Smelling your blood just drives me crazy, plain and simple. Can’t get the instinct out of my head that blood means injury.”

The way Logan was admitting all of this, with such calm, made you think he’d been wanting to say this for a while. The unspoken confession was there, and it was up to you to decide what to do with it.

“I’m glad you care,” was what you landed on, unsure of what else to say.

Logan chuckled again, one hand snaking to your waist. “I do a lot more than care, Y/n.”

You smiled softly, looking up at him. With his other hand he brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The sound of a door closing brought you out of your little bubble and you took a step back, Logan reluctantly letting go of your waist.

Mrs May, either not having seen you two or graciously deciding to ignore it, passed you a package, informing you the herb and all information involving it was inside, and to handle it with care. You nodded and thanked the old woman before exiting the building, Logan again right on your heels.

As soon as the shop’s door closed behind you Logan’s hand was back around your waist. “Not losing you this time.”

You tried not to smile, though internally you were grinning like a maniac, and let Logan lead the two of you back to the car. You didn’t even get to argue your case of driving this time, Logan already in the driver’s seat. You sighed and got into the passenger seat, resigning yourself to another hour of silence as Logan started driving, when you felt his hand on your thigh.

You looked at him but he didn’t say anything, just gave it a light squeeze as he kept his eyes on the road. You looked away, grinning. So maybe the world didn’t have it out for you after all.

#wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #xmen #x-men #xmen movie #xmen movies #x men movies #marvel #hugh jackman #james logan howlett #james howlett #x men #xavier #charles xavier

[toji-girl]

tags: repost + drunk! fem reader + alcohol + age gap + Toji is soft and sweet but also possessive and jealous + you feel him up + he carries you + slightly suggestive + self-ship piece made for everyone to enjoy + lmk any missing tag please!

Three missed calls and one unheard voicemail.

Saturday 2:30 am, September 2nd; Hey…I called you two times, first one rang a few times then went straight to voicemail, and the second call the same thing happened, now this is the third and final time I have attempted to reach out before I come out looking. Where are you? Don’t make me ask again princess.

You stared down at your phone screen with a scoff at your boyfriend’s behavior. Dating an older man is not for the weak or the people who get annoyed easily. It was Friday night and you left his place after staying there all week.

So weren’t you entitled to go out and have some fun? You did ask if he wanted to go but said something along the lines of my back hurts not tonight doll but apparently not enough for him to come out and look for you.

It wasn’t as if you were going out with a bunch of your guy friends, sure there’d be a few but mostly it was just you and your girlfriends wanting a night out, and being twenty-eight it only made sense, right?

You stood in front of the mirror in your best friend’s bedroom flanked by your group of friends. Aya stood behind you and cupped your breasts when you took a picture. “Send that to gramps, he’d lose it.”

Cackles could be heard from your close knit of women who leaned in and made pouty faces taking another one to send to Toji who was currently at his house waiting for you to call him so he can come and pick you up.

It was after the fourth bar everyone decided to stop by Aya’s apartment since it was the closest one at the time and you were beyond tipsy sending him random messages throughout the evening. “He’s not that old.” You shot back.

“Old enough to be your dad! His son is close to our age! Have you thought about a little son vs. dad duo? I wonder who’s better at eating pussy?” She teased and changed into yet another outfit before going back out again.

Your face scrunched up as you threw a balled-up dress at her head. “You’re disgusting, and I can promise you that it’s Toji. That man had me crying last night just from - ”

You stopped mid sentence feeling your face flush, your inebriated brain played the memories of just that; the way he had your legs thrown over his shoulders as he made out with your pussy slowly fingerfucking you until you squirted.

Em who you also haven known since preschool snatched your phone from your hand to open the text thread between you and Toji. “Just from what? Maybe an older dude is the way to go, they can dick you down good.”

She sighed wistfully already like she didn’t have a boyfriend. “Do not look through our messages because you will be disappointed in me, I’m dirty.” You squealed trying to reach for your phone only to get smacked on the hand.

“Oh my god! You sent him a picture of your whole pussy?" She shrieked shoving your phone back in your chest with a loud cackle as the other girls joined in falling on Aya's bed with more laughter.

They all sat up and looked at you like you were their momma bird and they were waiting to be fed. "You are dirty, do you like it when daddy spanks you?" Aya asked in a deep tone trying her best to mock Toji.

You picked up a small plushie and threw it at her head feeling your cheeks flame to a level of uncomfortable warmth. "Stop! You guys are making me want to go back to his house and get fucked dumb and I did yes, he loves it and I love showing it off to him." You huffed.

With everyone ready you and everyone else linked arms and squeezed through the front door of the apartment and down the street not having a single clue that Toji was already two steps behind you, after the first time you didn't answer this was the only way to check on you and make sure nothing was going down.

He couldn't help but click his tongue a little as you swayed and clung to Aya who wasn't much better than you as everyone got shoved through the line and into the doors. It was a split-second decision he made to follow after, one he wouldn't regret one bit.

Toji was sure he would never fall in love again after his first marriage, the idea of his heart being shattered again wasn't something he wanted to go through with which is why he was here at almost three in the morning stalking you making sure you were okay and stayed safe; his pretty little girlfriend who keeps gushing about him.

It wasn't hard not to hear you giggle and talk about how much you love your boyfriend who does everything for you and how could you really not? Thankfully you were drunk enough that you didn't notice him standing in the corner dressed darkly with a hat covering most of his face.

"I think you should just move in with him but then we'd never see you again, what about our weekly date nights? You've been putting it off since you met gramps." Aya pouted as you and her danced close to the edge of the bar keeping your eyes on your friends and drinks.

You glared at Aya and let her tug you closer indulging in one of her favorite love languages. "Stop calling him that. He's barely in his forties and treats me so well, I do love him Aya, I really do." You admitted wishing you were in his arms peppering his face with kisses.

Aya handed you your drink with a shit-eating grin. "I just love teasing you is all, and I know older men are all that and a bag of chips but babe...you have to remember that he is way older than you with a kid younger than us, I think maybe your daddy issues are showing."

"How about you butt out of my relationship." You hissed feeling the fun bubbly feeling of being drunk turn into something else; a hot red rage that took a hold of you like a vice. You stumbled back away from her and broke away from your group of friends for a breath of air.

When you came back inside you still didn't see Toji who now moved after hearing your conversation with Aya and knew you were going to cry about it to him later which he'd happily lap up and soothe away any thoughts that would even begin to push him out of your life.

The booze in your veins pumped along with the blasting music as you nursed another drink while trying your best to pull out your phone to text Toji.

[You - 3:26 am]

srry im drink plz pick me up

Toji who was a mere few feet from you when he felt his phone vibrate which he quickly slid from his pocket to read your message clicking his tongue again as he looked over at you and his heart melted. You looked sad and defeated which is not a good thing paired with the alcohol you drank.

You hunched over the oak bar and sighed when you felt a pair of hands on your upper back, you didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. "What's the matter with my princess?" He asked.

Toji grasped your shoulders and pulled you back a little into his chest, the back of your head rested on his abs as he tilted your head up to look at him, unshed tears swam in your eyes. "How'd you get here so quickly?" You asked slurring your words together with a giggle.

He bent down to press a soft chaste kiss to your forehead before collecting you in his arms letting you hang off his left one almost as if you were a doll, his hand pulled your dress down before patting your ass with a heavy sigh looking for your friends to update them on you.

"I'm taking her back to my place, and I'm sure she will call you in the morning," Toji told your group of friends who only nodded in response watching you hang off of him, your head hung low. "Byeeeee!!" You squealed when he made his way to the exit.

Once he got you both outside he sat you down on your feet holding your upper arms. "Can you walk to the car? It's down the street." He asked immediately getting his answer when you stumbled back again, thankfully you were close enough he was able to wrap one large arm around your waist keeping you upright.

Toji used his strength and sobriety to his advantage to hoist you up again tossing you over his shoulder carefully, one hand rested on your ass to make sure it didn't bunch up. "Mhm! Toji!" You screamed reaching your hands down to squeeze and slap his ass hearing him grunt and huff your name.

"Making sure my princess gets home. Stop." His hand came down with a little force on your backside to catch your attention when you tried to interrupt him with a string of unintelligible noises.

You hung from his shoulder like a lifeless rag doll until he finally made it to his car and unlocked it with the key in his pocket. When he sat you down again your hands reached up to grab his pecs with a grin. "Love you and your big 'ole tits. Wanna bite 'em." You squealed.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes a little at you but still let you get your way as you used the extra height from your high heels to motorboat him with a loud laugh. "Me and my big tits love you too, now get in the car so I can get you into bed." He ordered with a grunt.

Ten minutes later you found yourself settled into Toji's bed watching him as he cleaned your face with a washrag before he took off your fake eyelashes the best he could. "What's the point of these? They look like fuckin' spiders." He said and tucked you in earning a giggle.

Toji never got his answer seeing that you were asleep, your hand curled into his shirt still. His mind wandered about your conversation with Aya earlier and knew that you two would need to have one of your own.

#tw: alcohol #Toji x reader #Toji Fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x you

[changisworld]

How skz members react to getting your period during sex.

Obvious MDNI, 18+ SMUT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT

word count;1,701

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

PSA FOR ASKS/REQUESTS: i WILL get around to posting everyone’s requests i’m just sorry if it takes a bit of time but whatever you request i’ll post it!! IM ALSO MAKING AN ANON LIST!! just send me anything & tell me what emoji u wanna be!<3

Any reblogs & comments are deeply appreciated <3 main masterlist here

SMUT WARNINGS: period sex(obviously), menstrual blood, cunnilgus, cum play, soft sex, degradation, praise, petnames such as; hunny, baby, babe, gorgeous, pretty,, degrading names such as; dirty, dirty talk, mention of multiple orgasms, spit, fluff upon fluff, slight dom x sub dynamics in some.

BANGCHAN

You are currently in a mating press as chan is fucking into your swollen, wet walls as his chest is on top of the back of your thighs, leaning against them as he is kissing you, swallowing the whines you're currently making. Chan bites your bottom lip before leaning slightly lower to whisper & groan some sweet words into your ears.

"Love ya so much baby... fuck, ya feel s-so good, pussy so warm around me, fuck." He says before kissing your nose & standing fully upright again, still buried inside you.

His eyes shut as his eyebrows furrowed as his head tilts towards the ceiling before he looks down at your pussy & stops dead in his tracks. You feel the sudden stop & get up onto your elbows to look at where you're both connected.

"Why'd you stop Channie? keep going baby please" You say, sounding whiny as you pant, out of breath.

" Ah, babe you,eh- you've started your period... i'll get a-a towel." Chan pulls fully out but before he can move away fully, your legs cage him in as you wrap them around his waist.

"Well i mean.. we've already started... we can continue if you want to baby, you have said you wanted to try it before, it feels good anyway hunny don't worry." You give him a faint smile, cheeks turning a bit red but no way near the redness on Chans cheeks.

Chan looks at you, a bit stunned & surprised by what just left your lips. "Oh wow, you sure baby? don' wanna hurt ya y/n" he says to you in a low voice, his fingers falling to wrap around his hard cock again to pump it slowly to relieve some of the tension.

You take his reaction into account & unlatch your legs from around his waist, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Channie if you don't wanna we don-" you're interrupted as chan leans over you & shuts you up with a kiss. He breaks it momentarily to breath out the words: "don't be silly baby, of course i want to, if it makes you feel good who am i to stop hm?" He kisses you again & slides back inside you, letting out a small groan into your lips.

LEE KNOW

You are currently making out with leeknow, underneath him as he is in-between your legs. His hand slowly teases your nipples & then drags down until he finally puts his hand underneath your leggings & into your panties.

His finger starts teasing your folds as he continues kissing you, you biting his tongue playfully every once in a while. Leeknow breaks it but keeps his face just above your face as he pulls his hand back out of your leggings to bring them up to your lips but stops as he notices his fingers are now coated red. You also realise this.

"oh fuck leeknow i'm so sorry, oh my god" Your face turns bright red as embarrassment overwhelms you, you try to squirm out from under him but he doesn't budge.

"hey hey hey, stop apologising, you're acting as if i'm not a fully grown man, baby, a bit of blood isn't gonna bother me y/n" He says, kissing the tip of your nose as he wipes the bit of blood from his fingers onto his sweatpants, carelessly. "I'm more than happy to keep going pretty, just say the words."

You are a bit taken aback by his words & you think for a moment before trying to grind your covered core against him but he nips your thigh & you wince as you stop. "I said, say the words y/n." Leeknow says, smirking at you with his cat eyes, fingers that nipped you now found their way back to the hem of your leggings.

" I-i want you, t-to continue, please touch me daddy, need it" You whimper to him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks, trying to convince him. "Good girl, since you asked so nicely, i'm happy to help." He says as his fingers dip back down into your leggings.

CHANGBIN

You're currently being bent over the edge of the couch as changbin is pounding into you, your eyes rolling back as he has already made you cum around his dick twice, close to a third.

"Holy fuck, baby, uh, you're bleeding, am i hurting you?" Changbin asks, coming to a halt inside you, still got his shirt in between his teeth, holding it up.

"No? you're not hurting me at all Binnie, wait.. what's todays date?" You ask, eyebrows frowning as you try catch you breath. Changbin makes an "uuhhhh" sound as he struggle but manages to reach over to the coffee table, still buried inside you to where your phone is & taps it.

"It's the tenth today, hunny when is your period due?" He asks, caressing your nips with his hands, kneading the skin.

You let out a small chuckle at the question. "It was meant to be here yesterday but didn't arrive, i was actually gonna buy a pregnancy test after valentines day if it still hadn't shown up... but i guess i don't need to anymore? you can pull out if you want Binnie i won't mind." you say, chuckling a bit. Changbin chuckles too.

"Don't be silly of course im not pulling out if you're giving me the option to stay in here, it's really hot to be honest. Kinda sucks that you'll be on your period for valentines day though, wont be able to give you a babyyyy" He whines, thrusting into you slowly as he leans over your back to kiss your shoulders.

HYUNJIN

You're lying on the bed, on top of a towel, in missionary as Hyunjin is slowly & sensually thrusting into you, pressing into your lower stomach so it feels that bit better for you, also helping him feel how deep inside you he is. He has already made you turn into basically just a puddle on the bed with the multiple orgasms he has pulled from you, made that bit more intense by the hormones from your period.

Hyunjin moans in a deep but loud pitch as he cums inside you, you whine along with his sounds as you feel his cum paint your walls along with the blood. He leans down & kisses you before gathering his breath & then pulls out before wiping his dick on the towel you're lying on before he slides off the bed, onto his knees, face at your swollen, blood covered cunt & clit.

"Baby whatcha doin? cmere i wanna cuddle" You say while leaning onto your elbows, moving your legs to shut but he stops you & holds them open. "We can cuddle soon gorgeous, but for now, hold your legs open for me baby, i wanna taste all our juices together mkay?" He says, voice cheerful but low in tone before he pushes your legs back, making you reach out & take them as he licks one long stripe from beneath your hole to the very top of your cit. He keeps his tongue out of his mouth to show it to you, a strip of red with a tint of white along his tongue, He hums at your flushed cheeks & blown out eyes as he digs back in.

He begins suckling & nibbling at your clit which makes you begin squirming & thrashing him around slightly but Hyunjin is quick to hold you back down. He moves slightly to let his nose bump & rub against your clit as he starts playing around with your folds & lets his tongue worm its way inside. You squeal at the new feeling.

"Fuck J-jinnie s-s-so good holy f-fuck your tongue feels so good gon-gonna cum alrea-dy" You whine, hand reaching down to wrap your fingers in his hair, pushing him impossibly closer to your cunt, him humming at the reaction coming from you.

Your high hits you a minute later, hyunjin still slurping away at you. You begin to get overstimulated as you come down from your high so hyunjin takes one last loud suck of your cunt before unlatching himself from it, admiring the glistening of your pussy, every inch except for your actual hole, practically as clean of blood as it can be. He worms his way up you & taps your chin. You open your mouth & he spits the mix of cum, blood & your wetness into your mouth.

"Thank you for letting me do that for you baby, cleaned you up so well" He rubs his nose against yours before he begins to move off you to clean his face but you pull him back & kiss him. "no, thank you for cleaning me up, my pretty boy."

HAN JISUNG

Han is beneath you currently blindfolded & tied to the bed by his arms as you finally pop off his dick, letting all the spit that accumulated from the blowjob you just gave him, him whining & complaining because of the loss of pleasure after being edged for the fourth time, tears beginning to wet the eyemask.

"You want my pussy now baby hm?" you ask, taking your panties off & now straddling his waist, grinding along the tiny seat. "yes m-m-mommy p-pulease, i'll do anyt-thing" he whines, trying to wiggle his arms out from their ties but it's no use. "fine, since you have been so patient & such a good boy, i guess you can feel it." You say in a low but pretty sounding voice as you raise your hips slightly when you notice blood on his lower waist, where you were just sitting.

"Oh.. uh Hannie, i.. my periods just came." you remove his blindfold & he does his best to look down & sees the small patch. "so? what's that got to do with anything?" he asks, boba eyes staring at you. "Hannie... you still wanna keep going? it will be.. you know.. messy." you reply back, still got your hips raised & still holding his cock in your hand. "of course i wanna keep going, it's hot as fuck." He giggles, still watching you for a reaction. You blush at his words & you nod before letting yourself sink down on him, both whining (han obviously whining louder & more than you.

FELIX

Felix is playing his Genchin at his PC but isn't paying much attention to the game itself since you are on top of him, riding him. His hands are on your ass helping you as he uses his strength to pull you up & down. You are a babbling mess at this point, drool leaving your mouth & dripping down your chin as he smirks at you & keeps groaning in his deep, heavy voice.

"I can feel ya clenchin' around me, ya gon' cum for me babe? I'm close.. fuck" he moans, leaning in to kiss you, hand leaving your ass to rub your clit.

"B-b-fuck im' cummin'" you squeal, burrying your head in his shoulder as your orgasm squirts onto his balls, shirt & gaming chair beneath him. Felix cums the second you do, your walls clenching him too tight to hold on.

He lifts you up, still inside you as he walks over to the bed & drops you down on it as he kisses your lips, cheek & then forehead before slipping out.

"I'll be right back baby." felix says, jogging into your bathroom. He comes back a minute later & you feel something warm against your pussy which makes you jolt. You look up to see Felix wiping your pussy with a warm damp towel. " What you doing lixie? is something wrong?" you ask, still unaware as to why he is doing this. "ah.. well you started your period babe, i wanted to clean you up a bit so you didn't get embarrassed" he says, blushing. "Oh... i'm sorry i uh.. messed your cock up with my blood, but thank you for cleaning me up lovely but i needa go bathroom, can you help me seeing since i dont think my legs work too well" you chuckle to him & he chuckles too before lifting you up around his waist as he carries you to the bathroom, still kissing you.

SEUNGMIN

Seungmin is under you right now as your thighs are on each side of his face as he is as deep as he can in your pussy as he is balls deep inside your mouth. Spit is dripping from your lips, down his balls, pelvis & legs as he is slurping every bit of juice you are leaking. You feel your orgasm about to hit when he suddenly lifts your hips up slightly so you pull your mouth off his dick.

"i knew you tasted different, kitten got her period, i know you keep track of it so did you do this on purpose hm? wanted me to eat your bloody cunt? that's dirty y/n." He says to you in a low voice, repositioning you both so he is now behind you as your ass is up & your face is cheek down on the bed>

"No sir.. promise, i didn't know it was due, we can stop i don't mi-" You are cut off as you feel his tip impaling you. "Why would i stop now hm? i've already came this far, might aswell feel if it's worth it seeing since i already tasted if it's worth it. You want my dick covered in your blood hm? mark it up even more hm?" He asks you rhetorically, starting to slowly thrust as your legs shake slightly, struggling to keep you up. "y-yes p-please let me sta-stain is sir" you whimper out, knuckles turning white from the grip you have on the bedsheets.

JEONGIN

You & Jeongin have been dating for around two months & you are now under him for the first time. You are in nothing but your thong & matching bra as he has your bra pulled to the side to suck on your nipples. He lets go with a pop when they're both fully hard as his other hand slithers down to your thong.

"You're this wet already? i feel honoured" He gives you his gorgeous cheeky smile & you chuckle back before he slithers his hand under but you realise the wetness he's dragging his fingers along feels.. different. You instantly jolt back which makes Jeongin jump.

"ARE you alright? did i hurt you? do something wrong?" he asks, eyes wide as plates.

"Eh, goodness, i think my periods just started? It.. the wetness feels a bit more thin... if it makes sense" you say, voice slighlty shaken as you grab Jeongins hand & look at it & you indeed do see red on his fingers.

"Holy fuck.. Jeongin i'-i'm so so so sorry, oh my god this is so embarrassing.." You shake a bit & Jeongin reaches over & hugs you tightly. "Don't worry bout it, it's natural so don't be embarrassed. Why not you go get cleaned up & do what you need to do & i'll go get food from the fridge since based off your reaction, i'm guessing you don't want this to be out first time." he giggles slightly & lets go of you to cup your cheeks, wiping the small tear that had rolled down your cheek. You nod at him before he kisses your nose then goes to the kitchen.

#bang chan #changbin #han jisung #hyunjin #jeongin #lee know #seungmin #skz smut #stray kids #felix #skz stay #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #kpop #kpop smut #skz headcanons #headcanon

[kittykattropicanna]

it's 2 am and i should sleep but i just read your prison penpal!ghost now it's rotting my brain!!!! ><

reader would so try to send him gifts if they're allowed. special holidays aren't miserable for him anymore as he would be accompanied by reader's sweet little presents!!!

Sleeps for the weak baby, sleep when you’re dead ;)

Of course you're going to look after your man, he does so much for you, the least you can do is send him some money to treat himself!!! maybe a gift or two you dirty girl :3

I know I promised to upload this last night after work but I was sleepy. IM SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME

TW: edging, Si fucks himself with your dirty panties, smut, masterbation (Reader and Simon) its just fucking disgusting and dirty, but also kinda sweet <3

PrisonPenPal!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

Absolutely, holy shit. After your first phone call, you’re his, he makes that so unbelievably clear through his next letters. :)))

Telling you how much he craves you, how you’re the only thing on his mind, describing in intimate detail how his gonna touch you, kiss you, fuck you :((((

His so fucking desperate for you, to the point he actually gets enraged knowing he can’t touch you. Just the thought of you being on the other side of the wall makes his skin crawl, you’re right there, only thick cement dividing him from you :(( 

Its even worse knowing that he can’t do anything about it >:(

Si’s a problem solver, he prides himself on being able to weasel his way out of practically any situation without a problem, if that’s  reducing his sentence down to basically nothing or getting away with his little late night phone calls with you. He always finds a way to make it work, but for the first time ever, he can’t fix this, his stuck here. No exceptions, no sweet talking to get what he wants, no amount of calculated manipulation could get him out of this situation, and it makes him go absolutely mad. 

At this point he has a year left of his sentence, his so fucking close to being let back into society, so close to finally being with you :(((

Letting his emotions (and dick) cloud his judgment, driving him to think about making stupid decisions such as an attempted jail break would be absolutely the worst idea of his entire life.

Ohhhhh, but its so tempting :(

But it would just put more time between you and him, as much as he wanted you now, he knew it was only going to rip him away from you again in the long run :/

And that’s if his even successful, one night with you would mean the world to him, but it wasn't worth being thrown back in jail, only separating the two of you for longer :(

He just needed to sit tight, let the days roll on and try not to think about your soft moans through the shitty speaker of the prison phone. :(((

He absolutely asked you to be official after speaking to you for the first time. It drives him crazy knowing when guys try and hit on you at the bar, you smile brightly and tell them that you're his, his to keep. 

One of the guards asked him what’s the first thing his going to do when he gets out, with a dopey smile he chuckles a little

“See ma’ missus mate” his so fucking cute, his actually so obsessed with you, so proud that you’re his ;))))

Of course the other inmates wouldn’t know, and technically he most definitely shouldn’t of told a guard, news spreads, but he couldn’t help it, it slipped out, and you know what, he was fucking proud of it :)))

You 100% would send him money and gifts, Si makes a little money, about £35 a week either cleaning, laundry duties, basic maintenance, basically anything the job program can offer him. 

The only issue being when he first signed up, he made sure that all his money was payed into Price’s bank account. He didn’t want to risk using it, the whole reason he started the work program was because he wanted to try and set himself up once he got out, at least have some type of savings waiting for him on the other side. Every now and then he regrets it, but he knows its for the best :/

Learning that Si was so strict with his money that he didn’t treat himself to anything didn’t sit well with you….and its not like you’re struggling financially, you work a good job and your daddy is always willing to send money if you ever needed it!!!!

A hundred odd pounds a month isn’t going to leave any sort of dint in your bank account, so of course your going to send Si some money to treat himself!!! You’re such a sweet, sweet girl :(((, his sweet, sweet girl. 

You start sending the maximum amount each month which comes out to about £150, its the least you can do!! His your boyfriend! he might be a felon, a little perverted and rough around the edges, but to you, his perfect :)))

His so grateful as well :(( treating himself to snacks :((( chocolate bars, skittles and gummy’s, buying himself a book or two, replacing his flat, stained pillow and ratted blankets, getting himself some actually nice soap and a new toothbrush, buying clothes that actually fit him!! 

His muscles have grown so much since being locked up :3 there’s nothing else to do besides lift weights, work and sit around :((((

“Sweetheart, I want ya’ to know, the second I get out of here, imma treat you real nice, give ya’ everything I can, look after ya’, protect ya’”

and

“The minute I get ya’ home, its all about you, yeah? Imma lay ya’ down and eat ya’ like a starved man, overstimulate that little cunt till ya’ beggin’ me to stop, fuck ya’ so deep and hard that you’ll forget ya’ fuckin’ name, whatever ya’ want darlin’ its all yours, been lookin’ after me so well….. imma show ya’ how much I appreciate it, as ya’ can probably tell, i’m more a man of action, poetry an’t ma style baby ;)”

Definitely learns origami from other inmates, makes little paper swans and hearts for you, the paper always being a little stained from his dirty fingers, obvious crease marks showing his folded it the wrong way and had to reattempt :))))

God he knows how to treat a women :33333

But what I really want to get into are the gifts you send him…..;)

As I established in my last fics about you sending things to Si, you absolutely send him innocent gifts. 

Photos, one of your favourite gold necklaces, an oversized tee that smells like your perfume…. Cute little personal things so he can have a piece of you, nothing crazy :3

I feel like you were reading a spicy romance book. It mentioned the main character stealing his lovers used panties out of her dirty laundry basket, very quickly and idea clicked in your brain :((((

You wanted it to be a surprise for him :(((( you didn’t mention it to him in your letters, only telling him your working on a little something that’s crafted just for him ;))

Waking up in the morning you make sure to fuck yourself with your fingers :(( 

Covering your panties with your juices, making sure their absolutely soaked in your cum :((

Rubbing your thighs together while you’re at work, soaking through your panties with your arousal :((( thinking about Si eating your pussy just like he promised while in important meetings, loosing focus…. your boss pulling you aside and asking if you’re okay :(( 

Scrambling to find an answer to explain your distracted behaviour and flushed cheeks >:(

He ends up sending you home because you’re distracting everyone with your aloofness :(( putting the rest of your team behind because you're a selfish girl with a dirty mind >:( can’t even focus in your workplace because Si’s dirty words have taken over every aspect of your thoughts >:(

At the end of the day your panties are ruined with your slick, soaked  all the way through and smelling of your orgasm just like you planned ;))

And when Si received your thong obviously used??? :000000 he let out a low grunt....

Just the idea that you did this for him, fully confirming in his mind that you wanted him, craved him just as much as he craved you made something animalistic set off in his mind….

Because he received your package in the middle of the day, he couldn’t hide and tend to himself like normal >:((((((

He needed you now, he needed to fuck his cock NOW, not wait till his cell mates were asleep, his heavy balls ached and he knew if he didn’t relieve himself soon, his blue balls would become unbearable >:(((( aching and hurting with each step, uncomfortable and frustrated :(

Purposely being a dick and coursing havoc with his inmates so he can be locked up for his disruptive and disrespectful behaviour ;)))))

A shit eating grin when his in handcuffs being walked to his cell, knowing your panties are tucked into his boxers ;))))) his won yet again ;)

Like I’ve said before, and I’ll say it again, he ALWAYS gets what he wants :)))

The second his cell locks his ripping his hard, leaky cock out and wrapping your used panties around himself :((((

Pumping his fat dick, the friction of the fabric making it that much more satisfying :((((

Closing his eyes and imagining you walking around all day, turned on and flustered for him >:((((( the idea of you restricting yourself from fucking other men because you're his, knowing all you want is to be filled with dick, have the feeling of a real cock fucking you, not your cold, rubber dildo >:(

His precum mixing with your juices only turns him on more, knowing that this is the closest he’ll get to fucking your cunt for now :(( 

As his big hands slowly pump his dick, wanting to savour the moment, he lets out animalistic grunts, slowly speeding up and then slowing his pace, he edges himself almost whimpering when he refrains from his release yet again :(((

Something about holding back satisfies him, his training himself for you, getting ready for when he fucks you for the first time, wanting to hold out long enough that he can rip orgasm after orgasm out of you, forming a white rim of your cum around the base of his cock :(((

Grunted whispers of your name falling from his lips as he tries to hold back yet again, legs twitching and face getting hot as uncontrollable ropes of cum finally release from his vainy cock :(((

His never cum that much in his life, your panties damp with his semen, dick so sensitive that even the feeling of the fabric from his boxes makes him flinch >:(((

You’re such a good girl, always knowing how to please him, feels like you know him inside and out already ;)

You just wait until he gets his hands on you sweet girl ;))) 

Y'all are so fucking obsessed with each other I CAN'T

PrisonPenPal!Simon is open for requests so feel free to send them throughhhhh, add to the AU, ask me expand on certain topics, whatever floats your boat >:)

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

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#PrisonPenPal!Simon #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley imagine #call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #simon riley x y/n #ghost call of duty #cod headcanons #fanfiction #fanfic #cod au

[221bshrlocked]

fatal dis|at|traction

Pairing: Hunter x AFAB!Reader

Words: 9774

Warnings: Unrequited feelings (in more ways than one). Touch-starved characters. Lots of sweet/dirty talk. Hunter likes to tease a lot. Oral Sex (female receiving). Fingering. Squirting. Just a bit of a knife kink (it's not everyone's cup of tea so it's a very short scene). Pentrative, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up folks). Creampie. Cuddling.

Summary: You have feelings for Tech who is now taken. Hunter notices your little predicament and decides to offer you a solution, one that you take enthusiastically. Little do you know that this could be the start of something new.

A/N: It's been a minute but I'm very thankful for the Life Day Gift Exchange by @cloneficgiftexchange because I finally managed to write something. This is for @intricatechaosofyou who gave a prompt after my own heart. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Coincidentally, this also fits into one of the @clonexreaderbingo prompts I got which I am embarrsingly behind on.

With every little chuckle you heard from Phee, your heart beat in jealousy at not being Tech’s center of attention. You thought it wouldn’t be an issue in the beginning, assuming that Tech would remain uninterested in Phee’s flirtatious advances. But the more she hung out with the team, the more he warmed up to her subtle compliments and faint touches. Before you knew what was happening, he was hanging out with her whenever you and the batch had time off from the crazy missions Sid continued to send you on. 

Then she took you to Pabu and things really spiraled. Their time together increased each day and you barely got to see him. You couldn’t blame him really, or Phee. You just wished you had more time or perhaps been a bit more brave about your feelings towards him.

Another random laugh fills the afternoon air, this time from Tech, and you can’t help but stop what you’re doing and look at the two of them enjoying the preparation for Life Day. You look with longing at the man who managed to captivate your heart with a simple, random fact, and you sigh heavily at knowing that you’ll never really have a chance with him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter breaks your sad train of thought, and you turn around to look at him, silently praying that he didn’t just notice you staring at his brother. You pack the decoration boxes and look down to the ground, pretending you don’t understand what he’s talking about. 

“What?” You ask once, and when Hunter doesn’t respond right away, you glance at him quickly to try and gauge his reaction, hoping that you can fool him by acting as clueless as possible about his question. He stares at you silently, uncrossing his arms and heading towards you to help you out with the rest of the boxes.

“I- I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Sarge.” You say in passing as you make your way to the storehouse, already thinking of some lie to respond with in case he dragged this out. When you set down all the empty containers, you shut the door behind the two of you and head towards the center of the town. 

“Don’t do that…not with me.” Hunter breaks the silence after a while, stopping you in your tracks and waiting until you acknowledge him. You ring your fingers nervously, gulping down the nervousness that built up in your throat before facing him. There’s another fake reply at the tip of your tongue but before you can say anything, Hunter beats you to it, stopping you from embarrassing yourself any further. 

“Come on, you can’t lie to me.” He furrows his eyebrows, looking at the couple standing not too far from you before centering his attention back on you again.

“I’m not lying.” You’re more defensive than you’d like and Hunter sighs in irritation, shaking his head and taking those last few steps towards you. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass you but he knows this conversation won’t go anywhere unless you willingly open up to him. 

“Then why is your heart racing? I can practically feel you shaking. You’re not even looking at me.” Your palms grow sweaty the more he reveals those little details about you. 

“Talk to me.” You never thought you’d hear him plead for anything and when you finally look at him, you see a genuine, heartfelt expression on his face, one that makes you feel even more horrible about the predicament you found yourself in. 

“It’s not important, don’t- just don’t worry about it.” You wave your hand around and turn around to walk away from him, only to feel a strong hold wrap around your wrist and stop you from going anywhere else. 

“Tech is a genius, but he can be incredibly dense at times.” Hunter waits until you meet his eyes again before he whispers that last sentiment. The shock of the exclamation sends your heart racing, and your eyes widen in horror at the prospect of everyone else potentially knowing your feelings for Tech. 

“Wha- how…how did you know?”

“I know mesh’la, I know.” He loosens his grip a little, but doesn’t let you go completely, not wanting you to run away from him. The two of you stand in quietness for too long to your liking, and you give up on trying to pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. 

You give up on trying to make it seem like you’re okay. 

“Is it that obvious?” The chuckle is self-deprecating, and you avoid looking into his hazel gray eyes, afraid you’d cry if he continues to give you that horribly sentimental expression. 

“Not to the others, although Echo guessed just as much a while back. But no, the others don’t know.” Hunter lets go of you then, but he doesn’t move away from you, wanting you to know that he’s here to help in whatever you’ll allow him to. 

“How did you find out?” You move away from the crowd slowly forming around the town square, wanting to have some privacy from prying eyes, from Wrecker and Omega. 

“I notice the way your eyes light up whenever he walks in the room, or goes on one of those rants about kriff knows what.” Anyone else would have laughed at you, but you feel at peace knowing that Hunter would never tease you about something like this. He was too kind to joke about such an intimate little secret. 

“Hmm.”

“And your heart beats like you’ve just run across the whole of Coruscant.” Hunter adds as he comes to a halt in front of the house you reserved for yourself when you first got to Pabu. 

“Ahh, that is extremely embarrassing.” You turn away from him as you respond, not wanting to be at the receiving end of whatever comment he was going to throw your way.

“It’s not…it’s natural to react that way when you have feelings towards someone.” You’re a little surprised by his explanation, mostly because you never thought he’d be the type to speak so sweetly about something as awkward as emotions. 

“Right.” You can’t help but smile when you see him shrug at you, and as you’re about to unlock your door, Hunter turns around and grabs the knob, preventing you from reaching for it, let alone turn around and get away from him. 

“You know what you need?” He asks, and you shiver at the sudden drop in his voice, wondering why he was suddenly becoming so friendly with you. 

“Please enlighten me, because this whole conversation hasn’t been humiliating enough as is.” You laugh in an attempt to diffuse the tension slowly building in between the two of you, but Hunter doesn’t crack a single smile, roaming his eyes down your neck and taking in a deep breath before meeting your gaze once more. 

“You need to get your mind off of him, just for a little while. Find a distraction…sometimes you have to stay busy so you don’t feel.” You’re too distracted by the proximity between his body and your own to dwell on the true meaning behind his words. 

“Yeah well, good thing we’re staying here. Helping rebuild the city will definitely take my mind off of him and…ugh, I guess make me focus less on seeing the two of them together.” Looking past him to the slowly busying town square, you completely miss the way he bites his lower lip as he studies you closely and shakes his head at your response. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh yeah, what do you mean th-” Turning your focus back to him, the words die in your throat when you finally notice the way he’s looking at you. You part your lips in a gasp, finding it difficult to breathe as Hunter leans into your space and groans his intentions against your jaw. 

“I mean…you need to get your mind off of him, and onto something else…perhaps someone else.” Your body freezes at the unexpected intimacy of the moment, and although you know you should push him away and tell him to forget whatever was happening, you tell yourself that this might just be what you need to forget about Tech. 

“I s-see.” Hunter’s hand reaches for your waist, holding you against him until he’s sure you’re accepting his advances. He smiles at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief that sends a zap of lightning down your spine. 

It was a warm day in Pabu, but having Hunter flush against your chest makes you even more heated, and you gulp down whatever nervousness was threatening to make itself known in the form of a rejection, allowing your fingers to dance along his forearm before you grab onto his shoulders for support. 

“W-what do you have in mind?” He gets even more bold then, wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you in until you nearly bump your forehead against his nose. 

“I think you know.” His voice is gravely, and it occurs to you then that he may have always had this deep baritone, but you just never truly appreciated it until now. 

“Humor me, Sarge.” You smirk right back at him, eyes dancing from his lips to his piercing gaze in preparation for what he’s about to say. 

“Well, you’ll first need to find someone willing to help you out, someone who knows all about distractions. Then, you take them somewhere private and…how should I put this, kindly ask them to fuck your brains out…take the edge off a little…and if you start thinking of him again, you get on your knees and have them dick you down real hard…till you can’t think straight.” His lips graze across the skin of your cheek, down to your neck, as he promises you the filthiest sentiments, and if you weren’t sure you knew the man standing in front of you was far beyond the average man, you would have asked him how he had you melting into his arms in such a small period of time. 

“Maker,” you nearly reach up to kiss him but then quickly remember that anyone can see you. Before you can push him away, Hunter nudges you harshly to get your attention again, not wanting you to get distracted by your surroundings or if anyone might hear what the two of you have in mind. 

“Hmm, I think your body agrees with me sweetheart. Why don’t you have that tired brain of yours catch up?” He nods at your head, tilting his head to the side as if he was asking you a silent question. 

“Do you…do you know someone that can do all of what you just said?” 

“You’re right in luck baby, I happen to be free for the next couple of hours.” Hunter responds right away, knowing that it would be extremely difficult to have you like this again. 

“Ahhh, t-that saves me from looking then.” You smile when he rests against you and nudges your nose with his own, aquiline one. 

“So, what do you want?” Again, his voice is smoother than honey, sending you spiraling in a matter of seconds out of anticipation. 

“I thought you…don’t be cruel, please.” You kiss the corner of his mouth, feeling the rough stubble across his sharp cheeks burn you in the sweetest way. Hunter turns his head far enough to finally tough his lips with your own, the kiss ending far too quickly to your liking but leaves you begging for more. 

“Never…never. I mean, how do you want it mesh’la? You want it slow, soft, sensual…” He slithers his hands across your body, leaving a trail of fire across your skin with each sweet touch he graces you with. 

“Or do you like it hard and fast…till you can’t scream anymore?” He digs his nails into your curves then grabbing and squeezing your ass until you nearly fall against him.

“Oh fuck…I- Hunter, please.”

“You’re a big girl, use your words and tell me what you want!” Hunter combs his hand into your hair, tugging on it harshly until you throw your head back and give him access to your neck. He descends down on you like a madman, nipping and sucking on the soft expanse of your skin until you’re panting in his embrace. 

“You want me to be sweet with you…or do you want to feel me with every step you take tomorrow?” He licks the bitemarks he’s left behind, chuckling to himself when he feels you shaking in his arms and practically begging him to fuck you right out in the open. 

“Please Hunter, be- be rough with me. As rough as you want.” You reach for the collar of his shirt, fisting it in your hands as if you were holding on for dear life. You should have known that as everything else, Hunter would easily take you down without breaking a sweat. 

“A girl after my own heart.” He chuckles then, the sweet sound shooting straight into your chest and making you wish he just pushed the door behind you open and took you somewhere more private. 

“I’ll take my time with you next time baby, worship every fucking inch of your body as you deserve. But tonight…tonight I’m going to teach you how to take me…please me…open up for me and take my cum like the good girl I know you are.” He kisses across your damp skin in between words, finding it difficult to continue holding back when he could practically smell your arousal the more he whispers into your ears. 

“I’m going to fuck you into the next galaxy sweetheart, till the only name your pretty little brain can remember is mine and mine alone.” Your heart beats so fast Hunter thinks you might pass out, but as you melt into his arms and pull him closer to you, he knows that you’re enjoying this as much as he was. 

“And believe me when I tell you, I’ll know if you’re thinking of him. So be a pretty little sweetheart and focus on me.” He moves away to take a better look at you, raising a curious eyebrow when he finds you completely lost in every touch and every sweet word he was gifting you with. 

“Yes,” you barely manage to breathe out, waiting for whatever he still has in stock for you. 

“Yes?” Hunter asks, his expression turning more serious when you open your eyes and look right into his own. There’s something so erotic about how much he can sense every little reaction you have to his advances, but he sets his thoughts aside long enough to hear you openly consent to him. 

“Yes, sergeant.” Those two words are music to his ears, and he steps away instantly, but not before making sure you can still stand on your own two feet. You snap out of your haze when you no longer feel the heat of his body against yours. 

“Good girl.” He grabs your hand and leads you away from your home, down the tiled pathway towards the quieter side of the island. 

“Where…where are you taking me?”

“Some place where you can scream my name without worrying about anyone hearing you.” He nearly stops in his tracks when he hears you moan in response to his words, but he knows that if he looks back now, he might never make it to his own place. If anything, the reaction he gets out of you makes him walk quicker, not caring for how you stumble several times as he continues towards the smaller, but more private homes at the bottom of the island. 

You can’t look away from him, and as you follow him blindly, you find yourself surprised at not wishing he was someone else. Maybe because you’ve always found him objectively handsome, all the clones were if you were being honest, or perhaps because you’ve always wondered what it would be like to be with someone like Hunter, someone who you knew would be so attuned to every sound and every muscle twitch you’d have that he’d know instantly how to please you. But the longer you dwell on it, the more you realize that you’re lucky to have someone like him pay you this much attention, or even be willing to give you this favor. 

Little did you know that while you were longing for Tech, Hunter was struggling to keep his own feelings at bay. He didn’t want to take advantage of you, far from it, but he figured that maybe, just maybe, if he showed you how much he cares for you, you’d look at him instead of his brother. 

He can feel your eyes on him, and his heart skips a beat at the prospect of finally having your attention. Hunter wants to ask you if you’re sure about this, but as he approaches his residence, he finds himself less willing to break the two of you out of whatever cloud you’ve fallen under, afraid that you’d change your mind and leave. 

The thought nearly breaks his heart, but as he slows down and unlocks his door, he feels your hands shaking even harder, and he knows then that he needs to give you an out because you may not be able to take it yourself. 

“Sweet girl, you’re trembling.” He turns around and cups your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes so you’re sure he doesn’t mind if you walk away from him. 

“If you’ve changed your mind…if- if you don’t want this anymore, we can stop. It’s- it’s okay.” The words sound less convincing to his ears, but he braces himself for the rejection he’s sure you’re about to give him. 

“No, Hunter please.” Your instant response sends a wave of relief and reluctance through his chest, and his eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they soften again, knowing that if you noticed his expression, you might push through just to not upset him. 

“I won’t have you against your will baby.” He leans over and kisses the small space in between your eyebrows, waiting until you relax against him before he pulls away and meets your gaze again. 

“I want this, Hunter. I- I want you. I’d be lying to myself if I said otherwise.” You tug at his forearms, wanting him to not shy away from you, perhaps even afraid that he’d change his mind and tell you to leave. Your nerves slowly rise again and Hunter must sense your spiraling thoughts because he pulls you into the small space and shuts the door behind you, pushing you against the wall and stepping impossibly close to you so you can only feel him. 

“Tell me what you need. Right this moment.” 

“Can you just...hold me for a minute? I- I need to feel your arms around me.” You barely manage to breathe out the request, not because you think he’ll laugh at it but because you find yourself having a difficult time thinking of a single coherent thought. 

“Sure thing ad’ika, come here.” Hunter slowly walks back to the small bed at the edge of the wall, sitting down on the soft surface of the covers before pulling you into his lap. You follow him quietly, finding it oddly soothing to have him in control of your actions rather than your own mind. You throw your arms around him and rest your head on his chest, willing yourself to relax as soon as you feel his hands roam across your back soothingly. 

“I want you to focus on my heartbeat.” You do as he says, moving your head down a little further so you can listen to his heart. If you’re shocked by how much faster it is, you say nothing and dwell on the fact that he may be just as nervous as you are. 

“Take deep breaths,” Hunter slides one hand underneath your shirt to test the waters, shutting his eyes and smiling to himself when your muscles relax deeper into him. 

“Nothing else matters, little one. Only you, and me…right here and now.” He reminds you one last time, massaging your back and turning his head every once in a while to kiss you. Hunter shuts his eyes to commit this moment to memory, unsure of whether he’ll ever get to have you like this again or not. He says nothing after, wanting to ensure that you have all the time you need before the two of you do anything. 

You’re not sure how long you spend in his arms but when you no longer feel nervous at being in his presence, you pull away and rest your hands on his chest, willing yourself to be brave enough to look into his eyes after experiencing such an intimate moment with him. 

“Feeling better?” He reaches for your chin and moves it up softly to take a better look at you. As soon as he looks into your eyes, he smiles at you, waiting until you return the expression before doing anything else. 

“Hmm.”

“Then why don’t you lay back for me.” He moves you off of him and studies you closely as you maneuver yourself around his bed. You’re less shy than before, that he’s sure of, but you do as he says more confidently, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Hunter, and makes him imagine all that he can do to you. 

“You know, I- I always thought you had a soothing voice,” you break the silence reluctantly, biting your lower lip when you notice Hunter smirking at the unexpected sentiment. 

“Yeah?” He questions as he kneels on the bed and slowly crawls towards you. 

“Yes, but now…now I’m realizing it’s your presence.” You waver in your response, finding it difficult to think of anything when he’s looking at you like you’re his prey. 

“Tell me more.” Hunter demands, dancing his fingers across whatever skin he has access to and watching as goosebumps erupt across your body at the simple touches. 

“It’s in your touch, your- kriff, your movements…your gaze.” You arch your back when Hunter digs his nose at the space just above the edge of your pants and takes a long whiff of your scent. You think that if anyone else has done something so strange, you’d be turned off by it, but this was Hunter, and scenting was important to him, especially since he must have been getting awfully close to you because he liked what he could smell. 

“Glad to be of service,” he comments in passing, nudging your shirt up to get more access to the skin of your stomach. He kisses your navel, breathing you in with each new bit of flesh he came across. 

“Gods above,” you can’t take it anymore, reaching for his shoulder and trying to pull him closer to you so he could speed things up a bit. 

“No sweetheart, it’s only me.” He chuckles at the whine you send his way, looking up at you as he parts your thighs and makes space for himself in between. 

“You’re d-driving me insane Hunter.” Hunter doesn’t move an inch as you try to bring him closer. If anything, he slows down even more and takes both of your hands into his own, softly kissing the wrist of each one before bringing them above your head. 

“If you’re still coherent, then I’m not driving you insane enough.” He’s teasing you, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was pushing you to a point where you could do nothing but beg for him. So distracted with the patterns he’s drawing across your arms, you don’t realize where the other hand is reaching until you feel his grip tighten around your throat. 

“Ahh, please.” You arch your back, grabbing the sheets beneath you in an attempt to keep your hands where he asked you to. You want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and surrender to his lips, but you knew better than to disobey his orders. Hunter was a strict man in the field, and you were positive he wasn’t any different in this context. If anything, he was probably even more severe now. At least you hoped he would be. 

“And remember baby, it’s ‘Sergeant’ for you. Got it?”

“Yes, sergeant.”

“Now, do me a favor and keep your hands there.” He taps twice on them, waiting until you nod in agreement before he sits back up and takes your wrecked form. He hoped you’d open up for him easily, but he never thought you’d be so needy, let alone greedy for him. 

“But how will you take my clothes off?” You pout at him, the expression making Hunter wish he could flip you over and fuck you into oblivion. But he knew you needed him to be soft tonight, even if you were adamant in making him get a little rough with you. 

“Let’s not spoil the fun.” He warns with a pinch to your hip, chuckling at the way you jump and your thighs unintentionally close around him. 

“A bit sensitive, aren’t we?” He rests one hand near your head as he leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth, waiting for you to breathe before touching your lips with his own. It’s a chaste kiss, yet it sends your heart leaping through the roof because of how unexpectedly tender it is. 

“I…haven’t done this in a while.” You whisper against his mouth, chasing him along when he begins to pull away again. 

“Shame,” it’s such a simple comment, and yet you feel a string of butterflies in your stomach at the implication behind it. The fact that you held Hunter’s focus when so many on the island were begging for it makes you wish he could have approached you sooner. 

“Hmmph,” the sound of your moan reaches your ear instantly, and you try to hide from Hunter out of embarrassment, but he doesn’t let you, moving down your body slowly and continuing to drive you mad with need for him. 

“Go on baby, moan for me.”

“What if s-someone hears?”

“Everyone’s in town for the celebrations,” he reaches down and unbutton your pants, looking straight into your eyes as he pulls the fabric down your legs and throws it behind him. You try to close your legs quickly, afraid he could smell how wet you are. But Hunter is much faster than you, and he prevents you from moving another muscle, looking down once at the dark patch on your panties before meeting your eyes again, silently letting you know that he could smell you long before this very moment. 

“No one’ll hear you, mesh’la. So beg all you want, you’re mine tonight.” He slips one finger beneath the edge of your panties, thumbing at the skin of your hips to get you to calm down a little before he does anything else. 

“Only tonight?” You don’t mean to ask this question, not now at least, but you figured you may as well see if this was a one-time thing or not. 

“Oh I don’t get to decide that, you do.” He surprises you with his answer, and the shock must be visible on your face because Hunter tilts his head to the side and stares at you until you realize you really were in control of what goes on between the two of you. 

“So if I- oh kriff, if I want you to fuck me every night…”

“Then ask me nicely.” He slips one hand underneath your shirt, raising it above your stomach to your chest and laying it across your sternum to feel your heartbeat. When you don’t respond right away, he slides his hand a little further and draws random patterns just below your breast. 

“Better yet, beg me sweetly…and I’ll give you my cock whenever you like.” He promises as he continues to edge you into submission, something that makes you wish you could yell at him about and thank him for. 

“T-thank you, sarge.” Your breathing becomes erratic the longer he touches you anywhere but where you want him, and just as you begin to give up hope, he removes his hands completely from your form and reaches behind him. 

“Do you trust me cyar’ika?” The question is asked with hesitance, and you’re not sure why he’s asking you this all of a sudden, but when you hear the sound of a clasp coming undone, you know why he’s being so serious. 

“You know I do.” It’s the first thing you said since he dragged you behind him where you aren’t practically shaking beneath him, and once he’s completely satisfied with your response, he pulls out the blade from its holster and flips it around. You’re enamored by the swift movement of the weapon as it dances in between his fingers, and the faster Hunter plays with the knife, the more difficult you find it to breathe. 

“Then look at me.” He demands as he stops swinging the knife around, and you obey him instantly, gulping excitedly as he leans over your body once again and places the sharp end of the knife at the top of your shirt, inches below your neck.  

“Don’t,” Hunter warns slowly, nicking small holes into your shirt until the article of clothing rips down the middle, “move,” his voice is somehow even more gravely than before, and you stop breathing altogether, not because you think he’ll hurt you but because you can’t help but feel turned on by how focused he is on you and how safe you feel with something so dangerous, “a muscle.” He continues to ruin your shirt and you can’t find it in yourself to care one bit, knowing that being at Hunter’s mercy was worth far more than any shirt you could own. When he completely separates both sides of the fabric, he slips the wide edge of the knife beneath the fabric and pushes it to the side before grabbing the other with his fingers and displaying your nude skin to his hungry eyes. 

You let out a deep breath and refuse to look anywhere else but his dilated pupils, clenching your thighs tightly at knowing that you were the reason behind such a dramatic reaction from him. 

“I can smell you, little one. Does this turn you on?” He finally looks away from your heaving chest to your eyes, and when he finds you already staring at him, he smiles to himself and places the knife down gently on the small table near his bed. You’re disappointed that he clearly won’t be using it anymore, and Hunter notices the small expression because he trails his fingers down your front and pinches one nipple to get your attention. 

“Use your words and tell me.” You arch into his rough ministrations, whispering your response and moaning for more. 

“Y-yes, it does.”

“I knew you’d be fun.” He soothes the heated skin of your breast, drawing small circles around one nipple just as he leans down and takes the other in between his teeth. You whine his name over and over again, and Hunter growls his approval against you, lapping up the bitemarks he left around your hardened peak before sucking harshly on it again. 

“Fuck, I do love how sensitive you are.” He manages to say right before diving for the other nipple and tasting your natural scent along with the soap you use to shower. 

“And how hard your nipples perk at the touch of my fingers.” He thinks you’re about to move one hand so he reaches quickly for it, gripping it tightly and keeping it against the bed while he leaves angry marks across your chest. 

“Ahh maker, please sergeant.” Your moans are becoming louder, and Hunter decides then and there that if you were going to scream for him, it should be his name falling from your lips, not his rank. The only warning you get before he descends down your body is his hand slipping underneath your panties and instantly pushing two fingers into your cunt. You’re dripping for him, and his thick fingers rub against your tight walls with an embarrassing ease. 

“Kriff, I know I asked you to call me that, but forget it.” Hunter looks into your eyes as he lets go of your wrist and grabs the back of your neck, not bothering to say anything else as he lunges for your mouth and swallows your moans. You part your thighs and your lips for him, not caring for any rule he’s given you as you throw your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. He fingers you slowly, but as begin to clench tightly around him, Hunter can’t hold back anymore and he moves off of you with a wet smack before crawling down your body. You’re shocked by the sudden urgency of his movement, and as soon as you reach for his hair and tug on it, you feel his warm lips close around your clit and his tongue aggressively lap at the engorged bundle of nerves. 

“I want you to scream my name, mesh’la. Scream my name as you come on my tongue.” 

“Hu- ahhh g-gods!” You’re not aware of what you’re saying, and the harder Hunter thrusts his fingers into you, the quicker you feel your release coming along. 

“You smell…so sweet.” Hunter manages to breathe in between his assault on your pussy, and you let go of his hair to grab for the sheets beneath you, not wanting to hurt him by how hard you’d pull on his hair. 

“But you taste so much sweeter.” He feels his cock harden as the taste and scent of you fill his nostrils. Normally, he’d find it overwhelming to be surrounded by so many strong scents, but the more you gush for him, the more he wants to dive into you and make you soak him with your arousal. 

“Hunter, oh right there…please.” You reach for his hair again, but this time, you pull so hard that his red bandana comes off in your hand and reminds you to loosen your hold so as to not overwhelm him with too many sensations. 

“Sorry, I-” You try to apologize but the words trail off when Hunter looks up and shakes his head at you. 

“I don’t mind, sweet thing. Go on, pull as hard as you want.” He leans down and kisses the hand near his head, nipping at your thumb to let you know that he was feeling more than okay. 

“But won’t that-” You don’t want him to feel like he needs to do this for you, but Hunter distracts you again, rubbing at your clit with his thumb to get you to listen to him. 

“Please cyar’ika, let me feel you…everywhere.” Hunter begs you, pushing your thighs apart even more in an attempt to get you to do as he says. He doesn’t wait for a response then, descending down on you again with more passion than you thought him capable of in such a setting, and before you know it, he has you right at the edge with his expert hands and his enthusiastic mouth. You should have known that he’d know what you like quickly, but something about him being so attuned to your responses pushes you closer to your orgasm, and before you know it, you’re shutting your eyes and letting the flood of sensations overtake you. 

“Hmm fuck, that’s it.” You scratch at his scalp as you pull on his hair, the action driving Hunter nearly mad and making him grab at your stomach to keep you planted to his face. 

“Hunter…I- I’m co-” His harsh breathing and how hard he continues to lick at your clit is all you need to fall apart, and as soon as he coils his fingers inside you and rubs your tight walls, you come around him instantly, shaking violently beneath his firm body and screaming nonsense into the damp air of the room. It’s becoming nearly too much, and although you want him to stop, you can’t find it in yourself to push him away, a part of you sensing that he may need this as much as you. So you let him continue his assault on your cunt, and before you realize what’s about to happen, Hunter pulls away and watches as you soak his arms and his bed with your juices. He doesn't let up once, plunging his fingers into you so quickly that you manage to wet even his thighs. When he hears your heart beating impossibly rapidly against your chest, he slows down and removes his hand from you, pulling away and watching as your panties hide you from his eyes again. 

He waits until you look at him before he slowly sucks on each of his fingers, smirking to himself when you hide behind your arms and close your thighs immediately. 

“I changed my mind.” His voice is rough, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s turned on or because he’s having a difficult time breathing just as you. Then the words settle in your remind and you move your hands away to take a better look at him. 

“W-what?” You don’t have time to grab him as he gets off the bed and reaches for his shirt, throwing it away as well before unzipping his pants and pulling them down his thighs and stepping out of them before kneeling on the bed again. 

“We can do rough later. Right now, I want to watch you come undone…slowly.” He grabs your ankles and pulls them apart, not caring for how blatant he’s being with his staring as he moves towards you again. 

“Fuck baby, you’re gushing for me.” His disbelief sends a shiver down your spine and you softly smack his thigh to get his attention away from your heated core. 

“Hunter, don’t- don’t say stuff like that.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” He narrows his eyes at you, daring you to say anything in disagreement. 

“It’s…embarrassing.” You manage to whisper out, only to have Hunter shamelessly wipe the wetness over your legs with his hand. 

“No, it’s fucking sexy mesh’la….and if I had known taking my shirt off would turn you on this much, I would have walked around naked since you came on board.” He reaches for your hand and you squeal suddenly when he tugs you harshly until you nearly smack his chest. Looking down at you, Hunter bites into his lower lips as he pulls the rest of your shirt away and throws it away, not bothering to push you back into bed when you rest your hands against his naked chest and feel his muscles flex and unflex. 

“Speaking of taking things off…” You try to grab your panties but Hunter stops you, shaking his head and bringing your hand back to his skin. 

“No, keep’em on.” 

“But-”

“These are mine now, and I want nothing more than to smell your cunt and my cum on them…when I take them.” Hunter nods down at the wet article of clothing as he swipes your hair away from your face and softly grazes your bruised lips. 

“Hmph, you’re a shy little thing aren’t you?” He wonders out loud when you turn away from and rest your forehead against his stomach, once again feeling a sense of pride wash over him at being the one to bring such a reaction out of you. 

“Do the honors.” He takes your hands and moves them down his rigid form, not missing the way your breath hitches when you feel the muscles on his stomach flutter at the soft touch of your palms. You don’t dare look up at him as you drag his boxers down his hips until his cock juts out from beneath the elastic. 

“Oh fuck me.” You stop what you’re doing as soon as you see the size of him, and Hunter uses your moment of distraction to his advantage, pushing you back into the bed and moving away to step out of his boxers before returning to you again. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” He remembers the biosheath and finds one in his drawer instantly, but before he can take it out, you take his wrist and bring it back to you. 

“Wait-” You stop him, unsure of what to say now that he was looking at you with such an unreadable expression. 

“You don’t have to- like I said, I haven’t done this in…in a while. And I’ve-” Your attempts to explain to him that you don’t have anything and that you wouldn’t mind it if he didn’t use a biosheath with you evaporate into thin air, and as you give up on trying to relay the message, Hunter shuts the drawer and lays on top of you. One look into his eyes gives you away and you turn from him to avoid whatever embarrassing words you’re sure he’s about to relay to you. 

“You want me to fill you with my seed, little one?” The question is asked in such a low voice that you nearly miss the playfulness in between. You refuse to acknowledge him, afraid of how much he’d drag this out if you told him outright that you wanted to feel him leak out of you. 

“You want me to fuck my cum deep inside your pretty little cunt?” He asks again, this time as he slips his hand in between your bodies and wraps his palm around his hard cock, lazily stroking his length while teasing your clothed clit with the tip of his dick. He goes on for too long, and when you can’t take it anymore, you moan in agreement, hoping that the outburst pushes him to finally, finally, fuck you. 

“O-ohh gods, please…please.” The way he cups himself and teases the both of you nearly sends you into overdrive, and just as you begin to give up hope, Hunter tugs aside your panties, and pushes his cock against your wet folds, giving you a taste of what’s to come. 

“Keep begging baby.”

“Please Hunter…I need you. I- I want you to come inside me, want to feel you all night long.” He was planning on making you cry for him, but the sound of your voice telling him everything he’s heard a thousand times in his dreams sends him reeling and before he can warn you, he pushes his cock into your slit, arms nearly giving out at finally feeling your cunt welcome him in. You arch your back as soon as you feel his thick, hard cock fill you, and although you should be embarrassed at how easily he slides into you, you don’t bother thinking about it, not when Hunter was finally giving you what you’ve been craving. 

“Kriffing hells, you feel so good mesh’la…so tight and hot for me.” He stops moving, the heat of your cunt making him nearly lose his mind and whatever bit of control left in him. 

“Hunter-” You don’t like the fact that he’s stopped pushing into you, but then he moves and you realize that maybe you needed a second to get used to him after all. 

“I know, love. I know, just a little bit more.” Hunter kisses your forehead, lips quivering at the thought of being too much for you to handle. He waits until you’re relaxed a little before he gives you more of his cock, and when you drag your nails across his arms and grab onto his shoulder, he stops again to soothe you. 

“You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” 

“Yes…oh maker yes.” Your voice breaks, making Hunter wish you weren’t so kriffing sensitive to him. 

“Then open up for me…take me.” He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck, licking and nipping at the taut skin in an attempt to distract you from whatever discomfort you were feeling. 

“Haa…ahh, you’re- so fucking hard.” Your words are unexpected, and Hunter fists his hands tightly into his pillows so he doesn’t do something he’d regret. He unintentionally thrusts the rest of his dick into your pussy, the action knocking the breath out of the both of you and sending a strike of pleasure down your spine.

“Only for you, sweetheart. O-only for you.” Hunter breathes against your chest, cursing at how much better you felt now than in his dreams. He could feel every inch of you squeeze him, and if it weren’t for the fact that you told him it’s been a while, Hunter would have begged to fuck you like he wanted. But it has been a while, and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you. When you wince at the slightest of movements, Hunter pulls back and studies you, carefully listening to your heartbeat and looking over you to see if you were too uncomfortable to do this now. 

“Are you okay?” He should be the one asking you this question, not the other way around, and even though a million compliments run through his mind, he barely manages to respond to your question. 

“Fuck, I’m more than okay.” He hisses out as you clench around him, and before he can let you know that he’s not reacting out of pain but of indescribable pleasure, you reach for his hair and tug him down, begging for him to do anything besides remaining still. 

“Then move…” You cross your legs behind his back to tempt him into moving against you, but Hunter remains impossibly still, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to tell you why he’s having a difficult time moving. 

“N-not yet, just let me feel you. Let me…feel all of you.” He hopes it’s enough for you to stop asking him to move, but he should have known better. 

“Is- is it too much?” Your shyness makes itself known again, and Hunter swears beneath his breath because he genuinely didn’t mean to come off so strained in his response. 

“No, it’s- you’re perfect.” It’s both everything he’s feeling and barely an explanation of what he’s reserved for you for so long, but he can’t find any other word to describe what he’s experiencing with you now. You’re about to ask him to keep talking when he finally listens to you and pulls out a little before thrusting back in. 

“Oh.” The simple word riles him up more than he cares to admit, and he sets a slow and sensual pace to calm himself down and give you what you desire. The small room fills with sounds of your harsh breathing and Hunter’s controlled growls, and before you know it, he’s hitting every inch of you in a way that makes you see stars. Then you look at him, and you find his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes shut tightly, and you just know that it’s because he wants to do more with you. 

“Hunter,” you call for him, soothing his back with your hands to let him know that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Hmm?” His eyes flutter open instantly and you wonder if their color was always so intense and dark, or if this was just a product of what the two of you were doing. 

“Don’t h-hold back.” You cup his neck and pray to the maker that he listens to you.

“I already told you cyare, I want you to fall apart for me…nice and slow.” He pronounces each word with a soft push of his hips against you, and you know then that this would definitely not be the last time you sleep with him. It couldn’t be. 

“But I-”

“I want to commit you to memory. The way your heart skips a beat when I kiss your shoulders,” he leans closer against you and leaves a trail of wet kisses across your sternum to your shoulder, biting it playfully when he notices you trying to move along with him. 

“The way you bite your lips when I pinch with your nipples,” you throw your head back in ecstasy as he pinches your nipple and rolls it in between his thumb and his index finger. 

“The way your eyes shut when I sink my teeth into your skin,” Hunter takes one last look at the pleasure etched on your expression before taking the other hardened peak into his mouth, rolling his tongue around your nipple before biting down harshly just below the reddened skin. 

“The way your cunt clenches around my cock when I pull your hair,” you wrap your arms around his back and pull him flush against you when you feel him comb his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck and pull harshly on it, the action letting you know that Hunter was most certainly capable of being rough with you, but was choosing to get your body used to his soft touch first. 

“And- fuck…ah fuck, the way your tight walls invite me in deeper when I play with your clit.” He lets go of your hair and slides his hand down your body, squeezing your hips and scratching along your thighs to leave his mark. As soon as you open your eyes and look at him, he begins to draw small circles around your clit, all the while picking up his pace just a little to get you closer to your climax. 

“I want it all baby,” he begs for you, roaming his eyes across your body to get his fill of you before he brings the two of you to the edge. You’re so sensitive from before, but something about having Hunter pay close attention to you makes you welcome whatever he has to offer you. 

“I- I’m close.” You manage to whisper to him as he continues to play with your body, and you realize the mistake you did in your claim when you hear him laugh and pause in his ministrations. 

“Already?” He doesn’t expect you to answer, but you whine his name and roll your hips around to get any form of friction. Hunter is distracted by the movement, and he resumes his attention to your clit, grunting with need when you reach down and scratch his stomach to urge him on. 

“D-don’t tease.”

“Never…never.” He responds immediately, thrusting into you with shallow pushes, already feeling the knot in his stomach slowly unwind the more he feels your heat pull him in. 

“I can feel your fucking heartbeat, can feel it singing for me the harder I fuck you.” Hunter cries out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, sitting up and moving the hand on his stomach down to your clit to get you to touch yourself.

“Please Hunter,” as soon as you start teasing your clit, Hunter grabs both of your hips and fucks into you with slow, languid movements, knowing that if he picks up the pace any further, he’d have you screaming so loud that the rest of the batch may actually hear you. 

“What do you want? Tell me.” There is a layer of sweat covering your body and making Hunter lose his mind. Your scent is more pronounced now that it has ever been, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to interact with you normally now that he knew what you smelled like as you prayed for him to fuck you harder. 

“I want you to come with me.” Your request storms into Hunter’s mind, making him wish he could just tell you how he feels, how he’s felt for so long. 

“Kriff,” he throws his head back and looks at the ceiling, knowing that tonight would replay in his mind until you came to him and asked him to take you to bed again. 

“So close…so fucking close. Hunter, please…let me feel you come with me. Come inside me.” You grab one of his wrists in an attempt to remain grounded, and Hunter can’t help but whine at the desperation you were trusting him with. Never in his life did he think he’d have you so unabashedly wanton, but here you were, telling him that you wanted nothing more than to feel him come with you. 

“You’re killing me baby.” Hunter growls and looks down at where you’re joined, not caring for how crazed he must appear to you as his hair swings back and forth, and his face shines with sweat. 

“Oh-hhh f…fuck right there-” you scream into the darkening room, no longer able to hold back the pleasure from seizing you and showering you with a most beautiful distraction. 

“Mesh’la, I-” whatever he’s about to say is cut off by your lips as you pull him into you and mold your lips with his own. It’s a hungry kiss, and Hunter prays to the Force that you’re desperate for him out of necessity and not out of simple, physical attraction. He gives you what you want regardless, slipping his tongue into your mouth and surrendering himself to the pleasure just as your walls flutter around his cock and signal your orgasm. Feeling you tighten even harder around him is almost too much, and he doesn’t realize he’s thrusting so violently into you until you break the kiss and scream his name. He fucks into you without abandon, growling your name over and over again until he lets go and falls over the edge with you. You’re aware of how harshly you’re dragging your nails across his back, and before you can apologize for accidentally sending him into a sensory overload, Hunter is falling against you and sinking his teeth into your shoulders, shooting his cum so deep inside you that you feel the warmth of his seed spread across your body. Neither of you stop moving, wanting the other to reach absolute pleasure before you finally slow down. As you come down from your highs, you wonder if you should ask Hunter what he was going to say right before he came, but you get distracted by the way he begins to slowly move off of you. 

“No wait,” he’s about to move off of you when you throw your arms around his neck and keep him flush against you. You can almost feel his heartbeat sound against your chest, and you’re sure he can hear your own singing for him, but you pay no mind to it, instead focusing on the heat of his skin as it slides against yours. 

“Stay.” You ask once, hoping that he’d listen to you without wondering why you wanted to have him crush you with his weight. 

“Wrap your arms around me tightly.” He says after a while, and as soon as he knows you did as he said, he slips his hands beneath you and holds onto you as he rolls around. The action shifts his cock inside you, and both of you moan out in unison at the shock of oversensitivity that strikes across your spines. He is careful when he moves again, and once he’s comfortable on his back, he slides his hand up your body and grabs your neck. You pull back to look into his eyes, offering him a lazy smile before resting your cheek on his chest again. 

“Does this feel good?”

“I- I liked your weight on me…but yes, this is nice.” You decide not to lie to him, knowing that he may misunderstand your answer if you didn’t give him the whole truth. 

“Noted.” You can hear the smirk in his own voice and snuggle closer into him, not realizing that your playing with his hair until he nuzzles closer into your hands.

“Stay as long as you like, ad’ika.”

You make a mental note of asking him what all of those words mean later, but for now, you surrender to his embrace and the gentle touches he continued to grace you with. Neither of you say anything else as you relish the sweetness of the moment, and before long, you notice that Hunter’s heart was beating much faster than it should. You’ve been sitting without much movement for a long time, so you wonder briefly why his heart was threatening to leap out of his chest. The thought of being the reason behind such a reflex makes you think differently of Hunter, and you hope that your hunch is right or else you’ll end up making a fool out of yourself when you ask him to take you to bed again. 

Just thinking of doing this again with Hunter sends your spiraling and you unintentionally clench around him, but this time, you realize that he’s grown hard again. In fact, you could feel him pulsing inside of you, and you hope he doesn’t sense the shift in your body or else you’d have to explain to him why you were getting wet again. 

“Don’t forget our little agreement sweet girl. I told you I’d know if you were thinking of him.” Hunter breaks the silence suddenly, and you frown at the sentiment, not because it was far from the truth, but because Hunter thought you were thinking of Tech and not him. 

“I didn’t forget.” You pull away and pout at him, wanting him to see that you clearly weren’t lying to him. 

“Then what’s making your heart race so suddenly?” It’s the first time Hunter asks a question that he clearly doesn’t know the answer to, but when you look away from him and draw strange patterns over his chest, he knows instantly what it was you’re thinking about. 

“Interesting…” You roll your eyes at him, unable to hold back from giggling along with him when he cracks a smile and laughs at your obvious irritation. 

“H-Hunter,” you break the moment and gulp nervously when he meets your eyes and gives you his undivided attention. 

“Yes, mesh’la?” If there was ever a moment where Hunter was at his most peaceful, you think it may be this one. 

“Kiss me? Please?” You’re reluctant in your request, unsure of whether he’d draw the line here now that you weren’t actively trying to fuck each other. But as he’s done so many times in the past few hours, he surprises you with an answer that you’d later pinpoint as the first time you truly felt something deeper than attraction for him. 

“Never ask for what’s already yours, cyare.”

#LDE23 #cloneficgiftexchange #hunter x reader #hunter/reader #the bad batch #hunter tbb x reader #hunter tbb/reader #the bad batch/reader #sergeant hunter/reader #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter the bad batch #hunter tbb #the clone wars #star wars #the bad batch fanfiction #the clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #clones x reader #CFB2023

[seraphinalovesme]

The Sweetest Of All

The third wife of Adam, Reader, is the calmest and most elegant seraph of the two main seraphs. Besides helping around the office and sending small messages to other angels, she is the Sera Assistant.

____ is the most calm and elegant Seraphim, and every Seraphim that you have ever met is the most calm person that you will ever meet too! If you want to vent out some sadness, go to ____; if you want to vent out some problems you have, go to ____; she is the most kind one, because whatever your problems are, she is willing to help at any time. Seeking help from the Seraphim can provide a sense of relief and comfort. Their calm and elegant nature creates a soothing environment that allows individuals to express their emotions freely without fear of judgment. Additionally, they provide individuals with the support and guidance they need at any time, regardless of their situation. All you need to do is ask her husband. To be honest, no one goes through because her husband is blocking the way. and the problem is... Her husband is Adam, the first man, and he has lived up to that title for billions of years. You see, why is that a problem? Well, that man is the most arrogant, self-centered, asshole angel that you ever met; he will cut you off when you mention his wife, because he wanted to talk about him and him only, because damn, he is the first man after all; he deserved to be talked about, i mean! He is in the Bible! and all humans came from his nut! and the other angels were shocked that why did ______ marry that guy out of all the angels here who are super nice, caring, and also loving, but they all have the same answer: "Oh! My dearest Adam is the sweetest man once you get to know him better! After all, we don't judge the cover of the book!" ______ smiled at the angel and gently pinched his cheek before walking up to Adam and staying by his side the entire day! listening to him about rock and his rant about his work and sera _____ is currently at work helping Sera with some of the problem on earth and as well Hell and its being overpopulated yes _____ she knows about the extermination and how her Husband Adam leads it and every time when the extermination start she always reminds Adam to be careful which He always reply "Chillax babe i am The Adam! the first man!! they wont lay a scratch on me okay? now stop worrying Babe cause that type of stuff doesn't suit you at all!" _____felt her cheek being cupped, she look at Adam in the eyes and sighed and kiss him by the cheek and hold his hand "I know, i know... its just that... i don't want that someday when i waited that portal to be open and i didn't see you...i-" "Hey! Hey! babe you don't trust my strength at all? No Dirty Sinners will touch me! let alone kill me!!" Adam reassured ____ that he will be safe cause he is fucking Adam no one can kill him! .. With his words and reassurance, he smiled at Adam and hugged him tight. Adam kissed _____ by the lips and hugged her back. As soon as the door was opened, Second Hand Lieutenant Lute Adams entered the room. "Sir, it's about to start," she said as she looked down, knowing that the couple were kissing once she heard the room was quiet. The hug was broken by Adam's sigh and he pulled away. 

#hazbin adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x you #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel one shot #hazbin hotel x reader

[sanspuppet]

Horny thoughts about having San as your boyfriend, damn i can't stop thinking about this man 😮‍💨

Y'ALL SEE HIS NEW PIC? HAVE MERCY PLEASE MY LORD 🛐🛐🛐🛐

W/T: 18+ content (nono square for minors)

• imagine you two just laying on your shared bed, the both of you minding your business watching your phones, quite bored. And then out of nowhere you expose his defined abs for joke, by dragging his t-shirt up, but making him suddenly so needy for you to suck and leaving hickeys on every inch of his stomach (duuuhh im so obsessed with his chest)

• bet he'd get so jealous, not with strangers but with the other members, geez i think he would be quite annoyed by them flirting (jokingly) with you. But don't you dare to do the same, he'd instantly pin you at the wall and fuck you mercilessly, as soon as you come back home

• obviously he's not always rough, he'd also love you to give him head and just sucking him off, everywhere at anytime, there's no refuses. He'd love especially when you do it suddenly, feeling your tongue licking his dick as a surprise would make him so, and i mean so hard, maybe under the table while he's working, while he sleeps, under the blanket when he's watching a film...

• HE'S AN ASS MAN, PERIOD (and im so happy about it, cuz im obsessed with my ass, too) his fav position would be obviously doggystyle, he'd go crazy at the sight of his thick dick disappearing inside you, your ass red from all the times he would spank it, and slapping against his waist. I think he'd also sometimes, when you cuddle, palm it, lick it, leave small kisses and hickeys around its cheeks (im melting oh my-)

• he'd love to see you wearing his hoodies, especially the gray one (HE ALWAYS WEARS GRAY HOODIES). You wearing only that hoodie, layed on your bed, with him who drags it up a little, enough for him to could finger you, daaamnnn imagine his strong fingers finding their way into your pussy and then playing joyfully with your clit (HRMRNJDJE im going crazy for the things I AM writing on my own)

• when he's on tour he'd ask you to send him pics (nudes 🫢) he loves your sexy-aesthetic photos, no need to say he'd masturbate on them, imagine him stroking his dick desperately, because he needs to feel and see you soo bad. You perfectly know it, so you'd send him audios of you dirty talking just to tease him more (spoiler: he'd probably cum only by hearing your small whimpers), SO THEN HE WOULD PAY YOU BACK by sending you audios while he's reaching his orgasm, damn his moans would be so prettyy

• god... if you'd say to him something like: "baby im horny" he surely would reply to you: "fuck me, then" so you would immediately ride him. Imagine unzipping his leather jeans (i literally scream when i see him wearing them) his cock popping out of his boxers, already hard by the idea of you bouncing on it. And just like that, you'd take all of his length at the first thrust. When you'd stop because of too much friction, after bouncing desperately, he'd raise his hips and fuck you from beneath, overstimulating you because he loves to see you fucked out by him.

• passionate sex with him would be like heaven... 🫠 you layed on your back, on your bed, him on top of you, kissing you deeply, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth so softly. You're caressing his back, and he is doing the same with your hair, he'd attach his nose on your skin just to feel your soft scent. He would also make you understand, you're his significant one, by laying you on your stomach, legs open while he's sliding in and out of you deeply but sweetly, his hands resting on your ass, massaging it. It would be so relaxing, and after he has reached his orgasm, he would took his dick out and cum on your ass, smear it and then lick it off of you.

#ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez #ateez hard thoughts #ateez povs #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #choi san #san ateez #ateez san #san fanfic #san imagines #san scenarios #san #san hard thoughts #san povs #san pov #san smut #san fic #san hard hours #san x reader #kpop smut #kpop hard hours #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop povs #kpop hard thoughts

[luvrxbunny]

I need something borderline illegal. Like dark and twisted. Like I want to question my moral compass but read on.

Am I asking for dad’s best friend!Joel? pshhhhhh. Am I asking for bratty! reader?? Pshhhhhh. Am I asking for anything???

Am I asking for smutty smut?! Yes I am.

Ofc if you are uncomfortable with any of these don’t hesitate to ignore this and also no pressure ily ❤️

a/n: reader isn't bratty, im sorry! i forgot :((

sleep

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!virgin!reader

summary: Joel can’t stay away from you any longer.  

warnings: 18+ MDNI, alcohol, voyeurism/somnophilia + dub-con, dry humping, cum in pants

wc: 4.0k

a/n: i hope this is dark enough!! the only reason the ask is a ss instead of the actual thing is cus i formatted the whole story then realized i forgot to put it in the reply to the ask (loosely proofread)

It’s 2 am and Joel can’t stop thinking about you. How you’re sleeping soundly in his room, in his bed, in his shirt as pajamas because you had “forgotten to pack some”, something you both knew was a lie. He knows you’re toying with him, you started a bit before, but since you’ve turned 18? It's just been on rapid fire. 

He pulls out his phone and scrolls through your text thread, scoffing at every other conversation. It was so apparent, in every text, how badly you want him. 

Mon, Aug 16 at 4:41 AM

bbg: big man! text me when u wake up i have a joke

You: Why are you awake at this time?

bbg: wtf why are YOU awake 🤨 

You: I have trouble sleeping, you know that.

bbg: aww poor joey 😢

You: Are you going to answer my question, darling?

bbg: im doing skincare and stuff

You: You have to wake up this early for that stuff?

bbg: can’t put a price on feeling bonita 

You: Why are you speaking Spanish now?

bbg: nevermind lmao

bbg: so have u tried meditation

You: What?

bbg: for your sleeping troubles

You: I’m not that kind of guy.

bbg: what about getting off

You: Excuse me? 

bbg: like masturbation n stuff

You: I know what you’re saying.

You: I don’t understand why you’re talking about this with me.

bbg: we haven’t even talked about it 😭 

bbg: obviously we can end the convo if ur uncomfy but its a very good way to fall asleep

He remembers needing a pause after he read that text for the first time. It had only been four months since your birthday and you were already drastically different. Joel never expected it, he always thought your feelings had already reached their limit but it turns out you were holding back because you weren’t of age. Now that you are… He doesn’t know what he’s going to do. His morals may not be strong enough for the thought of  “ his best friend's daughter” to hold him back. He’s already rationalized himself out of the “daughter's best friend” thought. You’re not even going to school together anymore. Sarah lives on campus so you guys never see each other and you barely ever text. 

You: I have not.

bbg: what? literally how? 

bbg: you should

bbg: it totally works

You: That’s good to know. 

You: Get back to your skincare, honey. I’ll message you later. 

Mon, Aug 16 at 5:03 AM

bbg: joel? 

Mon, Aug 16 at 5:37 AM

bbg: are you masturbating? 

You: Sweetheart. You can’t ask me things like that. It’s not right.

bbg: u didnt answer! i got curious

You: Still.

bbg: i dont see the problem we’re both adults 🫢

You: Barely.

bbg: dont be mean

You: Do you need something

You: I said I’d text you later

bbg: wow no punctuation?

You: Busy

bbg: getting off? 

He remembers staring at your text, unbelieving that you’d send him something like that, so forward, so dirty. He remembers the thought that you were joking. Obviously, you don’t expect him to say yes, that’s why you asked in the first place. Maybe his perverted mind was interpreting your behavior as flirting but you’re just being yourself around him. All these thoughts were swirling in his head but the feeling of his hand flying over his cock, pretending it’s yours, that you're in his ear whispering to him... That thought was stronger, that feeling was stronger. 

You: Yes.

bbg: good. have fun, joey

He gets up for his fourth beer, hoping to drown the impure thoughts, starring you, that plague his mind. It’d be so easy to have you, you’ve been throwing yourself at him since you turned 17. He’s been ignoring it, adamantly. It wasn’t right, despite the age difference, the fact that you’re his daughter’s best friend and his best friend’s daughter. On top of that, you only just turned 18. 

You’ve been staying at Joel’s for a month. He takes the guest room because you say that his bed is better. You haven’t gone home because your dad is still working on your birthday present/room renovations and he doesn't want you to see it until it’s done. He offered up Joel’s house to keep you, knowing his best friend wouldn't mind, unknowing that his best friend was corrupt for his daughter. 

Joel was trying to ignore the way his body was heating up, still scrolling through the texts. He remembers that conversation perfectly. He remembers the adrenaline that was coursing through him as he confessed. He remembers how hard he came at your response. When thinking about this conversation he also remembers the guilt, it’s the most vivid emotion he remembers, usually. But the alcohol seems to be drowning that part out, and Joel scrolls on. 

He finds a patch of texts that he actively avoids, usually. It’s picture after picture of you in the most adorable outfits in the most suggestive positions. There are plenty of you lying on your back, some with your head turned to show off your perfectly curved, unmarked, un-bitten, neck. There are a few where you’re sitting down with the camera angled up, giving Joel too many situations his head can come up with. Then there’s the worst one, his favorite- he doesn’t even know how you took this one. You’re sitting on your knees, hands rested on your thighs and you’re looking up at the camera with a shy smile. 

There are two things about this photo that really fuck him up. 

First, your smile, the way it lets him know that you’re trying to fuck him up, you know what you’re doing with this pose, this positioning, you’re even embarrassed by it, a little nervous about it but you still felt the need to take the photo, for him. 

Second, the height, and the way the camera is positioned shows him that these photos were specifically crafted for him because the height the camera is at is exactly how he’d see you if you were on your knees like that for him. 

You made sure that he noticed because the very next day, you needed him to tie a bow in your hair and instead of waiting for him to get off the couch you placed yourself on the ground, between his legs, in this pose. He had to hide his erection until you left and then fight the urge to get himself off in your room for the rest of the night. 

He glances at his room door, you’re sleeping so soundly in there.

She wouldn’t even notice if someone went in there right now. She definitely wouldn’t notice me… Hell, as if she’d mind either way… I mean- Would she?

The alcohol clouds his thoughts, gives him bad ideas, and then convinces him that they’re good- this one being one of them. He grabs his almost-finished beer and heads to the fridge to grab a fifth one, knowing he’ll be in there for a while. 

He does this sometimes, you look so peaceful when you sleep… it’s the only time he can admire you without putting all his relationships at risk. He reaches the door and turns the knob slowly to avoid creaking. He enters the room, his socks padding his footsteps, and the darkness gives him no shadow. He moves one of your tops off of his desk chair and turns it to face your sleeping figure while placing his beers down. You’re already bringing a smile to his face. You’ve got your face shoved into one of his pillows, your arm tucked under it, and your leg is pulled up to your waist, sticking out from under his tan comforter. You’re wearing one of his hoodies for sleepwear—

Fuck.

and it doesn’t look like you have anything on your bottom half. It’s a little cold in his room so little goosebumps have bloomed over your exposed skin. He takes a swig of beer, finishing his fourth as he examines you. Your face twitches for a moment, your eyebrows furrow, and your nose twitches like a rabbit before calming back down. He opens the other beer and fills his mouth with it, hoping that the alcohol stops the fluttering in his stomach while he drinks it down. 

You shiver a bit but your leg doesn’t move, the goosebumps just become more prominent. His hand is reaching out for you before he can think, rubbing your calf gently to soothe and warm you up a bit. You let out a relieved sigh at his contact and your leg presses further into his warmth. He has to take a deep breath as his mind runs wild, convincing him that this is some sort of sign, that even in you’re sleep you’re trying to be closer to him, that he should just give in. 

No, she’s your best friend's daughter. Sure she’s her own person now, legally an adult, an’ can make decisions for herself… an’ yeah she’s not owned or controlled by anyone and just cause I’m friends with her father ain’t a fair reason to completely rule her out from being a potential partner… Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad… maybe it’s actually more fucked up for me to avoid her just cause of who birthed her. That’s totally not fair to her! I mean I know I wouldn't want anyone judging me based on who my parents are y’know? Maybe I should put myself in her shoes. 

His breathing speeds up as he breaks through his last piece of resistance. Now he’s just trying to figure out how soon he can have you. 

I’ll have to court her first, flirt with her a bit before asking her out to dinner, then maybe she’ll accept my offer to be my girlfriend by the third date… From there maybe she’ll have sex with me for the three-month anniversary… she might be a bit more timid than that but we’re looking at a four- five-month plan… That can work- I can definitely work with that.

You whine and stretch your body, your legs straighten and your arms spread out, you turn and rest one arm on top of your head before you lift your leg, bending it above your waist but with the other one this time. The new position leaves the blanket covering nothing but one of your inner thighs and to add insult to injury your raised arms lift his hoodie, revealing a beautiful sliver of your stomach. 

Or I could have her now.

The thought is too powerful to stop, his opportunity is too perfect, Ellie is out with whatever girl she’s currently entertaining, and Sarah doesn’t live here anymore. Your father would never be awake at this time and Joel is hard, wanting, and so so ready for you. He’s crawling into bed beside you after downing half his beer for the nerves. 

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. 

He settles next to you and your leg presses into him again, searching for him and his warmth. You slowly turn to him as he stares at you, watching how sluggish your movements are in your sleep. You snuggle into the pillow in front of him and take a long inhale of its scent, a little smile resting on your lips while you breathe out. Your face is inches from his, and his hand is down his pants in an instant. 

The relief is heavenly, he’s been throbbing for you since he read those texts. He can’t help the way he reacts to you. He can smell your toothpaste on your breath as you gently snore in front of him. He wraps his warm hand around his cock and his soft lips part into an ‘O’. His eyes roll back for a second but he immediately focuses them back on you. He’s tugging at himself violently, not even thinking about savoring this moment, just needing to cum for you. He’s trying to hold in his sounds but you look so pretty, just seeing your face while he’s touching himself makes everything better, somehow you’ve turned his sensitivity as high as it can go.

Little whines and whimpers slip into your dream state. You’re confused by the sound, the rustling that coming from—? In front of you? Your brows furrow as you try to open your eyes. “Fuck” You hear someone say. It sounds like… 

You open your eyes just in time to see Joel yank his hand out of his sweatpants and scramble as far as he can get from you before falling off the bed. You’re still confused as you take his form in. His shirt has ridden up a bit, exposing the salt and pepper hairs on his tummy. His hair is sticking all over the place, he stinks of beer, and his eyes are wide, focused on you. “Joey?”

Despite the horrid situation he’s in, his cock is still leaking for you, pulsing at the nickname. He can’t answer, he has to bite back a moan as he feels himself leak into the fabric of his pants. “Joel? What—” Your eyes flutter, almost falling shut but you shake yourself out of it and— Fuck.

You move closer to him. 

You’re too snuggly when you’re sleeping, too cute, and too dumb. You’re not even questioning why your father’s best friend was in bed with you while you were sleeping. You don't want to risk him leaving and you don’t mind in the first place, you actually thought you were dreaming at first. Your heart almost stopped when your fingers actually latched onto his shirt after reaching out for him. He’s stiff as a board, deterring your touch so you pull your hands into your chest and bury your face in his. 

Joel is almost shaking in exertion as you press your soft little body against his. It’s just your upper half, leaning into him and finding wam solace in his chest. He can handle this, he thinks. He can calm down, and be with you like this. He’s supposed to court you first anyway, he can’t believe himself. Was he really going to just get off with you in the same bed? What kind of pervert would even try something like that?

You hike your leg up over his waist, half asleep, not realizing your motions. 

All his perverted feelings return with a vengeance. 

You wiggle around a bit, trying to get comfortable but his cock twitches, flicking into your soft lips for a moment. At first, you really didn’t know what it was, all you knew was that the sensation felt good. So of course you chased it. Your hips grind into his cock arrhythmically, trying to find that same angle again, not realizing that you’re basically fucking him through your clothes. His hands have to come to your hips, gripping painfully for your eyes to snap open and your hips to freeze. 

Your eyes widen further when you finally process the situation, and even in all your teasing and sensuality, at the end of the day, you’re still just a virgin. You never had any real intention of acting on your desires, especially if Joel wasn’t the one initiating. 

Oh fuck. What did I do? What do I do? He’s just staring at me… Maybe he didn’t notice, I didn’t! But it felt so good. Will he let me? Maybe if I—

Your hips tilt into his before you can process whether this is actually a good idea or not. His hand tense over yours, like another shock of clarity through your bones. You shut your eyes tight, not wanting to see the disgust or uncomfortable pity in his face. “I’m so sorry, Joel. I didn’t… I-”

You try not to let tears well in your eyes as you whimper and pull back from him. But he doesn’t let you. His arms tense, his muscles flexing as he keeps your body pressed against his. You open your eyes, a bit shocked at his refusal to let you go but still too scared to meet his eyes. Your gaze is on his stomach, the way his gray shirt rode up, exposing the way his belly keeps tensing with every breath. “I-” He manages to get out before letting out a shuddering sigh. You finally look at him. 

His eyebrows are pulled taut in between his eyes, his gaze is something you’ve never seen before, and he almost looks angry. It’s desperate, but sorrowful, with the added haze from his intoxication. He keeps biting at his bottom lip, worrying it red as he tries to form a sentence for you. His hands tense over your hips again but this time they tilt you into him again. His face is a hard grimace as he slowly presses you into his raging bulge. You watch him fight with his expression, it keeps breaking into something weak before he goes back to his angry pout. You can’t help the way you press into him, you want to feel it again, that fire in the pit of your stomach that spreads to your soaking pussy the more he pulls you in. You watch his face contort into something heavenly. His brows pull up, almost shocked at how good you feel as his eyes roll back and shut. His entire body shakes as he melts into the pillow. He’s breathing deep and slowly, trying to regulate the pleasure he feels. 

Now he’s focused on savoring the moment. He wants this to last as long as it possibly can. You’re making him feel incredible,  he’s so sensitive, it’s like he’s been edging himself for you. You whimper, high-pitched and muffled but it’s so beautiful that he forces his eyes open. You have one hand gripping the bedsheet like it’s your lifeline and you have the other bitten between your teeth to hold your sounds in. Your hips are grinding into him at an uneven, unsteady, desperate pace and he’s mesmerized by the sight.

He knew you wanted him. He didn’t know you needed him. You’re fucking yourself against his cock like you’ve been waiting for it your whole life. Your hand comes up to grip his shoulder instead of the bedsheet. He grunts and tilts his hips further into yours, a sadistic smirk coming to his face at the sound of exclamation that shoots from your mouth once you’re able to grind your clit against his shaft. Your thrusts start to stutter at that, your body constantly wanting to fold in on itself from the assault of pleasure but you try and will yourself to keep going. 

Unfortunately, your pace is ruined by your pleasure. Your sensitive body can’t handle how good his clothed cock is making you feel. You lose your pace and your pleasure becomes rocky and teasing. He watches as your face changes from pleasured to pouty. Little whimpers and whines of frustration slip from your lips, growing in volume and frequency the longer you’re unable to grind against him properly. Joel’s watching you through hooded eyes, fingers digging into your hips painfully at this point and all he wants is to not cum yet. He wants to make you cum first, he needs it, he needs to see it, to hear it. 

He’s been telling himself it’s fine because you’re grinding against him, not the other way around. You’re choosing this, there’s no way he’s manipulating you, or swaying your decision if he stays completely indifferent. But you’re begging him now. You’re gripping desperately at his shirt, removing your hand from your mouth to grip him harder and pulling yourself closer, wrapping your arms around and moaning right against his chest. He shouldn’t. He can’t. But he does.

His eyes shut tight as his hands leave your hips. You almost climb on top of him in protest, whining a loud “N- Please.” into his chest as your leg hikes higher onto his waist. One of his hands cradles your head, pulling you further into his chest, muffling the moans you’re already letting out at his touch. His other hand goes to the small of your back, pressing you against him perfectly and guiding your rhythm as your hips start up again. He dares to speak. “S’this okay, baby?”

Your reaction to his voice is visceral. Your hands shoot up to his shoulder and hair, pulling yourself up a bit to bury in his neck, getting a new angle from his cock, now fucking him against your leaking hole. “So good, Joey. Thank- Thank you s’much. Thank you, thank you.” Your gratitude is like a searing knife through him. His entire body is set alight as he tries to regulate his breathing. He can feel goosebumps break out on his skin, his pleasure filling every molecule in his body, ready to overflow for you. Fuck. He’s definitely going to cum before you. 

“Mm. Good, good girl. Just- Keep going, sweetness, take what— Shit. Take what you need, darlin’.” His breathing quickens and shudders as your hips increase their pace against him. He’s leaking continuously now, he’s getting in his head, trying to stop himself from cumming but every thought that pops into his mind just brings him closer to the edge. He can’t focus on anything but you. You’re moaning for him, grinding against him, this desperate for him. 

The hand on your lower back migrates to the back of your neck, gripping you there, holding you in place as his hips begin to thrust into yours. “M’gonna cum, darlin’. Fuck, I wanted t- wanted to last for y- Mmm oh fuck.” His entire body starts to tremble as your nails dig into him so painfully he’s sure they drew blood. Your eyes are comically wide as your body tenses in his hold before breaking down into a shudder that overtakes your entire being. You’re cumming. 

He explodes at the realization. In all his desperation, intoxication, and pure need… He was still able to make you cum first. He buries his face in your hair, huffing the scent as he floods his sweatpants. His eyes shut as tightly as they can as his orgasm tears through him. He’s been waiting so long for you to make him cum and now that it’s happening, it feels even better than he planned for. His low grunts turn into shocked moans when his orgasm doesn’t stop after shooting two ropes of cum against his sweats. You’re already coming down as he hits what feels like his second peak. You can feel his hands shaking over where they’re gripping you and you get an impulse that you act on without a second thought. 

Your hand slides down from his shoulder quickly, over the sliver of stomach he’s showing off, and right down his pants. You don’t know what you’re doing so you just grip him, wrapping your hand around his shaft but it seems to do the trick. He lets out a sound that resembles someone getting kicked in the gut. His face is pulled from your hair as his head is thrown back. He arches into you a bit before his hips start thrusting into your fist, desperately prolonging his already overwhelming orgasm. It’s embarrassing; how long he was cumming for, the way his body was violently quivering for you, the ludicrously large dark spot spreading over his pants, showcasing how much he came for you. 

He moans gently when he comes to. You’re stroking over his chest with a soft, sleepy, nervous smile. He pulls you in for a kiss before he can think about it. You guys haven’t discussed anything. Neither of you knows what this means for your relationship but you know that neither of you has felt more comfortable than when you’re in the arms of the other. So why question it now? 

You fall into a deep sleep listening to Joel’s heavy snores, getting rocked to bed by the way his chest expands. It’s the best sleep of your life. 

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!

psst psst. hey you!! i have a part 2 if u want 😏

#joel tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us smut #the last of us #luvrxsmut #luvrxfics #smut #nsft #joel the last of us #sub joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female #joel miller the last of us #joel miller hbo

[cheolhub]

IM STUPID i thought you meant we can send in a max of three number and member pairings for you to choose from for ur milestone event 🧍‍♀️pls ignore my first ask (ONLY IF U HAVENT GOTTEN TO IT YET AJDJSK)

can i have “Could he make you feel as good as i do?” + “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” For gyugyu 🥺 i still haven't recovered from the oneshot you posted yesterday 🧍‍♀️

FWB!MINGYU

prompt. “could he make you feel as good as i do?” + “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

wc. 915

warnings. fwb!gyu, fem!reader, mirror sex, jealousy, possessiveness, gyu is a bit rough, dirty talk, pet names, cumshot, tears, kinda angsty? — MINORS DNI 18+

note. god u sent this the first week of march for my THREE KAY event… now im at 4k, and i am so sorry 🤣 anyway this wasn’t proofread and it’s literally a mess, but i hope u like it anyway ;-; thank u sm for requesting (even if it did take me 8 years to get to haha)

“would you look at that?” mingyu laughs against your ear. “might wanna redo your makeup once i’m done, baby, you’ve cried it all off.”

he’s not wrong. when you open your eyes and take in the sight in front of you and nearly choke on a sob. you’re a mess– smeared eyeliner, mascara staining your cheeks and lipstick smudged around your mouth– no longer ready for your date. the one that starts 15 minutes from now. 

when you’d told mingyu– a friend who you occasionally frequently fuck– you were ready to start dating again, he thought you were bluffing. how could you want to date anyone else when he was right in front of you? you and him are practically dating– you go out and do couple-y things then you go back to one of your places and you fuck– you just lack the label. 

and that’s because both of you needed something sexual, but neither of you were ready for a relationship.

now that you are– now that you’re going on a date with some fucker who probably doesn’t even deserve you– he’s upset. beyond upset, actually. he’s livid. 

that’s why he bent you over your bathroom’s vanity, pushed your dress up and makeup products to the ground and thought to prove himself to you.

now his hand tugs at your hair, essentially forcing you to stare at yourself while he reduces you to a mess like he does every time his cock is inside of you. 

“mmh, could he make you feel as good as i do, huh? you think he knows how to make this pretty pussy feel good?” the question comes through gritted teeth and it finally clicks in your dumb little brain. “i don’t fucking think so.”

“y-you’re jealous?” you’re able to ask, though it’s choked. his reply never comes, but his thrusts get harsher– merciless– and you take it as a wordless admission, crying out your next words, “me ‘n you are jus’ friends, g-gyu!”

he tugs at your hair harder and the other hand that resides on your waist squeezes your skin gratingly. “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” he replies, voice hushed and raw with emotion. 

you do. you know it. you and mingyu are glued at the hip both figuratively and literally. there’s no one on the earth that makes you feel a quarter of what you feel for him. and you also know there isn’t a single man who could fuck you as well as mingyu does. 

but when you told him you wanted to start dating, he brushed you off with a “yeah, right,” and it made you believe that there wasn’t a chance with him. you figured that the idea of you and mingyu being together was simply a dream that would never happen.

though, you’re not so sure anymore because he’s spewing out possessive words faster than you can comprehend while his cock stirs you up. 

what you didn’t know was that you’ve always had mingyu in the palm of your hand. he was whipped. wrapped around your finger. he doesn’t want to share you– he never has.

“he’s never gonna make you feel this good,” he confidently states. “you’re made for me.” 

“fuck!” you cry, tightening around his cock at the affirmation. “mingyu, please!”

“that’s it, pretty, say my fuckin’ name.” he moans, sloppily thrusting into you as his mind runs away from him. “look at me and tell me how much you like it.”

your eyes nearly cross as they try to find him in the mirror, but when they land on his, you feel yourself grow even hotter. “love it. i love it, gyu.”

he smiles triumphantly like he’s won the lottery. he’s sure that this is better, though. you? admitting to the fact that you love the way he fucks you? fucking priceless. 

“yeah? you love my cock?” he asks, cockily, yet he knows the answer. 

you give him a broken nod, “so much!”

“why don’t you cum for me, baby. cum all over this cock ‘n show me how much you love it.” he coaxes breathily, continuing to fuck you into oblivion. 

you can’t stop yourself as soon as you hear his request. the tight coil in the pit of your tummy comes undone as you sob out his name. you trap his twitching cock between his spasming cunt all the while he fucks you through your blinding orgasm. every second feels more euphoric than the last, more tears running down your face at the pleasure. 

mingyu isn’t far behind you with the way you grip him so heavenly. he’s quickly pulling out, the hand in your hair coming to wrap around his cock. you whine at the loss of his warmth, but you’re pleasantly surprised when you hear the lewd noise of his hand vigorously pumping himself and the sounds of his pretty groans. 

he lets out a string of curses, hand moving quicker before his body jerks and his ribbons of his cum spurt out. some of it lands on your bare ass, but the majority ends up on your date outfit. he can’t help but smile at the fact that he’s ruined your pretty outfit. one meant for someone who isn’t him. 

“actually, i think you should cancel your date.” he pants. “ be sure to tell him that you’re taken now.”

he watches the way you nod and he can’t help but feel proud of himself. you’re his and he’s yours. 

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

#mingyu smut #svt smut #3k milestone #[💌: cryoculus] #★︎ — kai !

[lokigonnakmsforbucky]

Dating Dean Winchester Headcanons <3

No one asked for this, but I am going to write about it anyway because I am THIRSTY for some Dean Winchester...feel free to send me requests for dean or any spn character. I will take a look at those asap. Also, this goes without saying but, minors dni, NSFW WILL be mentioned under. You have been warned :)

Long road trips in the impala, classic rock 24/7. You both would be singing to every single song. While Sam does anything possible to get you both to shut up.

Constant jokes, pranks, and teasing.

You guys would often make bets on what monster you would be hunting, but jokes on you both. Sam was always right.

Dean was a man that loved physical touch, as soon as you give him the A-okay. His hands never leave you... and I mean that.

Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, hand kisses... you get them ALL.

This man loves to hug you, wrapping his arms around your waist and putting his head on your shoulder no matter what you are doing or where you at. He will find a way to hug you somehow.

He loved to show his love for you in any way he could, cooking, rubbing your back, and maybe something else ;) He wanted to let you know how much you mean to him.

Baking pies together <3

Dean was an ASS man, his hand would never leave your ass in public. He would always have his hand on top of it, so everyone in the vicinity would know you were his. Don't worry he would slap it too if anyone was looking.

oh, man if anyone was looking... you were in for a treat.

"He thinks it's okay to keep eyeing you...I'm gonna prove to him your mine."

He would get jealous quick... even over something so small.

Dean is also very protective of you...he would fight, lie or even die for you, and when ANYONE made googly eyes at you. He was ready to show everyone you're his girl.

"What do you say, sweetheart, let's show this fool your mine."

"Please..."

Dean could quickly become a Dom or Sub depending on your mood, his, or the situation.

But, fucking him was a perfect combo of filthy and sweet.

This man would have his head between your legs and his fingers inside, keeping eye contact and making you watch while he fingers you.

"C'mon sweetheart, moan for me... let them all hear how good I make you feel just with my fingers... we haven't even got to the good part yet."

"Please...fuck me, Dean... stop teasing"

"Yes, ma'am"

He could spend the rest of his life making you moan for him.

But, remember when I said he was an ass man? He loves taking you from behind... holding your head back. One hand around your neck, while whispering dirty things into your ears.

"Just like that...moan out loud for me"

He also went crazy when you rode him, thrusting up into you when you went too slow or just watching your face take him.

you + him +impala = dean's in heaven, mainly when you were on top of him.

"Ride me just like that, you're doing so well baby"

He would also ensure that everyone knows that he did it if you can't walk well the next day. Was because of him

He absolutely loves aftercare too.

He would make a bath for the both of you, cook you anything you wanted, and cuddle until you both fell asleep watching any show that made you happy.

When he went out for hunts, he would always think about you. Are you eating enough, are you sleeping well, are you okay? His questions would spin in his head the entire time. For once he wishes monsters didn't exist or took a break so he could spend time with you.

He would call you at LEAST twice a day to check-in on how you were doing.

Dean was absolutely in love with you, to the point that he would rant to Sam on how much he did love you and that he was afraid you would leave one day or that he would not be there to save you.

"But what happens if I can't make it in time or if she leaves?"

"Dean, she can handle herself. Plus, she loves you and if you can't see that you an idiot."

This man was head over heels for you, he would do anything for you and I mean anything for you. He even thought of retiring from the family business and start a life with you.

Maybe some day, he will make that a reality.

#dean winchester #spn #spn fandom #supernatural #supernatural smut #supernatural imagine #deanwinchester #supernatural headcanon #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester x female!reader #sam winchester #dating dean winchester would include #dating sam Winchester would include #castiel #dean winchester preference #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester headcanon #crowley #team free will #team free will 2.0 #supernatural fluff

[lew9ndowski]

❦ hotel.

| jude bellingham x fem! reader.

| watching a movie in your hotel room, until you hear a knock at your door.

| ib , hotel by montell fish

you stood up from the hotel couch, and paused the movie before it could begin, you go to the kitchen and grab your popcorn box, you grab a bag and put it inside the microwave, while you waited for the popcorn, you leaned on the counter, replying to your unread messages, most of them being from your sister, asking you how you were doing during your vacation. she was taking care of your dog too, so most of the messages were of him. “it’s so quiet here, i like it, but i’m about to watch a movie.” you texted your sister, she immediately replied “okay, that’s nice, also, remember to send pictures of the hot guys you see and most importantly, text me if you met one…” you roll your eyes and scoff. “stfu, i’m not here to focus on guys.” that was kind of a lie, because the guy on the counter to check into the hotel was kind of… “k.” she replied. you chuckle and place your phone down as you hear the ringing of the microwave.

you take the bag of popcorn out of the microwave and open it, pouring the snack on the only bowl you could find in your hotel kitchen, you open a soda from the set you bought earlier at the store and take the bowl, you head to the couch and set everything up in the coffee table, you grab the remote and resume the movie.

you’re in spain right now, taking a small trip away from your problems at home, spain has always been your favorite country to travel to, you love everything about it, there are some things, here and there, but you’re just glad you could be here and enjoy a little bit of everything.

you’re halfway into the film and you’re about to drift off to sleep, you were “resting” your eyes, until you hear a knock at your door, you groan and curse under your breath, you look at the time, and it’s about to be 3 am, you furrow your eyebrows, but then remember the people here don’t know what sleep is. you walk to the door and unlock it, you should’ve looked through the peephole, but since you’re nearly asleep, why would you?

“yes?” you croak, the bright yellow light of the hotel’s hallway almost blinding you. you see a ball heading your way, until the man standing in front of your door catches it “you ladies, alright?” you shoot the boys in your sight a dirty look “what the fuck?!” the boy with the ball turns to look at you and immediately straightens himself. “hey…” his voice was soft and he had a small smile on his face as he waited for your response. “how old are you? four?” you scoff and were about to close the door, until he stops it. “hey, hey… i’m sorry, my mates and i just wanted to do this tiktok trend.” i nod and lick my lips. “okay, fine, just don’t do that again, shit scared me.” you take your eyes off of him and look at his mates, they all nod and raise their hands in defense, asking for your forgiveness.

“we’re sorry.” he grimaces. “it’s fine.” you shake your head, “no, no, really, what we did was messed up, how can i make it up to you?” you tilt your jaw and raise an eyebrow, you look at his team mates and they’re all looking at each other awkwardly. “i said it’s fine bro, don’t worry.” you chuckle. “yeah, you heard the lady, she said it’s fine.” he shushes him loudly, you cock your head back, he maintains eye contact and you start to look around uncomfortably. “you can leave now…” you smile and since he didn’t say anything, you begin to close the door slowly, and when it was inches away from closing, you whisper a soft “bye bye…” you close it and sputter, rolling your eyes before you head back to the couch.

“my god she is stunning.” he turns to his mates with a wide smile. “she is.” his mate agreed, “too bad you’ll never see her again.” his other mate speaks up. “says who?” his mate shrugs and he shakes his head. “nah, i’ll do something about it.” his friends share a look, “mate, that sounds creepy.” they head back to their hotel room.

the bright sun, forced your eyes to open, your brain to wake up, and your body to stand, you sit up from the couch and stretch, followed by a yawn, you look at your phone and check the time, it’s still pretty early. you stand up from the couch and do your exercises, after that, you do your personal hygiene and get ready to go out, you put on your outfit, grab your stuff, and head out. you held the door open to look for your rental car keys, and then focus on something on the floor, you raise your eyebrows and pick it up, it’s a rose and a card. “the hell?” you read the front page of the letter and flipped it open. “we’re sorry for that little prank, here’s this from us (especially the handsome, tall one that saved you from the ball) we hope to see you again, under different circumstances, of course.” at the bottom of the words, there was a phone number. “no way..” you laugh softly and put the rose back inside the hotel room, but put the letter on your purse.

as you were walking around the streets of spain, you found a cute coffee shop, and decided to sit outside and get something to drink, along with a snack. you sat outside, admiring the view, fiddling with your fingers and fighting the cold breeze. your mind starts to drift to your fellow prankster of a neighbor. was that his number on the letter? you think. should i call? nah, i should leave him alone. why did he give me his number? i shake my head, wanting to get those thoughts away as soon as possible, but before you could, you text your sister about it. she was asking all the possible questions on earth.

once she stopped replying, you set your phone down, beginning to get anxious if you should call the number or not, if my coffee comes in less than ten seconds, i’ll call him. you thought to yourself. ten seconds? try three, that’s all it took, the waiter placed your coffee and croissant softly on the table, your mouth stays agape and you softly chuckle. “gracias.” you say with a slight tone to the waiter, but try to disguise it with a nice smile. “fuck!” you curse to yourself and grab your phone, you open the phone app and dial the number on the letter, the cold class hits your ear and you begin to shake your leg up and down, the repeated ringing beginning to stress you out.

after what felt like forever, you hear a lot of noise, the sounds of someone yelling names, laughing, and someone picking up the phone “aye, jude! someone’s calling you, mate.” you hear someone shout, then you hear another voice over the phone. “hello?” you smile as you hear his familiar voice. “hey! hey, it’s me, the girl from the hotel room?” you bite your lip, patiently waiting for his response. “oh! hey, i take it you got my rose and letter?” you chuckle. “yes, i did, i should probably let you know that, i don’t really like roses.” you hear him groan out loud. “well, now i know for a future occasion.” you raise an eyebrow and begin to sip your coffee. “oh? i love your confidence, jude. that’s your name, right?” he chuckles. “hell yeah… and yours?”

“you said you wanted to see each other again under different circumstances, right? so, how about you come find out later tonight?” you just can’t believe you said that, your heart was racing, but the boldness you were feeling, you loved it. “got a special place in mind?” he questions, you hum. “no, not really, do you?” you now ask him. “i do, i can take you..” you gulp, the tone in his voice making butterflies hit your stomach, “i can do that myself, just tell me where…” he tells you the directions, it’s supposedly the best restaurant in the whole city, so, you were excited. as you finished talking with him, you set your phone down and hide your face.

oh mY fucKingGg GodDddd.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham x you #lowkey thinking about making this a series idk

[houseofhyde]

ii. another man’s comfort.

pairing. aemond targaryen x fem!reader

synopsis. a wedding calls you north, your duty calls you to your husband, your heart calls you to aemond.

warnings. stark!reader, infidelity, purity culture, canon misogyny, deviations from canon (set in 132 ac, the greens win the war), smut (nipple play, dirty talk, dry humping). just so we’re clear, this is set a few years after part one !!

word count. 15.8k (oops.)

hyde’s input. fucked around and accidentally got emotionally invested in aemond x another man's!reader's relationship and now you're all going to have to deal with a series dedicated to them... i reminded myself of why i hate writing world-building within fics, i wish i could just write things easily and have everyone understand the way the world is within my fic without me having to deviate into long paragraphs of plot exposure.

taglist. @schniiipsel @b00kdiary @promisiary @yyiebbg

another man’s series. feast. comfort. pleasure (coming soon).

read on ao3.

there are times where you question if aegon was born insufferable.

surely not, you’d argue with yourself, for there must have been a time where aegon was no more than a small babe in need of his mother’s teat, or a starry-eyed child looking up to the only father-figure he’d ever have and begging the knight to teach him to man a sword with the same skill, or a growing boy finding beauty for the first time within a lady’s complexion.

and then, as if he can hear your every thought, aegon goes and proves you wrong.

“why should i waste my time on some boat that stinks of salt and peasants?”

“because your wife will be on that boat.” the eldest of the hightowers is not a man you are particularly familiar with, and, yet, with the few interactions you’ve both shared, he’s always struck you as possessing two traits: an ambitious lust for power and the drive to do right by his family.

unfortunately for otto hightower, these two things can never coexist in peace.

“my wife goes to the privy to take a shit, need i accompany her there too?”

“aegon!” alicent hightower speaks up for the first time in what feels like an eternity, and it does wonders to lessen the tense feeling in your shoulders, which deflate on command as your husband’s mother rests her hand atop your own. “have some respect!”

the topic of conversation is one you blame yourself for, having foolishly brought up your brother’s upcoming wedding when asked by sweet helaena what you looked most forward to in the upcoming moons, with a hand resting on the growing swell of her stomach and her other placed delicately in the hold of her husband’s, one qoren martell.

the pair were a love match, unexpected as that may be, meeting by chance on one of the many times otto hightower had attempted to barter for the lord of sunspear to aid the greens in the war of dragonlords. the martell boy took no interest in the war, leaving the family to fight their own troubles- and their own kin- but he took great interest in the pretty blonde daughter and, not even a night after the war had met it’s conclusion with the parading of the rogue prince’s head and the charred remains of the black queen throughout the city of king’s landing, he had her wedded and bedded.

the raven that carried news of cregan’s remarrying was one that came with no warning. nearing a half decade since the passing of his beloved first wife, with already an heir born to succeed him once he should pass on, your brother had not only no need for remarrying, he’d also voiced no interest.

until he let himself be enchanted by the blackwood daughter.

it’s pitiful, really, how your elder brother could discover something as fickle as love not once in this lifetime, but twice, while you find yourself shackled to a man who’d likely rejoice at your demise.

“what kind of message would i be sending to the northern cunts if i dock their shores instead of arriving on dragonsback, like the targaryen king i am?” it’s a card aegon has not once failed to play since his war-inducing coronation, a constant reminder of the power his mother and grandsire have bestowed upon him against his wishes, much like his betrothal to you. “sunfyre will deliver me to winterfell quicker than the most royal of fleets.”

“aegon, this is not a debate.” the strident words echo in the small dinning hall for a flurry of moments after otto hightower has spoken them, face baring fury and hand grasping chalice. all have fallen quiet: at the table, among the serving folk, within their own thoughts. “your wife will be on that boat, as will you. you’ll depart together, arrive together, and you will do good to remind lord stark of the great care you swore to give his dearest sister three years ago in exchange for his support for the throne. he has held his side of the bargain and it is time you show him you have too.”

only, he hasn’t.

“she doesn’t need me there!” aegon has this ability to somehow sound like a spoilt child and a boy who’s been deprived of his every want, all at once. “helaena will be on the ship to keep her company. perhaps she can give my dear wife some tips on how to finally make use of her womb.”

a chair scrapes the ground.

loud, poignant, silencing. the one eyed prince stands tall, a foreboding figure who’s still features only serve to rouse a sense of unease, like the calm before the most brutal of storms. aemond perches forward in a sluggish motion, as though he’s thriving off the anticipation every serving wench casts for his next act, hands splayed out on the table and gaze fixed on the king. the two stand at opposite heads of the table and, as is the norm in recent years, exchange few words.

“i’m retiring to my chambers.”

you watch with baited breath as aemond’s eye meets your own and visibly softens, though only for a moment, like he’s apologising for your husband’s lack of tact when it comes to choosing which words to speak.

wishing to ask him to stay, you swallow down the plea with a sip of wine.

“you’re dismissed.” aegon grants him leave, knowing full well the prince was not asking for permission.

it has all been one big power-play between these two targaryen men- the words they speak, the looks they share, the decisions they make- since they defeated their enemies and lost the vehicle in which to deviate their inner-family conflicts.

“it’s no bother, truly, lady alicent.” finding the nerve to speak had seemed impossible mere moments ago, yet the voice within your own head tells you it’ll garner the attention of a certain prince. the voice is correct. “his grace is true in his words, there’s no reason he should accompany me on ship. the journey is that of sixteen sleeps, and that is only if the seas treat us kindly. the ruler of the seven kingdoms should not waste his time with such a silly thing when he has a dragon at his disposal. and, though i do not agree with his choice of words to describe the people of my ancestors’ lands, the northern folk would do good to see their king on dragonback, if only to remind them all of his great power and the protection it brings them.”

from the corner of your eye, though you give your best effort to not cast your gaze in his direction, you witness a look of disagreement bleed onto aemond’s face, as though the words of flattery you speak in honour of your husband serve as daggers piercing his flesh and bone.

helaena speaks up before the one-eyed prince can.

“are you sure, sister?” your heart melts under the warmth in which the princess addresses you, smile upon her face and care within her voice. growing up with only brothers, you’d never known the true joy of having a sister, till the day you married into the tortured targaryen household and the sweet girl who made friends with slugs approached you with the proposition of tea in her chambers. “mother only thought it best aegon accompany you to help you feel at home on the ship, as my own lord husband shall do for me.”

“i thought it best, my dear girl, after helaena told me of your own discomfort on ships.” alicent smiles meekly and, in your defence, you do your very best to meet her halfway but you’re certain your face is more wrinkled in displeasure than intended.

you do not enjoy the way everyone’s eyes are so focused on you, especially when aegon looks at you with a challenge, daring you to say something to land him on a ship rather than his fearsome mount, and when aemond casts his undivided attention onto you, no emotion in his eye yet the faintest clench of his jaw tells you he cares about what you say next.

for better or for worse, he cares and it is enough to tear you apart.

“ah, i see there’s been some misunderstanding.” anyone smart enough notices the waver in your voice, no matter how quick you are to mask it beneath an empty chuckle and a dishonest smile. “what helaena said is true, yes, i was once afraid of ships. but this was many years back, when i was a child. i’m far better now. so, truly, i insist the king should travel on dragonsback. perhaps we could even send for daeron to attend, it would be an excellent first sighting of the three targaryen men and their mounts since the end of the war.”

“what an excellent idea, your grace.” otto hightower flashes a kindhearted smile your way, giving two quick claps of his hand before requesting a serving wench refill his cup. “your wife truly is a gem to this family, aegon. you have no idea how fortunate you are to stand with such a woman by your side.”

you smile gratefully, aegon laughs dishonestly, aemond tenses visibly.

“no, he does not.” and, with that, the one-eyed prince retreats to his chambers, paying no mind to the continued festivities of his family nor the way your eyes follow him out of the room.aegon makes no attempt to awaken and bid you goodbye.

aegon makes no attempt to awaken and bid you goodbye.

it comes as no surprise to you. despite three years having passed since you had both sworn oaths to honour one another, the young king had made no place for himself in your marital bed, preferring the warmth of a woman bought with coin over a lady traded through politics.

there was a moment, singular though still there, after the ringing of the bells and the announcement of peace at last in the realm, after hours of plundering himself in cups of mead at the feast to end all feasts- thrown in honour of the man who slayed the last of the crown’s enemies: aemond targaryen- in which aegon gave his best effort to act like the dutiful husband he’d sworn to be. he’d lead you in stumbled dances, lay kisses on your fingers, smiled earnestly at the things you’d spoke of. and, while you’re certain it was all simply a show for your elder brother who was in attendance, you’d cherished the fleeting affection.

the moment passed when prince aemond asked for your hand in dance and the king stormed out of the hall with a jug of wine in one hand and an unfortunate serving girl in the other.

while your husband’s absence was one you’ve grown used to, the glances of pity from those who work the halls of the keep still twist your guts in knots that sting your throat with bile and your eyes with tears.

they’ve been all around you this morning, from the maidens who dressed you to the squires who carried your trunks of clothing down to the carriage.

even your sworn shield, ser arryk cargyll, can not mask his solemn eyes this morning.

“i will meet you at the docks, your grace." he does his best, nonetheless, hand steady as he guides you up the wooden steps to the royal carriage. “myself and two other brothers of the kingsguard will arrive first, as to ensure your safe arrival before the people.”

his words bring no comfort, not when you know full-well what your ensured safety means: harmless innocents seeking only to glance upon the queen being pushed and shoved and kicked to the ground. you’d seen it all before, in the few times you’d meant to greet the smiling faces of the small folk, only to unintentionally bring them harm as the guards surrounded you.

you’ve learnt to stay within the castle, looking upon the city through cracks in the walls and your chamber balcony, longing to know what it’s like to be part of the nightly festivities or the daily markets with the people of your husband’s land.

after casting an appreciative smile toward the knight, you enter the carriage and welcome the peace of the door shutting behind you, alone at last for the first time since you’d been shaken awake at dawn.

sinking into the cushioned seat on the right-end, you heave a sigh and smooth your dampened palms over the skirt of your gown. these days this seems to be the only facet of your life you have control over: the clothes you wear. this morning you’d chosen blindly, eyes still clouded in unfulfilled rest and unable to truly notice which garment you’d pointed at. now awake and aware of the world around, you find yourself dressed in something you’d sworn to save for a special occasion, like a royal tourney or the festival of the mother.

instead, you’ve wasted it on a carriage ride.

the gown is not the prettiest, nor the most lavish one you own, and you’re sure it would rouse whispers of impropriety among the ladies in the court, each of them adding new detail to the scandal of the queen and her unbefitting wardrobe.

instead of it’s looks, the dress holds your favour in the memory it holds in it’s seams.

you’d received it on your second nameday within the castle, amid a war for the throne and sat at a feast made up only of your good-mother, the sweet helaena, otto hightower and your wine stained husband. as the evening came to a close, a pair of your handmaidens entered the dining hall, a great box carried between them. presenting it at you feet, they’d loudly proclaimed the gift was from aegon himself, which sent you near flying out your seat, for your lord husband had bothered naught to get you a single gift on the first nameday you’d spent under his roof.

the sight of the dress itself furthered your shock, a beauty of onyx black silks and leathered details, the emerald green three-headed dragon crest which adorned the centrepiece of the gown’s chest making you feel part of the targaryen family. what caught your eye truly, though, was the stitching that held the dress together, the faintest saphire blue on a dark canvas.

you’d loved the gown enough to ignore how aegon failed to discreetly whisper to his mother in his drunken confussion, swearing up and down that he’d gotten you no such gift.

tracing your finger over the blue stitching now, you smile and wonder where exactly your husband’s mother or sister must have commissioned such a gown.

the carriage has yet to commence moving. you assume it’s waiting for the kingsguard to depart first, and let your heavy eyelids shut, body melting slowly down toward the bench till you’re splayed across it, hoping to fall deep enough into sleep to not notice when the carriage shakes alive with movement.

instead, the door bursts open once more and you rush to sit up-right, gods forbid someone catch the queen resting.

“i see you’ve made yourself comfortable.” a voice, calm as a gentle breeze on the warmest of summer days, brushes over you and your eyes find his.

there he stands, smelling of the leathered coat he wears and of the smoke of past rides upon dragonsback and of the freshest of linens you imagine he lines his bed with. he’s too tall, too large for the measly doorway into the carriage, and so he near-bends himself in two to slip through and into the bench across from you, door closing once more, leaving only you and him.

the queen and the prince.

lady stark and aemond targaryen.

if ever the history books were to write of this encounter, one day once both your bodies have decayed and nothing remains but the legacy of your names, you hope whoever the author may be will make sure to mention that the carriage jolted awake before you could kick the prince out.

the history books have told greater lies, after all.

“what are you doing here?” it comes out of you with accusation, as if the one-eyed prince means you harm, and you cringe, readjusting yourself till you sit as perfectly poised as him and his stretched spine. you clear your throat of surprise and aim to start over again. “i thought you were in oldtown alongside prince daeron. what brings you here instead?”

“a change in plans, lady stark.” aemond has not once addressed you by your royal title since the crowning of his brother, the only one within the realm to not do so. and while some whispered of this being a sign of the prince’s distaste of you or his refusal to acknowledge you as the true queen of westeros, you’ve always found comfort in it, as though he views you as unchanged since all the bloodshed and expectation bearing and tiara wearing had begun. “it seems neither my sister nor her husband will be joining you on the ship after all. with the impending arrival of their child the pair thought it best they return to the martells’ homeland and surround themselves with the care they’ll need should the babe make an early arrival."

you cannot quite place your finger on why his answer brings forth the feeling of disappoinment, like you’d been hoping there was a greater reason for his presence than mere last-ditch efforts to ensure you not be sent alone up north.

“that’s delightful!” you find yourself leaking false excitement, a smile breaking over your face till the muscles in your cheek ache and the skin pulls imposibly tight. most certainly the prince must find your look rather deranged. you try and correct both your demeanor and your words. “that helaena may meet her child soon, i mean. it’s a shame she can not join me, i’d hoped to make up for the time we’ve spent apart since her marriage.”

“yes, well, i’m afraid you’ll have to settle for my own presence instead.” his tone is ever sardonic and you’re not blind to the rolling of his eye. were you a braver woman, you’d perhaps take this moment to ask what you’ve done over the years to scorn him so badly he chooses to mess with your head, one moment warm- offering you the chance to dance while your husband drowns in his cups, delivering books to your chambers you’d mention in passing at the dining table when you were certain no one had heard you, interrupting conversations and saving you from sleazy lords who done their best to make passes at their queen- and the next moment cold- leaving the library everytime you find him there alone, sitting himself the furthest seat from you at every table, speaking with impatience and indifference any time he gets caught in conversation alone with you. you are cowardly, though, and instead you try to uphold your tired smile. “mother ordered that one of us accompany you and, though she pretends to not see, she is not blind to the fact aegon would deny her demands, so she insisted it be me. worry not, however, i’ll do my best to keep out your way.”

the wheels of the carriage must catch on something- a rock, a street cat, the foot of a passerby, you’ve no real clue- for you’re sent hurling out of your seat, hands flying out to break your fall against the floor and-

“if you’re this unsteady on dry land, i fear for your safety once we reach the northern seas.” his hands never touch your skin, yet you feel the heat of his touch burn your ailing heart and send warmth flying to the corner of your body you find it best to ignore.

yet you do not brush him off, allowing him to guide you back into your seat. the leather he wears squeaks as he sits back down and this is enough to break out a giggle from you, something so unserious about a stoic-faced prince and his noisy wardrobe.

“i’ll make sure to only send myself overboard,” you catch yourself before you say his name. a hand lands over the left side of your chest, where you feel the beating of your own heart beneath the layers of skin and the tissues of fat. a sign of oath-swearing. “you have my word.”

perhaps the fatigue has won at last, but you swear you almost catch a glimpse of a smile.

you collapse onto the bed with a heavy heart.

the dock had been littered with folk pleading to see their queen, dirtied faces and tattered clothes painting your view as the guards stood their ground, harshly shoving back those who ventured too closely.

one man had thrown himself at you from behind, arms long enough to grab at strands of your hair and yank you backwards. down you’d went, balance ripped from beneath your feet and pain splitting through your skull as you physically felt strands of hair ripped from their roots. you could hardly yelp before the man pulled again, hissing some obscene slurs aimed at your husband and his neglect for the impoverished folk.

his grip on you was released before he could pull a third time.

“touch her again and it will be the last time you have hands.” the prince never bothered with glancing your way, not even as he leant you his hand to pull yourself back up, positioning himself behind you till you were both aboard the ship.

you’d parted ways from there, a dozen of ladies-in-waiting swarming around you with questions of your wellness and offers to assist in carrying your possessions to your quarters. you’d hardly the chance to glance back at the prince, catching the sway of his hair as he walked alongside the captain, leading the way as the pair headed towards the ship’s helm.

only hours later, once exhausted and twice fed, did you make it to your room at last. accompanied by your sworn shield, the familiar man walked you down into the lower half of the vessel, away from the sounds of crashing waves and skwaking birds. a sour mixture of pity and shame staining the back of your throat as you passed by the open doors of the crew’s shared quarters, each so small it could hardly be considered a wardrobe, much less a room. the beds- if one could call them that- were stacked atop one another, leaving little room to breath between.

your logic tells you it’s sensical, needing to fit as many in a quarter to sleep the crew who man the boat. your heart tells you it’s unfair, leaving those of value in discomfort whilst you, no more helpful than a crying babe, are given your own room to be at ease in, soothing your aching body with rest after yet another day of not having to lift a single finger.

not even to open the door to your own quarters.

at the very back of the vessel, a fair length of empty hall between them and the crew, stand two doors side by side, both so identical in shape and colour, you were near sure you’d been seeing double. alas, ser arryk had pulled out a key, unlocked the door on the left and pushed it open, stepping aside and gesturing you inward.

“i’ll remain posted at your door each night, your grace,” he’d spoken with a softness in his tone. when you’d first met the man, you were still shaken from the consequences of a war freshly begun and he was grappling with the fact his own twin, the man who wore his same face, had switched sides in the fight for a new ruler. both broken, neither familiar with the other, a sense of solace was found among you both, cultivating over the years of war and, now, in peace at last. the knight has become a friend, a trusted companion, a reminder of your own brother and a taste of home so far away from the icy grounds of winterfell. “only in the day, post the breaking of your fast until the sun reaches the highest point in the sky, i will take my rest. prince aemond has agreed to guard your side during my hours of sleep, so you’ll be in safe hands.”

you’d thanked him with a nod and a squeeze of his hand, slipping into your temporary quarters, your new safe haven for the upcoming weeks of travel.

now- head upon goose-feathered pillows, shoulders falling lax at the freedom from prying eyes, chest a heaving mass of stress relieving exhales- you struggle to find the motivation to loosen your corset or relieve yourself of the stiff leathered arms of the dress.

for just a moment, you tell yourself as the weight of your eyelids becomes overbearing, i’ll rest. i’ll close my eyes and be anywhere but here, be anyone but me.

your eyes reopen hours later.

it’s dark past the window panes, what little of the moon that sits the sky this evening providing you with a glimmer of light. there’s resistance as you rise up, dress squeezing around your ribs, the ends of it already having traveled half way up your legs, a sign of your restless sleep antics. 

an ache in your throat makes itself known as you pull in a breath, deep and calming, arms shooting out in a stretch that your gown limits. shuffling off the bed, you feel your way through the room, utilising what little light you have to spark a match and let the flame meet the thread of a candle. within moments, you’re doused in orange hues and your surroundings become tangible.

with a sip of water- a jug filled to the brim at your bedside you’ve only now just noticed- life returns to you once more, lips no longer drier than the deserts of dorne and eyes no longer heavier than a mass of stone. you focus this new found energy on undoing the threads of your corset, arms powering through the aches and pains of reaching backwards in such unnatural angles.

the dress hits the ground and air-flow returns to your lungs at last.

it’s on shaky feet that you take to exploring the room. it is much smaller than the royal chambers you’ve slept within since swearing vows beneath the seven, yet it brings you more comfort, a reminder of home, of winterfell.

with wooden floorboards, wooden walls, wooden ceiling, the first spark of colour is the bed which sits with it’s head beneath a window, the vast mass of sea-water and night sky a stark contrast to the pure white linen sheets atop the bed. at it’s foot sit your trunks, filled to the brim with gowns of green and gold and black. gaze moving from the bedside table over to a remarkably plain vanity, the sway of your chemise reminds you of the fact you stand in only your underclothing, far too thin and retaining no heat for a night’s rest aboard the ship.

a craving for your chamber’s fireplace warmth sparks within.

the feel of a shiver running down your spine urges you down to your knees, hands prying at the trunks clasps and ripping them open. you delve forward, seeking out the feel of one of your thicker, warmer, heavier night dresses, only to come back empty handed.

heaving a frustrated sigh, you drag yourself up from the floor. the cold has rapidly begun to nip at your near-bare skin, leaving evidence of it’s existence with skin of goose and shivers down spine and hardening of nipples. panic ensues, mind plundering into the depth of worries and ignoring the feeble cries of reason from within your mind.

surely, it tries to tell you, the maids have not forgotten to pack you warmer sleepwear.

it’s instinctual, how your eyes find the door. you know that the man stood on the other side, your protector, would have no troubles in finding you a lady willing to lend a chemise or two your way. it’s for the queen, is all he’d need say before the hypothetical lady begins to offer the clothes off her own back. the image leaves you unsettled, hand dropping back down to your side before you can fully clasp the doorknob and twist it open.

but then you notice it, blended near perfectly into the wall to the right of the entrance: another door.

the worries begin to melt from glaciers to mere puddles on the ground as the warm thoughts of your maidens having unpacked your precious night dresses and hung them neatly within the closet, some part of them knowing it would be the first piece of attire you would seek out. the speed at which you twist the lock and rip the closet open is near beastly, a force great enough to rip the door from it’s hinges, the need to heat up and crawl beneath the inviting furs and blankets atop your bed growing by the second.

the door crashing against the wall rings out louder than the shriek you let out.

“your grace?” ser arryk’s voice calls from beyond your chambers. “are you okay? i heard a noise.”

the man staring daggers into you speaks no words, holding up his pointer finger and pressing it against his lips in a shushing manner.

you swallow back a million questions and obey.

“i’m fine, ser arryk,” you speak, and pray to any higher power that the knight not notice the waver in your words. you’re not fine, you haven’t been for many years. “i... i stubbed my foot against the bedpost. small toe took the brunt of it, but i’ll survive."

the knight chortles, in what you imagine is relief he needn’t draw his weapon nor another’s blood this evening, and calls back to you with words you don’t quite catch, too busy holding focus on him.

“what are you doing here?” it’s the second time you’ve asked him this in a single day. need you ask once more and you’ll fear it’s becoming a habit.

“what am i doing here?” he parrots you, hands dropping the leather coat that you imagine smells more like his dragon than it smells of him and, oh, how so much more aware you’ve now become of how he stands with only a loose tunic to cover his chest, neckline dipping enough to grant you view of pointed collarbones and freckle lined skin. “these are my chambers. ‘tis you who should be answering for their presence.”

“your...” sense hits you over the back of your head, like your older brother would do each time you’d miss the target in archery lessons. a bed like your own, with a bedside table and a window at it’s back. no vanity, but a desk and chair in it’s place. not a closet, but a room instead. “chambers?”

the prince may have but one eye, yet it holds the weight of a million as it trails it’s way down your figure. you shift in place, hand scrambling to get a hold of the door.

if only you could pull yourself away from his gaze.

“get some rest, lady stark.” he dares to step closer. much like you, he’s lit his room with candlelight, which flickers and sways behind him, looming his shadow larger than the man himself. daunting, dangerous, daring is the thought of how one simple movement is all it would take to cross the border into his chambers, his territory. “we have a long journey ahead. i don’t think either of our brothers will be pleased to find i’ve delivered you to winterfell all heavy-eyed and languid bones.”

the moment you form a grip upon the handle, you swing the door shut, fumbling through shaking hands to twist the lock once more. forehead meeting cold wood, you pull in one, two, three breaths and try calm your wavering heart, nothing working to soothe the knowledge that a door separates you from the prince. so little, yet too much.

seconds later, you hear the turning of a lock and sigh with- relief? exasperation? grief? you’re not sure what this hollowness in your chest stems from- as you come to terms with how you’ve both now locked one another out of each other’s chambers.

you sleep with only your embarrassment to keep you warm.

routine is easily found within the one-eyed prince.

he’s meticulous, this you’d already known before boarding the ship. since the conquest against the blacks, his life upon land has melted into a copulation of days where he’ll rise with the sun, often breaking fast alone, and then drag himself off to the training grounds as the rest of his family gather round the table, with only his mother and sister insisting that he stay and share the first meal of the day with them all. his time with a sword ends only when it’s forced on him, the likes of the king’s hand- ser criston- informing him the king has called for a meeting of his small council, and how could he host such a thing without his trusted commander of the citywatch present?

the meetings rarely hold any merits, mostly an excuse for aegon to talk over others far wiser than him and drink himself to a state where even the cupbearers begin to deny his requests for a refill. excusing himself, aemond would go on to spend what was left of the day either in the company of his beloved vhagar, a kindred spirit to his suffocatingly too much kind of existence, or in the peace of solitude, whether that be found in the corner of the keep’s grandiose library or his own chambers. some nights he’d wind his way down the halls to reach the table in time to share at least one meal with his family. most night’s he eats alone, nothing but his own reflections- in mirrors, in metals, in the single glass of wine he indulges himself with- seated around his table for one.

with his life more scripted than a history book, the prince seems to waver the first few days of the journey.

the routine he does find is shakier than what he’s used to. he struggles to wake up as early as the sun, the window within his chambers not providing enough light in the early hours of the morning to rouse him. by the time he sits the table to eat, everyone else is seated and half-way through their meal, nowhere for him to sit other than ser arryk’s seat- who merely nods at the prince as he departs his post by your side in favour of getting a few hours rest. till the sun peaks in the sky, he remains by your side, meaning those hours change each day in his routine: you read for some, you knit during others, you exchange small talk with the ladies who tend to you and who’s eyes are far more interested in the brooding prince by your side, and aemond simply stands there, mind distracted by the endless what-ifs your presence plagues him with yet his eye focused perfectly on anyone who dares approach the queen. the instant he’s free from his service as your faux-guard, the prince runs off to wherever the captain may be, using his time on the sea to learn more about manning a ship and the route that you’re taking to reach the north. from that point, you see him no longer till the next morning, the only thing to assure you that your good-brother returns to his chambers at some point in the night is his brief chatter with the knight stood at your door and the gentle closing of his own, heavy footsteps careful as you imagine him treading lightly towards the safety of his bed.

weeks pass by this way, aemond a fleeting companion you spend a fragment of your day with.

at no point, much to your own relief, do either of you bring up the incident with the door between your chamber walls. not much is spoken between you both, in all honesty, and it’s not from a lack of trying on your end. you’d tried, bless you, the first few days to converse with him, prompting talks of the weather and his most recent studies you’d only ever hear about from alicent herself, over the cups of tea and bites of sweet pastries she shares every so often with both helaena and you. but all your effort was met with hums and one-worded responses, the politest way for him to make it clear he has no interest in speaking with you.

which makes it all the more shocking that he’s just called your name.

“are you okay?” the question slips out of you with ease, like you were always meant to care for his well-being, but you can hardly be blamed when he’s approached you so suddenly, sky already dark with night and his own eye seemingly as wide as a saucer.

“we’re heading towards a storm, lady stark.” he speaks calmly, patiently, letting the words fall over you. “it’s nothing the crew isn’t prepared for, the captain’s assured me. they’ve traveled this route many a times, it’s only natural that the tides grow wilder and the skies greyer as we reach the north. there’s no need to worry.”

there it is again, an insinuation that you’re fearful of being on ship. it irked you at the diner table when it caused aegon to scoff at you and it irks you now as it causes aemond to stare at you with a level of attention he rarely gives when it’s only you two.

your teeth grind under the pressure of your ire, any comment on your bravery instantly swallowed as you remind yourself of why it truly irritates you: because it’s true.

the open waters, the life on deck, the crashing of waves and raging of storms, it’s always terrified you, every part of your body rejecting the way the boat rocks. it’s the whole reason you’d snuck away from the tables of food shared amongst the crew and yourself, stomach twisting in knots that released themselves only after you’d stumbled out onto the near-empty deck, darkness engulfing you as you managed to throw your upper half over the edge in time to watch the breads and meats you’d just eaten fly out your mouth in chunks and into the raging waters below.

of course, you would not be admitting this to the fearless prince.

“i appreciate you sharing this news, but i assure you i am not worried.” he nods like he believes you, yet his words say differently.

“the nights will be much rougher from now until we reach winterfell, and it is likely that the rains will not stop even after daybreak. it’s perhaps best you stick to below the deck, the cold may take an ill-effect on you.”

“i’m a northerner, my prince.” there’s a heavy rumbling of thunder above. “i do not need protecting from it’s cold. you, on the other hand, have spent most your days in the keep. perhaps ‘tis you who should stick to below the deck.”

“i will be wherever you are, my lady.” you’re unsure of which cracks first: the bolt of lightning or your neglected heart. strange in every way, you feel a sickening guilt to hear the words a man should speak to his wife come from him instead of aegon, who could not even feign interest in you enough to accompany you in your travels. the guilt quickly melts away when aemond seems to clarify his intentions. “as that is what my agreement with both my mother and ser arryk requires.”

your heart falls in your chest.

but the rain falls on your face. first, small drops, like the sight of morning dew slips slowly down a window pane. then, drop by drop, it grows in volume, peble-sized raindrops staining the silks of your dress and the leathers of his tunic in blotchy discoloration.

feet planted firmly on the wooden deck, you inhale the scent of salted air and misery, dripping off both of you in the silence of the growing night. nothing is keeping him here, you think, and yet the prince stands beneath the shower of the gods and let’s himself be soaked.

a simple glance his way, while his eyes stare voidly out into the darks of the raging waves, fills you with a deep sense of loneliness. it’s all you’ve seen in him over the last few years, in the few glimpses you get: as he passes behind your chair in the morning, as he rushes past you in the direction of the halls where they host the small council, as you spy his return to the palace grounds in the late of the night likely smelling of smoke and dragon’s breath.

a lonely man with a lonely dragon, that’s all you see.

but when the halls are alight with festivities and the people are bountiful, he plays his role of the realm’s prince and, what he may lack in jovial nature and welcoming smiles, he makes up for in charismatic quirks of his lips and entertaining the lonely women who’s husbands are too far gone in their cups with a dance or two. by women, of course, you mean yourself and, on the occasion that ser criston let’s himself be tempted with wine, his own mother.

he must have felt your blatant staring, for you empty your thoughts and find him gazing back at you, the near-white hair that marks him as a man with fire in his blood sticking to his skin under the pressure of the water.

“it’s cathartic, isn’t it?” you wonder if he hears you, words a simple whisper beneath the echoing of bangs and booms above you both, the storm fighting to put itself together and rain down on the ship with no forgiveness. “i used to sneak out my room as a girl, back in winterfell, on nights where the sound of rain filled the castle walls. i wasn’t a happy child, not the way one’s supposed to be, but growing up with only brothers left me embarrassed of these things, like i couldn’t express this unhappiness in front of them. when it was just me and the rain... it was okay for me to have wet eyes and flushed cheeks. so i’d bottle it up and wait till that moment where i could let my tears be dragged away by the storm.”

“doesn’t it rain every night in winterfell?” he surprises you with his response, so used to the act of you talking and him never replying. “you must have cried a lot.”

“believe it or not, the north isn’t that cold.” there’d been a time when you believed this, way back before you spent your hours in the sun of the keep. nowadays, not even the coldest of hours in king’s landing were a match for the warmest days in the north. “somedays, the sun is generous enough to warm our lands so that we need wear only one layer of fur!”

the thunder steals the sound of his amusement, but you see it, in twists of lips and shakes of shoulders and relaxing of postures. it’s fleeting, no more than a few seconds, but it’s the first that you’ve seen the prince look his age, two and twenty and untouched by the harshness of life.

he straightens his back and returns to the face of a lonely man.

“i’d sooner call it a nuisance than something cathartic, lady stark.” he answers your previous ask, eye returned to the dreaded sea ahead. “it’s making a mess of not just our travels but our clothing too.”

the stick of your dress’ sleeves against your arms, so soaked they’ve near merged with your body and become a new layer of skin, feels a little poignant as you twist to look upon him properly. it takes every inch of sanity you have- which, these days, seems to be less and less- to not follow a raindrop as it slides down his scarred cheek, his pointed chin, his delicate neck, his soaked ches-

lighting snaps you out of your trance, as if the gods themselves had caught you ogling the man and sent a message your way: stop this insolence, at once.

“i’m sure a man like yourself has sullied their clothes with far more distasteful liquids than mere water.” naïveté, an old friend who rears her head your way every so often, takes you by the hand and leads you up the road of shame the moment you see the prince’s brow quirk with a questioned gaze, face awash with a look stuck somewhere between utter shock and lustful satisfaction. “by blood! i mean, surely the battles of the great dance had you covered in mud, and blood, and bloody mud, and-“

“my brother complains you scarcely talk.” the sudden mention of your husband physically shakes you- or, perhaps, it is simply the cold which causes such a reaction. either way, your hands are trembling by your side. “yet here you are struggling to cease speaking. fascinating.”

“yes, well," a feigned clearing of your throat to relax your nerves. the rain feels colder within an instant, the mention of aegon- no less from the one-eyed prince’s mouth- enough to send you into a state of discomfort. “perhaps if the king were better at holding conversation, he’d find me as talkative to his liking.”

finally, you’re able to hear his laughter.

it is not ser arryk who accompanies you back to your chambers this evening, but aemond instead. stood a good few paces behind you, he lets you take the lead, no sound but the thudding of your footfall and the squelch of your soaked linens to fill the ship halls. the knight who guards your side already stands post at your door, no surprise nor shock on his features to make you believe he was unaware of the prince keeping watch over you on the deck.

before the prince can step into the refuge of his room, you halt him.

“wait!” the volume of it is louder than you intended, and leaves you no room to wonder over whether or not ser arryk has heard you. the knight shows no sign of his listening while the man you’ve called for stands frozen, the expanse of his back filling your vision as he stands one foot in his chambers and the other still lingering in the hall. “if the nights are to become rougher, as you said, i will pray that rest finds you easily, good-brother.”

his door slams in your face after a toneless humm leaves his lips.

as if irony has not cursed your lifetime enough, it is you who finds no rest. first you shift around, rolling from back to front, switching the sides upon which you lay, crossing and uncrossing legs. when that fails, you count sheep, one after the other as you imagine a dire-wolf chasing after them with a bloodlust unquenched by a thousand hunts.

then comes the thinking.

like a virus feeds off it’s host, your mind eats away at your sanity with thoughts of past, present and future. a past of snowy hills and frozen hands, a present of misery kisses and empty beds, a future of misty unknowns and dark unsureness. there’s also thoughts of your older brother, likely laying within his own bed and anticipating the second marriage of his life.

you wonder if someday you’ll do the same, should the stranger call for aegon before you, releasing you from the grip of duty and leaving you free to chase the passions of life.

the contents of your stomach sway with the boat, the storm above raining fury down and the tides rising and falling with tremendous waves that crash against the wooden structure and tease you with how easily you could be swept away into the depths of the dark waters, one blow strong enough being all it would take. it’s what frightened you as a child and what does the same even now, turned twenty a handful of moons ago. your chest quickens it’s breaths as your heartbeat rises along with the waves, panic twisting itself into your bloodstream and transporting itself to every nook and cranny of your tired bod.

you lay back, eyes squeezing shut as another roar of thunder rings from above, and clutch the blankets in your grasp, as if burying yourself in them will hide you from the world around you. two more claps of thunder and you spring out of bed, no time to process where your legs carry you towards until you feel the cold of the golden doorknob.

the flick of a lock has you pausing, hand clasping around the handle.

would he still have it locked on his side? surely, you think, there’s nothing the dragon prince must despise more than the thought of you having free-reign to step within his lair. swallowing your fleeting pride, you twist the handle and-

the door opens with an offensive creak.

“shh!” in a near future- as near as dawn- you’ll turn squeemish at the memory of how you’ve attempted to hush an object. but, for now, you’re too concerned with the sight that greets you.

the room is as you remember it: a bed, a flickering candle, a desk- though, it now carries a pile of abandoned leathers and trousers strown across it.

you tread carefully with your first step, a chill dancing on your spine while your foot presses against the cold wooden floors. with another step, you’re fully in his room, the ends of your shift pooling around you. you can’t bring yourself to close the door behind you, a tremble of doubt still in you.

upon the bed lays the slumbering dragon.

a normal woman, hot-blooded and lust-craven, would take delight in trailing her eyes over his exposed flesh, chest bare to the night as the blanket rests a few inches above his hipbones. you sooner notice his uncovered face, guilt awash your features as you spy the entirety of his scar for the first time.

pink, harsh, uneven. it’s hard to see clearly, yet the sight of it is enough to shoot sympathy pains through your own face, wonders of how a child could face such a traumatic laceration and survive it plaguing you. over your years in court you’d heard a vary of different tales of how the prince came to lose his eyes. some claimed vhagar, in all her might, had taken his eye as payment for becoming his mount. other rumours say he tore it out himself, an angry little boy who’d never gotten the attention he wanted finally driven to the brink of self-mutilation just to be seen.

the how matters little, you’ve always believed, the why seems far more important.

why must a young boy give up an eye, why mockery is made of his injury, why a scar not only dirtied his skin but marked him till the day he dies, that's what you'd love to know.

the unscathed eye opens.

the prince seems confused, face twisting the scarred side away from your view as he sits up right, squinting through the flickering light and the sleep-filled eyesight to make out your features. his hand shoots out to the side, scrambling along the bedside table.

“i’m so sorry!” you exclaim, mindful to keep your voice down as to not alert your knight, and turn around to face the emptiness of your own chambers, giving him the privacy needed to resit his eyepatch. “i just thought...”

there’s no end to your sentence, because you hadn’t thought.

“why are you awake, lady stark?” not how are you in my chambers, not how long were you looking at my scar.

just like you, he cares more for the why of things.

“i...” you shift your weight from one leg to another, and then back, stalling your reply as your hands come to rest in front of you, fingers intermingling and keeping each other company through the shame flooding your system. “i could not sleep.”

there’s rustling behind you, and then a muted thud. a crack of joints, rising from the bed. some more movement, fabrics slipping onto skin. you face away, still, and wait with baited breath for a reply or a dismissal back to your chamber of misery.

“so you decide to take away my right to rest?” the light from the candle dims and the familiar darkness of his shadow looms over you, large and all consuming and stretching till the top of its’s head rests within your room. “it’s safe to look. no more grotesque sights out in the open.”

his words make you feel sick, even if they’re inflated with humor and self-deprication. the need to reassure him his scar is not grotesque, nor shameful, nor something he should feel the need to cover- much less in the comfort of his own bed- dies when you fail to put it into words.

you choose only to face him once more, no words finding their way out upon the discovery that he’s not only dressed his face but his chest too, loose shirt thrown over his porcelain skin.

“your company, that is all i wish to take.” your voice finds you at last, returning to you with a cough and a crack. “i’d grown sick of staring at the ceiling, forgive me for awaking you.”

“i was not sleeping, regardless.” he’s lying, you both know it. neither of you address it. “my company is not one that rouses comfort in many. how strange you’ve chosen to seek it in your hour of need.”

that, too, is a lie.

within a breath of time, the prince has taken seat at his desk, chair turned towards where you sit upon the edge of his bed, crosslegged and heavy-eyed yet still so far away from the calling of sleep.

he entertains your talking, sitting back and listening as you dance around the true reason for your presence: your fear of the storm, of the boat and the storm above the boat.

as is the norm, he replied with little, hmms and yeahs and nods of approval to continue forward with whatever your next tale is. but it’s no use, as no amount of rambling and reminiscing your days of freedom and girlhood can seem to drag you into the arms of the mother, awaiting to send you to sleep with her sweet song and warm touch.

so your mind wanders a little less back in time, to when you’d already sworn vows and been broken in by your lord husband, and it latches onto that night. the one you’d spent years questioning if you’d dreamed it all- the unlit fire, the buzzing of your nerves, the head between your legs- or if it had been real. the prince had never spoken of it, had never made a repeated attempt at his indecent act, had never acted on his offer to show you more, touch you more.

“i can not sleep.” it tumbles out of you in a whisper as you replay the memory of awakening to the cold night and the warmth between your thighs. you uncross your legs, tucking them beneath the rump of your arse and attempting to distract yourself from the pulsing of your heart between your thighs.

the shift in position only serves to stroke the fire.

“i know, lady stark. it’s why you pulled me away from my own slumber a near hour past.” the prince speaks to you over the top of his book- which he’d picked up somewhere between your last rant on the chill of the walls of the keep and the silence your words had dissolved into- eye flickering over in your direction as if to let you know he sees you, all of you, even the way you’ve taken to clenching your thighs in the past few moments.

“help me.” desperation is a sin, your septa told you so all throughout your girlhood, tales of how it could drive a young maiden to seek from a man what only her husband must bring her: love, comfort, touch. and so you’d spent your days avoiding it, burying the sickly green feeling in your chest each time you’d spy upon a loving lord and lady, reminding yourself that you are a queen, and a queen wants for nothing, not even affection. the sin has been buried so far down it’s dug it’s roots into the ground and made home in you, however, and now you find yourself wanting. “tire me, please.”

“and how do you propose i do that?”

“you’ve done it,” his attention becomes more unnerving the more he gives you it, book snapping shut and discarded to the desk behind him. there’s a danger in his eye, one you’d only ever seen in the wolves as they preyed upon the sheep. “once. summers ago, the night you came to check upon me in my chambers.”

the silence is stifling, red hot feelings pulsing through your veins as the pale blue eye keeps it’s focus on you. the air is thicker, warmer, harder to take in through simple shallow breaths and forcing you to let your lips part, pulling in gasps of it just to cool your burning lungs. the ends of your night-dress dance over your calves while you readjust once more, doing anything to not acknowledge the unspoken events you’d just brought back to the light.

a part of you wishes he’d laugh in your face, or scowl in confusion, and send you back to your quarters with denials of such a thing ever having happened. the other part of you wants it to ring true to him.

so, you keep talking.

“whatever you did to me that night, how you made me feel, it exhausted me.” the sleep you recall, with the fire relit and door shut gently, was one of the greatest you’d ever gotten. “so please, i beg you, good-brother, do what you must to make me feel it again.”

gaze on the floor, you find your line of sight invaded by uncovered feet and swallow back a series of exclamations when realising he’s risen from his chair. a hand, one who’s softness you can recall from holding it in a waltz, grasps the point of your chin, tilting your head back, back, back till you meet his stare.

there’s no confusion in his expression, only hunger.

“are you asking me to make you cum again, my lady?” the words are so dirty, unfiltered for the ears of a highborn lady, and they have you squirming in your seat. the prince only watches, fascinated, like he’s studying you the same ways he’d studied the inner-workings of the ship these past few weeks.

“don’t...” your protest ends before it can begin, his fingers holding your face in place as your try turn away from him. “don’t say it like that. it’s so... crass.”

“you are harlot enough to ask such services from your husband’s brother,” for all his aloofness, there’s no disguising the pleasure he takes out of reminding you of aegon and how he ties you both as family by law and duty. if anything, you think, the one-eyed prince enjoys the shame it’s casting upon you, the humiliation with which you’re forced to stare up at him with, glossy eyes and trembling lips. “yet you shy away when i call things as they are. did you not enjoy how my mouth on your cunt drove you to your peak, good-sister?”

the hand on your face travels upwards, cold as it cups your warmed cheek. his thumb soothes over you in a calming manner, yet it only serves to unnerve you more, heart beating against the confines of your ribcage and begging to break free, deliver itself right into his palms.

aemond steps closer, till his knees brush the end of his bed and his body heat mingles with your own. he’s calm, collected and ever so eager to touch his thumb along the tender petals of your lips.

the pressure of his touch is greater than any kiss you’ve taken from the king.

“please, aemond...” you plead. the meaning behind it is lost in the night, neither the prince nor yourself sure of what exactly you’re begging for: release from his hold or release via his touch.

“a lady shouldn’t beg, ‘tis beneath her,” the smell of his hair, his clothes, his skin, it crowds your senses as the light of the candle halos around him. the targaryen line have always been a thing of beauty, men of delicate features and women of striking looks, yet they all fall mute to this dragon, broken in the eye of many, ethereal in those who actually look. the sudden appearance of his hand touching your calf jolts you, thighs clenching and face fighting his grip once more. “but, gods, do you sound pretty when you do.”

this is a greater torture than any prisoner of war.

the touches that never quite reach where you want them, the heat of his gaze falling over your heaving chest, the twitch of a grin upon his lips that mocks your wanton desires. the prince holds you in the palms of his hands, literally, yet is choosing to do nothing about it, admiring the sight of you as you twitch and squirm and shrivel up beneath his watch.

the descent of his hand is slow, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. the prince repeats the action, if only to see the way it bounces back into place after he releases it, and then continues his journey south. fluttering traces of skin against your neck, caresses of fingers over collarbones, gentle soothes of hands over the tops of your mounds.

there’s no denying your racing heart as the prince cups the fullness of your chest.

“why are you- oh!” the question is stolen before it fully forms, your eyes widening as you feel a delicious sting as his lithe fingers pinch at your nipple. it’s a feeling you never knew was possible, the twisting of the twin buds shooting blood to your core and causing your pupils to blossom with lust.

“i see my brother still wastes away your pleasure in sake of his own.” he delights in how you’ve unknowingly started forcing yourself further into his touch, back arching and shoving your chest forward. “you’d think that, with all the whores he’s taken to bed, he’d have learnt something in regards to a woman’s body by now.”

a normal wife would weep at accusations of her husband’s infidelity. she would wretch her heart out her chest and proclaim herself incapable of trusting, loving, taking another for the remainder of her days as she dealt with casting aside her lord’s indiscretions in benefit of their children.

you cry for your husband’s brother to touch you more.

and oh how he obeys, the disappointment of losing his touch on your right breast quickly coerced away at the glide of his touch down, down, down, till the tips of his fingers dance over the crease of your thighs, brushing over the mound of curls that lay hidden beneath the thin layers of your night shift.

“aem-“ you choke on his name, too sensitive and neglected to process the way he presses his finger against that precious pearl of yours. aegon, for the life of him, had tried once to stroke his forefinger against it- amid rythimless humps into you from behind- and had failed miserably, giving up with a huff and an exclaim of how you must be so boring the mother never blessed you with the nerves of ecstasy. if only he were here to witness how seamlessly his brother finds it, coaxing the floodgates to open and spread over your aching cunny.

the prince giveth and the prince taketh away, hands abandoning their glorious touch upon your body. before you can make so much as a protest or a demand against it, both hands land on your waistline. two squeezes he gives, the second tighter than the first, and it somehow works to calm that chill down your spine, a reassurance that he’s there, and only him.

in a shocking juxtaposition, his grip serves to flip you over effortlessly.

facing the sheets below, you struggle out a cacophony of sounds as you scramble to pull yourself up, only to be met with the shove of his hand against the middle of your back, pinning your front to the mattress beneath as the other hand pulls you onto your knees, arse up in the air.

“i told you i could teach you things, my lady.” the confirmation is there, even if he’s not stating it explicitly. the night in your chambers was true, his tongue on your cunt and his fingers gripping your skin and his stare between your legs, none of it had been a work of your tired mind. it both delights and disgusts you, that same old lick of shame ringing in your ear with the reminiscence of your septa’s lectures on a woman’s duty in the bedchambers: please her husband and give him an heir, both of which you’re yet to do. “best it will be if i start with the basics of how a man and woman move, don’t you agree?”

you’ve hardly the capability to nod your head, but you doubt he’s searching for a true response anyway.

the bed dips behind you, creaking with the added weight of him atop it. he mounts you like a horse, slotting himself between the spreading of your legs and nestling something solid against your cheeks of your rump.

it’s a position you know all too well, the very same as the one aegon puts you in when he decides to inact his royal duties against your disillusioned body.

“this is how a lord takes his whore,” he speaks into the night and steals your breath away with one simple roll of his hips. there’s fabrics and cloths that separate your arousal from his hardened cock yet you feel it all the same, warm and heavy and so real as it drags itself over the dripping slit of your cunt. “it’s impersonal, perfect for a man who wishes to think of another’s face as he fills a woman’s cunt.”

the pressure of him becomes a constant, that rubs and soothes and works it’s way over you. it’s only a grinding of bodies yet the sensation is greater than any the king has given you with his rancid cock twisting your insides uncomfortably.

“but it also allows a man to rut deeper, to fuck up against her crest till he’s spilling his seed into her empty womb.” it’s an embarrassing truth to realise how calm the prince sounds behind you, breathing even and hands solid in their grip against you, while you’re a mess of whimpered breaths and grinding hips, working sloppily back against his thrusts and trying your damn hardest to get him to graze over your aching pearl.

you’d gladly commit the rest of your waking days to the faith of the seven, handing yourself over to the so called silent sisters, never to know life away from doing the stranger’s biding if it meant aemond would touch you properly, no night dress and breeches to block the contact of his skin on yours.

if this is how the prince mounts his whores’, you envy the ladies of the silk street- a feat you never imagined possible, with all of your husband’s ventures into their beds- for even the sheer grinding of his body against the back of yours feels greater than any night you’ve spent with your head shoved into the bed below, aegon’s senseless battering against your womanhood leaving you numb with dissatisfaction.

“is this how my brother fucks you, lady stark?” the prince’s hand presses down on your midback, shoving you into the sheets. you twist your head to the side, if only to keep the air flow in your lungs, and startle over a moaned wail as the man behind you ruts into you deeper, brushing right over your cotton covered mound down to your aching bud.

he repeats the same action, once and then twice, your mind dragged too far off into the rolling waves of pleasure to pay mind to his wandering hand, pulling on the thin material of your nightdress and tugging it upwards

the cool air does little to soothe the burning between your thighs.

“do you get this soaked for the king?” it shouldn’t arouse you to hear him speak of aegon whilst he’s bucking his covered cock against you. but, could you really be blamed when he lets his hand join in, skilled digits finding your pearl and pressing into it?

“n-no...” shaky breaths take over your bod as you do your utmost best to appear as calm and collected as the man behind you. it’s cruel how you’re a dripping pile of lust whilst he remains soft-voiced and level-headed. “he’s no good at- ah!- no good at touching.”

you both hear and feel the prince laugh.

“it takes a man a certain hours of dedication to his craft to become an expert at it,” the thrusting of his hips ceases, yet he makes no attempt to stop the stroke of his fingers over your pulsing centre, soaking his perfect skin in your sinful essence. “i don’t think all the time in the world would be suffice to teach aegon how to please his wife.”

you want to agree, want to nod your head, but you’re too caught up in staring back him over your shoulder. clothes perfectly intact- spare for a few wrinkles in his shirt you’re certain were not there before-, his hair threatens to fall loose from the tie that holds it out his face, silver strands falling over his face. which, for once, is anything but stoic, eye blown wide with darkened desires, lips locked tight in a teasing smirk, brows furrowed with the concentration he bestows unto you.

it’s a vision to behold, a man carved to the perfection of a marbled statue.

it leaves you all the more relieved to feel him take hold of your hips once more, the traces that remain of your arousal on his skin now soaking into the fabrics of your shift as he flips you over.

landing on your back with a squeak, you welcome the sight of him staring down at you.

his hands remain cold against you, gripping at the meat of your thighs and forcing your legs apart, till he slots in like a missing puzzle piece, completing the image of you, hair splayed out around you and eyes hooded over in a tired haze of pleasure.

he somehow feels harder than before as he gives the first roll of his hips.

“this,” a crack in his composure, a sharp intake of breath as you trap him between your legs, nothing but pure want driving you to arch your back and meet his thrust halfway. he composes himself. “is how a husband should take his wife.”

you’re flushed with shame, watching as the prince’s stature comes crashing down onto you, like a wave meets the shore, washing over you with his scent, his warmth and the feel of his chest pressing down on yours.

a tilt of your head to the right and you’d find an answer to whether his lips are as soft as they look.

your head turns left.

“it’s the proper way to fornicate,” the words lack that spark of dirtied excitement, spat out of him as though it pains him to say such a thing. “at least the septas would have you women believe. something about letting your husband own you and watch your face as he claims your body for not only himself but the future of his lineage too.”

his words are whispers, mouth mere inches from your ear. a new pace is found between you both, one where his hips grind down and yours buck up, two planks of wood that burst into flame with the adding of a little friction.

the prince’s hands seem restless, unable to settle on a part of your body to focus on. if they’re not squeezing at your hips, they’re crawling up beneath the skirt of your dress, rucking it higher till you’re sure to be staining the front of his trousers with your slick. if he’s not cupping the side of your face in a futile attempt to have you face him, he’s winding his way down your neck, your chest, your breast, kneeding his fingers into them.

it’s when you throw your head back in a shallow gasp that aemond chooses to add his mouth into the mix, latching onto your neck. it’s warm, as warm as you remember it being the night he’s pressed it to your cunt, and it’s with sheer relief that comes along with realising that night had all been true- not a fictitious event conjured by your cruel mind to drive you mad- that you feel yourself begin to let loose.

your leg winds around his hip, pulling him deeper into you with each thrust.

“aemond, please,” there you go again with the mindless pleading, no clue of what you’re asking of him nor the effect your desperate whines have on him. the man answers with a tightened grip on your thigh, fingernails digging crescents into your skin and branding you for any to see- even that good-for-nothing husband of yours that he calls brother. “more.”

luckily, the prince knows what you’re wanting, knows what it is you’re trying so hard to achieve.

unfortunately, he’s not in a position to provide you with it.

“i can’t give you more, good-sister,” his voice is no longer that composed one from before, a mixture of heavy breathing and chocked groans littered across them. “a woman must take no seed other than her husband’s. i will not sully you beneath the eyes of the seven.”

you wish to argue he’s done worse, taken you in an impure act of meaningless lust, tongue and teeth and fingers working over your core till the dam broke and the gates were flooded with the essence of your peak. even now, he does worse, by showing you the pleasure that could be in your life, should be in your life, if only the fates had gifted you more fortune.

instead, you opt for reminding him of earlier words.

“whores bed men who they are not married to all the time,” in a cruel act of silencing you, the prince has taken to peppering kisses down the length of your neck, the top of your chest, eye watching you intently the whole time. “why... why can’t i do the same?”

instead of an answer, his mouth finds your stiffened nipple.

with your shift still in the way, he latches himself onto the bud, lips suckling it into his waiting mouth. your hand, no longer in your control, flies to the back of his head, tangling itself in the strands. a sharp tug and it’s now the prince who is a mess of sinful noises, eye watching your reaction as he brings his tongue into the mix, stroking the skilled muscle with precision.

your eyes clamp shut and, all at once, you’re back in the dark of your chambers, his tongue lapping at your soaked centre and his hand grasping your own, guiding you through the first taste of adulterated satisfaction.

“because,” he mumbles, lips unwilling to part from you and thus forcing you to squirm through the way his lips brush over your chest with every word they form. “you’re not a whore. and i will not treat you like one.”

and yet he’ll rut into you harder, slower, teasing you with the outline of his stiff manhood, condemning you to a life where you’ll spend the rest of your days torn between hating him for giving you a taste but not a bite. and he’ll leave you with the memory of how his lips can pucker and his tongue can twist and turn, rubbing your nipple raw with the chafing of your night dress.

it feels crueler than anything he may have done in the years when the dragons danced.

“what if,” you swallow back a particularly pathetic whine that threatens to spill as the tip of him bumps against your pulsing pearl. “i want you to?”

in all her septa’s tutoring on the many duties of a married woman- remaining seen but never heard by her husband’s side in public settings, tending to her husband’s needs and desires, baring children so that her husband’s legacy shall live on even once he is dirt in the ground-, never had the possibility of a woman putting her own desires first been mentioned. and so, to do so now, legs spread and bent at the knee, chest heaving with every breath you fight to take in, the very centre of you dripping with molten liquid that stains his breeches with every roll of his hips, it all feels wrong, dirty, sinful.

the prince would stop, if you asked, and you know this.

you don’t ask.

aemond halts with a grunt and burrows his head into the crook of his shoulder, breath dancing on your skin and the weight of his cock pressing right down into you. his chest pushes against your own with every breath you both take. fingers intertwined, hands coming to rest between your beating hearts, the act feels more intimate than any you’ve shared with aegon.

“don’t say such things.” at first, he sounds angered, tone low and threatening as he mumbles into your skin. his grip tightens around your hand, near painful, and he grinds himself further down into you, a whimpered sound killing any level of danger he possessed. “i’ll become selfish and take what i want instead of focusing on what you need.”

to live in a world where this man, beauty carved into every inch of his skin and spirit stronger than any lord or castle, denies himself of what he desires seems impossible.

“then take it,” your free hand winds it’s way around his body, rumpling the shirt he wears in it’s iron grip, urging him closer despite the lack of space existing between you. “i’m offering myself to you, aemond. it’s not selfish.”

there’s an exciting aggression behind the way he tears himself away from you, feet returning to the floor as he rises to a stand. grabbing at your ankle, a harsh tug is all it takes to get you to the foot of the bed and tangled in his hold once more, those muscles he trains showing their benefits in the way he so carelessly, effortlessly lifts you off, nails digging into the skin of your thigh to hold you against him. dropping himself back on the bed, the prince sits you down, legs spread out on either side of him as you come to rest within his waiting lap.

his cock presses up between your thighs, the shape, length, girth more defined than ever as the thin material of his breeches sits between your aching arousals. he’s bunched your shift up till it’s a mess of fabrics pooling around your waist, leaving your bottom half naked and exposed to cool air of the night.  aemond makes sure you stay warm, icy finger gripping at the flesh on your hips and rolling them forwards, the lips of your opening spreading to make room for his length.

he repeats his action several more times, eye staring deep into your own like they hold all the answers to the unasked questions and forbidden needs in his life. squeeze, pull, grind, a pattern of three moves he’s dancing with your body, and it’s intoxicating to witness, stare down at his face as he lets his brow furrow and his lips part in silent moans and his chest heaves for every breath of air.

“if... if the two before were how a lord takes a whore and a husband takes his wife,” you decide it’s been too long since he spoke and you miss the way his typically dutiful words melt away to make way for sin and longing, spewing filth your septa would have had his tongue cut out for. “what’s this one?”

“this is how a woman claims a man.”

his answer does something to you, awakening a part of you you’d closed off for years after that night. you’ve lost all autonomy over your actions as your body takes manners into its own grasp and you begin to grind down against him as one hand tangles itself in the locks of moonlight silver hair.

the prince throws his head back when you accidentally tug on it.

“is that what you like, prince aemond?” confident movements, shy words. you’re so incredibly aware that you’ve no real clue what you’re doing, driving on lustful instinct with no clear direction ahead. “the woman in charge?”

you must have struck a nerve for the prince is quick to level his own head and tighten his grip on you once more, the sting of skin breaking under his nails delicious in all the wrong ways. you hope he draws blood, hope he leaves your hips marked with thin scars.

“a woman empowered is not the same as a woman in charge,” he punctuates his words with the returned control over you, fighting against your own body to grind you down over him however he likes. which, apparently, excludes your pearl from joining in on the fun, neglected with each roll of your hips. “don’t be mistaken. i like watching a woman take what she needs from me, i like to see her eyes roll back with her head and her mouth spew out incoherent filth as she cums around my cock. but it’s no fun if i’m not the one controlling what she does and when she does it.”

it’s not hard to picture the prince with a multitude of women- likely the whispering ladies of the king’s court who like to spin tales on how good of a lover he is-, his hands around their bodies as he fucks them from beneath, throwing them off the edge of ecstasy.

the picture turns you green-eyed, jealous of the ones who he places no limit over, the ones he desires enough to break his honour for.

“now, please lady stark,” he heaves a sigh, cold hand trailing over your hip and down to the center of your legs, digits smoothing over the groomed curls of coarse hair till the chill of them greet your burning pearl. “i need to make you cum, or else neither of us will be getting any sleep.”

there’s no time to dwell on how his words make you feel less desirable and more like a nuisance, a wanton woman who ruined his slumber and demanded he give her the relief only his older brother should be giving her. there’s no time for he’s refamiliarising himself with you quicker than expected, taking advantage of the angle you hover over him in to breech a single digit into your warm, silken hole.

“ah!” you squeak out when his finger reaches deeper than anything you’ve felt before, pressing upon your gummy walls at a new angle.

he shushes you, pulling the finger out ever so slightly before fucking it back in. its only a few more times that he does this before your eyes are widening and a second of his fingers is slipping it’s way into you. in a motion you may only describe as come hither, the two press into your walls and coax whimpered delight out of you.

the prince is eager to see you like this, your head thrown back when you feel his fingers spread inside you, stretching your insides so different to the painful jabs the king’s cock has ever given you. perhaps, you think, if this is what cuppling felt like- truly is meant to be- you could understand why such a thing was a sin, for it would be far too easy to renounce your loyalty to the seven and, instead, spend your days worshipping whomever could play your body like their favorite instrument.

“aemond...” there’s a tightening of something in your guts, twisting and turning and threatening to snap under the pressure of his hands, crotch, touch against you. you feel the need to chase it, to run toward it, yet simultaeniosuly it frightens you. the night within your chambers had been slow, a gentle coax into letting yourself come undone around fingers and tongue. tonight, it’s urgent and desperate and something he’s near forcing your body to experience, no proper build up to get you ready to feel yourself float into those moments of pure ecstasy.

“i know, i know.” his words are soothing, just like the free hand that comes to smooth the hair on the top of your head, pulling you right into him till you’re tucked in his arms and hidden from the world within his warm chest. “just let yourself go, don’t fight it.”

his thumb against your pearl is all it takes to have the floodgates open.

you cum for the first time in years around his fingers, your cries muted against his skin as the prince continues to work you through it, not a single protest to the way you’ve stained his breeches nor soaked his hand.

there’s a possibility you cry out his name, or choke on your own whimpers, or cry pathetically, but the sound never reaches your ears as the prince cradles you to his chest, holding your shaken body captive against him. it’s far less intense than the euphoria he’d sent you off into all those years ago, and thus you feel robbed of everything you know his tongue is capable of doing.

but the exhaustion is the same, crashing over you in waves of heavy eyes and relaxed limbs, sinking yourself deeper into your guardian. wordlessly, he drags you both up the bed till his head hits a pillow.

a shift of your leg reminds you of his untouched arousal.

sluggishly, you fight against the calls of lady sleep and scramble to sit yourself up, hands shooting straight for his crotch. you revel in the intake of breath he gives as you brush over the bulge, yet you whine as his own hands fight you off.

“no,” his protests are firm, unlike your tired attempts to untie the laces of his breeches, hands halted when his own grasp them and pull them towards his heaving chest. you struggle against his hold, head shaking in protest. “stop this at once, lady stark.”

“but you need to...” heat spreading over your face, neck, just about anywhere it can get to, you can’t bring yourself to say the words that dance between you both, despite the remnants of your own liquid pleasure still painted on his fingers. you need to cum.

the prince understands, even if you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“and you need to rest.” he hushes you, pulling your tired limbs into his and tangling them, till you find your head resting atop his chest and his hand stroking over your back in a well practiced dance, soothing your every ailment without a single word of false comfort nor practiced poised filling the void between you both. “you can sleep sound here, the waves can’t catch you and the storm can’t harm you. i promise, i’ll fight them off before they can reach you.”

though you try to fight it, his soft whispers work greater than any sleep elixir and your eyes close within his chambers, the weight of the prince’s body and the heat it radiates enough to lull you into a state of golden comfort, the sound of his breathing drowning out the storm that rages on outside.

when they reopen, an empty bed and your own chamber walls greet you.

watching you is making him dizzy.

the hall is filled by laughter and cheer, an earnest warmth radiating from the cold northerners as they dance beneath the candlelight. while the feasts in king’s landing are grandiose and glittering with every golden dish, the wedding of cregan stark will remain an engraved memory on the prince’s brain till the day he should pass, the energy within the room happier than any he’s bared witness to before. the wedding itself had been short and sweet, straight to the point and unionising the warden of the north to his lady in a matter of a half’s hour, a cheer for the couple’s kiss before the party had been rushed indoors, out of the cold and into their assigned seats. he’d gritted his teeth at the fact you and aegon had not sat the same table as him, being the sister of lord stark meaning you and your husband were required to sit at the couple’s table. to make matters worse, he’d found himself seated with his empty eye socket facing you, daeron to the right of him and some southern lord on his left.

he’s kept an eye on you from the minute you entered his eye-line, hand grasped in your brother’s and a smile upon your face. it’s hard to think of the smiles you do not bare in the capital, trading the toothy grin for a tight-lipped curve of your lips. the resentment for his oldest brother- one that had first sparked to life in the early days of his childhood- grows greater to think he’s the reason why it’s taken the prince this long to witness how your eyes light up with true joy.

your brother’s arms rise into the air, inviting you to twirl beneath his hold, the skirt of your dress billowing out in front of you- it’s blue, a colour you’ve always worn best. the cups of wine you’d taken throughout the night must have hit you at once for, not even three spins in, you appear to trip over your own foot, stumbling right into another dancing couple, of whom the lady steadies your fall and guides you back to balance. the four of you break out in laughter he can not hear.

it must be infectious for he too finds himself producing a chuckle.

“i’m sorry, my ears must be deceiving me, for i swear i just heard you laugh.” daeron has always stood to represent everything the prince could have been, were the fates not cruel and his childhood not crippling. now more than ever, he contemplates the possibility of shoving his brother’s head into the table.

“hmm.” there’s no answer he can give that will lead him to victory in this verbal battle with his younger brother, and so he settles for a dismissive humm.

back on the dancefloor, he finds you no longer stand hand in hand with your brother- whom has found his way over to the welcoming arms of his new bride and finds himself stuck in a locking of lips, pulling away only to mumble what the prince imagines to be sweet nothings and foul words only a husband and wife may share- and, are instead, now making your way over in his direction.

like a beacon of light in the darkness, you shine as you walk through the crowd, eyes meeting his and a smile so shy he struggles to believe you’re the same woman who’d taken a place within his bed only nights before. ignoring the teasing of daeron, the one-eyed prince comes to rise, well prepared for an evening where he’ll entertain your wishes to dance till his feet ache, and takes his first step towards you, a familiar tingle dancing atop his spine and the beating of his heart growing louder with your proximity. only a few more steps and-

a hand clamps down on his shoulder, halting him.

“tonight, dear brother, i should like to dance with my wife.” the voice comes from behind him, but the lick of disdain and the smell of wine tells him enough. “i’m aware you lack your own bride, maybe use this time to dance with some maidens and find yourself one. mother would be overjoyed.”

the sight of the king leading you out onto the floor, those who circle you gawking and swooning at the sight of the ruler of the realm and his lady wife intertwined in dance, acts as a bitter reminder the prince would do well to never forget.

you are his brother’s wife, and that is all you will ever be.

the truth has a funny way of revealing itself.

it’s a fact you come to learn sat across the table from the queen mother, teacup in hand and ears spying upon the occasional coo from helaena’s young babe, tucked neatly in his mother’s arms as he drinks all her teat has to offer, the woman herself still wearing the face of exhaustion two moons after the birth had taken place.

“aegon was my favourite to deal with as a babe.” alicent speaks with hush, like she’s sharing a secret just for you girls to listen upon. “he was so easy, always smiling. i remember being so scared that everything i done was wrong, still so young myself, but one look at him and i knew not everything i done could be wrong, not if what i’d birthed him.”

“the wind has changed it’s way, the babe has fallen out it’s cradle.” helaena speaks her riddle, hand reaching to smooth over the three tuffs of moonlight hair on the boy’s head. “aegon never smiles anymore, mother. you must hate him now.”

your dear sister-by-marriage is a braver soul than you’d ever be, daring to smile at her mother even after bringing up, though only through insinuation, the events of three evenings past where aegon, angered from gods no what had transpired between him and his younger brother during a small council meeting, had sat the dining table and slated the one-eyed prince all night, going so far as to toast his lack of appearance at the family feast.

his malice ceased only as alicent herself shot out her seat, hands slamming down on the table and swearing to take both her elder son’s eyes if he dared mock his brother’s imparement once more.

he’d taken you to bed that evening, though toppled over his own breeches amidst removing them and left himself a snoring mess on the floor, too close for comfort as you crept your way out the marital chambers and down the winding roads to the empty library.

it was the maester himself who discovered you the next day, noon already in full swing and a stack of books in his hands as he let out an exclaim upon spying your resting form. moments after, he’d appeared behind the elderly man, eye-patch in place and face stoic.

the prince left abruptly, before you’d gotten the chance to bid him good day.

“i never got to thank you, lady alicent, for sending prince aemond up north on the boat.” maybe it’s an excuse to talk about him, maybe it’s a way to steer the conversation away from the king’s ill-manners. you’re fearful to consider the later ringing more true. still, it feels nice to say his name aloud again. “i’m sure the prince would have much preferred his seat upon vhagar, but his presence was greatly appreciated. just knowing he was there brought me as great a comfort as having my husband there.”

never has your good-mother looked so confused.

“i... i’m afraid i’m not sure what you mean, my darling.” the words drop like a led weight, crushing your ribcage and flattening your beating heart as it fights to stay alive. “while it’s true that i encouraged aemond to accompany you on the ship, it was only after he himself offered to. quite adamintly, might i add. i did not force aemond’s hand in any way."

across a courtyard, palm sweating as he grasps the hilt of the sword of a man he’d slain not so long ago- dark sister, he believes they called it- aemond hacks at a dumby stuffed with hay, each blow a metophorical slice through the king’s words from weeks ago.

i should like to dance with my wife.

dance with my wife.

my wife.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon smut

[hotpeoplesimp1]

Dean Winchester Oneshot

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem plus!sized reader

Warnings: MDNI, not plot, pure porn. Oral (f receiving), praise kink, thigh slapping though minor, soft!dom Dean, Dean because he is a warning, boob play, dirty talk, p in v, no protection (which is stupid, wrap it before you tap it), insecurities, body image issues. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything.

Summary: nothing. Just smut

Feedback is always welcome as long as it’s respectful. This is my first post so be lenient please. Have a wonderful day!

——————

“Fuck, sweetheart… You’re soaked.” Dean breathed out from above me. His green eyes blown with lust and hunger.

My body laying down on the bed, my heart pounding in my chest. Feeling extremely vulnerable and open, but also needy and desperate. Biting my lip in anticipation as he looks stares at my bare, wet pussy. Trying to close my thick thighs, my insecurities creeping into my mind. But he wasn’t having that. He grabbed my thighs and spread my legs.

“No, no.” He tsks. “Don’t you dare try to take this view away from me.” He all but growls. Leaning down and kissing me roughly, his tongue swiping over my bottom lip. I can’t help but groan softly, his hand squeezing at my waist, his other one beside my head, using it to support his weight above me. Lifting my hands up and threading my fingers through his hair, kissing him back just a feverishly.

I still couldn’t believe him of all people, Dean Winchester, liked me. This Greek God of a man, who’s the most amazing person I know. It makes no sense why he would want me. Especially considering the girls he usually goes for, the skinny, model looking ones. While I’m not “fat”, mostly because of hunting, I’m not thin either. I’ve got thunder thighs, a softer, squishy stomach, bigger breasts, and stretch marks.

Before I can get too lost in my thoughts and my overthinking, he trails his lips down my jaw. Sucking and nibbling as he goes. Arching my back into him. One of my hands trailing over his broad chest, his shirt thrown somewhere in the motel room along with my clothes. His hard on pressing against my lower stomach.

“Dean…” I whimper. His lips sucking at my collarbone. Tightening my grip on his hair. His every touch makes my skin tingle, my nerves alight as if I’m on fire.

He simply hums against my skin, smirking. Gliding his lips down my skin, to my breasts.

“God, look at these beautiful tits.” He groans. My face flushing. His calloused, strong hands on my breasts now as he squeezes at my flesh. Pushing them together, as he takes one of my nipples in his mouth. Sucking harshly. My back arching more into him as I moan loudly, bucking my hips. A rush of heat going straight to my core, wrapping my legs around his waist. Tweaking my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging softly once in a while. Sending a shudder down my spine. Twirling his tongue around my areola, then my nipple before sucking at it again. Once satisfied with the amount of attention given to one tit, he moves to the other, repeating the same thing while his hand groped and squeezes my other breast.

“Please, Dean.” I whine. I’ve got no clue what I’m asking for, just that I’m desperate for it. He chuckles lowly against my skin, sending vibrations through my body. Gliding his skilled mouth down my ribs and stomach. Littering my soft skin with kisses, as if trying to show that I’ve got nothing to be insecure about. My breath hitches when he moves down to my pelvis.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask shakily, breathless. Leaning up on my elbows.

“What it looks like.” He answers, still smirking. His strong hands holding my legs open, giving him access to my dripping cunt. “You trust me, right?” He checks. Wanting to make sure I am in fact ok with this and comfortable.

“Yes.” I answer without hesitation. Causing his smirk to morph into a full blown grin.

“You sure? You ok with me eating this pretty little pussy?” He teases. Making me clench around nothing.

“Yes… Please, Dean.” I whimper. My hand in his hair, tugging it slightly, making him growl in response. Sending another bolt of electricity down my spine and to my core.

He lifts my legs over his shoulders, kissing along my thighs sensually. Taking his time, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Getting more impatient, I start to squirm. Before I can complain, he licks a stripe between my folds. Letting out a shuddering moan, both my hands in his hair now, tugging at it harder. I’ve never felt so good.

“Fuck… You taste as good as I thought you would. Could spend the rest of my life like this.” He murmurs against me. Looking up at me with his beautiful green eyes, watching as I react. Wrapping his lips around my clit, sucking softly. Gasping and screwing my eyes shut.

“Eyes on me, baby.” He scolds, slapping my thigh lightly to get my attention. I jolt in surprise at the action, opening my eyes and looking down at him. My lips agape in silent moans, and my brows furrowed in pleasure. He then dived back into my pussy, eating me out like a starved man. Plunging his tongue into me, making my hips buck to get more. Moving his tongue to my clit, drawing lazy patterns on it. It doesn’t take me long to realize he’s spelling his name, the notion making my heart flutter.

I gasp when I feel one of his fingers tracing my entrance. Mewling when he slides it in, rolling my hips. “Fuck, Dean!” I whimper. Feeling him curl it in just the right place.

“God, you’re so hot like this.” He praises. My pussy clenching around his finger, causing him to groan softly. “Been dreaming of this. Making you moan my name over and over ‘til you can’t take it. Of having this perfect pussy all to myself and show you just how fucking perfect you are.” He admits.

My eyes widen in shock, never having expected that. Feeling my stomach erupt in butterflies, my face flushing. I can’t believe he… God… I’m snapped out of my thoughts once again when he slides another finger in. Groaning at the mix of pain and pleasure as his thick fingers stretch me out. His tongue and lips still on my clit, doing wonders.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Wonder how you’ll take my cock.” He growls. Sending vibrations through my body, clenching around his digits. He slowly starts to pump them in and out, still lapping my clit with his tongue. Making dirty, sinful sounds that I should be embarrassed about, but can’t bring myself to care. Hearing him slurp against my cunt like it’s his favourite meal does things to me. My nerves on fire. He starts to pump them faster, harder, curling them once in a while and hitting my G-spot. That familiar heat growing in my belly.

“God- fuck, I’m gonna cum.” I warn. Arching my back more, grinding against his face and fingers. Tugging at his hair harder, gripping tighter. Throwing my head back in bliss.

“Do it. Cum on fingers like a good girl.” He encouraged. Sending me over the edge. My muscles tense, tightening my thighs around his head. Crying out his name, followed by profanities and praise. He keeps his fingers in, letting me ride out my high, still working his mouth over my sensitive clit. Slipping his fingers out and lapping up my juices, not missing a drop.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. Licking another stripe along my pussy. Then making his way back up my body, kissing me feverishly. Tasting myself on his lips but not caring.

“Dean…” I whimper pathetically. Trailing my hands down to his belt and unbuckling it.

“Someone’s impatient.” He teases, smirking. In retaliation I start to palm him through his jeans. Dean groans and grits his teeth. Dropping his forehead to my shoulder, peppering kisses over my skin. Quickly unbuttoning his pants and helping him tug them and his boxers down. Discarding the fabric with the rest of our clothes.

My eyes widening when I see how… well endowed he is. Wondering how the hell that’s gonna fit in me. Sensing my worry, he kisses me.

“I’ll go slow.” He promises. I nod, leaning up to kiss him again. Placing my hands on his broad shoulders, he lines up his cock. Looking into each other’s eyes as he slides in slowly. Gasping softly at the burn of him stretching me out. My breath getting caught in my throat. Resting my head against the pillows as I get used to his size. His hands on either side of my head, his muscles straining. Letting my eyes flutter closed.

“You can move…” I breathe out. Looking back up at him, seeing his jaw clenched, the vein in his neck bulging. Panting above me. Yet he doesn’t move just yet.

“Give me a minute, sweetheart…” He groans. “I move now, I’m gonna lose control and start pounding into you.” He huffs.

Feeling bold, I lean up again. “It’s ok. I trust you.” I whisper. Kissing his neck slowly. He moans and starts to move. Slowly at first, pulling back until only his tip his inside me. Then pushing back in. He does this only a couple times before picking up his pace. Slamming deep inside me and hitting my G-spot, making me cry out and moan. Digging my fingertips into the skin of his shoulders.

“Fuck… take my cock so well. So-… tight. Can feel you clenching around me…” he growls against my neck. Tilting his head down to watch as my tits bounce from the force of his thrusts. Moving his one hand to grab the headboard, his other grabbing my thigh and lifting to get a new angle. Making my eyes roll back in my head and practically scream his name. “Fuck, Dean!”

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” Deb encourages. Sucking at my neck as he pounds into me relentlessly.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop!” I plead, feeling that coil tighten in my stomach.

“Trust me, I have no plans on stopping.” He assures. Causing me to squeeze his cock again, making him moan.

“M’ gonna-… fuck… I’m so close…” I whimper. Screwing my eyes shut.

“Good girl. Make a mess all over my dick.” He grunts into my ear. Still panting and groaning above me. His permission making my climax crash over me. Seeing stars and my eyes rolling back. My body shaking with pleasure, raking my nails down his back. His thrusts stutter as he gets closer, moaning loudly as I finish.

“I’m gonna cum…” he warns.

“Fuck. Cum, Dean. I want you to cum inside me.” I whimper shakily. My words sending him over the edge, spilling into me and covering my walls with his spend. He collapses on top of me, though supporting most of his weight on his elbows as to not crush me. Kissing my neck, jaw, and then my lips. Moaning against his. The kiss slow and lazy.

He pulls away, pulling out of me. I whine at the loss of the feeling of him, feeling empty. Though he stays hovering above me. Both of our bodies covered in sweat, my hair sticking to my neck and forehead, both of us panting, hearts pounding. Looking up at him with a dazed grin.

“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He breathes out. Wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in to kiss me again.

“I really like you, Dean.” I whisper softly.

“I really like you, too.” He grins.

#dean winchester #dean girl #fanfic #one shots #spn #dean winchester x female!reader #Dean Winchester x fem plus!sized reader #Dean Winchester smut

[valorantmenheadcanons]

Innocent and shy masc reader has an incredibly dirty search history and an even worse taste in porn, has a large collection of order receipts from bad dragon. Cypher goes snooping and finds this all out? They have a little "chat" about network security -🐩

this is like my biggest fear except with my parents accidentally opening one of my packages. its either shampoo or a toy gnmsfgns

cw: suggestive, mentions of Corn, technically kind of cyberstalking? it's cypher what do u expect

wc: 718

It's late when you hear a soft knock at your door. You put your phone down on the bed, wondering who's on the other side of the door, especially at this hour. You hope it isn't a call for a last minute mission- the last thing you want right now is to be in a plane in a matter of minutes, geared up to fight.

When you open the door, you're greeted to the sight of a familiar beige figure, standing just a little too close. Cypher never seemed to mind getting in other people's space as long as he was the one doing it; invade his and he'd scamper off in seconds. His blue mechanical eyes scan over you quickly, though in a way that reminds you of someone checking for weapons rather than looking appreciatively.

"I need to talk to you about something," the man chirps, inviting himself inside your room before you can say anything. He slides by you with a careful hand on your shoulder, the leathery material of his gloves cool against your skin. You flush a little at the contact, fleeting but strangely electrifying. You shut your door behind him, folding your arms over your chest as you turn around to face him. You assume he's going to ask for a favour of some kind, or he wants to steal a piece of machinery from you, again, but you're really not in the mood to humour his requests, tired, and a little cranky because of it. Cypher pauses for a moment, hand half-raised in the air like he's trying to figure out exactly what he wants to say. "You know that I am very technology proficient, yes?"

You nod, frowning at the opening. He's usually pretty straightforward when he's asking for something.

"Come on, everyone knows to delete it afterwards. Are you trying to tease me?" Cypher's voice is smooth, peppy and cheerful but calculated, any hint of hesitancy gone. He's talking to you the same way he chides his opponents in a fight he's already won. The realisation sends a shiver up your spine- he knows something that either you don't know or don't want him to know. But you have an inkling, a gut feeling, that it's something you didn't want him to know. Not yet, anyways.

"What are you talking about?" You try, a little too quick to appear genuinely confused. Cypher's head only tilts minutely.

"You're too smart to be playing dumb. I mean, really?" Cypher scoffs, taking a few steps forwards, forcing you to take one back to maintain a semblance of distance between you two. "Looking up Moroccan models?" Another step forward, and your back brushes against the wall next to the door. "Picturing me as any one of them, hm?" Another step, and there's barely any space between you, and you want to die.

You hadn't intended for him to see any of that- although that meant he was snooping around your private search history, a whole other issue to tackle- but you also hadn't not intended for him to see any of that. It was a blurred line, your attraction to Cypher.

"'dirty talk in arabic'?" He has the decency to stifle a laugh, which only makes your face flush deeper, embarrassment, shame, and something else washing over you. "Mm, not to mention your purchasing history. Dirty, dirty, dirty boy," he clicks his tongue. "I thought you were all sweet, not so perverted."

You finally find your voice, the tips of your ears burning at this point. "I'm not the one snooping around in other people's stuff!" You tout back, a weak deflection.

"I'm not the one imagining their coworker is fucking them."

"Shut up!" You groan, really wishing with all your heart that you could be anywhere but here.

Cypher's beady blue eyes lift with a mirth you can sense through his mask. "Ohhh... but you like it. You're so red," and this time he does chuckle, mean and condescending, and damn if it doesn't send a little jolt of warmth through you, the idea that that little laugh is just for you to hear. "How about this: You show me which videos you like, and I'll give you a... personal lesson in how to delete your search history. How does that sound?"

#valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant x reader #valorant cypher #valorant cypher x reader #male reader #x male reader #valorant fanfiction #valorant smut

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 8

And we're back! Are you guys getting my tags, the engagement dropped again. I know that in America there was the holiday but it kinda dropped off before that and I saw other blogs that didn't have their tags work at all. So let me know if you aren't seeing all my posts.

Steve talks to Keith, learns some unsettling news and Robin is awesome.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

****

Billy Hargrove was a racist, chauvinistic asshole with a savior complex longer than his dick, but he was also one hundred times the better man than Dr. Martin Brenner. Granted Brenner was scraping the bottom of the ocean, but Steve was grateful for not having had to deal with him when he was around.

He also knew that he wasn’t going to speak to the Dominus today. He was going to speak to his second in command, Keith Prince.

He didn’t like Steve, and Steve didn’t know why. But considering that despite the last name, he looked more like a toad than a prince, Steve had a pretty good idea the dude was just jealous of Steve’s good looks.

He walked up to the coven, bare ass on display, having just shifted.

“The fuck do you want, Harrington?” Keith snarled. “And why can’t you come dressed like decent folk?”

“Because I’m a werewolf, Keith,” Steve sighed. “The fastest way for me to travel is to wolf out.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You could always send Carol or Robin to do your dirty work. That is what keepers are for, aren’t they?”

“That’s isn’t happening in this or any life time,” Steve growled. “Not after you propositioned Robin the last time I sent her here on pack business.”

Keith just sneered. “What. Do. You. Want? I’m busy!”

Steve sighed. “Tell your Dominus that we may have the public school system to blame for the raise in hunters and to ask his thralls what they’ve heard.”

Keith scoffed. “He already knows about that shit and they don’t know nothin’.”

Steve’s spine stiffened at the tone and the fact that Billy already knew about the thing with Josh.

So either he had Lucy in his pocket, or there was a spy in his pack. Neither was an option he wanted to entertain.

Steve showed his teeth, forcing Keith to back down.

“You shouldn’t lie to an alpha, dumbass,” he snarled. “I can smell the stench of the lie coming off you like stale weed. You tell your Dominus that if he thinks he can push me around, remind him what happened to the last asshole who crossed me.”

Keith straightened up and bowed his head. “My apologies, alpha.”

Steve snapped his jaw at Keith before shifting back into a wolf. A wolf that could look Keith in the eye. He showed his teeth again and was gratified when he smelled the scent of urine wafting from the vampire.

He leapt through the door, leaving the scent of urine, lies, and fear far behind him.

*

Steve came back in time to see Josh off to his parents. He watched as Josh chatted happily with them over everything he did.

“…Did you know that a single werewolf could eat up to thirty pounds of meat a day? But not raw, that’s a myth...” Josh prattled on, his parents giving each other amused glances behind his back.

Steve turned to Tommy, the keeper that was hiding in the crow’s nest near the entrance.

“It sounded like he had fun,” he said, as Tommy leapt down in front him.

“Carol wanted to straight up adopt him,” Tommy said with a sneer.

“She always did have a soft spot for strays,” Steve murmured as Tommy fell instep next to him. “Especially strays that love shopping.”

Tommy nose twitched. “You went to that vampire mongrel’s again, didn’t you? I can smell him from here.”

Steve smacked Tommy’s head. “He’s not a mongrel just because he was made instead of born. Where are you kids getting these ideas? Jesus Christ.”

He snorted. “Whatever, I can still smell him.”

“I saw the mayor and visited the coven too,” Steve said dryly. “I was doing my duties as an alpha. There is something wrong in this town and I am going to figure out what.”

Tommy sniffed again. “Yeah, I get it. I don’t want Hopper back as the alpha anymore then most of this pack, so you better figure it out, before you get yourself killed.”

Steve pushed him playfully. “Shut it, Tommy!”

Tommy laughed. “I bet I can beat you to the center, no shifting.”

“You’re on!”

*

Steve was in his hut? Cottage? Living structure? He was never sure what to call all the little houses that was in the compound. Hell, he didn’t even like the word compound, really. It felt cult-ish. Which they weren’t.

Werewolves had tried living in towns for millennia and it never worked out well for the werewolves. They would get blamed for everything from failed crops, high infant mortality rates, and plagues.

So they started forming their own communities inside towns. Much like the Vatican and Italy.

Well whatever anyone called them, it was home.

Steve was at home, playing cards with Robin.

“So what did you think of Josh today?” he asked, drawing a card.

“I bet Tommy whined about it all the way back to the center of camp,” Robin said with a scoff.

“It’s actually fucking ridiculous how much the pack is so...so...” he threw his hands in the air frustration. “Fuck I don’t know the right word for it. But click-ee?”

“Clicky?” Robin asked. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You know, a click,” Steve said. “The jocks, the cowboys, the goths, the freaks. A click.”

“Ohhh...” she said. “A clique.”

Steve frowned. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

Robin half shrugged. “Sort of. But yeah, I’ll agree to the pack becoming more and more cliquey. It’s become very insular since...” she paused to think. “Actually I don’t when it started, but it’s recent. I just can’t tell you how recent.”

Steve hummed. “It’s becoming a problem and one I don’t know how to fix. I mean Josh and Chance here will help not only them realize that we aren’t monsters, but that regular humans aren’t monsters either.”

Robin nodded. “It’s certainly a step in the right direction. You need to get out more in the community. Do Q&As at the town hall and middle school.”

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully. He placed all his cards down. “Out.”

“Skunked again!” Robin shrieked. “How are you so good at this game?”

Steve just shrugged. “Why not elementary schools?” She stared at him blankly. “For the whole Q&A thing.”

“Oh, that,” she said, waving her hand. “Because despite there being an actual werewolf in the school no teacher or parent would agree to you speaking to kids that young.”

Steve sighed. She was probably right. “’K, so middle schools and town halls help with the community at large but what about the pack?”

She just shrugged. “That’s something you should really talk to your alpha female about, you know.” She scooped up the cards and began shuffling them.

Steve sighed. He did know. But he also knew that Nancy was still very much a conservative when it came to pack dynamics. She had actually turned him down twice because she felt that the alphas should be mated.

It wasn’t until Steve asked her and she couldn’t come up with a logical, non-sexist reason why that should be the case that she accepted the role.

“I love her dearly,” he said instead. “But I just kinda want to spit ball some ideas with you that I can take to her. So I don’t look stupid.”

Robin shoved his shoulder playfully. “She doesn’t think you’re stupid.”

Steve scoffed. She really, really did.

“Okay,” Robin conceded. “Maybe a little.”

“There is also the little matter of the spy,” Steve grumbled.

Robin grimaced and chewed her bottom lip. “You know it’s Tommy, right? Please tell me you know it’s Tommy.”

Steve frowned. “No. Why would it be Tommy?”

She sighed and scooted close to him. “Steve, he’s been hanging on Billy’s coattails at school. He’s always talking about how great Billy is on and off the court. Hell, if I thought Billy liked boys I wouldn’t be surprised to learn Tommy was sucking his dick.”

Steve ran his fingers through his hair. “But I need to make sure. I just can’t go accusing people without proof.”

“I don’t think you should accuse him at all.”

Steve reared back in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, dingus,” Robin said slyly. “You make sure to tell Tommy things you know you want Billy to know. Because a spy you know is better than one you don’t.”

Steve gave her a big hug. “I wish you were my alpha female.”

She hugged him back. “I know.”

“Have you thought about asking for the bite when you turn eighteen?”

She shuffled back a bit and put her hands on her knees and then nodded. “Yeah. I’ve talked to my parents about it. They’re uneasy about having a werewolf for a daughter.”

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry. Maybe the town hall meetings and the Q&As with kids will help.”

She nodded.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He kissed her cheek. “Between you and I we are going to change the world.”

She looked at him shyly. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Robin pushed his shoulder again. “You are such a sap.”

Steve laughed. “Yes, but you knew that.”

She looked at the scar on his neck and then reached out to touch it. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

He shivered at her touch. “I don’t mind it.”

“I do, Steve,” she said fiercely. “They hurt you because they were afraid of you.”

He sighed. “When my parents died, the Franklins were the only ones in town willing to take me in. The only people who knew about the silver collar they made me wear was just the three of us until I turned eighteen.”

“How did no one else know?” Robin asked gently.

“I only wore it when they were home at home,” Steve murmured. “I wasn’t forced to wear it at school. Just at home where I ‘might’ hurt them.”

“It’s still cruel.”

Steve just shrugged.

“Whatever happened to them?” she asked after a moment or two of awkward silence.

“Officially or unofficially?” Steve asked with a smirk.

“There’s an official story?” Robin said eagerly.

He laughed. “Sure is. They are currently on a business trip to...” he looked at his watch, “Tokyo, Japan.”

“What the hell?” she gasped excitedly. “What’s the real story?”

“Only Wayne and I know where their bodies are buried.”

Robin giggled and kicked her feet. “That’s amazing!”

Steve smiled at her fondly. She really was his platonic soulmate.

****

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #werewolf steve harrington #vampire eddie munson

[bunitivity]

Sanji hemming and hawing to himself about his sudden inexplicable crush on Usopp in the kitchen late one night only for Luffy to walk in on him and hear everything. And he’s like great now everyone is going to know and tries to threaten him into silence despite knowing full well that Luffy cannot keep a secret to save his life. And Luffy is like relax I would never tell on you and I can keep a secret as long as no one asks point blank and who in the world would even ask him something like that if ever lol.

“Sometimes I forget that you can be mature sometimes.”

“Thanks.” Luffy grins as he picks his nose.

“You’ve the grossest man I’ve met.”

Luffy just laughs.

This turns into Sanji now confiding in Luffy about all his love troubles big and mundane whether it be about the fact that he accidentally brushed fingers with Usopp or some other lovesick Sanji nonsense. Luffy is not thrilled at first because of his short attention span and restless energy but fortunately Sanji quickly figures out just how to keep him around long enough to get things off his chest with just the right amount of finger foods.

So it starts with Luffy just sticking around just for the food and then because there’s something so fascinating endearing even about seeing Sanji actually in love. It’s so different from the way he usually fawns over women. So much more vulnerable and earnest and Luffy can’t just look away. So much so he even sticks around after Sanji has stopped feeding him snacks which is his usual signal that Luffy can go now.

He also finds that he really really likes hearing about Usopp through Sanji’s eyes because he’s usually right and true. Usopp really is the most amazing most perfect person ever. And he tells Sanji as much. Talking about the things he personally likes about Usopp. “I just really like his laugh and making him laugh and stuff like that.”

Sanji stops cold.

“Wait are you in love with him??”

Luffy’s first answer is “No” then “wait” then he thinks about it for a few seconds and goes “oh yeah I guess I am.”

“You guess??”

“Never really thought about it before.”

Sanji puts his head on the table. “I cannot believe this.”

Luffy blinks dumbfounded still licking his empty plate. “Hwat?”(what?”)

“I cannot believe you would do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“I trusted you!”

Now Luffy is truly and well lost. “Sanji?”

“Do you even know what any of this means?”

Luffy knows nothing. “I don’t think I understand anything.”

Sanji whips up his head to glare at him. “That means we’re love rivals!”

Luffy frowned. “You mean like you and Zoro?”

“No! God forbid! What I mean is that we can’t both like Usopp!”

”Why not?”

“Because he can only like one of us obviously.”

Luffy frowns. “Says who?”

“Says everyone!”

Luffy just wrinkles his nose and picks the crumbs off his plate.

“Which means!” Sanji continues. “That we can’t have any of these secret rendezvous anymore since we’re enemies now.”

“Nooo! But I love my little secret snack time with Sanji! They’re always so fun!”

Sanji’s heart gives an involuntary skip but then he twists his lips. “You’re just saying that because I always give you food.”

“That’s true but-“

“Get. Out.”

Then he very unceremoniously kicks Luffy out of his kitchen.

They don’t spend time apart for too long because Luffy is a fucking pest who won’t leave him alone and he plays dirty by sending Usopp as an intermediary to fix things between them and how could Sanji say no to him? (he does very loudly and harshly at first just to waylay any suspicions that he might be soft on him before folding almost immediately after). He might also have missed Luffy’s company just a tiny bit but he would sooner fall on one of mosshead’s stupid swords than admit to any of that.

Now that they know they’re both in love with Usopp their little rendezvous changes from Sanji just one sidedly talking at Luffy yapping away about his feelings to Luffy actively participating. He doesn’t talk as much nor wax as poetically about all of Usopp’s virtues like Sanji does but he does learn a lot about Usopp through him. The more childish and rambunctious side that Luffy brings out whenever they’re together and just falls that much more for him.

Also seeing the usual very unaffected and confident Luffy so aware of his feelings(and blushing! Something he never thought would ever see) just plucked on his heartstrings. Spending time with his quote unquote love rival turned out to be a lot more fun than Sanji could ever have anticipated.

There’s an easy camaraderie underlined by something more as they fall back into their old routine. Expanding beyond their(Sanji’s) hopeless romance. Just growing closer and becoming more fond of each other.

But then everything comes crashing down all at once.

Sanji is just watching them one day. Luffy and Usopp being chaotic and fucking insufferable. He sees the way Usopp’s eyes shines and the way he smiles at Luffy and realizes oh he’s in love with him.

Sanji knows he should be happy for him. He knows Luffy would be if the shoe were on the other foot. But he just can’t. He feels utterly betrayed and so fucking devastated and Sanji just hates him. Any fond feelings that he might have been growing for his captain shrivels up and dies.

Luffy is surprised when Sanji suddenly shuts him out of nowhere. He can tell it’s way worse than it was last time but at least last time he had known why Sanji had been pissed at him. Last time he was at least talking to him if only to tell him to fuck off. Now there’s just this veneer of professionalism as Sanji keeps him at arm’s length as if they’re nothing more than captain and cook. Acting as if he’s nothing more than a subordinate who just works for him. Calling him captain in that cold and detached way and never by his name. And Luffy hates it.

So of course he has to confront him about it.

It takes a lot of cajoling to get it out of him but Sanji eventually gives and lays into him about his absolute betrayal and cusses him out for getting ahead of him and making him look like a fool because he might not know but Usopp was definitely in love with him. But then he sees the look on Luffy’s face and something in Sanji just breaks. 

“You knew.” Luffy tries to look away but Sanji pushes. “You already knew he liked you.”

Luffy finally looks at him grimacing. “Why does it matter?”

Oh that hurts. 

“Because that means that you two are going to date now and there won’t be any room for me.”

“No!” Luffy looks aghast and tries to reach for him and Sanji flinches away. “There’s always going to be a room for you!”

There’s something about the way he says that that has Sanji’s heart seizing up but surely not?

“Luffy do you…like me?”

And then he smiles like Sanji had hung all the stars in the night sky and Sanji has to clutch his chest to prevent his treacherous heart from bursting free and leaping right into Luffy’s thieving hands. Fuck.

“Of course.”

“And not in a friend way but-“

“Sanji.” He stills him so easily with just the strength his voice and a gentle hand on his cheek. “I love you.”

Hearing him actually say it does unimaginable things to Sanji’s heart he might actually keel over and die.

But then he remembers and he retreats from Luffy’s hand. “And you love Usopp.”

“Yes I love all of you. Sanji, Usopp and Zoro.”

“Zoro? Zoro?? Where the fuck did Zoro come from???”

Luffy gives him a funny look. “Zoro has always been there.”

“You can’t-you can’t just do this-date all of us at the same time!”

“Says who?”

There’s this question again. Does he really think he can just do whatever he wants whenever he wants? Of course he does. It’s Luffy.

“Because then it wouldn’t mean anything. If you really love someone you would want them to feel special and loved. You would want to put them before anyone and anything. They should be your everything. There’s a reason people look for The One.”

Sanji doesn’t like the way Luffy looks at him. Like he’s seeing Sanji hadn’t meant him to.

Luffy shakes his head and is about to say something more bullheaded and untrue but Sanji can’t hear any more of this. Of his wild fantasies. He doesn’t like the way it gets his hopes up. It’s just cruel.

“Just choose me.”

“What? But what about Usopp and-“

“I’ll always love him but Usopp obviously doesn’t like me but you like me and I like you so-“

“You like me?” The dismay that had been slowly building on Luffy’s face is immediately washed away and replaced by that bright brilliant smile and Sanji can’t help but blush as he feels all that adoration suddenly shine down on him.

“Yes. So instead of all these needless complications and love triangles -love squares?- We should just keep it simple and date each since we already know that we like each other.”

All that adoration and fondness abruptly ebbs away and Sanji is left standing cold and adrift.

“But-“

“Luffy,” Sanji takes his hands and forces himself to look into his clear and steadfast eyes. “Just choose me.”

Sanji sees the indecision in Luffy’s eyes and knows. He could never choose just him.

What else could Sanji have expected from the man who took the world by storm. Who seeks to stand atop of the world. Luffy wants to be the freest man in the world of course he wouldn’t just settle for Sanji. No one ever does. It’s so arrogant of him to think he could ever deserve all of the love and the attention of the man who is destined to be king of the pirates.

So Sanji lets go and walks away.

Of course it’s in that moment that he walks in on Zoro and Usopp hooking up and just screams.

#one piece #lusan #sanlu #zolusanuso #sanuso #lusopp #usosan #zosopp #zolu #usolu #usopp #roronoa zoro #monkey d. luffy #sanji black leg #made a mistake on my previous post so if you’re seeing this again that’s why #had to repost bc editing tumblr posts on mobile is a nightmare #you can’t select all like wtf #strawberrycamel I owe you my fucking life for telling me about the fuckup I would not have fucking noticed thank you #i write sometimes