#but also all these moments are so tender and soft so it pairs well with the gene one

[tatterings]

Lamentable is the Autumn Picker Content with Plums - Chapter 11 - A Fertile Flower of Hope

AO3 LINK HERE

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin

Rating: Explicit for the full work, this chapter is E for everyone.

Tags/warnings: Mention of sexual slavery.

Word count: 8,000 (this chapter)

Header art by @solmesia.

Work below the cut as well!

As the door opened, a slender hand thrust into the room, accompanied soon after by a loud thunk onto the floor below - Astarion's drowcraft armor. The door opened wider, creaking on its iron hinges, permitting the entrance of Jaheira. She was an imposing force, a hero of Baldur’s Gate, and though Astarion was not one for hero worship (besides, perhaps, Drizzt Do’Urden), her sheer presence oozed ‘respect me’; even when she barged in rooms essentially unannounced.

The vampire slipped from Halsin’s arms and turned to face the High Harper, taking a moment to compose the sheepish expression he would hate for her to see. Though Jaheira was no young woman anymore, her vision was as sharp as a panther’s prowling on a hunt. When Astarion met her eyes, Jahiera's expression was mixed. Her silver eyebrow arched in suspicion but also playfulness, and her wrinkled hands were perched on her hips.

 "When you both caused a scene a bit ago, this popped out of thin air, right onto the war table. I suppose it is yours?" She said in her thick accent, gesturing with a wave towards the armor. "Plenty of poisons and daggers. Astarion, you may be a  man after my own heart," she said, chuckling to herself.

"That would indeed be mine," Astarion said, crossing his arms with a huff, feigning dissatisfaction in the high Harper's approval of his well-stocked weaponry he kept close at hand. "But rather rude of you to insist was our fault for causing the scene."

Jaheira merely smirked and shrugged, "It is all the same. Regardless, you may resume your…activities" her words trailed off as she waved her hand and waggled her fingers in their direction, before turning on her heel and closing the door. Astarion turned to face Halsin, the tips of his ears flushed, and both the men laughed quietly to themselves over the silliness of the intrusion, the shattering of the tension which had their nerves tied in knots after their run-in with Raphael.

Astarion huffed a sigh and picked up the armor gingerly to don it. He patted about his bracers and the chest piece, verifying all his hidden daggers were still there. Gods bless the Drow for making armor with so many wonderful hiding spots for knives and poisons and other handy little accouterments that never failed to give him the upper hand in battle. He felt better with his armor on. No one needed to see the carvings on his back, to perceive him laid bare, exposed. To know about any poems or curses, or how he wanted to feel the wide, hot press of Halsin's hand across his back.

He cleared his throat softly, looking up at the druid, whose expression was one so full of... something. Tenderness perhaps? Curiosity? Either way, the soft way that he gazed at Astarion was almost unsettling.

"Well. Shall we.. get on with it? Do whatever needs to be done to help the boy?" Astarion asked, tilting his head as he spoke, studying the large man beside him. No need to dwell on the outburst nor Raphael nor infernal carvings. There was work to be done, and bastards to hurt. He was in a vindictive mood, feeling as though he had been flayed by the cambion for the world to see.

Halsin nodded somberly, and opened the door, gesturing to Astarion to go forward first. Astarion appreciated that the druid rarely questioned him when he wanted to move on to another topic.

***

The day had been full already, between Raphael’s appearance and his brief respite in Halsin’s’s arms, and yet it was only mid-afternoon. But mid-afternoon in these cursed lands was just as dark as a starless midnight. The Selunite priestess Isobel had provided a blessing to them earlier, barring the need to carry a moon lantern or torches to navigate the endless shadows. Still, Astarion wished he'd brought one all the same. Not that he was unnerved by the dark, since darkened alleyways and dimly lit taverns were his only companions for 200 years. And this magical darkness, though it was much heavier than a moonless night, opaque and unseeable, even with his darkvision - wasn't as unnerving as the concept of Halsin truly comprehending, perceiving those scars that lay underneath the circular keloid-scarring on his back.

They were close to where Halsin had last seen flowers in the shadow lands, and although the curse seemed lighter here somehow, shadows still lurked in the edges of the vision. Different shadows lurked in the periphery of Astarion's mind. His mind replayed on a loop the memories of Halsin’s tenderness and care in their… intimacy - Astarion hesitated to call it lovemaking - and the druid’s protectiveness when he had been stripped bare by Raphael. Both times was as though Halsin had held a torch to the scarred, dark insides of Astarion. While it had brought him warmth and comfort at the time, recalling the inescapable vulnerability of the moments they shared made his muscles tense and his stomach coil tightly. Astarion longed for a torch for the simple fact that he would prefer something to hold and grip onto, without cutting crescent moons into the palms of his hands as he clenched them into fists.

Halsin now was fully aware of all his scars, now that he had seen the physical ones. The ever-observant druid had already detected, as if he could smell them, the deeper and arguably more inescapable ones in his mind that he himself hated to acknowledge. It nagged at the back of Astarion's mind, lingering like a headache that throbbed despite all the herbs and potions one could take. Would Halsin still want him, once his own problems are resolved, and the scars of the shadows are lifted from this land and the druid’s deliciously strong-beating heart? Would he still want to deal with Astarion's scars - no, his wounds, for they still hurt him on a level far beyond his skin - after completing his 100-year quest to cleanse the shadows?

Astarion was skeptical that the answer could possibly even be "yes". If it was, Halsin was the most noble of the biggest fools. The vampire was lost deep within his thoughts when the sound of a child's laughter ripped him from the fog of emotions. Although, as Astarion heard it again echoing in the distance, he realized it was almost like a child's laughter. It had something deeper in it, a mixture of the sharp grating of steel on steel and the wail of a rabbit being crushed by a predator’s jaws. But it was still a laugh, and it seemed to echo around them. Only after swiveling on his heel, dagger in hand to survey his surroundings did he notice a small tiefling boy, whose head popped up over the windowsill inside a decrepit house.

Astarion hadn't even noticed the house, so lost he had been in his thoughts, his eyes cast low watching the ground beneath him. But the dilapidated house was rather large for the area, despite falling apart. The only life, if it was truly alive, was the boy peeking out at them from the paneless window. The vampire drew up beside Halsin, who had frozen in his tracks, and nudged the druid slightly.

Halsin had seen the blonde-haired boy long before Astarion had. He was staring at him, his thick bushy brows furrowed deeply as if in discernment. His lips were pursed, the lines on either side of his mouth etched deeply with concern.

"That’s him. Like an echo of Thaniel, remolded by the curse," he said, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke. “We need him, if we’re to put a stop to all of this." His words were under his breath, unintelligible by the boy, who emerged from the doorway of the ruined shack.

Astarion couldn’t hide his shock, his scrunched nose and narrowed eyes once he got a better look at the boy. Though still a child, he had been twisted by the curse, from the tips of his curling horns to the blackened and gnarled claws at his toes. It was so tragic that Astarion nearly laughed. A child. A picture of innocence. There was no justice in this world, truly.

"Thaniel?" Astarion asked, looking mostly at Halsin, but jerking his head of silver curls towards the boy. He slipped the dagger back into his drowcraft bracer. Sadly, not all problems can be cured through stabbing, he was learning.

"My name is Oliver. Not Thaniel," pouted the boy, crossing his arms and stamping one foot. Either dust or shadow spiraled into the air with the motion - Astarion wasn't sure which. It unnerved him, as the motes swirled around the boy’s body.

"Okay, Oliver," said Halsin, crouching as he stepped closer, his palms low to the ground and open - as someone would approach a fearful dog in an alleyway. "I am Halsin. I'm a friend of Thaniel's, and I think Thaniel was your friend too. Would you like to see him again? Play with him again?" Astarion's ears perked up at the slight crack to Halsin's voice as he questioned the boy. His soft, warm voice had an uneasy edge to it. An undercurrent of pleading, begging, that was so unusual for the typically stoic druid.

The boy growled and balled his little hands into fists at his side, shadows swirling behind him. Astarion eyed him down the bridge of his nose as he looked on. Could spirits be manifest by his very will alone?

“No!," Oliver shouted, stamping his foot into the ashes again, "Why should I go back to him? He abandoned me! But here... I’ve made a family, and I can play all the time! Just leave me alone." His words were a jumble, so fast in his squeaky voice, echoed by a deep monstrous growl that seemed to come from the shadows behind him.

"What a temper this little brat has," Astarion muttered to himself, sneering at the child. He was dirty, looked full of mange, and frankly too far gone to help. He was thankful Halsin didn't hear him - or didn't act like he did, anyway, and that Halsin knew how to handle delicate situations and people with smokepowder bombs for hearts. The boy paid Astarion no mind, and glared daggers at the druid who inched ever closer. Halsin had drawn so very close to the boy, within an arm's length. He kneeled and leaned onto one knee to remain at eye-level with the child. 

"Oliver, nobody is making you leave. This is your home. But it is dark, empty… lonely," Halsin's voice dropped an octave lower at the last word, and if Astarion wasn't mistaken, nearly seemed to break with emotion. The druid cleared his throat, and continued. "I know your pain, I truly do. Thaniel is my friend also. I played with him, and he was ripped away from me, same as for you." 

The boy seemed intent on Halsin's words, his eyes' eerie glow flickering with emotion. It was a stark contrast against his pale skin as the boy’s face contorted in multiple different ways over the next few moments. He seemed hurt, then confused, if the vampire were any judge of body language, and the cloud of thick tension settled between them all seemed to lighten. Astarion was agog at how Halsin knew exactly what to say in what moment. It was inarguably impressive. The boy remained silent, watching Halsin like the cornered dog, unsure if the hand reaching out towards it would feed it or beat it. "But you need not be alone any longer," Halsin said, continuing with the same tender tone, a soft smile causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle, "You need not invent friends. Thaniel is back, and is real. He is waiting for you."

Astarion stood silently, watching the boy. Waiting for his decision. He heard sniffles and little whimpers coming from the boy before Oliver finally peered up at Halsin, his glowing eyes brimmed with tears… and the faintest of smiles on his face.

"Fine, I’ll do it. it might be nice to be with him again," Oliver said, still with a hint of a pout. But now, his words lacked the echoed edge of the shadows. In fact, the whole boy lacked shadows overall, and had begun to glow a soft golden-green. And had also begun to levitate. His ruby eyes darted between the boy and Halsin, unsure of what to make of the scene, until Oliver disappeared in a dazzle of gold.

When Halsin turned to face Astarion, his smile was so bright, that the pale elf felt his expression alone might radiate enough joy to banish the shadow curse. The vampire tried to compose his face, to twist it from an expression of being completely perplexed, into one more neutral. Either way, Halsin didn't seem to notice; he was too busy nearly launching himself at Astarion. Both his large hands gripped onto the vampire's arms, gripping them firmly, giving them a little squeeze. Astarion couldn't help but grin back at the druid, whose smile was, quite frankly, contagious.

His grin was interrupted by the press of Halsin’s lips against his, and the pull of his body to Halsin’s bulk. Astarion kissed back tentatively, a bit confused but pleased nonetheless to be a recipient of Halsin’s affection despite the druid being so preoccupied by Thaniel and this boy recently. After a few exchanged breaths and gentle nibbles to Halsin’s lower lip, the druid pulled away and beamed down at Astarion.

"It's done at last," Halsin said, his voice ebullient with joy, "Soon the land will be unshrouded. With the oak father’s blessing, the shadow curse may soon be no more. Come, let us check on Thaniel and see how he fares." 

Astarion was pulled into another bear hug, his face pressed to the cool leather of Halsin’s armor. He couldn't nod or shake his head in agreement or disapproval, with how tight of a hug Halsin had pulled him into. He was thankful that the thick muscle of the druid's chest and his armor obscured his lopsided grin.

******

Halsin was disappointed, but not surprised, that restoring Oliver and Thaniel together did not result in an immediate end to the Shadowcurse. Rarely in nature were things so easy to rectify; balance was something that was not easily attained, nor easily broken, nor easily restored.

As Thaniel had stirred, he had described to Halsin and the rest of the party how an anchor still held the shadows in place. Most of their excitement had faded when he revealed that the anchor itself was Ketheric Thorm. Nothing good comes easily, indeed, Halsin thought to himself bitterly. Even getting honey requires the risk of a few bee stings. 

Still, he couldn't help but argue with the insistence of their group - starting with Karlach, echoed by Wyll and Gale, and later agreed to by Lae'zel and Shadowheart, that they should take the evening to celebrate Thaniel's recovery and the opportunity that is so tantalizingly close. Astarion, always one for luxury, had also immediately echoed the sentiment of deserving of a little treat.

Halsin couldn't disappoint the party with his nagging concerns; in the realm of shadows and fight against evil, every little victory should indeed be appreciated and celebrated. He'd offered to speak to Jaheira to get the Last Light Inn properly prepared for the celebration, and had left prior to any of the other adventurers. It was only a half-lie, because it would be prudent to inform the Harpers and others to expect their ragtag crew of adventurers. Being the bearer of good news was also always welcome, and he was sure that the Harpers would appreciate having a morale boost. But mostly, Halsin suspected that Jaheira could provide aid for some additional tasks he wanted to complete; he would also need solitude to do so.

***** Halsin's head jerked towards the entrance of the Inn as he heard jubilant chatter echo from outside. Karlach had arrived, he presumed, and was proven correct when she rushed into the inn with a cry of "Cold ale for all!", arm linked with Shadowheart. She had her tail wrapped around the wrist of a sheepish, blushing Wyll behind her. Lae'zel followed the three with an expression less severe and uninterested than typical. After her strode in Gale with his typical good-natured cheer, waving to Jaheira and the others. Astarion took up the rear, ending the party's entrance with less boisterousness and more subtlety. The adventurers had gotten the camp tidied up before joining Halsin; after several rounds of ale at the Inn, and a likely hangover, they wouldn't want to deal with it later, that was for certain.

Halsin had plenty of time for both of his side-tasks before nestling into the corner of the inn that appeared much like a library. One of his side-tasks had included acquiring a book regarding infernal pacts. Jaheira and her Harpers were clever and studious, and an old dusty book on just that topic was available for the druid to borrow. He hadn't intended to make a fuss of looking into the topic, but the choice was taken from him as soon as he felt Astarion lean over the armchair in which he had settled. The vampire's cool breath lingered on his cheek, and Halsin tilted his head gently to press his forehead against Astarion’s jaw. A slender finger came down on the tome and slowly slid across the lines as, Halsin assumed, Astarion read over his shoulder.

A scoff from the vampire ruffled his stray hairs, making them fall into his face.  "Halsin, you’re not reading that on my behalf are you, darling?" Astarion said, nearly spitting his words as he’d shot upright after skimming only a few sentences. He placed his hand on his hip and sauntered over to sit in the unoccupied armchair beside Halsin, separated only by a tiny round table on which he placed a glass of wine. He arched an eyebrow at the druid, studying him down his nose. 

Halsin shot him a crooked grin, shrugging his broad shoulders at the question. "No matter how long I live, I will always strive to remain a keen pupil. Only a fool would think he could absorb all knowledge of the world. There is always more, infinitely complex," he spoke with his hands, gesturing towards both the book and Astarion for his next words. "Additionally, it behooves us to prepare for the challenges ahead. Both yours and Wyll’s… Infernal dealings are one subject of which I have not studied deeply,” he admitted with another shrug. He had spent too much time trying to rectify his mistakes with the Shadowcurse to fuss with fiends in the hells below. 

And he currently wanted to spend his time on a more worthwhile pursuit - chatting to Astarion. Halsin's fingers slid up the edge of the book and folded the page in half to mark his place. His hand jerked away as a small droplet of red wine landed on the page.

Astarion had sputtered in his wine cup and tried not to choke. Halsin's head tilted to the side as he watched the vampire's vexed expression. Though Astarion didn't need to breathe, this was the second time Halsin had somehow made him choke on his wine.

"Halsin, what in the hells are you doing?!" Astarion gasped, his voice shrill in shock. One slender hand was pulled to his chest, as though he were on the verge of heartbreak. "I was going to let it slip that you're insisting on doing research on my behalf, but I cannot abide by you defiling a book!" He clicked his tongue in disappointment, and reached towards the tome in Halsin's hands. The druid snapped the book shut and set it beside him on the armchair, chuckling to himself about Astarion's dismay for dog eared literature.

"Ahh a purist, are you Astarion?" he said, winking at the vampire, whose face flushed with a tinge much like the color of the wine he sipped again, glaring at Halsin over the rim of his cup. The druid just grinned wider, his crows feet deepening, and continued. "I must admit, books that show no shelf-wear are visually appealing, and the smell of new books is intoxicating…but do tomes bearing visible markings not intrigue you more than those unmarred by use?" 

Astarion lowered his wine glass a bit, narrowing his eyes to study the druid, and seemed unsure of what Halsin was trying to get at. Or, Halsin figured, perhaps still offended by the dog eared page. "But think of it, Astarion, a dog-eared book means it has been well loved. What information did it share to their reader that was so valuable? What is the story contained within, and even is the story of the book itself? Just as a person's skin bears sun spots and scars, books marked by their readers have fascinating stories to tell,” Halsin explain.

Astarion had perched on the edge of his seat, leaning heavily on the armrest with his chin in his hand. He had sat quietly during his monologue, one silver eyebrow arched up to his coiffed curls. He had even taken another sip of wine to keep his sharp tongue busy on something other than a retort, Halsin assumed. The beautiful elf was always quick with a witty remark; his intellect was something Halsin greatly admired. The vampire set his wine glass back down and brushed at his trousers, flicking away at imperceptible dust that Halsin didn't see at all.

"Well," Astarion started, his words heavy with his unmistakable pouty tone, "you always have a wise response to excuse your habits." Astarion crossed his arms, tapping his fingertips on his biceps, watching carefully as Halsin picked the book up and opened it back to the page. "Still, I knew you had plenty of faults, Halsin," he said, counting on his fingers as he spoke, "your stubbornness. Your bleeding heart. But mutilating the books?”

The shadow of a grin crossed Astarion's face; his words were heavier with tease than the threat of a tantrum. It was endearing, and it made Halsin's heart soar to see some playful banter come from the vampire, who just recently had been so distraught after the run-in with Raphael.

Halsin ached to make the playfulness last. He licked his finger agonizingly slowly, and flicked the book to the next page, dog-earing that page as well. He grinned wickedly and watched the vampire from the corner of his eye - blood was rising to his face, but clearly not out of anger. This side of Astarion - the baffled, caught-off-guard side - was delightful, and Halsin enjoyed finding it. The sound of his calloused finger on the book’s rough parchment was accompanied by an overly dramatic harrumph from the pale elf. 

"Well, did you find anything out, at least, in your tome-torture?” Astarion said, with very little venom, but his eyes glittering with curiosity. He brought his wine to his lips again and drained the glass.

It was Halsin's turn to sigh, and he snapped the book shut again, laying it flat on his lap. "Very little, unfortunately," he admitted, angling his broad body to face Astarion better. He shook his head, his auburn braids falling in front of his shoulders, whispering across his collarbone. He noticed how Astarion's eyes constantly shifted, exploring his body, his surroundings. They darted back up as Halsin continued to speak. "I wish there were more information on the topic, but devils aren’t in the habit of bestowing insight into their trickery."

Astarion scoffed again, and waved his hand as if dismissing the idea. "Of course not," he said, his eyes rolling once before settling back on Halsin's face. The vampire, too, had angled his body in the armchair and had leaned forward on the armrest, his hands dangling over the small table between them. One hand fidgeted with the empty wine glass, a long nail clicking as it flicked back and forth over the rim. The vampire had many nervous tics, small things he did when deep in thought, or when anxious. This particular moment seemed to be full more of  anxiety than his own mulling, but Halsin didn't feel it appropriate to disturb Astarion's thoughts. The vampire finally spoke again, after a moment of silence which hung heavy between them.

"I appreciate you. Looking into this, I mean," Astarion said quietly, raising his eyes to Halsin's and peering at him through pale eyelashes. "It's a cruel irony, you know. Having been given my freedom by a parasite, given hope that it might not turn me into a monster… and then to learn that my mas-... Cazador might have etched something even more nefarious into my very body. And the only way to learn more about it is to work with a literal devil." His voice was soft, low, and almost seemed to break at times. It lacked any of his ebullience or drama that he so liked to sprinkle into his speech.

Halsin sat patiently, nodding while listening, studying Astarion's expression. It pained him to see how pained Astarion was as he described his exhilaration of freedom that so soon fell to agony, then hope, then complete uncertainty. And how his former master still haunted him. Halsin frowned, his lips pursing tightly together. Of course Cazador plagued the vampire’s mind. It had only been a handful of tendays since he had broken free from his imprisonment. Halsin swallowed at the thought, choking down his own anger at the inhumane cruelty of slavery which Astarion, and many others, have had to bear.

“Though it is distasteful to deal with fiends…finding out more is an opportunity that you must pursue," Halsin replied, his kind hazel-green eyes meeting Astarion's. He reached out, slowly, and curled his hand under the vampire's, encircling it and rubbing his thumb softly over the top of Astarion's hand. He cleared his throat, steeling himself for a level of vulnerability and honesty that he had not shared with anyone in over a century. “I too have had the unfortunate experience of being at the mercy of someone else.”

'Unfortunate experience' was a misnomer, Halsin knew deep down, because merely recalling his imprisonment made his stomach lurch. And yet he had told himself it was a youthful misadventure for decades upon decades to avoid deeper reflection. Until discovering so many parallels between his past and Astarion's. His thick brows knit together as he pondered on how to explain the whole escapade. Lost in his thoughts, he was unable to see how Astarion's eyes had widened, his brows raised. Unable to realize that the pale elf's cool grip on his palm suddenly tightened, fingertips pressing firmly on his hand.

Halsin nodded a few times as he allowed himself to creep into the deep recesses of his memory. He hardly noticed how he had inhaled and held his breath to steel himself against the memories themselves until he began to speak.

"I was a foolhardy young druid at the time, intent on seeing the beauty of the Underdark's otherworldly fauna and subterranean glow for myself. The botanical illustrations truly did not do them justice, I’ll admit,” he smiled softly at Astarion, recalling one of the only positives about the journey. He cleared his throat to push down the lump he felt forming there. “In my explorations, I had wandered too close to one of the larger Drow cities and…" his voice trailed off, but his mouth was slightly open as he looked for the best way to phrase the predicament he was in for years. "I found myself in the position somewhere between a guest, a prisoner, and a consort of a noble drow house for a time. The house matron took an interest in me and the patron also. They saw me as a…novelty."

Astarion's eyes narrowed at Halsin's expression and words. "Rarely do the drow have guests, darling. Do you care to explain further?" His words were minced, as sharp as the daggers he hid in his drow-crafted armor. The air between the two was palpably heavy, as Astarion seemed to pick apart Halsin’s words with surgeon-like precision, digging deeper into the meaning behind them.

The druid's throat bobbed as he swallowed, thinking of how to phrase it most carefully. It had been a trying time, for him, as a youngster. Once in which he feared for his very life. It was perhaps the most dangerous and unpredictable few years he'd ever experienced, and yet, he realized, he'd been shoving it to the back of his mind and classifying himself as a 'guest'. He realized how his jaw had begun to ache, so intense was his frown.

"I was chained in their bedchamber for nigh on three years," Halsin explained, his eyes darting away from Astarion's briefly, before meeting again for his next words. "During that time, I did what was necessary to survive." The vampire's eyes widened, his porcelain brow cracking as his expression twisted into something like pity, if Halsin had to place the emotion. He nodded to himself as he recalled the memories, the sights of his time trapped in the stalagmite prison of the drow matron. 

"The preserved skins of surface elves hang on the walls of noble Menzoberranzan homes for display as trophies. I did not intend to add a bear skin to their collection," Halsin said, shrugging as if the weight of the memories was on his shoulders, as if they did not burden him. He liked to think they did not; they didn't affect his current day-to-day existence, so the experience must not have been too bad, he had told himself for over a century. Certainly they did not haunt him as severely as the shadow curse.

"So you were a slave," Astarion said, his expression unchanged, "used for their perverse pleasures." The pale elf sat so rigidly he could have been made of stone. With how cool his hand was, Halsin could have believed he was indeed carved out of alabaster.

"I… cannot argue against that. For two centuries I've thought of it rarely, whether that was intentional or not," Halsin said, his lips thinning in another frown. "I feared for my life and, lacking freedom, I was indeed enslaved to my masters." His voice was softer at the end, lighter, as though the wind had been knocked out of him.

The pale elf's expression softened, his brows knitting upwards in what Halsin assumed was curiosity. "However did you manage to escape Menzoberranzan? Let alone find your way from the Underdark?" Astarion asked, his voice lacking its usual teasing or sarcastic tone. He seemed genuinely intrigued, leaning towards Halsin further. He seemed enraptured by Halsin's story, unaware of how his nails pressed into Halsin's large hand. The druid didn't mind, and gently squeezed back.

"Patience, mostly. Biding my time. My moment eventually came, when some rivals of my hosts sought to unseat them. In the midst of the fighting was pure chaos, and in that moment I took my chance," Halsin looked at Astarion, his expression more severe and serious than the vampire's, for once. "I never looked back until I breathed fresh air again…and I never learned what became of my masters." His large shoulders lifted and dropped again.

Astarion hadn't seen his shrug most likely, as the vampire's eyes were downcast, darting back and forth, as though he were formulating a conversation in his head. Or perhaps simply deep in thought. Either way, Halsin sat patiently waiting for his reply. No need to rush. Nor was there awkward silence, as the background noise of clinking glasses and happy chatter filled the inn - at least most of it, save for their quieter corner. Karlach had made a bet and was armwrestling someone, Halsin overheard. As well as the unmistakable voice of Gale, so generously sharing his endless knowledge and stories. Finally, Astarion raised his head to look at Halsin.

"You had family, though. And no one.. ever came to look for you?" Astarion asked. Halsin was surprised by the humanity in his tone, his concern. He sighed softly and offered a weak half-grin for the vampire.

"The Underdark is a vast network of caverns, so it would have been almost impossible to track me. And exceedingly dangerous," he explained. It had hurt, though, the years he was down there, knowing that no one was likely coming to his rescue. The pain resurged slightly, causing Halsin's stomach to flip and his skin to become hot. He shifted in his armchair uncomfortably. "This was also well before the Grove became my family. I've long had the tendency to roam and travel, instead of settling down. So as far as anyone knew…I was simply traveling."

Astarion shook his head, as if in disbelief, his beautiful brow wrinkled in dissatisfaction. "A pity," he said, squeezing Halsin's hand before pulling his own free of the druid's grasp. "But I am glad that you escaped. And to have met you." Halsin's heart leapt at the admittance, at the slight tinge of Astarion's ears and cheeks turning red, before the vampire realized what he had said, that he had let his mask slip.

"I certainly would hate having missed the opportunity to try bear blood," Astarion said, his voice full of that false mirth. His high pitched giggle filled their little nook off the main part of the inn. He winked at the druid. Halsin chuckled to himself and grinned, shaking his head slightly. He wouldn't push the matter further; Astarion's deflection queued the end of the conversation.

Or that topic, at least.

**************

Astarion was still stunned at Halsin's revelation of his sexual slavery; and appreciative that the druid knew when to keep quiet and leave him to his pensive moods. He struggled with the idea of Halsin under the thrall of anyone, let alone a diminutive Drow matron. As soon as Halsin shared his experience, Astarion's mind had run amok, conjuring the image of the large druid bound and tethered against his will… it made a knot tangle in his stomach. Astarion disliked both the knot and the fact that it had formed so quickly. Loathed how quickly his mind could so easily launch into a thousand scenarios of bound hands, sharp knives, and blood-stained floors. He hadn't realized he'd been staring into the distance for quite some time until Halsin spoke his name, and he had to blink rapidly to get his vision to refocus.

"Astarion, are you alright?" Halsin asked, tapping his forearm lightly with his thick fingers, resting his heavy hand on Astarion's delicate wrist.

As though by instinct, Astarion's other hand flipped in the air, as if batting away Halsin's concerns. "Of course, darling. Just the wine you know," he lied. Wine tasted of vinegar to him, and largely left him unaffected by intoxicating effects. "Although everyone else is rather…exuberant." 

Karlach was a doll, but gods could she be loud. Lae'zel of course, besides her blasted sword sharpening, wasn't obnoxious. Gale being endlessly verbose coincided with Wyll's chatterbox nature. Only Shadowheart knew when to keep her mouth shut, besides Halsin. The inn was full to bursting with songs and laughter.

It was rather annoying, and made brooding even more difficult. Yes, of course, they'd rescued the boy, there was hope for a cure of the tadpole… for the others, at least. Astarion's jaw clenched thinking of what could happen if the tadpole was removed. Would Cazador so quickly take power back over him? He had to get answers about those wretched scars before that could happen.

His thoughts were interrupted - again - by Halsin, this time by a gentle squeeze. "Would you like to go somewhere quieter, Astarion?" Halsin asked, his voice as gentle and reassuring as it had always been.

Ah, quieter, of course, Astarion thought to himself.

Halsin's expression darkened slightly and he shook his head. "Seduction is not my intention this evening, Astarion. Truly, I thought that you might appreciate someplace different to rest for the evening other than a camp bedroll."

Astarion hadn't realized his expression had changed enough for Halsin to notice. The vampire tried to reset his face to neutral; that mask of seduction melted like snow from sun-warmed stone. Old habits, dying hard, etcetera etcetera. He would like to have some place to repose in peace, though he enjoyed wanton parties as much as any good deviant. Still, some place better than his threadbare blanket - not to mention sharing more time with Halsin, was an opportunity Astarion couldn't pass.

He nodded and stood, stretching his arms overhead as he unfolded himself from the armchair. Halsin offered his arm Astarion's way, and nodded his head toward the room to which they'd retreated after Raphael's literal dressing-down. 

"Such a gentleman," Astarion purred as he slipped his hand into the crook of Halsin's arm. He couldn't resist gripping the druid's thick forearm muscle in a squeeze before relaxing his hand. Halsin's body heat, his strength… the memory of how he had been at Astarion’s request - no, the command - and so obediently followed the vampire’s lead to their mutual ecstasy… it sent a shiver down Astarion's spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to raise.

Halsin seemed not to notice as he waved a 'goodnight' to the rest of their companions, leading Astarion to the room he must have reserved when he had come earlier to Last Light, prior to anyone else's arrival. Though it was the same one they'd been in just a bit earlier, Astarion felt as though he were seeing it for the first time. Perhaps that truly was the case; he had been in distress the first time they'd been here after all, and sight-seeing hadn't been his priority. He raised his chin, surveying the room with curiosity and pleasure. Two clicks behind him signaled that Halsin had closed and locked the door.

"Well now, this is more like it! It’s quite a fine guest suite after all, even in the middle of a wasteland," Astarion chirped, loosening his hand's tether to Halsin and roaming about the room. He appreciated the thick fur and hide rugs that cushioned his footsteps as he took measure of his surroundings. His fingertips danced on fine antique wooden furniture - possibly as old as he was - that was clean and aged with a nice finish. A sideboard was laden heavily with candles, all lit and making the room smell faintly of honey. The side tables of the room also had candles, as well as a carafe of water and two goblets. The bed seemed plush enough, with pillows both decorative and functional at its head.

Astarion chose to settle himself at the head of the bed, kicking his boots off onto the floor, and shrugging off his armor. "So darling, what possessed you to reserve this room, hmm, if not for more of what we enjoyed the other night?" he asked, one slender eyebrow arched. Atop the copious pillows, Astarion reclined in the easy manner he had practiced over centuries.

Halsin's genial chuckle brought warmth to Astarion's cold chest as he settled beside the vampire, slipping off his own sandals and sitting cross-legged on the bed. "I've no ulterior motives, Astarion, and have been fully transparent with you," he said, his tone and grin as affable as always. "I thought it may be a fitting way to show my appreciation for you, and all you've done for me. For Thaniel. For the good of this land and the nature within it." He leaned forward and placed his large palm on Astarion's thigh, and raised one of the pale elf’s hands to his lips. Halsin pressed a gentle kiss atop his fingers, then settled his hand back down.

A shiver ran down his back again, and Astarion wiggled his shoulders further into the goose down pillows to will it away. "That's… very kind of you, Halsin," Astarion offered, brows rising in surprise, a slight flush growing at his cheeks. "It is rather nice to lie on an actual bed instead of the ground. I'd dare say we deserve a bit of comfort after all of our efforts."

The crow's feet at Halsin's eyes crinkled with his grin. "I thought you might. Comfort doesn't come naturally for me," he said, his voice a bit lower, softer. His hand traced along the surface of the soft linen quilt below him. "I am restless, and roaming. Comfort is for the farm animal, snug in its pen. I live for the wilderness." A large shrug of his shoulders blocked the candlelight from his side of the bed, then revealed it again, outlining the druid in an orangey golden halo.

Astarion couldn't resist snickering and rolling his eyes. "Oh I'm well aware darling; if you had it your way, we'd be lying naked in a field somewhere, gazing at the stars." He gestured with his hand at the ceiling, though he could only keep his eyes on the druid. How handsome he was, how striking. How full of delicious depth. His soft nature despite his inner beast. His wrinkles from age and experience. His hand on Astarion's thigh, calloused from hard work. He indeed was not made for creature comforts.

Halsin grinned and inclined his head towards Astarion, leaning in close and peering at the vampire through his dark eyelashes. "You read my mind, Astarion. But I thought of an adequate compromise for each of our comforts," he explained. Astarion's head tilted as he studied Halsin's face. "Could you humor me, dearheart, and close your eyes?"

Astarion's eyes narrowed. "Oh? Do you have some sort of lewd trick coming my way?"

"Not at all, Astarion. Just a surprise, on my honor." He squeezed the vampire's thigh softly and rose to stand beside the bed.

Astarion harrumphed and crossed his arms, wiggling further onto the pillows and crossing his long slender legs. "If you insist," he drawled, tapping his fingertips on his arms. "I do hate surprises. But I suppose I can grant that much at least." He closed his eyes and the fine linens, the candlelight, the large druid, all disappeared behind his eyelids. His sensitive hearing picked up the soft padding of Halsin's feet along the floorboards and rugs. 

For once, Astarion didn't want to break the silence with his own voice, for that would prevent him from picking up hints of what the surprise was based on the small sounds of Halsin's movements. The sound of blowing; he was snuffing the candles. The click of the lock on the door. And, oddly, the soft hum of a spell of some sort being cast. It was almost painful, the ache to open his eyes and see what on earth the druid was doing. His curiosity was never sated; and yet, he ached just as badly to please Halsin by humoring his desire for this surprise, whatever it was.

He heard Halsin pacing back towards him, the soft exhale of breaths as he slid onto the bed beside Astarion. He felt the larger elf's arm slide behind his lower back, Halsin’s warm hand wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, pressing him to his side. Astarion flushed again, wriggling slightly to nestle into the crook of Halsin's arm.

"Well? Are you quite finished?" Astarion asked, his patience wearing thin, but his curiosity growing.

He felt a soundless chuckle rumble in Halsin's chest. "Thank you for your trust, dearheart," he said. Astarion noticed he didn't mention patience. "You may open your eyes now."

As soon as Astarion opened his eyes, his mouth dropped open as well. How had he not noticed? Had he been too preoccupied with the allure of an actual bed to bother to look at the ceiling? Or was it that Halsin had used some sort of druid magic to mask their presence? Astarion wasn't sure, nor could his thoughts linger on the confusion he felt as his eyes roamed the ceiling, his fangs glinting in the reflected light from above.

All along the ceiling glimmered hundreds of tiny stars; each no bigger than a gold piece. They shone like gold, too, just as the sun glinted upon coins cast into a water fountain in a Baldurian street square. They twinkled and pulsed with magic, creating a dazzling starscape above him. It  mirrored beautifully the stars in the night sky that he hadn't seen in the entire time they'd been in the Shadowcursed lands.

His mouth was dry from hanging open; Astarion licked his lips and swallowed, his hand crawling towards Halsin, grasping his tunic in wonder. He felt Halsin's warm hand lay atop his, a soothing weight grounding him despite feeling as though his head swam in the stars above. Halsin had to have prepared this when he came to the Inn earlier. And also planned the candles, the timing… the minor cantrip of 'daylight' that he must have cast on each individual star. Astarion squinted, his night vision finally adjusted to the dimmer light. Each star appeared to be wooden; they had been whittled. By hand - by Halsin.

“What…what is all this for, Halsin?" Astarion asked, his eyes fixed on the wonders above, "How long did it take you to carve…?" He felt himself being pulled closer to Halsin, their torsos pressed together, Halsin's strong arms encircling him, sending goosepimples all down his body and a warmth in his chest and belly.

He couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at the edges of his lips as he felt the press of Halsin’s soft lips against his forehead, and how they were curled into a smile. "I've been working on it for quite some time… despite only mentioning it recently," Halsin said, his contentment warm and solid, radiating from his deep voice. "Even if we cannot admire the night sky in these lands…I wanted to lie with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine."

Astarion felt as though his heart had started beating, with how fiercely his chest tightened as he realized that though he had never even considered it, he wanted that too. He wriggled his body against Halsin's, aching to be closer. "This… is nice," he said. And he meant it.

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #halstarion #bg3 astarion #halsin x astarion #astarion x halsin #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #halsin/astarion #bloodbear #blood and honey #bloodhoney #oakblood #ursaminor #ursa minor

[reiderwriter]

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress pt. 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a hot encounter in your car, Spencer pulls you inside your apartment hoping to give you some more relief from the heat.

Genre: Smut, with very little plot and some fluff as an appetiser. MINORS DNI

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, soft Dom, oral (M receiving), pet names, degradation, face fucking, messy sex, creampie, breeding kink (contraception mentioned), also they have sex literally against the readers front door but I don't know how I'm supposed to add a warning for that...

Word Count: 2.4K

Here's Part 1 and my Masterlist!

A/N: Welcome back! I have a week off from work and no plans for at least four days, so I'm going to be writing a lot this week, so if anyone wants to be added to a taglist pls reply and let me know! My requests are open, too. For now this mini-series is complete, but I might write a third part at some point with the shower scene. Let me know what you think!

The small moment of silence after feeling yourself die a small death in Spencer’s hands is possibly the clearest your mind has been all week. You felt the fatigue melt away from your body as you relaxed into the car seat, knowing that the man who had once again taken to tracing his fingers in small shapes on your thigh, was absolutely going to take care of you.

As he pulled up to your apartment, however, your mind started working all over again, and you cleared your throat ready to start possibly one of the most awkward conversations you’d ever have in your life.

“Thank you for dropping me off.” You opened, not really sure where you were going, but praying that the car stopping didn’t signal whatever this was between you and your coworker stopping as well.

“Y/N, it’s your car. I didn’t drop you off, I practically commandeered you.” He smiled at you now, with that soft, tender smile you’d so often wished to have directed at you and only you.

“So,” you start, your hesitation shaking your voice slightly, “were you serious about joining me in that shower? Because that is absolutely something I need right now, by the way.” You almost curse yourself for how much your vomiting out the words, but the smile never leaves Reid’s eyes as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

“You need the shower or you need me to join you?”

“You know, before today, I’d never have pegged you as such a fucking tease.”

“And I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who begged your coworker to finger-fuck you in the office on full display for your friends to watch, but I guess were both learning a lot about each other today, right?”

“I did not beg.” You stared at him indignantly, finally unbuckling your seatbelt and rearranging your dress and panties so that the walk to your apartment would’nt be too uncomfortable.

Jumping out of the driver side, Spencer quickly joined you at your door as you stepped out of the car, closing the door and pushing you up against it, his hands firmly holding your waist now as he pressed his forehead against yours.

The moment was so intimate you almost forgot how to breathe, but the giggle that jumped from your stomach forced air into your lungs just as his lips curled up into a more playful smile as he responded to you.

“You didn’t beg with your words,” he emphesised the end of his sentence with an innocent kiss to your cheek, pausing to add “but we work as profilers.” Another kiss, this time to your other cheek. “And I’m very good at my job.” This time he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

It was so totally unlike the desperate kisses you shared in the elevator that you were thrown off your guard for a minute and would’ve absolutely lost your balance had he not been there holding you up against your car. Where his earlier kisses had been hot, purposeful and full of need, these were almost deliriously slow. You felt him smiling into the kiss as his hand moved up to cup the back of your head, pushing you further into his embrace as you gave each other everything you had.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air but grinning like fools, he quickly pecked you on the lips again before slipping his hand into yours and pulling you along into your own home. He unlocked your door, threw down the keys and immediately had you pushed up against it, his hands back in your hair as his mouth made its way along your neck, as if he didn’t want to leave any spot untasted, undiscovered.

“Spencer,” you moaned into his embrace, but he did not relent, finding a specifically sensitive spot at the nape of your neck and devoting all of his worldly attention to it.

“Spencer, do you remember when we met?” You breathed out, needing to force the thought out before you lost the chance. He hummed a quick affirmation against your neck, but didn’t pull away, like a child reluctant to part from their favorite toy.

“Spencer, please,” you laughed and finally managed to force him to look into your eyes, your bodies still pushed together at the hips, as if the physical contact was tethering him to the moment.

“Yes, Y/N, I remember. I remember everything, that’s my thing. Now can we continue this, please.” He dropped another kiss to your lips and lingered there for a moment too long as if to punctuate his thought.

Rolling your eyes, you continued. “I tried to shake your hand, and you gave me that speech that you give to everybody about germs and bacteria and whatever and then you said it’d be safer to kiss.”

“What’s your point, princess?”

“The point is that the very second it came out of your mouth, I wanted you to do it. Kiss me, I mean. I wanted you to do this, to pin me against a wall and make my heartbeat ten times faster than it already does, and, yes before you say anything, I know that would be incredibly dangerous for my health, but you are Spencer. You are the most dangerous thing that has happened to me, and I love you so fucking much.”

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t resume your activities either. You just stood there together in companionable silence, breathing each other in. As if breaking himself out of a daze, he finally dragged one finger down your cheek, taking all of you in before replying.

“I love you. And I’m not good with words or talking so I need you to let me show you that I love you. Can you do that, Princess?” You eagerly nod, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, as if your body suddenly remembered what the two of you were there to do.

He pulls your leg into him, letting the entirety of his body push up against you, as you feel the physical manifestation of his desire for you for the first time. He returns to your neck again, but pushes your leg up higher, so he can nestle as deep between you as he can get. You let your hands trail down his body, making quick work at the buttons of that tantilising shirt, and when he comes up for breath, you don’t allow him a moment to move back in before you’re on his neck.

The sweat sticking to his skin tastes salty as you kiss and lick your way from his jaw to his collar bone, pushing his shirt down his back so you can go further down. His throaty moans are the only sounds filling the room as he rocks his hips into your thighs, desperate for friction of any kind.

Although he’s reluctant to let you go, he’s almost relieved when you finally drop to your knees and make short work of his belt, still no further into yout apartment than your welcome mat.

“God, I’m so glad I get to keep this memory of you on your knees for me forever, Princess.” He smooths your now messy hair away from your face as you pull the tops of his pants down just enough to reach into his underwear, too eager to worry about fully derobing him. When his cock finally springs out of his pants, you’re hands are on it immediately. You press small kisses on the tip and sides, your hands moving down to his base as you work your way up to kitten licks, teasing the man slowly.

“Such a little whore for me.” You know from the change in pet names and the tightened grip on your hair that he’s growing impatient, and so you finally take him into your mouth, slowly, making sure to breath through your nose as he moves closer and closer to hitting the back of your throat.

When you get as much of him inside your mouth as you’re able, you start slowly bobbing your mouth up and down, one hand on his thigh maintaining your balance, and the other making sure the rest of his impressive length doesn’t feel neglected.

“Fuck, yes, Just like that baby. You’re doing such a great job,” he moans, but he’s getting impatient again, and you pull off his cock quickly, sticking out your tongue and giving him the permission to use you the way he needs.

“Such a good girl for me,” he says, pulling your hair into place with one hand, whilst the other pumps the base of his cock and pushes it back into your mouth, ready for him to use you like the little slut he knows you are.

“Just breath through it, Princess, you’re doing so well for me.” He starts thrusting into your throat, slowly at first, but quickly building speed like a man deranged, whose only hope at solace is spilling himself into the back of your throat. You do your best to keep your jaw relaxed, and honestly he’s impressed by how long you last, but when you finally start gagging, he’s seeing stars and his groans are having a notable effect on you.

You’re soaking now, so desperate for friction and contact you briefly consider pulling his leg into you and grinding yourself against his shoe, desperate for another release. You know he’s getting closer to his own, when he loosens his hold on your hair and let’s it fall down again, his hands pushing against your front door again as he braces himself.

“God, Princess, look at what you do to me,” he moans as he finally pulls you off of him, your face covered with a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum, a whole lot of which is still trailing between your lips and his cock as you look up at him from beneath hooded eyes.

“Spencer, please,” you shudder and try to catch your breath, as he hits the head of his cock gently against the side of your face, marking you again in the places his lips touched you earlier.

“Please what, Princess? You have to use your words.”

You catch your breath again as his tip traces your bottom lip, gathering some more of your mess.

“Please fuck me, Spencer.” It comes out as a whimper, and he’d almost feel bad if he weren’t so fucking turned on right now, looking down at your innocent face, slick with saliva from choking on his dick. He pulls you up quickly, grabbing at your hips, pulling the bottom of your dress over your ass and ridding you of your panties in one movement.

“So fucking wet for me, my special baby.” He whispers tenderly, pushing your upper body into the door and pressing a small kiss just behind your ear.

He presses himself against your slit, teasing your senstive spots by stroking up and down the length of your pussy until you're dizzy with need and shaking in anticipation. Just as you’re about to scream in frustration and push back on him yourself, he thrusts himself entirely into you, and you are once again breathless.

Your mind goes blank as he pushes into you, gaining a steady rhythm as he whispers praise into your ear.

“You’re taking me so well baby, so fucking good, like you were made just for me.” You feel yourself clench around him as his breath tickles your still sensitive neck, and each time you do you're rewarded with the sweet tones of his groans in your ears.

His hands find their way down to your clit as you beg him for more, unable to form words, but the pants and whimpers you’re letting out supplying him with enough to know that you’re close to the end of your tether.

“Where do you want me, baby?” He asks, his strokes getting slower and somehow even deeper as he does his best to prolong your shared bliss.

“Don’t pull out,” you groan without even thinking. You don’t want to let him go but in this position you cant wrap your legs around him and hold him close so you have to muster up the strength to tell him what you need.

“Oh fuck baby, you want me to fucking cum inside you? Want me to breed you like the little fucking whore you are? Every word drove you crazy, the weight of his body pushing you against the door providing delicious pressure as he drove into you.

“You want everyone to see how good I fuck you? Show everyone how much you like having my cum inside you?” The wet slaps of your skin colliding with each thrust fill the room as your mouth fails to form a reply, your orgasm hitting you as soon as the word inside forms on his tongue.

You shudder around him as your eyes roll back in your head, his fingers on your clit rocking you through it as he keeps up his pace.

“Fuck, that’s it baby girl. Gonna fill you up now, gonna keep you filled from now on,” he moans, and with a final snap of his hips he’s buried inside of you letting his cum flow directly into your unprotected pussy.

You stay like that for a two minutes, panting and gasping for breath, your dress completely stuck to your body, and his pants still stuck around his ankles.

When you both finally catch your breath, he pulls out of you and turns you around, pulling you in for another tender kiss and just holding you for another minute before pulling you further into the apartment.

“Just so you know,” you eventually manage to push out. “I’m on the pill.”

“I know. I saw the pills when we shared that hotel room on the Denver case a few months back. It was still fucking hot though.”

You shared a laugh, almost embarrassed by how much the two of you had wanted each other. You make a bee-line for the bedroom, almost desperate for sleep after your vigorous activities, but Spencer paused as you passed the bathroom.

“You know,” he laughs exhaustedly, “we never did make it to the shower.”

“In due time, Doctor. In due time.”

----X----

🏷️ @spenciesprincess

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #maturereiding #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[bigfatbimbo]

Imagine soft domming Lute, I feel like if she had sexual experiences they would be aggressive and not super caring. But what about taking the time to meticulously kiss every part of her and praise her until she’s in heavy subspace, even then just being super gentle and caring for her

IM SO NORMAL ABOUT LUTE SHES MY GIRLFRIENF I SWEAR

(Fem reader :33)

a/n — GOD I LOVE WOMAN I giggled when I saw this because I am genuinely so in love with this woman. Also, she’s OUR girlfriend ma’am, don’t get it twisted.

“What are you doing?” she questioned, sitting up slightly on the mattress you had her pressed against.

You had her hand in yours and pressed a kiss to her knuckle, “Is something wrong, baby?”

She knew this part, or at least thought she did. After pushing her into the mattress, you would fuck her rough and fast, cum, and then leave. 

If she was lucky she would get close and if she was luckier she would finish. That’s just how the men were in heaven. You were different though, you weren’t a man at all.

But as you straddled her lap you seemed to drink up her appearance. Your eyes fell on every flick of light in her eyes and every curve in her hips.

“No it’s just—“ She tried to process her thoughts, “—Well, it usually goes by faster than this.”

“Oh, am I not quick enough for you, Lute?” You tease, giving her knuckles one more kiss before moving down her arm.

Lute thought for a moment she should clarify her comment wasn’t a knock on you, or anything like that.

She thought maybe that’s why sex never lasted long. Every time she spoke she sounded meaner and more aggressive than she meant too.

She guessed that everyone she’s laid with probably didn’t like her cold demeanor. Well, they weren’t alone because, she didn’t like it either.

“God, you’re so pretty,” you breathe against her neck as your fingers trace down her body. Her breath hitched at your gentle touches.

“Don’t lie,” she commanded. If there was one thing Lute was known for, it was her intensity and strength in battle, not her beauty.

“I’m not,” you planted a kiss on her neck and slipped your fingers down to her already wet panties, “Your the most beautiful woman i’ve ever met, sweetie.”

Your kiss traces closer to her jawline and you bite down softly, making her gasp. Somehow, even your hickeys were laced with tenderness, it almost made her sick.

“Ah— wait I—“ She felt one of your fingers slip into her pussy and she grabbed your shoulders to hold onto. 

She’d never been doted on like this. Nothing in Lutes life had ever been gentle. When she wasn’t fighting in a ruthless battle with literal maniacs, she was training or taking sexist jeers from Adam.

She moaned softly and gripped your arms tighter when she felt another finger inside her, paired with another gentle bite on her neck.

“You’re amazing,” You whisper, working your fingers in her pussy, “You’re so amazing, and pretty, and good for me, baby.” 

She couldn’t help but whine and bury her face in your neck. You kiss her head and slowly add another finger to her cunt, hesitantly glancing down at Lute to make sure it wasn’t too much. 

Your glance of approval was met with a soft moan. She pulled her face out of your neck and her hands crept up to your cheeks, pulling you in for a a hungry kiss.

You sink into it and scissor your fingers slightly, making her whine into your mouth and furrow her brows.

When she pulled away she looked dazed, “Nngh, no one’s ever—“ she closes her eyes and tries to get her thoughts in order, “—ever treated me like this.” 

Her voice wavered when she finished her sentence and she put her forehead against yours. Her hands fall on each side of your neck.

“Everyone who has half a brain should treat you just like this, baby,” You tease her clit, softly, just grazing it, “You deserve everyone to worship you like this. My beautiful angel, my pretty girl.

“No I—“ Lutes back arched up into you and her nails dug into your neck, “Ungh, Stop it, wait.”

She grinds down onto your fingers, aching for more of you, yearning for your nice words. She liked being treated like this, despite the downside of vulnerability, she liked feeling special.

She liked feeling like a treasure. She arched up into you as you played with her clit, grasping onto your back, desperately trying to bring you closer. 

Her eyes watered and her voice broke the next time she moaned your name. A noticeable rasp crept into her whimpers and she whined for more.

“So good for me, such pretty noises, such a good girl,” you kissed the side of her head and rubbed your fingers her clit quicker, making her whine and claw at your back.

You were sure she was leaving deep scratches because it stung like hell.

“‘m close,” she moaned out, riding your hand more vigorously. By this point she was crying at your nice words, as those came so rare to her.

“‘m gonna cum, please, baby,” she whined into your neck.

“Alright baby just give me a second hold on,” you mutter just loud enough for her to hear.

She waited to see what you would do next, what you would say to her. To her dismay, your fingers pulled out of her.

Lute whined loudly at the emptiness in her pussy. Her brain was too fuzzy to formulate a reason as to why you would do that.

Until you kissed her slowly, slipping your tongue in. She milked the kiss for all it was worth, hoping it would coax your digits back into her. 

Instead, your head slowly sank down her body, leaving trails of kisses down her stomach before stopping at her pussy.

It was glistening wet and puffy from the attention, looking absolutely beautiful.

“Please,” Lute weeped, biting her lip to quiet herself down, “Your— your tongue—“ She whines loudly when she feels you get closer, your breath on her cunt.

“Deep breaths, baby. Doing so good for me, waiting so patiently, my sweet girl,” your face inches closer to her leaking folds and she moans in anticipation.

In one swift motion you bury your face in her pussy, drinking up her fluids in long drown out licks. You savored every taste of her and every moan she let out because of it.

Her shaking thighs tightened around your head and you held them down while you devoured her.

“Ungh— Close, god please,” she whines, desperately as she feels you suck on her clit. 

All of your attention tugged at her heart string tremendously. Usually, nothing in Lutes life was actually about her. If she wasn’t serving and agreeing with Adam’s every word, she was keeping the army in order. 

You drank up her pretty cunt until she finally screamed, thighs squeezing around you, and then releasing all over your face.

You licked all of it up that you possibly could before finally emerging. 

She looked absolutely blissed out on the mattress, panting for breath, cheeks wet with tears. You crawled back up to her and kissed her jawline, working your way up to her lips.

She was too tired to fully kiss back, so you kissed her forehead, and began to leave the mattress. 

She grabbed your wrist weakly before gazing up at you with needy eyes.

“please, I need you,” she pleaded. “I want more.”

a/n — MY BABY SHES MY BABY I LOVE HER I NEED HER TO KNOW HOW AMAZING SHE IS SHES MY BABY anyways guys i really like Lute!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin lute

[thatdammchickennugget]

can you do a reader with big thighs and like Theodore is absolutely in love and is like constantly touching them no matter what and if it's easier or something I like head cannons👹😘

Thigh-ly Adored

pairing -theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings - a teeny tiny bit of smut tehe, thick thighs!reader

a/n - thank you for requesting love!! 💕 as a fellow thick thigh girly, I strongly believe all of the boys would be obsessed with them. also, I might still write some headcanons about this soon

wordcount - 471

You sit cross-legged on Theo's bed, a book resting on your lap as you read. Your boyfriend’s head rests against your legs, his fingers idly tracing circles on your skin. Every now and then, he looks up at you with adoration in his eyes, his gaze lingering on your face before drifting back down to your thighs.

He's always been like this—unable to resist the urge to touch you, especially your thighs. And you don't mind one bit. In fact, you find his affectionate gestures endearing, a constant reminder of how much he loves every part of you. Well, especially this one part.

As you reach the end of the chapter, you close the book and set it aside, turning your attention to Theo. His eyes meet yours, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"You have the most beautiful thighs," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You fluster at his words even though he has told you that he loves your thick thighs many times before. "You really think so?"

Theo nods, reaching out to gently caress them with his fingertips. "Absolutely. I could spend hours just touching them."

You giggle at his earnestness, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "You're ridiculous, Theo."

He looks up at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "Maybe so, as long as I get to touch."

You laugh, leaning in to capture his lips in a tender kiss.  He tastes like chocolate and mint, and it's intoxicating. You pull away after a few moments, but not far enough for you to break contact entirely. Your foreheads rest together, and you sigh, savouring the moment.

And then you immediately feel his hands slide back to your legs and playfully roll your eyes.  You push his hands off and he chuckles, looking almost amused. Almost. You know that look—he's definitely plotting something.

Before you have the chance to figure it out however, he has already pushed you back onto the bed, trailing kisses down your clothed torso until reaching the soft flesh of your thighs, planting one last kiss right below the hem of your shorts before biting down.

Your breath hitches at first, but you soon melt back into the mattress when he starts nipping softly. You let out a quiet whimper of pleasure, arching into his touch. His hand travels upward, his thumb rubbing little circles through the cotton covering your core. Your body relaxes completely, your breath coming out shallow.

His hand slides beneath the hindering material and moves upwards slightly, teasingly brushing over your clit. Theo grins when you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, his other hand squeezing where it still rests on your thigh. "Not pushing me away this time, huh, pretty girl?"

Theo Taglist - @slytherinboysappreciation @dramaticals @urmomsgirlfriend1 @remussbitch @starsval @gillyweeds @hzstry8 @sir-elian @harryslittlebitch @Thatblackthorn @gayforyelena @whoreforfictionalmen18 @Littleraindrops @darkacademicvibes @marauderswhxre @ravenclawprincess33 @sbrn0905 @atadoddinnit @helpimhopelesslyinlove @carav4l @randomgurl2326 @Yhiiil @tristanswildcat @niktwazny303 @themarauderswife7 @moonlightreader649 @sherbysherbsworld @Topguncultleader @chgrch @nat1221 @thestarlithideout @iamaslytherin0 @bath1lda @pinkposttragedy @allshitsangiggles @hoeforvinniehackerrr @mildly-delulu @h3artz4soph @marsbars09

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#theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagine #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott imagine #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #teddy #teddy nott #theo #theodore #slytherin x reader #slytherin #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine #writing #mari writes #harry potter fanfiction

[lendeah]

Wounded Love

Summary: Astarion and Tav are both struggling with their emotions as they journey through the Shadowlands. When Astarion gets injured, Tav takes it upon herself to nurse him back to health, in more ways than one.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 5.3k

Tags: Astarion gets hurt, Emotional Constipation, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Massage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Tav takes care of Astarion, sub!Atarion, Light Dom/sub, bordering minimal really, Porn With Plot, Biting, Blood.

a/n: this is an old draft, so forgive me if there are any typos! Love ya🤍

WARNING! +18 CONTENT, MINORS DNI

It had been a stray hex, a capricious twist of magic that had hurt him, as told by the doctor responsible for his care in the Last Light Inn. The tendrils of the hex had woven an intricate spell, rendering him unconscious. Right now, as his chest rises and falls rhythmically, you feel something like pain and protectiveness stir in your chest. Although you are aware that your connection is currently purely physical, you can't help but feel a flutter every time your eyes meet or a tightening in your chest whenever he faces danger.

Looking at his peaceful sleeping form, you reach out to touch his hair, keeping it out of the way of his eyes. Your fingers trace the contours of his face and down his jawline. You wonder what kind of dreams come to him in these tender moments. Dreams you would love to share. To know all the things that go through the elf's mind.

His eyes suddenly open, and you get slightly startled, your hand hanging mid-air.

"What are you doing?" He raises one judging eyebrow, and squints at you through his eyelashes, but doesn't move out of your touch. His lips are curled into a small, tight grimace, probably still in pain from his recent wound.

You reach for the mug of water near the bed. "You look so peaceful when you sleep. Maybe you should spend more time like that. I like you way more when you are quiet," you say, a teasing tone lacing your words.

Astarion rolls his eyes, but he's also smiling a little.

"Yeah? Well, if you're so keen on me sleeping why not do me a favor and knock me out? The pain is unbearable as of right now," he says, but his voice is still soft and quiet, almost as if talking is painful You know there is a bit of truth there. He takes the mug and gulps down the water, then sets the piece back down on the bedside table.

He does appear miserable, even though his beauty remains as striking as ever. His eyes, usually filled with energy and mirth, seem drained of life, carrying heavy bags underneath. Though he is already pale, right now he looks paler than ever, and even his distinctive white locks, typically immaculate, fall disheveled and unkempt over his shoulders.

Your chest tightens at the sight, a vivid flashback of watching him fall during the combat flooding your mind. One moment, he was bravely battling alongside Karlach and the next, he was sprawled on the ground, so unnaturally still that it hinted at something had gone fatally wrong. The memory of that moment lingers—the scream tearing from your throat, the frantic dash to reach him—where the world outside, the lurking shadow monsters, and your companions; all became a blur, drowned out by the overwhelming fear of losing him.

You release a shaky breath, and try to appear nonchalant "Well, I happened to leave my Warhammer outside, but if you give me a moment, we could arrange it," you say, a hint of playful sarcasm masking the genuine worry beneath.

Astarion snorts. "Please, I don't need the Warhammer. Just a firm slap should do it." He says while shifting on his bed.

The movement makes the bedsheets rustle and reveals the bandages encasing his torso. His chest had sustained the most damage, with a deep cut that refused to heal and oozed a dark, murky liquid.

"You were out for a tenday," you inform him. "A stray hex hit you during combat and left you out cold. The wound didn't close, even with your vampiric and elf powers, so it had to be taken care of manually."

"Well, that's just great." Astarion mutters. Then, he speaks up again, this time seemingly with some concern, "I'm alright, right? I'm not going to die? I mean, I know I can't die, but..."

You chuckle softly at his words, a mix of fondness and relief washing over you. "Not under my watch. I am an incredible healer, after all".

"And quite humble, at that," Astarion mutters, but there is a small smile on his face. Then, there is a beat of silence, as both of you take a moment to collect your thoughts.

Astarion's smile fades, and his eyes search yours for something, a reassurance perhaps. You can see the vulnerability hidden beneath his usual facade of confidence and charm. It's rare to see him like this, stripped of his usual bravado. Leaning closer, you reach out again to gently brush a strand of white hair behind his pointy ear.

"Hey," you say softly, placing your hand on his cheek. "You're going to be alright. We took care of your wounds, and Halsin says you just need some time to recover." You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reach out and gently grasp his hand, intertwining your fingers. "You scared me, you know," you admit softly. "Seeing you fall like that... I thought I had lost you."

Astarion seems to freeze in place at that, as if he is unsure of how to react. You chuckle nervously, realizing you may have unintentionally crossed an unspoken boundary. Emotions are not your forte, after all. For a moment he simply stares at your intertwined hands. Then, he looks up to meet your gaze, and you see a flicker of some unreadable emotion there.

"Lost me? Come now, you should know by now it takes more than a measly hex to finish me off." His tone aims for nonchalance, but there is an edge to it that gives away his vulnerability. You offer a small, sheepish smile.

"Yes, well, you didn't die. So quit that moping and drink your water, or I'll let Shadowheart take a crack at healing you."

"From my point of view, this just means you just have to keep a closer eye on me from now on,"

You let out a small sigh and give him an exasperated look "I think I have done my fair share of caring for some time."

A look of realization crosses his face as if a puzzle piece has finally fallen into place. "Wait, did you stay here for the entire tenday?" he murmurs, his eyes widening with surprise and curiosity.

You clear your throat awkwardly "I mean, you were unconscious. Somebody had to keep guard, keep tabs on you, change your bandages..." you say, with a casual wave of your hand "Plus, I wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm not a complete monster."

But you are aware that it's not the whole truth. The real reason is that the thought of him lying in bed, wounded and vulnerable, causes a pain in your chest that you don't want to acknowledge.

Astarion's eyes widen slightly at your words, surprise mingling with something else. Gratitude, perhaps? It's hard to tell with him sometimes, but there's a softness in his gaze that tells you he appreciates your presence more than he lets on.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you then," he says, his voice softer than before. "I wouldn't have expected you to stick around."

You shrug nonchalantly "Had to make sure you didn't get yourself killed again," You reply teasingly, attempting to lighten the mood.

Astarion chuckles a sound that warms your chest. "Ah, so it was purely for selfish reasons then."

"Of course, can't have our token charming vampire biting the dust just yet"

Astarion rolls his eyes, a smile on his face "Charming vampire, am I? You really know just how to flatter someone."

"You're also our only rogue," you reply.

Astarion smiles. "So not only am I charming, but I'm essential too. Guess the group just couldn't do without me. Perhaps you should write me a thank you note instead."

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "Oh, don't worry. I'll be sure to draft up a heartfelt ode to your indispensability."

His smile widens, the playful back and forth easing the tension that lingered between you. It feels good to see him like this, even if he's still recovering from his injuries.

You've been through so much together, fighting against the darkness that threatens your world. And in those moments of battle and chaos, there's a strange comfort in he familiarity of this banter, with its playful jabs and sly remarks. You do this routine a hundred times, dancing around each other's feelings and skirting the edges of any true intimacy. And yet, it's still nice to pretend sometimes. Still nice to pretend there's nothing underneath all the playful words, that maybe this is all you need. But for once, when you are looking at him, you want to reach out to him. To tenderly kiss his forehead, rest your head on his strong shoulders, and be enveloped in his embrace and not just for physical pleasure. But you know better than to act on those desires. He has been so wounded in the past and it's not just the physical scars that linger. His past is a complicated web of pain, betrayal, and mistrust. You've seen the way his eyes darken when certain topics are brought up or how he flinches away from certain touches. So you will wait patiently until he opens up when he is ready, relishing in these small moments in the meantime.

"Well, charming vampire, it looks like I'll have to find some more enemies for you to sink your fangs into for breakfast," you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Astarion grins, a little wolfishly with his fangs on display, "Oh, I think I know just who to take my fangs to," he says, his eyes appraising your neck.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze. You roll your eyes and smirk. "Oh please, Astarion. I'm not that easy to sink your fangs into."

He leans forward, with a wicked smile on his lips "Oh, is that so?" Astarion says smoothly. A twinkle of desire flashes in his red eyes as he speaks, which only ignites your own thirst. You feel your heartbeat quickening, breath hitching in your chest. "You want to put that to the test?" His voice is lower now, a bit of a growl starting to creep into his tone.

You can feel the bed's cool, smooth sheets against your skin as you lean forward, your chest brushing against Astarion's. The energy between your bodies feels like a tangible force, one that you can almost reach out and touch. His face is so close, his red eyes bright and mouth slightly open, showing off two sharp fangs that would terrify most people but only send shivers of anticipation down your spine. There's something primal in the way you're looking at each other, and you can't help but feel a familiar wave of excitement and fear wash over you. Astarion's eyes flicker to your lips for a moment. You are waiting, wanting him to make the first move, your breath shallow and quick.

"Well? Still think you can bite me that easily?" you quip, teasingly, although your heart is pounding so loud you are sure it's deafening for him.

A mischievous smirk plays on Astarion's lips, his red eyes sparkling with amusement. Despite his injury, he moves gracefully and with supernatural quickness, catching you off guard. In the blink of an eye, you are pinned to the bed beneath him. Your back sinks into the soft mattress as Astarion's weight presses down on your body. His left arm is pressing into the skin of your collarbones, as his other hand holds your wrists above your head. Every touch from him sends electric jolts through your body.

Astarion's breath is hot against your skin as he leans in closer, his lips grazing your ear. "Oh, I am more than capable of biting you," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "I might even leave you with a few bruises," he adds, his voice an intimate rasp that sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart races at his words and the thought of what he could do to you, at the weight pressing down on you.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Astarion murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You let out a soft gasp as he nibbles on your skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your arms. His touch is electric and every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire. Without hesitation, Astarion's fangs sink into the soft flesh of your neck, and you let out a gasp as a mix of pleasure and sharp icy pain courses through you. You can feel yourself growing lightheaded as he feeds from you, his fangs sinking deeper and his grip on your wrists loosening as he savors the taste of your blood. The sensation sends waves of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

Time seems to stand still as you remain locked in his embrace, your bodies tangled together on the bed. As he finally withdraws his fangs from your neck, he lingers for a moment, his lips brushing against the wounds he's left behind. You can feel the slight throbbing where his teeth had punctured skin seconds ago. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you feel him press his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your skin.

You giggle a little, still coming down from the high of vampire venom.

"I will never get tired of that," The words slipped from his lips in a breathy murmur, one that was filled with awe and contentment.

"All it takes is a little blood to make our wounded vampire happy," You tease, giving him a small peck. His lips still taste a bit metallic, but you don't care in the slightest.

Astarion chuckles, "Ah, darling, we both know I am not the only one who enjoys that…"

He presses his body against your own, his lips suddenly ravishing yours with an intensity that steals your breath. The heat of his mouth sears through you, igniting every nerve and sending primal shivers down your spine. You cling to him desperately, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer until your bodies meld into one and your hands tangle in the soft curls of his hair. At this moment, nothing else exists except for the electric chemistry between you, overwhelming and all-consuming.

Out of nowhere, he recoils and lets out a sharp hiss. Concerned, you examine the bandage on his chest and notice a small black spot forming. "Oh shit," you curse under your breath.

You quickly slide out from under him and stand next to the bed. "Lie down," you tell him firmly, "I'll take care of it."

"I'm okay," Astarion lies, but complies, lying down on the bed with a sense of resignation. The soft sheets crinkle beneath his weight as he settles into a comfortable position. You hurriedly gather supplies before returning to his side, adrenaline and concern fueling your actions. With skilled hands, you begin tending to his wound as Astarion watches on with curious eyes.

"If you keep ogling me like that, I may just end up with a hole in my head," you quip.

The corners of both your mouths turn up in matching grins. The intensity of your gaze locks and it feels like the air is alive with electricity. With precision and care, you unwrap the bandage and clean the wound, hands steady despite your worry. As you finish dressing the wound, you can't help letting out a sigh of relief after realizing it was just a small tear, nothing too serious.

It's then that you notice you have been straddling his body over the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed and your cheeks flush furiously.

Astarion looks at you with a cheeky smirk, "Something the matter, dear?" he asks, his voice low and sultry.

You can feel your face turning even brighter red, but you try to shrug it off. "No, nothing's wrong."

Astarion lets out a low laugh, enjoying your flustered state. "Oh, I beg to differ," he teases, sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

"Shut up," you mutter, trying to keep your embarrassment at bay.

Astarion chuckles softly, a warm sound that makes your heart flutter. Why does he always make your heart flutter?

"Well, I have seen you in way more compromised positions than the one you are in right now," he says, a hint of mischief in his tone. "You're not one to be shy."

You can't help but blush even more at his words. His hand starts caressing your thigh, and your breath hitches slightly.

"I must say," Astarion continues with a sly grin, "I've never had such skilled hands tending to me before."

You roll your eyes at his flirting. "Well, I have been trained in basic care since I was young," you reply with a smile playing on your lips.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. "And how else are you planning on taking care of me, exactly? Because I remain deeply wounded." he says with a mock pout.

A mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you reply, "You'll just have to wait and see."

Meeting his intense gaze, you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. A sudden spark of inspiration ignites within you and you eagerly suggest, "How about a massage? I have been told I am really good at those."

He raises an eyebrow, "A massage, huh? It doesn't sound too bad."

A chuckle bubbles up from your chest and you swat him lightly on the shoulder. "Only 'not too bad'? I'll have you know, I'm excellent."

Astarion smirks, "Prove it then," he challenges, stretching back onto the bed, arms folded behind his head in a display of pure ease.

Squaring your shoulders in determination, you stand from the bed and walk to the other side of the room. You rummage through a drawer filled with various herbs and oils until you find what you're looking for - a small vial of calming lavender oil you had seen Halsin storing a few days ago. You just hope he won't miss it too much.

"You better not fall asleep on me," you call out teasingly as you make your way back towards him, shaking the vial in your hand for emphasis.

In response, Astarion chuckles lowly and flips onto his stomach without a word, waiting for your touch. The scent of lavender fills the room as you rub your hands together, warming up the oil before applying it to his skin.

As your hands start kneading into his tight shoulder muscles, he releases a sigh that is half groan, half purr. "Your touch is simply divine," he moans, his voice low and husky. "You really do possess a gift for caressing."

With a proud smile, you continue to massage his shoulders and neck, feeling the tension ease away. His eyes are closed, lost in the pleasure of the moment. Your heart swells with happiness to see him so content and relaxed.

You lower your hands slowly, massaging along the curve of his spine and drawing another low moan from him. The rhythm of your touch, the scent of lavender, and the quiet of the room come together to create a sense of calm and tranquility. You let your fingers brush against the edges of his scars, caressing them tenderly. Instead of flinching away, he leans into your touch, allowing you to continue your gentle exploration.

You continue to knead his muscles, working out any remaining knots and tension. And then, you lower your head and press a soft kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder, right above the bandage. Astarion lets out a surprised gasp at the unexpected touch of your lips. He turns his head slightly, his eyes opening to meet yours.

"Can't resist taking advantage, can you?" he teases with a small grin.

"I simply relish having you at my mercy for once," you whisper against his spine, taking in the sweet scent of lavender oil on his skin.

Astarion's lips curve into a playful smirk at your words. "Oh, do you now?" he asks in a husky voice, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You nod confidently, trailing light kisses down his spine and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "I always enjoy being in control," you reply, your tone laced with teasing.

He lets out a low chuckle, "And I always relish when you take charge," he purrs, his eyes closing in satisfaction.

With a last kiss, you gently pat his side.

"Now you turn for me."

Astarion eagerly flips onto his back, his eyes shining with anticipation. As you straddle him, you notice he has been affected by your previous ministrations, his hardness pressing against your core. A triumphant smile tugs at your lips. Astarion merely smirks up at you, not bothering to hide his interest.

"Seems like your skills extend beyond basic care," he teases, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

You choose to ignore his comment and instead focus on the task at hand. Pouring more lavender oil onto your hands, you begin to knead his pectoral muscles, applying firm and steady pressure, avoiding the bandage covering it. Your hands roam over his chest with practiced ease until they find their way to his abdomen. You glide your fingers over each taut muscle, taking delight in the way his body responds under your touch.

"Enjoying yourself?" Astarion teases with a smirk.

A warm rush of joy spreads through you as you trace your fingers along the curves of his navel, softly giggling. His hands instinctively tighten around your hips, a desperate attempt to regain some control of the situation. A sly, self-satisfied smirk spreads across your lips as you slowly slip your hand lower down, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath the waistband of his trousers, towards the source of his growing excitement.

His breath hitches at your touch, his eyes now wide with surprise. "Oh, I see what's happening here," he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "You're getting into this caretaker role, aren't you?"

Your smirk deepens as you gently massage his hips, ignoring the suggestive implications of his words.

"I did say I'd take good care of you, didn't I?" you reply nonchalantly, as I continue with my performance.

Astarion lets out a soft chuckle and reaches up to cup your cheek affectionately.

"You certainly did," he murmurs, gazing up at you in admiration. "But what about you? Who takes care of you, dear?" he mumbles.

Your heart fills with sadness, at the thought of him only thinking of sex as an exchange, more than a pleasurable thing. You lean in to press a soft kiss into his neck, feeling his skin cold under your touch.

"Just trust me," you whisper, voice low and sultry, "I want to make you feel good." His breath hitches again, and you can feel him growing harder beneath your touch. "Trust me," you repeat softly.

You press your lips against his, softly at first, then deeper as he responds with equal fervor. Your hand swiftly opens his trousers, digging inside to grab his hardness, and starts a rhythmic movement, gliding up and down the full length of his member. As it reaches the tip, you twist your wrist slightly, eliciting a whine from deep within his chest. It's a sound you've never heard from him before, one that sends shivers down your and makes your core throb.

His body tenses beneath you, the feeling of your hand wrapped around him drawing a low curse from his lips. He arches into your touch, his grip on your hips tightening as he struggles to remain composed. He presses his lips against yours, the kiss becoming more fervent and demanding. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him, as if he can't get enough.

"Easy," you coo softly against his ear, an intimate tone wrapped around the single word as if it were a promise. Astarion's hands flex on your hips repeatedly, fingers digging into your flesh in a bid to ground himself. "Let me take good care of you," you assure him again, your voice low and breathy against his skin. His body tenses under your touch as he lets out a groan.

His breaths come in ragged gasps, punctuated by small moans of pleasure. "Faster," he pleads with a desperation that ignites a fire within you.

"My beautiful baby, so good for me," you murmur into his ear, your voice rough with desire and adoration. Without hesitation, you bring the pointed tip of his ear between your lips, savoring the delicate contours as you run your tongue along its edges. His body shudders in response, a high whine escaping from his throat as he gives in to your touch.

"Oh, sweet hells," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You release his ear and lay back to take a good look at him, and you smile to yourself when you see his disveleshed hair, and red eyes hooded. And then, without hesitation, you sink down between his parted legs as your lips part and encircle his throbbing member. The taste of him fills your mouth, a mixture of salt and skin and something uniquely his. You take him fully into your mouth, relishing the sounds of his moans and gasps as you move your lips up and down his length. You swirl your tongue around him, teasing and coaxing every delicious sensation from him. His hips thrust upward, and his hands grip your hair, pulling you closer, but you resist, teasing him with your tongue. Your own body is humming with need and desire, but you push it aside to focus completely on him.

You slowly remove him from your mouth, teasingly drawing out the moment. "Beg for me," you whisper seductively, reveling in the power you hold over him.

Astarion's breath hitches as you pull away, and he meets your eyes with a mix of surprise and desire. He moans a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through you, and his hips buck upward, thrusting into the air. His hardness stands tall and proud against your palm, straining for release. It’s slick with your spit, and with a reddish hue that reveals his recent feeding. So damn beautiful.

"Please," he pleads "Please, please," he tries to repeat, but his words come out in a garbled, unintelligible moan as you take him deep into your throat and swallow hard, feeling his member pulse and throb slightly in your mouth.

His entire body trembles, his breaths quickening to the point where they are almost non-existent. His hands clamp onto your hair, yanking you towards him with a savage strength as he thrusts relentlessly, pushing himself deeper and deeper inside of you until it feels like he might tear you apart.

"Oh gods," he cries, arching his back and groaning in a way that makes you want to keep going. "That's so good, hells."

His words only drive you further, and you begin to pick up the pace, slobbering and sucking on him like a starving man to a feast. His body tenses as his release approaches, and you can feel him pulsing in your mouth.

"Please, please, oh my god" His words are now a jumbled mess, spewing out of his mouth in a frenzied stream. His eyes roll back into his head, a sign that he is close to releasing everything he has been holding in. "I can't... I can't take much more," he whispers hoarsely, "Please, please, let me cum. Fuck, I need to cum."

With this plea, you can feel the surge of his release, and your body responds with an exhilaration that threatens to overwhelm you. You can feel your body responding to his, your own arousal growing, and you rub yourself through your clothes, imagining the feel of him inside you. But that can wait - right now he needs you to take care of him. It's clear he's getting close now - his breaths are shallow, his moans low and desperate, his hips thrusting upwards in short, sharp jerks. With a final cry, you feel him tense, his entire body convulsing under your touch. You swallow hard, feeling the hot liquid spurt into your mouth, coating your tongue and throat in his essence. You can't help but groan in pleasure as it fills you, and you continue to suck and slurp, greedily devouring every drop he has to offer. His hips thrust upwards, bucking wildly as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. You continue to suck and stroke him, milking every last drop from his throbbing length.

Finally, he goes lax, his body slack and exhausted while his breath comes in ragged gasps. You gently remove his now limp member from your mouth, wiping the remnants of him from the corners with your thumb. As he comes down from his high, his body relaxes onto the pillow, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. You lay next to him, your heart filled with a sense of contentment and satisfaction. You trace patterns on his chest with your fingertips, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths as he continues to recover from his release.

A spark ignites in his eyes as they lock onto yours, and for the first time, you see a glimmer of something. There is a tenderness and adoration in his gaze as if you are the most precious and captivating being in all of Faerûn. You smile and sprawl over his healthy shoulder, looking up at him.

"And here I thought I was the master at lovemaking," he teases. "Ever so surprising, my dear."

"Oh, you're easy to please, my love. But I do admit, you taste absolutely divine." You giggle and place a soft kiss on his lips.

He chuckles deeply, running his fingers through your hair. A moment of silence passes between you before you find the courage to break it with a quiet question, "Did you truly enjoy it?"

Conversation after sex is rare for you, but something about today feels different, almost intimate. Like something has shifted, an unspoken understanding or connection.

There is a pause, and Astarion looks at you, seeming a bit awkward. He appears to be having some sort of internal struggle at the moment. But then, he relaxes a bit and nods his head.

"Yes, I did," he says. He smiles at you. "It was... mediocre. Which is quite good for your usual performance"

You raise an eyebrow in mock offense. "Excuse me? You were practically begging me to cum moments ago!"

"Was that begging?" he asks innocently, "I thought I was just doing a demonstration" His eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at you, his lips curling up into a smirk.

"Oh, really?" You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Well, you sure seemed to be enjoying it"

Astarion chuckled lightly, running his fingers through your hair. "I suppose I did, you know me, I can't resist a good show. And in case you're wondering, that was definitely begging. You just have a unique way of making me forget my manners."

You snuggle closer to him, basking in the softness of his skin. "I'm glad I can keep things interesting for you."

And then, to your surprise, he silently embraces you in a warm hug, pulling you close to his chest. The feeling of his strong arms encircling your frame is unfamiliar but comforting at the same time. You have never held each other in such an intimate way before, but in this moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

As the two of you lay intertwined and content, you can feel a sense of peace wash over both of you. For once, no worries or fears are clouding your minds - just the simple pleasure of being together in this moment. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied sigh, wondering if this newfound closeness is a sign of things to come, and the thought brings a smile to your lips, before drifting off into a peaceful sleep wrapped in each other's embrace.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #astarion baldurs gate #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader

[forever-rogue]

thank u for feeding my joel brainrot

may i request something a bit angsty where reader gets injured but still lives through it although seeing reader injured and joel having to carry her brought him flashbacks to sarah

AN | Pain! We have some pain - but also a whole lot of fluff! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“We need to get back,” his gruff voice cut through the fleeting moment of happiness. You knew he was right, and he knew that you knew he was right. You bent down and plucked one of the few blooms that had actually managed to blossom in the barren field. It was a pretty, small thing, purplish blue with soft petals. 

You turned around to face Joel again and held the flower out to him, a gentle expression on your face compared to the hard look on his face. After a few beats of silence passed before he took it from your hands, twirling it between his fingers, “Joel-”

“It’s going to be dark soon,” he cut you off, bringing a pout to your face but you nodded in understanding. He studied the expression on your face before sighing heavily, his shoulders sagging with what felt like the weight of the world, “it’s not safe out here. I’d let you stay out here as long as you wanted if -”

“Things were different,” you finished for him and he caught your eye before offering a curt nod. It was a risk being out of the Quarantine Zone in general, and you weren’t lost on the fact that Joel put a lot on the line in order to get out, even if it was just for a few hours. Before you could say anything else, he tenderly tucked the flower behind your ear, his hand going to your jaw as he studied you. Wordlessly he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek, a mere ghost of a kiss. 

“Come on,” it took a moment to shake off the stupor his sweet gesture had thrown you in. It wasn’t that Joel wasn’t kind or loving, he was just…rough around the edges. You couldn’t blame him; you couldn’t blame anyone these days. He’d lost so much more than you had, and had experienced a full life before the outbreak. You were a fair bit younger, hadn’t had the full chance at life yet, and it had been easier for you to adapt. Which felt weird at best to say. He showed his affections differently, but you welcomed them how they came.

He turned around and set off back towards the QZ, leaving behind only the crunching of gravel under his boot. You made quick work of grabbing a few more flowers and gently stuffing them into your backpack before turning to follow him, “Joel?”

He made a sound of acknowledgment but didn’t turn around, expecting you to catch up with him. When he noticed that you weren’t right there, he turned around, hands on his hips accompanied by a heavy sigh, “you better hurry up or I’ll leave you here on your own!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you flung the backpack over your shoulder before running to catch up to him. You were laughing now and you could see the tiniest of smiles on his face. It was a rare occurrence and you tried to make it come out as possible; he had the loveliest smile, even if he didn’t agree. When you finally caught up to him, you stopped and almost skidded onto the ground, breathless but happy, “you love me too much for that.”

“Whatever you say kid,” you knew him well enough by now to know that tender affection laced his words, “c’mon. It’s probably going to rain on top of it.”

“I like the rain,” you mused as you fell into step with him. He didn’t say anything, but you knew that he was listening intently, “when I was a kid…we had this huge pond right near our house. Whenever it rained all the frogs would come out, and they’d be so loud, especially the bullfrogs. It was like they were singing, in their own froggy way. I used to go out there and sit and listen to them. My mom would always have to drag me inside and insisted I would get a cold from being out in the rain, even though she knew that wasn’t how it worked. I miss that…I miss being able to just do things and not have to worry about anything.”

Joel was silent, but you knew he’d listened to every word you said. Sometimes he wasn’t a man of many words. But you felt him reach for your hand, taking it in his and threading your fingers together. He let out a world-weary, tired sigh, “me too.”

It was silent for a lot of the walk back, but it was a comfortable silence, a lot of understanding flowing between the two of you. It wasn’t until you reached the hill you’d have to climb down to get back that you worried about anything. Climbing up had been one thing, easy, even if it left you breathless. Getting back down seemed like an entirely different challenge. 

“You alright?” he noticed your hesitation as you swallowed thickly, but only nodded, “follow after me.”

You watched as Joel tossed his backpack down, before slowly traversing through the uneven ground to get back down. In reality, it wasn’t that huge of a drop, but it still made you nervous. Once he was safely back on the level ground, he waved for you to go. You tossed the backpack down, letting it land next to him. You grabbed onto a thin tree trunk, trying to stabilize your footing before going down. 

But fate seemed to have another plan. A very painful plan. As soon as you’d let go of the tree, you went to shuffle down but the uneven soil  caused you to slip and start to tumble. It all happened so fast, that it seemed to be over before you knew it and you were on the ground, the air almost knocked from your lungs as you landed on your side. 

You knew something was wrong almost immediately as you felt pain shooting up your leg and saw the odd angle it was bent at. A shaky breath escaped your lips, tears already welling up, an involuntary reaction to the pain your body was experiencing. 

You whimpered as you tried to move your leg, but Joel was already at your side, hands on your biceps as he helped you to sit up. A look of sheer panic was written all over his face, “oh baby. What happened? What…fuck. Fuck.”

“It hurts,” you cried trying to move so you could inspect the damage. There was a nasty, gnarly looking gash running down your left leg from knee to ankle. Your ankle was already swelling and bruising, and you knew that something was wrong. Your breathing was ragged and you knew that all you needed to do was calm down and everything would be alright, “‘m scared.”

“I know, baby. But it’s okay. I’ve got you, okay? Don’t look at your leg,” he cradled your face in his hands as he turned your face up to his, “just look at me. Look at me, okay?”

“Okay,” big, fat crocodile tears ran down your cheeks and you saw him close his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself. You could tell he was nervous, and trying to keep it together; one of you had to be calm and strong right and it had to be him. He brushed your tears away before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Joel…”

“Eyes on me,” he repeated as you only managed to nod. He reached into his backpack and grabbed out some of the first aid supplies, which he thankfully always brought, before getting out some antiseptic liquid, clean gauze, and some bandages, “this is going to hurt a little bit, okay? Just hold onto my arm, squeeze as tight as you need to.”

Despite his warning, you were not prepared for the pain that the liquid was going to bring out. It was a deep cut, you could tell from the blood and agony, but fuck. It was extremely painful and you gasped wildly as you clutched onto his upper arm tightly, “it hurts. It hurts, Joel. Please.”

“I know,” he whispered softly, his own voice thick with tears. This was one of his worst nightmares - that something would happen to you, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He’d been through this same situation before and his heart couldn’t handle having to go through it again, especially if something were to happen to you. He quickly wiped away the tears that blurred his vision with the back of his hand. He knew that he’d be all bruised up from where you were holding him, but he didn’t care, “almost done. You’re okay, baby.”

You weren’t able to form any coherent words, only making small sounds of pain as he worked to clean the wound, slapping on some antibiotic spray, and wrapping it up as tightly and securely as possible. The sting and pain slowly started to subside and your breathing slowly started to even out and the next time you looked down, all you could see was white bandaging. You loosened your grip on his arm, still shaky and worried, “i-is it going to be okay?”

“It’ll be okay for now,” he promised, tenderly brushing your rogue locks of hair out of your face, “and it will be okay. I think you’re going to need stitches, but that can be easily done when we get back.”

“Thank you,” before you could think about it, you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, trembling in his grasp. He held onto you just as tightly, closing his eyes and trying to focus on his breathing, “thank you.”

He held you for a few minutes longer before reluctantly pulling back and standing up. Joel held out his hands towards you, and slowly helped you to your feet - foot - catching you as you stumbled slightly. His frown deepened when he saw you struggling to put any weight on it, “can you walk?”

“No,” you sniffled and the memory of his daughter in the same situation flashed in his mind. This time though, he swore it to himself and to the universe, there would be a different outcome, “‘s bad. It hurts. You have to leave me. Go back and I-I can wait a bit until it gets better.”

“No,” he insisted firmly, leaving absolutely no room for discussion, “I am not leaving you out here on your own. Are you crazy?”

“Joel, I can’t walk!” you tried to keep yourself from panicking, trying not to imagine every horrible thing that could happen, “you have to leave me.”

“I am not leaving you, and that’s final,” he grabbed both of your backpacks and threw them on. He turned to you with a hard look on your face and you knew in that moment that it wasn’t anger or annoyance - it was fear. He was scared, “I’m going to carry you.”

“I-”

“It is not up for discussion,” there was no amusement anywhere on his face as he gently scooped you into his arms, cradling you tightly to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, closing your eyes as you listened to his breathing, the sound of his heart as he started to head back. After a while of silence, both of you on edge for different reasons, he whispered to you, “I’m going to keep you safe. I won’t ever let anything happen to you.”

You weren’t sure if he expected a response or even wanted one, but you couldn’t let his words die in silence, “I love you, too.”

He didn’t need to say the words in order for you to know exactly what he meant. You already knew; everything he’d ever done or said told you so.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d fallen asleep at some point, whether from sheer exhaustion or the overwhelming, or a combination of the two, you didn’t know. The last thing you really remembered was coming Joel sneaking back in, extremely careful since he was carrying you. As soon as you’d gotten back to his place, you passed out. But you were home and safe - just like he’d promised.

Your eyes were dry and heavy by the time you opened them up, slowly sitting up as you looked around. It was light outside, but rain was slowly falling outside, gently tapping against the window. You made a small sound as you rubbed at your bleary eyes. You could smell fresh coffee and you knew that Joel was there. 

Before you could even call for him, you felt the bed dip at your side. You smiled softly when you found Joel on his knees at your side, eyes nervous and expectant. You laid back down, burrowing into his pillow and inhaling his familiar scent that clung onto the fabric. You reached over and put your hand on his face, stroking your thumb over his cheek, “my hero.”

He scoffed at that but you grabbed his chin and forced him to look back at you, to look into your eyes. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist before, squeezing delicately, “baby.”

“I mean it Joel,” this time you made sure he knew that you were leaving no room for discussion. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes before you could feel him nod lightly into your touch, “thank you for saving me.”

“As if that was ever a question,” he pulled your hand away, holding it in his before squeezing gently and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “you had me scared, kid.”

“I had me scared,” you laughed softly, the sound causing his heart to melt slightly, “I’m sorry, Joel.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, wishing he could find all the words to properly convey how he was feeling. It was so many things all at once, and almost overwhelmed him, “your leg is stitched up but the ankle...it’s not broken, but it's a bad sprain. You’re going to have to take it easy for a while.”

“Ugh. That’s not-”

“For me?” he pulled out the one thing he knew you wouldn’t say no to, “please? Baby.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, causing the smallest of smiles to tug up the corner of his mouth, “will you get me my backpack, please?”

“I don’t think you-”

“Joel,” you pulled out your best puppy dog eyes, the very ones you knew he couldn’t say no to. He grumbled under his breath, the sound laced with affection as he went over to the door to fetch your pack. He set it next to you on the bed before nudging you over so he could sit at your side.”

You unzipped it and quickly reached inside for the flowers you’d collected. Luckily, for some reason, they weren’t terribly squished and you were able to pull them out intact. You bundled them together in your hand before holding them out to Joel. 

“What are you doing, huh?”

“They’re for you,” you smiled sweetly, “I picked them for you. Flowers always brighten my day and so do you. Who better to give them to?”

He immediately felt choked up at your kind gesture, slowly taking them from your hand, his fingers brushing over yours. He looked at them before looking back at your eager eyes, a smile, big and genuine, crossing his features. You would do anything to keep that smile on his face. He exhaled softly, taking one of your hands in his and meeting your eyes, “I love you.”

All you could do was match his smile as you tugged on his hand so he would join you on the bed. He gently set the flowers onto the nightstand and climbed in next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you into him, your back against his chest. You closed your eyes as you snuggled against him, putting a hand over his. In that moment, there was nowhere else you’d rather have been.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #tlou #tlou hbo

[myfictionaldreams]

Please Rest! // Steddie x f!Reader

Summary:You always wake up from date night feeling achy and exhausted and sometimes, you don't always prioritise your rest when you need it most. However, it seems great minds think alike where Steve and Eddie are concerned. 

A/N: Hello lovely readers, welcome to my new poly series that I have been absolutely obsessed with the idea of. I hope you love it just as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Of course, this doesn't mean my other series will be neglected, I'd just like to enjoy some time with my two favourite guys from Hawkins as well!

TW: discussion of reminders to eat, not with regards to ED but the conversation is repeatedly discussed.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, light angst, domestic bliss, dom/sub undertones, lots of pet names (no use of Y/N), fingering, teasing, begging, Sex in Eddie’s van, rough sex, multiple orgasms, subspace, creampie, overstimulation praise kink, delayed aftercare, outdoor sex, passing out, discussion of remembering to eat

Words: 10.5 k (hahah oops)

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Every day typically started the same. Sneaking out of bed in an attempt to not wake your boyfriends; brushing back unmanageable bed hair on both of their heads as you whispered goodbyes in the early morning hours. Before even the sun had crept over the horizon as you rose to attend the hospital where you worked as a student nurse.

Today however was a rare day, simply because: it was your day off. And yet, due to your natural alarm clock, you were still rising at the unnatural hour of the early morning. Tossing and turning did nothing to drag you back into the sleeping realm, even trying to cuddle closer to both the overheated bodies who you were sharing a bed with, but nothing seemed to help.

So once more, you were sneaking out of bed, moving steadily and with enough stealth that it would make one of the sleeping men proud. Even with the streetlamp outside illuminating the bedroom in a comforting orange hue, you still had to fumble dramatically across the floor until your fingers grazed over soft material, lifting it to your nose and taking a sniff. Vanilla, cedar and hairspray: Steve’s jumper.

A moment later you were pulling on the discarded jumper and a pair of your underwear that had also been left in the pile of yesterday’s clothes. Now partially dressed, you were able to make a pot of coffee and sit out on the porch and watch the sunrise whilst assessing just how much you were aching from the night before.

If you had a day off from the hospital, it usually meant one thing, date night followed by a thoroughly rough fucking, just as you liked it and now, you were feeling the effects today. All your muscles were aching and tender areas were littered underneath the skin from the restraints, spanks, grabbing and fucking from both men who were still soundly asleep.

It was your favourite pastime. If you had a day off then you’d all release the pent-up emotions with a hard fuck and then rest the following day which is exactly your plans for today. Maybe watch a movie or if you’re feeling extra exuberant then catch up on the laundry that seemed to be neglected in the corner of the bedroom from the past few days.

Your coffee was long finished by the time your body was warmed by the morning sun, the birds beginning to chirp awake with the rest of Hawkins. Well… most of Hawkins as you observed the car arriving and parking to the trailer across the yard. Eddie’s Uncle Wayne exited his car after finishing his night shift at the plant, probably on his way to bed but not before he turned in the direction of your shared trailer, seeing you there, raising his hand and giving you a wave which you responded with enthusiastically with a smile. It was an easy decision for you all to decide on sharing a trailer, it was cheap which was what you needed during your studies and it wasn’t like Steve and Eddie were making lots of money with their jobs. The trailer was quiet, out of the way and you were able to make the area yours, it worked for you all.

Deciding now was the perfect time for your second cup of coffee and maybe time for breakfast, you traipsed back into your little home, listening intently into the bedroom and still hearing two sets of snores notifying you that they were both still asleep.

Searching through the refrigerator that desperately needed filling with groceries, you shrugged, “Bacon it is”, muttering under your breath as you began to prepare breakfast. As the bacon cooked and you decorated the table, the alarm clock began blaring in the bedroom, followed by two exaggerated groans, arguing then a bang as the alarm was slammed off.

“Breakfast is ready!”, you cheerfully shouted, happy they were both somewhat awake now as it meant you were able to turn on the radio, something you’d been itching to switch on since waking up, instantly swaying your hips to the music. Vaguely in the background, there was thudding as someone tiredly shuffled out of bed and into the bathroom. A couple of seconds later, much more subtle steps could be heard as you stood over the stove.

Two naked arms wrapped around your waist, enveloping you in warmth and safety as lips settled into the base of your neck, moving as Steve mumbled, “Have I ever told you how much I love having you home in the mornings”. You smiled and leaned back into the solid chest, letting him hold you and sway on the spot for a second before needing to return to cooking the bacon.

Steve didn’t remove himself from you, his arms still caged around your waist, as he waddled tiredly with you as you continued to finish the breakfast. Only when the food was prepared and plated on the table did you succumb to the man behind you, turning on the spot, arms lifting and slipping around Steve’s shoulders, kissing his neck as you hugged him back.

Steve hummed into the morning cuddle, clearly half asleep still as his eyes had yet to open and his comfort only increased as your fingers easily ran through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face. “How long have you been awake?” Steve asked, voice still muffled against your throat.

Pulling back a fraction so that you could cup his cheek, kissing the tip of his chin as you replied, “My usual time”.

“Rough”, he admitted, finally opening his eyes and smiling down as he took in your appearance. “Good morning”, his voice was still thick from just waking up but the pure look he was giving you with his warm honeyed eyes.

“Good Morning”, you responded with your smile, tilting up on your toes so that you could kiss his soft lips for a second before asking, “Could you get the coffee for me, please”.

“Sure thing, baby”.

As soon as Steve had untangled his limbs from around your body and began walking back to where you left the pot of coffee, you were lifting back onto the tips of your toes as Eddie had snuck in, shirtless and with a nest of curls swooping in to cover your face as he pulled you into his morning hug.

“You smell like coffee and sex”, he croaked whilst tasting the skin of your jaw with lazy kisses, a smile tugging at his lips as he felt the warmth blossom across your cheeks. In turn, you tried to kiss along his cheek that was covered in stubble, a look he had been experimenting with for a couple of months, and a look you very much enjoyed as you reached his lips but your face was still covered in Eddie’s hair.

Lifting your fingers from where they had settled on his toned shoulders, you tried to tame his wild morning curls, brushing them out of the way but your fingers got caught in tangles. “And you smell”, you paused for a moment, breathing him in, “surprisingly nice, is that coconut?” 

Eddie eased back from the hug, a grin spread broadly across his face, his dimples deepening in his cheeks that had your heart beating faster. “New shampoo, courtesy of Nancy. Gotta keep the curls up”, he dramatically shakes his hair back, his curls bouncing with the movement.

The three of you had a blissful breakfast, sat around the circular dinner table, Steve in the middle, Eddie to his right and you on his left. “I’ll bring you both lunch today, if you want. What time do you have it again?”

“12”, Eddie answered first, pausing his glugs of overly sweetened black coffee.

“12 30”, Steve then answered, as he placed his now empty glass of orange juice onto the table and squeezed your thigh that he was idly stroking circles on with the pad of his thumb.

“Perfect!” you say, cradling one of Eddie’s mugs that Wayne had given you upon moving in, the warmth soaking into your fingers from your second cup of coffee.

“You know”, Eddie pondered, lowering his cup onto the table, “I’m pretty sure driving all across Hawkins to deliver us lunch, is not classified as resting”.

Shrugging your shoulders, you tried to hide your smile by biting it at his voice of concern. “I’m not feeling too bad today”, this was only a half lie as you were definitely aching but you also knew your limit. Risking a glance towards both men beneath your eyelashes, teasing them and no longer hiding your smile, “Maybe you both didn’t go hard enough on me last night”.

“Oh, is that how we’re going to play today?” Steve’s eyebrows raised as his thumb brushed across his lower lip as he shuffled close to you in the circular booth, intention shining brightly in his eyes.

As he inched closer, you moved away, the fear of the chase about to occur but then a thought crossed your mind as you glanced at the clock. “Maybe another time because you both have to leave in three minutes”.

In sync, both of their heads snapped towards the clock and then rushed to clamber out of the booth, a string of curses leaving their lips as they scrambled to quickly get ready for work. As they did so, you slowly gathered the dirty plates and cups to place into the sink to begin washing up whilst chuckling to yourself listening to the grunts and bangs are Eddie and Steve rushed to get ready for work. 

“What do you want in your lunch?” you shouted over your shoulder, turning your face slightly as in turn, they rushed to your side now fully dressed, hands on your waist as they lean in to kiss your cheek with an audible ‘mwah’.

“Anything, love you!” Steve was the first to kiss and exit, tugging on his green vest as he ran out of the door and jumped into his car.

“Everything on mine please, love you more”, Eddie shouted, stumbling as he attempted to tug his shoes on as he followed Steve out of the door, leaning through his car door to kiss him goodbye before climbing into his van.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their antics, muttering “love you too”, under your breath as you continued washing up.

The next few hours passed by slowly and you made sure not to rush, not that you were able to with the ache remaining in your muscles. You weren’t able to relax either though, feeling as if you were on edge with how quiet it was being by yourself in the trailer, even with the radio extra loud, you still felt unsettled. Most of the time, being home alone was not an issue however after such an intense night, it was unnerving to be by yourself and without the comfort of one of them there, it was hard to keep distracted. Even with your attempts to clean the trailer, thoroughly wash the lingering scent of last night's escapades off of your skin and then decided on a pretty floral dress that put no restriction on your achy muscles.

By the time you were preparing the sandwiches, cheese for Steve and ‘everything’ for Eddie which was more whatever was left in the fridge, a simple of ham, cheese, tomato and pickle, and finally a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for you, you were ready to run from the trailer to your boys. 

Eddie was right, although you would never admit this to him for a lifetime of gloating that would come of it; you needed to rest and after fussing around the trailer all morning, now you were exhausted. However, whenever you stopped, that feeling of sombre loneliness crept back so you were on your feet until it was a reasonable time to get into your car.

Your first visit would be to Eddie’s work which was a guitar shop called PickPlex where he was able to play with guitars all day and on the odd occasion give kids lessons. It wasn’t too far from the trailer so it didn’t take you long to pull up to the parking lot.

The bell above the door chimed as you entered and before even stepping in, a deep voice welcomed you from the desk. “Hey there Missy, haven’t seen you in a while, how are you keeping?” Craig the shop owner greeted you, a man in his late 50s with tattoos covering his neck and arms but his real nickname was the gentle giant.

“Hey, Craig! Yeah, it’s been a while, I’ve been working and it’s finally my day off so-”, you held up the bag of Eddie and yours sandwiches, “Lunches need to be delivered”.

As you stopped talking, you were able to spot a head full of black curls perk up behind a display of guitars. Eddie’s boyish grin spread across his face, eyes lighting up as he spotted you and instantly jogged over, the chain on his belt jingling against his thigh as he approached. The closer he was, the more you had to stifle your laugh at his unkempt uniform. Clearly from his rush this morning to dress, he’d thrown on his discarded button-up black shirt that was heaped onto the floor which meant that it was creased today and you couldn’t help but feel more affection for him as you noticed he’d scribbled on his red name badge, changing his name from Edward to Eddie.

“Hey Angel”, he purred as he stepped up to you, leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

Smiling up at the man you teased, “Are you talking to me, or the guitars?”

Eddie’s head tilted as he bit the inside of his cheek, his dimples threatening to deepen in a smile that he was holding back at your sass. “The guitars are Sweetheart, you are my Angel”, even though it was a teasing and casual conversation, his words still managed to have your heart racing, especially as he dipped his face to kiss your cheek.

“It’s her day off and you’re making her bring you lunch, Munson? Thought you were better than that”, Craig joked as he leaned on the countertop.

Eddie turned on the spot to address his boss, “I’ll have you know that she insisted on it. Is the back room free?” he asked, nodding his head behind Craig who was shaking his head.

“No fraid not, Shan’s in there, kid”, referring to his wife having her lunch break already.

Shrugging his shoulders, Eddie turned back towards you, taking your spare hand and dragging you back towards the door you just entered through, “No worries, we’ll just be in my van”.

Waving your fingers at Craig, you leave with Eddie, almost skipping with glee towards where he’d parked in the van in the corner of the parking lot, under a canopy of drooping tree branches. Reaching the sliding side door of his white and plum-coloured van, Eddie opened it up and held out his tattooed hand for you to take.

Grasping his large rough hand in your own, you savoured the feeling of his cold, chunky rings as Eddie uttered, “M’lady”.

“Why, thank you sir”, the word sort of just slipped out at his chivalrous actions and you noted the way his breath hitched at the word as he helped you into the back of his van. It was exactly as it had been when you’d first met him a year and a half ago, an old mattress on the floor space, covered in blankets, sheets and pillows as this used to be his favourite place to get high but since being with you and Steve, the place had become a lot more frequently used for other such doings.

Eddie clambered into the back of the van as you sat against some pillows, making yourself comfortable, and he swiftly slide the door close behind him, giving you both some privacy and also pushing you both into dimmer lighting as his back windows had long since been blacked out by sheets.

Holding up his wrapped sandwiches you began to list what was in them, “I hope you like this version of ‘everything’, so you’ve got ham, cheese and-”, your words instantly died in your throat as Eddie crawled on his knees towards you, hand gently grazing over your jaw before he was closing the gap between your mouths.

Your grip on the sandwich bags released instantly so that you could cling to the collar of his uniform, pulling him even closer. It became heated quickly as he settled between your thighs, a movement that had them aching from being in similar positions all night but you were very much ignoring that right now.

Eddies face tilted to deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing desperately against your sealed lips and you were more than happy to allow him entrance, moaning as you could taste the lingering cigarette and cola mixture from his earlier breaktime treats.

Just as your fingers slipped beneath his collar and began to scratch your nails against his scalp, a move that had him shivering and moving closer, he seemed to falter and regrettably pull back from the kiss. Both of your lips still hovered over one another as he stated, “Angel, you should eat”. The affectionate warmth returned to your chest as he continued to try and look after you after last night.

You did appreciate it and you were hungry but right now, you were also hungry for something else as you reached for his hands, linking your fingers together and once again savouring the contrasting temperatures between his fingers and jewellery. “I can eat with Steve”, you confidently state, moving your lips just past his to caress his cheek. It wasn’t your intention to come and fuck him in his van but you’d been so touch-starved these last few hours that you’d take anything he was willing to give you right now.

Eddie once again leans back so that he can bore his rich, chocolatey brown eyes into your own, his tone soft and yet demanding as he asks, “You promise me that you’ll eat with Pretty Boy?”

“I promise to eat with Steve”.

It took him a second to seem convinced of your promise before he was diving his face lower to your neck, stubble scratching and teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “I haven’t forgotten what you said this morning by the way”, he says, words muffled by his actions on your neck.

“What?” you ask breathlessly, all thoughts disappearing from your mind as your eyes closed and head tilting back to give him more room, your hands squeezing his hands in need to hold him close.

Eddie continued to explain as he explored up towards your jawline, “About not going hard enough last night, I think you need to be more careful with your wording, Sweetheart”.

You couldn’t help but grin at your words during breakfast and with the atmosphere thickening in Eddie’s van, a noticeable dampening between your legs as your pussy hummed in arousal. You knew you shouldn’t continue to taunt, especially after how rough it was the night before but your response was already dangling in front of you, teetering on the tip of your tongue. “Oh? So now I’m Sweetheart, am I?”

Eddie’s lips paused their exploration as he once again leaned back on his knees to look at your grin. You weren’t often a bratty person and hated any repercussions that came from it, especially from Eddie as he usually liked to be the meaner dominant between him and Steve so you were currently skating on thin ice. Instead of giving you an answer in return, he moved his body away slightly, hands letting go of yours but only so that they could grip your hips so that he was able to pull your body further down so you were now lying on the mattress, giving him better access to crowd over your body.

His curly hair cascaded around his face, shadowing his handsome features in the low light as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his crotch flush against yours, the material of your dress pushing up to naturally bunch around your waist. This touch was enough to distract you from the domineering response that was still pending to come from Eddie as he slowly rolled his hips, his jean-covered hardened cock pushing against your soaking panties.

Because you were watching his shadowed face, you didn’t notice one of his broad hands creeping towards the edge of your panties, where your thigh and pussy met, where you were most sensitive and the second his fingertip stroked the hem and skin, you were bucking your hips.

“I’ll call you, whatever I’d like to call you”, he seductively declares before his mouth opens, copying yours as you release a desperate gasp as his fingers dipped beneath your panties so that he could feel just how wet you were. “This all for me, Sweetheart?”, he emphasises the pet name as he lifts an eyebrow.

“Eds…Eddie, please”, you beg as he expertly takes his time to move up and down your folds, spreading your juices between your hole and up to your clit.

Your boyfriend gives you a condescending head tilt as his eyes seemed to darken to near pitch black as you keen into his hand, hips jerking to try and feel more. His face drops even lower so you can feel his warm breath teasing your cheek as he asks, “Please, what?”.

“Want to feel more of you, please fuck me, need to feel you there”. You were completely ignoring just how desperate you sounded at that moment, both Steve and Eddie always had to do the absolute bare minimum and you’d be melting in their palm and become a mess. With both of your hands with nothing to grip onto, you reached for his shoulders, feeling the muscles straining beneath as you hopelessly tried to pull him even closer but he was using his strength to remain in place and be in control.

Even with his fingers teasing your pussy, he still wanted to clarify just what you could handle as he voiced his concern, “Do you think you can handle me after yesterday? We did go pretty hard on you last night”. His hard exterior was chipping away as he contemplated whether to even continue this little lunchtime fuck.

He was waiting for your response and you’d already made up your mind; reaching between your bodies, you grasped his hand that was teasing the outside of your cunt and whilst moving that and your hips at the same time, you were able to coax his middle finger into your hole. Your back arched instantly, eyes closing and moaning deep within your chest at finally feeling some relief at being touched where you were needing.

“Fuck!”, Eddie curses under his breath, taking your actions as an answer enough as he began to regain composure and control by pushing your underwear further to the side, giving him better access to add another finger. In and out, he gently stroked your walls, finally leaning back down to kiss you feverishly once more, his tongue entering your mouth and dancing with your own.

Your fingers returned to gripping at his hair as your hips moved in sync with his coaxing fingers. The pleasure was blooming and tightening throughout your core as he used his guitar-playing, skilful fingers to touch all of the right spots, including his thumb circling your throbbing clit.

You were becoming overwhelmed, not just by his fingers but by also trying to kiss him and beg at the same time, your brain was confused about where to put your energy and in the end as your legs began to tremble and your mewls increased in pitch, all you could do was tip your head back and moan.

Eddie watched your every move with his own arousal going on the back burner as he made sure to spend the time looking after you, especially as you were so good for him last night. “Good girl, you’re taking my fingers so well, don’t hold back Angel”, he praised from above.

You couldn’t contain yourself even if you tried as your whole body trembled as your orgasm pulsed through your cunt, your fingers ached with how hard they were holding onto him, your thighs burning with the attempt to keep them wrapped around him. Eddie’s tried to swallow your moans up as he rushed to kiss you, lips lazily moving across one another before resting his forehead against yours as he slowly removed his fingers.

Greedily he brought them up to his lips, releasing his groans and eyes rolling back as he licked his fingers clean, “always taste so good. Now let’s get these off of you”. His hands moved to either side of your underwear and gently eased them down your legs and dropping them just behind him.

You watched his every move just as intently as he’d been watching yours as you tried to catch your breath, the van already feeling humid so a light dusting of sweat stuck to your skin. Eddie didn’t seem phased by the rising temperatures as he swiftly unbuckled his belt, pushing his jeans and boxers down only to mid-thigh, not wanting to waste time by fully removing clothes, only the essentials as he once again moved to hover over you.

“Let me see it”, he asked gently, dropping lower so that his chest brushed yours and all you could do was look into his handsome face. You knew instantly what he was referring to as you reached into your dress, tugging on the lengthy silver necklace and removing it from between your breasts where it naturally stayed, close to your heart. Eddie smiled softly, kissing your lips and then kissing the items attached to the necklace: two rings. One was the thick ring that he used to wear that had a black stone in the centre, and the other was a slim golden band from Steve, a present that had been given to him by his grandpa and now to you. It was nothing marital or even a promise ring for the reasoning that they gave it to you, just one day you were trying on Eddie’s rings and he offhandedly mentioned that you could keep it and Steve, never to be outdone removed the ring on his thumb and gave it to you. However, both rings were too large for your fingers so therefore you kept them on your necklace and now Eddie had the habit of holding onto them tightly whenever Steve wasn’t there to join your fun.

You couldn’t see his cock as he got comfortable above you, but you suddenly felt it as his tip stroked over your clit as he rocked his hips against yours. A desperate moan echoed around the van and Eddie had to quickly put his hand over your mouth as you became too loud. “Need to be quiet for me, yeah? This van isn’t soundproof, Angel”.

His lips were by your ear crowded into you, nice and close, making you feel small and trapped which is exactly how you liked it when feeling this needy and submissive. Your trembling fingers gripped onto the back of his shirt as he once again thrust forward, but this time finding its home as he began to slip into your hole. You tried to arch your back with the pleasure sparking across your body with the position you were simply held down.

“Fuck!”, Eddie cursed as his own eyes closed in ecstasy, savouring your warmth and tightness as he delved deeper into your hole. “Always so good for me, aren’t you Sweetheart? Always take my cock so well”, he praised again, followed by more curses as you squeezed around him to show how much you enjoyed his dirty talk.

Luckily Eddie wasn’t in a slow, teasing mood anymore as he began to fuck you fast and deeply, the van even began to rock from the momentum of your bodies. Anyone else who saw in the car park would evidently know what was going on which made it counterintuitive for him to cover your mouth but neither of you seemed to actually care in that moment.

Needing to feel more of him, your hands lowered to the edge of his shirt, and as it was already creased, he didn’t mind as you pushed it up and over his hips so you could touch his bare skin. The soft, unmarked areas of him were warm, just like the rest of him. However, your fingers found the deep, angry scars from the bite marks that he suffered during the attack on Hawkins a year and a half ago, which was conveniently how you met him and Steve as you were working the night they both turned up to receive treatment, Eddie more so then Steve. However now, both men had lasting scars from whatever creature had attacked them and the scars, they were like nothing you’d ever seen before. Visually they were like anything trying to heal, the redness fading with each month but when touching them, the scars were ice cold, as in, freezing cold, like they weren’t attached to his body. Steve always brushed it off as probably from a rabid animal, as they never told you what had bitten them but it was still unnerving to feel such contrasting temperatures on his midsection.

Eddie’s moans deep into your ear snap you out of your contemplative thoughts as he nuzzled into your neck, still holding the rings on your necklace and the other hand over your mouth. The sweat was causing his fringe to stick to his forehead but he didn’t care, his cock still throbbing and fucking into your cunt.

You wish you could beg, unsure of what exactly but you could feel yourself drifting closer to that peak once more. However, you didn’t need to verbalise this anyway as Eddie could already tell how close you were by how you were fluttering around his cock and how your fingers were gripping his back tighter. Eddie Munson seemed to know just about everything about you, there was no need to use words with him anymore.

“Sweetheart, you feel so fucking good, you wanna cum? Then cum for me, that’s a good girl, just like that”. You’re shaking once more with the intensity of the orgasm and it’s enough to have Eddie following you through with his own. Hips stuttered with its thrusts as he came deep into your pussy, filling you up with thick streams.

Eddie pants for a moment whilst trying to catch his breath before he seems to remember that he’s still covering your mouth and quickly slips his hand off but then replaces it with a searing kiss, which then moved along your cheek and tickles your jaw. You let out a delicate giggle which causes his softening cock to slip out as he groans deeply and collapses next to you on the mattress.

After a couple of seconds, he decided he couldn’t cope with the temperature anymore. Tucking his cock back into his boxers and buckling his jeans once more, he then crawled over to the back of the van, opening it up and allowing the cool whisps of wind to shiver along his skin. Luckily he had parked the van in such a way that the back of it faced a thickly wooded area so no one could see in to witness your half-dressed, thoroughly fucked state.

Eddie sat at the door, breathing in the fresh hair for a moment, fingers itching to reach into his back pocket for a smoke but he refrains as he knows your distaste for it. Instead, he sits back and admires you from where you lay, legs still spread and pussy dripping with his cum. “So pretty, such a shame that I have to ruin it”, he comments as he begins to awkwardly climb back through the van and reach over the bench behind you.

Even though you couldn’t necessarily see him, you knew he was searching for his hidden box of tissues that you had insisted be kept in the cars for impromptu moments like this. Returning to your side, you let him carefully clear you up and surprisingly his touches were soft enough that you weren’t wincing at the contact on your sensitive centre. After, he also helped you back into your underwear which was another shock as he usually liked to keep it in his pocket and tucked your necklace back into your dress.

You continue to lie there, feeling fuzzing and euphoric and he grins down at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “You should bring me lunch more often”.

Giggling at his comment, your hand reached across the mattress to hold his hand, “I agree, I love you”, you say in a whisper.

“I love you, too”, Eddie links your fingers together once more with one hand and idly checks the time on his wristwatch with the other. “Shit!”, he swears as his eyes widen checking the time. “You need to get going if you’re going to make it in time for Stevie boy’s lunch”.

Even though in the back of your mind, you were still aware of today's plans, it continued to feel like a momentous task to be snapped out of the fun buzz of the after-sex glow as you two began swearing and sitting up, ignoring the slight gush that seeped out of your pussy from the cum that was deeper inside of you as you tried to shuffle close to the sliding door. However, Eddie didn’t immediately open it as he took a second to assess your face.

“Are you going to be ok to drive? And we… we didn’t get time to cuddle or anything and I know after last night you might be feeling a little more needy and I-”, you lifted your fingers and pressed them to his lips to stop his stumbling words.

You appreciated his concern and even though you did feel slightly more floaty than you’d like, you didn’t want him to have to worry. So you plastered a fake smile on as you reached out to grab the two sandwiches, holding out Eddie’s for him to take as you explained, “I’ll be ok Eds, we’ll just have a quiet night tonight or something as we said. I’m sure I’ll manage. Now please can you help me out”.

Eddie took the sandwiches and jumped out of the van, holding out his arms for you to grasp and unsteadily stepped back onto the pavement. Your knees were trembling from the fucking so you had to cling to Eddie more than you would have liked to as he walked you back tur own car whilst stuffing his face quickly with his lunch. There, he held open the door and helped you get in, closing the door behind you and waiting for you to roll the windows down so he could lean into the open space.

Strapping your seatbelt across your body, you then held onto the steering wheel tightly, trying to steady your pounding heart as the tremble that had been in your knees now seemed to move throughout your body.

“Remember your promise to eat with Steve”, Eddie mentioned as he leaned in to kiss your temple and then your cheek. Nodding your head, you continued to smile up at him as you turned the ignition on. “Don’t have too much fun without me”, he jokes, finally leaning away from the car and giving you some room.

“I wouldn’t dream of it”, you laughed, waving out of the window as you drove off towards Family Video.

Since the attack on Hawkins, Steve had been promoted to manager of Family Videos with Robin as assistant manager, typically running the place by themselves. As you approached closer, you briefly checked into the rearview mirror, checking that you piously look as if you’d just been fucked, even though you could still feel the sticky feeling between your legs.

Parking directly outside of Family Videos, you tried to see through the glass to determine if it was busy but you couldn’t see a single customer and Steve was looking bored out of his mind behind the desk, his head resting heavily on his fist. Taking one last steadying breath and trying to regain composure, you grabbed the remaining two sandwiches and exited your car, eng into the video store.

With only one foot in the door, you were greeted by a shout of enthusiasm from your boyfriend. “Baby! Thank god! Robin, I’m going for lunch, don’t destroy the place!” You watched as Steve hopped over the desk, being careful not to knock the displays over. It was obvious that he had been desperately waiting for you to arrive so that he had an excuse to leave the madhouse.

“Wait, is my bestie here?”, Robin shouted from behind a rack of videos but Steve didn’t give you time to say hey as he grasped your hand and tugged out of the door you’d only just entered through.

“Hey Robin!” you shouted over your shoulder before being whisked away by Steve. You had to jog slightly to keep up with his long legs as he seemed to be taking you somewhere preplanned. “Where are we going?” you asked with a giggle as Steve seemed to snap out of his determined march and slowed his pace with an apologetic glance.

“I’ve got a little surprise for you”, he admitted, leaning down to kiss your temple as you squeezed his hand, hugging his arm to your front as he took you around the back of the store, through a small gap in the trees and into a little green area.

Your steps paused with shock as you finally saw his surprise. “Steve… is that?” your words trailed off as your eyes widen.

“It’s not much, just thought we could have a little picnic, it’s not often we get to have lunch together”. You had to bite your lip to keep the tears from welling in your eyes, already feeling a little sensitive emotionally, it didn’t take much of a soft move from Steve to have your emotions brimming. “Baby, what’s wrong? If you don’t like it, we can do something else”, Steve looked worriedly down at you as you quickly shook your head, smiling genuinely up at him.

“I love it! You didn’t have to do all of this for me”. The closer the two of you approached, the faster your heart pounded in your chest. It truly wasn’t anything exaggerated, especially as this seemed to have been a spontaneous surprise but he’d found a small checkered blanket, one that you recognised from Eddie’s van that he must have stolen this morning, there was a medley of coke cola cans and chocolate bars that you also recognised but this time from the vending machine from the arcade that was next to the video store and lastly was a wireless radio that was playing the latest Madonna song. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Steve blushed at your gushing compliments, accepting a kiss on the cheek before helping you to sit in the centre of the blanket. “How was Eddie?”, he asked casually as he sat beside you, his hair bouncing and moving in the wind, despite the copious amounts of hairspray that he’d hastily put in this morning in his rush to get ready.

You were glad to already be hiding your face behind the can of pop as you tried to hide your embarrassed expression. “Yeah, it was good!”, you tried to sound as casual as possible, not sure why you weren’t admitting to the fucking but you didn’t want to burst the little date bubble by detailing how Eddie had been pounding you in the back of his van not that long ago. “Missed you though”, you added for good measure, placing the can down and beginning to crawl over to Steve as the overwhelming need to be touched returned, just wanting to be close to him, his hands on you, even if was just to hold your own.

“Oh yeah? What did you miss about me?” he teasingly asked as he extended his legs, hands already reaching for you as you straddled his lap. Your fingers played with the softer hair at the nape of his neck, leaning close to lay butterfly kisses along his cheek whilst his hands settled over your hips, holding you as close as possible.

“I’ve missed everything; your lemon shampoo, your perfectly shaped jeans…your sass”, his hands tightened on your waist as you spoke, a smile spreading on both of your faces at you poking fun at him. But then your tone lowered as you hovered over his lips, “I’ve missed you looking at me, your hands touching my skin… among other parts”, you ground your hips down for emphasis, once again ignoring the ache in your muscles and recently used pussy.

Steve groaned as his hands moved lower and beneath your dress to gently stroke over and tickle the backs of your thighs. “Careful Princess, don’t you think we had enough fun last night, we don’t want to take things too far”. Even though he was enjoying your burst of need with the tightening of his jeans, you could see and hear the hint of concern. 

“We had lots of fun last night but it just makes me crave you more”.

Maybe you should have listened to the little voice at the back of your conscious telling you to relax and rest but like any time you are with Steve and Eddie, you were consumed with lust and desire.

Your lips moved against Steve’s, softly at first, like you were both holding back from taking the plunge but as you once again rubbed your pantie-covered core against his tented cock, the reserved nature that Steve was holding onto snapped.

His moaned, deep in his throat and vibrated up his chest as he carefully led you down on the blanket, his hand cradling the back of your head as he began his exploration with his mouth, over your cheeks and to your ear, nibbling your lobe with his teeth, causing your back to arch for more stimulation.

“So beautiful”, he muttered against the shell of your ear as his hand skimmed over your chest and squeezed your breast through the material of your dress and bra. It was your turn to moan as your fingers danced over his shoulders, gripping the edges of his emerald family videos vest, unsure whether to continue taking it off as you were both relatively close to the public.

“Will.. will anyone find us here?”, the question lay thick in the air, the deciding factor as to just how far this lunchtime play could continue.

Leaning his weight on his arm next to your head, he contemplated for a moment, his handsome features twisting as he determined how safe it was from people. “How about this, clothes on and we have to keep our voices down, how does that sound?”

Instantly there were flashbacks to not that long ago with Eddie in similar circumstances and going against your better judgment, you sealed the deal with a searing kiss. Steve had his hands back on you a second later, still keeping your clothes on as he continued to squeeze your breasts and you knew he was desperate to get them out, he always had an obsession with your tits, sucking and playing with them whenever he had the opportunity.

The two of you made out for a while until breathless and your lips were swollen from the friction. He always tasted just as good as Eddie, whereas he was cola and cigarettes, Steve today tasted like chocolate from an earlier bar that he must have eaten whilst using the vending machine. His taste, his touch, his smells, everything drew you to him, almost the opposite of Eddie and yet they were so similar in others.

Needing to feel more of him, you shift your lower half down so that your hips were rolling against each other. Steve could sense your urgency to be touched as he promised against your throat, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll look after you”.

His hands gathered yours, linking both of your hands in one of his, lifting them over your head and then holding them there so you were pinned beneath him. With his spare hand, he began to undo his belt and zip, easing his throbbing cock from out of its restraints and then to your clothed centre, pulling your ruined underwear to the side.

His precum-covered tip brushed against your hole and Steve cursed, leaning up to look down at your aroused expression. “Fuck, you’re so wet Princess, really are needy aren’t you?”

Once again that was a perfect opportunity to tell him that mixed in with your juices was Eddie’s cum but all words disappeared from your thoughts as he began to fuck into your hole. Slowly as he could, he made sure to watch your reaction to assure that you were feeling comfortable which you were as you had to bite your lip to keep your moans to a reasonable volume. 

“You look so good like this, all desperate and ready for my cock, Baby”, Steve observed, his brown eyes wide and trying to take in every detail. You were trying to do the same but the euphoric, floating sensation had only increased, almost like you were drunk and Steve was the only thing anchoring you to the moment.

Unlike Eddie, Steve was slow with his fucking, rocking your bodies together, tension building and tightening in your core as you could feel the ridges and veins along the shaft of his cock. It felt almost naughty to be fucking outside, where anyone could stumble upon you both and it was exhausting having to keep your voice to a quiet volume. You were tempted to ask him to cover your mouth just like Eddie had but you were distracted by his lips casually moving against yours every so often.

You weren’t even able to moan his name out, even though you toted too, in fear that you would end up screaming out in ecstasy so you held onto the hand only both of yours down and moved with his hips.

“That’s it, one more for me, you’re doing so well, feel so good, Baby”, Steve encouraged and praised after you orgasm and quivered about him. You were already oversensitive due to the last 24 hours of fucking so as he continued to fucking you through the pleasure, one orgasm turned into two. You had to bite his shoulder to keep the moans and whimpers at bay and seeing you unwind so much beneath him, Steve’s eyes finally closed as his hips stilled.

He pumped his cum into you, breathing heavily into your ear as he kissed you sweetly across your face. Steve remained close over you, noticing how much longer it took for your pussy to stop pulsing around him, as well as the tension throughout your body taking longer than normal to relax until you were melting into the blanket once more. Steve had planned to have an extended lunch break with you, so he could stay wrapped around you when you needed him most but not everything always goes to plan.

“Steve?!” Robin shouted in the distance which had both of you tensing and looking in the general direction of the voice. “I’m sorry for interrupting your… canoodling time but you said to come and get you if the delivery guy turns up and well... The delivery guy is here!”

“Shit! Shit shit shit!” Steve whispered to himself as he made sure to carefully pull out of you and then began tucking himself back in. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been waiting for this delivery all week and they were supposed to be here all morning and- shit!” Steve angrily ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the style but it still looked effortlessly good like usual.

In your blur of feeling exhausted and foggy, his panic seeped through and seemed to clear some of the blur that was in your consciousness. “It’s ok Steve, honestly don’t panic, it’s fine”, you try and say without sounding too muffled as your tongue suddenly felt too big for your mouth. Wiggling the feeling back to your fingers, you quickly moved your underwear back to normal, ignoring the significant gush that poured out of your pussy as you sat up, your underwear was thoroughly ruined now.

“It’s not fine, I don’t want to leave you like this, especially after last night-”, Steve’s words were cut off as you leaned over and placed your fingers over his lips.

“It’s fine Steve, really it is. I’ll just see you when you’re home, do you want me to help you clean up the picnic?”

Steve smiled against your fingers, kissing them before tugging them away, “No don’t worry about this, I’ll come back and clean this later. Are you sure you’ll be alright? I mean, you’ve still got to drive back home. You could always come and sit behind the desk with me. But we don’t have a chair or anything but I could make it work”. Fondness warmed through your body as you shook your head.

“Thanks for the offer but I’ll be ok, think it’ll probably be better if I go home and shower…again”. Steve nodded and cupped your cheek, kissing you softly before standing and righting his clothes before holding out his hands for you to take.

You did with a toothy smile, hoping the happiness reached your eyes as he carefully helped you stand which took a good 30 seconds for your legs to stop trembling. “All good”, you confirmed when you could take a step without the fear of falling. Steve then reached down and picked up the forgotten-about sandwiches, holding yours out to take. “Thanks, I’ll have these when I’m home and showered”.

Steve smiled before saying, “Please make sure you eat these and maybe before showering just so you have some energy”. You nodded your head at his suggestion, taking his hand once more and began walking with him back towards Family Videos.

Outside the building there was a large van, unloading boxes of what looked like the latest video releases that Steve needed to sign for.

You wouldn’t admit it but with every step that you took towards your car, you felt uncomfortable due to the wetness between your legs and you were worried for a moment that it would leak through and drip down your thighs but thankfully with Steve’s fast pace the two of you were by your car.

You released a relieved sigh once back sitting down, the exhaustion returning once more as Steve leaned through your open window, just like Eddie had as he helped you with your seatbelt. “Are you sure you’ll be ok to drive?”

“I’ll be fine Steve, I hope the delivery goes ok”, you say before puckering your lips for him to kiss.

He did just that with a low chuckle before tapping the roof of your car, “Love you, please get home safely!”

“Love you too!”, you shouted, waving out of the window as you reversed out of the parking spot and drove in the direction of home. With each mile that passed, you could feel yourself becoming more dazed and floaty, not even needing the comfort of the radio as you were mostly on autopilot with your directions.

Finally, as you parked up in front of your trailer, it all seemed to hit you as you just stared at your home. Yesterday's activities and today’s had thoroughly exhausted you, struggling now to even keep your eyes open, body trembling with the effects of all the adrenaline that had been pumping through your body. You didn’t want to move, didn’t have the energy to move as you leaned your forehead against the cool window that you’d just rolled up. Closing your eyes, a deep sleep settled throughout your body.

The sun was beginning to set over the place you called home when the plum-coloured BMW drove down the path to his home, whistling the tune blaring through the radio as he took note of the fact that Eddie wasn’t home yet. Steve had a skip in his step as he climbed out of his car, shrugging off his uniform vest and pushing on the porch door, expecting it to open as you were home but it didn’t budge. Frowning he pulled out his keys from his pocket, the jingle of them the only noise around the area as he opened up the door.

“Baby? Why’d you lock the door?”, he shouted into the trailer, about to kick off his shoes when he noticed just how silent the place was, there weren’t even any side lamps on like there usually were when you were home alone. “Princess?”, he called again, quickly searching through the rooms, confused here you were because he was next to your car, maybe you’d gone to visit Wayne he finally decided.

Stepping back out of the trailer with the intent of walking to Eddie’s uncle's trailer, it suddenly felt like ice had been poured over his entire body as he finally found you, eyes closed and leaning against the window of your car. “Babe?!” Steve shouted loud enough that the birds resting on the branches of the surrounding trees flew away.

Opening the door, he quickly caught you before you toppled out of the car, dropping to his knees he cupped your face as you began to slowly wake up. “What’s wrong? Are you ok? Talk to me, please!”

“Hmm?” you mumble, eyebrows furrowing as you stretched and opened your eyes, completely disorientated and feeling even more exhausted than before. “Steve? I’m ok, just tired”. You nuzzled into his warm hands, closing your eyes again trying to chase that link back to falling asleep.

Steve released a heavy sigh, realising what had happened, and as he stroked both of your cheeks with his thumbs, he leaned forward to kiss your temple in relief. “Have you been asleep all afternoon?” he asked, glancing at the seat beside you and seeing the uneaten lunch you had prepared as you nodded yes in answer to his question. “Come on, let's get you inside.”

Steve felt guilt sitting heavily in his stomach at seeing how much you were struggling to stay awake, still in your ruined underwear, hungry and needing a lot of care. “Do you need me to carry you inside or do you think you can walk?”

“I can walk, just need to hold onto you”, your response was still done with your eyes closed and leaning into his touch. You were slow and let out little whimpers as you move your legs, the muscles burning intensely but you still were determined to walk, knowing that Steve was feeling bad. 

As the two of you walked in, his arm wrapped around your waist so that he could take a lot of your weight and help you into the home. “Let’s go to the bathroom, get you in a warm bath”. As the water heated and began to fill the tub, you used the toilet, as Steve helped you to tiredly remove your clothes, not caring that he was seeing you in such a vulnerable state and you sighed in relief as your ruined, soaked underwear was removed.

“Careful now Princess”, Steve held your arms as you stepped into the bath, groaning loudly as the water eased the muscles throughout your body as you finally led down and felt some more relief. “Do you think I can leave you for a moment to go and make something for you to eat? You won’t fall asleep will you?”

Now that you were surrounded by warmth and Steve, alertness had returned to you so you gave him a loving smile as you nodded for him to go, not feeling the overwhelming need to be asleep.

When he returned, he sat next to the bath and fed you a freshly made sandwich, stroking your temple with the other hand. “I really did a number on you”, he pondered as he still was looking at you with his sad puppy dog eyes.

“Wasn’t just you”, you responded with a mouth full of bread.

“What do you mean?”

Swallowing the food, you decided to finally tell him, “It was Eddie too but I don’t regret it, both of you made me feel good”.

Steve’s shoulders dropped slightly, “You should have told me, I wouldn’t have gone so hard-”.

“You didn’t go hard Steve, I’m just tired that’s all, I wouldn’t have changed anything that’s happened”, you turned to face him fully, leaning over the edge to give him a sweet kiss that seemed to settle his nerves slightly.

This was when the porch door opened and closed, “Hello? Where is everyone?” Eddie shouted.

“In here!” Steve hollered over his shoulder, feeding you another bite of the sandwich.

“Ah there you guys are, and having fun without me it seems, I hope he’s treating you well Sweetheart”, Eddie grins at the sight before him, kicking off his shoes before entering into the bathroom. First, he cupped Steve’s jaw, tilting his head back to give him a lingering kiss, then he rested his hands on the edge of the tub, lowering his body to kiss the tip of your nose and then your mouth, even though you were midchew. “Having fun in there?”

“Yep! I’m having a very peaceful time, thank you”.

Eddie joined Steve on the floor, undoing a few of his buttons to become comfortable before noticing the tension still in Steve’s jaw. “What’s wrong with you? Did you have to rewind too many videos today?” Steve gave Eddie a deadpan expression before sighing and ruffling his hair and glancing back at you as you quietly stared between the two men. Eddie eyed the two of you with a questioning gaze, “Seriously, what's going on? Are you ok?” he shifted closer and lay a comforting hand on Steve’s tense shoulder.

It wasn’t Steve that answered but you, “Steve’s feeling a little guilty because he found me asleep in the car after we ALSO had some fun at lunch”.

Steve sighed, rubbing circles into his temple, “I didn’t know you guys had sex at lunch otherwise I wouldn’t have done it too, we needed you to rest today. You weren’t just asleep in the car, you were passed out and you hadn’t eaten, hence the sandwich”.

Eddie now turned his disappointed gaze to you, “Sweetheart, I made you promise to eat with Steve”.

Now it was your turn to look guilty and hide away from both of their looks, “I know and I did plan to but then- I don’t know, he was so warm and smelled so nice and one thing leads to another”. You were trying to get Steve to smile but neither man seemed to be falling for the flattery or joking tones so you sighed, “I’m sorry ok? It wasn’t like I had it all planned that this would happen, and I know I needed to take it easy and rest today with last night. Safe to say I’ve learned my lesson, no more fucking the day after date night”.

“Right you are”, Eddie mumbles, kissing your hand before his eyes brightened with an idea. “Tonight you are strictly doing nothing, do you understand me? Stevie here is going to cook, and we’ll pick a movie to watch and cuddle on the couch. And absolutely under no circumstances will there be any more fucking, understood?” You and Steve nodded at his rules but Eddie was now looking at Steve, “Unless you’re up for it later big boy, we’re still not off limits”.

This finally pulled a smile to the corner of Steve’s lips as he glanced at his boyfriend, leaning over to kiss his cheek before standing, muttering that he’ll go and look at what it is for him to cook.

Eddie then stood too, leaving and returning a moment later with one of his old oversized jumpers that had a graphic of an old comic, flaking on the back of it. “Let’s get you out and warm Sweetheart”.

Having been sitting down for so long, your legs were unstable once more so you clung to Eddie who didn’t care that he was getting wet, wrapping you thoroughly in a fresh towel and helping to dry your body before dressing in his jumper. After, he made sure you were comfortable back in the living room on the couch, the blanket from the bedroom thrown over your lap.

He didn’t return for a few minutes as he dressed out of his work clothes in grey joggers, an old black sabbath shirt and his hair pulled into a loose bun at the nape of his neck. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted a warm drink or a cold one so I brought both”, he declared, standing before you with a cup of coffee in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Thank you Eddie”, you smiled lovingly up at him, accepting the cup of coffee before huddling back against the couch, manoeuvring your body around until comfortable with Eddie half wrapped around you, your head resting on his chest.

He’d selected Star Wars, which you should have anticipated as it was usually his choice of film when it was his turn to pick a movie. Steve joined the two of you not long after, moaning under his breath at the choice of the movie as he handed the two of you a plate full of food, even though you’d just eaten, you were more than ready to eat again.

They both stuck to their word and wouldn’t even let you help them to wash up the dishes. Movie night then turned into watching the sunset out on the porch, gathered in a bundle of warm limbs and blankets as Eddie’s music played from the open window of the bedroom. You had fallen asleep before seeing the sun disappear over the edge of the trees, only briefly waking up as you were gently laid down in the centre of the bed, not bothering to open your eyes as you heard Steve and Eddie quietly talking to one another about which side they were going to sleep on. Only when both of their arms wrapped around your middle did you finally let the comfort of sleep encompass your mind, regretting nothing from the day and already looking forward to waking up with another day with your boyfriends.

#steddie smut #steddie x reader #steddie #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #mine*

[maopll]

Hello! Could I request Diluc, Ayato, Kaeya and Itto's s/o waking up from a nap and groggily saying "hello, handsome" when she sees them ?

Golden Hour

# genshin edition !

⌗:, a/n: No cause i dont think i'l be able to keepmy head straight as soon as i see these guys infront of me. And yes the title does depict thesong golden hour by jvke!!

⌗:, warning: none

⌗:, pairings: diluc, kaeya, itto & ayato w/ gn!reader

— DILUC ♡

The warm yellow sunshine through the curtains fell on your face rendering you awake from your sweet slumber. Even in the midst of waking up, Diluc felt your shuffling. Knowing very well how much your adore sleep he placed a gentle hand over your eyes to block the sunshine. You switched your position and faced him. It looked like he was awake a long time ago. He has this habit of basking in the quite morning with your sleeping form beside him.

You nuzzled into his chest. The smell of fresh grapes wafted into your nose. "mhm..Good morning handsome" you slurred. Sleep evident in your voice. Diluc's chuckle reverberated in his chest. "Good morning to you too, my angel. His voice was a little raspy since he also just woke up. He rarely showed this intimate side to anyone, and only you were the one with whom he gladly shared such vulnerable moments of his. He wrapped his one arm around your waist and kept the other underneath your head and pulled you close to him with such gentleness that to others they would seem like a foreign nature of the usual cold and stoic Diluc. But they were all filled with warmth and comfort. "We can indulge in your cuddles for 5 more minutes hm?"

— KAEYA ♡

The soft sound of pen scratching against paper awoke you from your sleep. You saw him infront of you surrounded by calvary paperworks. Ah..so that's why the scent of ink was so strong. He smiled at you, the tenderness of love and a slight hint of tease evident in his eyes. You looked at him drowsily and gave him a lopsided smile.

Softly you said, "Hello handsome, done with your paperwork yet?" Your voice raspy yet laced with honey and adoration for him. "It seems my beloved is eager for my attention?" There it was, he started teasing you like usual. You got up from the uncomfortable position grunting since keeping your head down on hardwood will not be giving you the same level of comfort like the satin pillow or kaeya's lap. He laughed breathily, "Just a moment dear after a few lines I'll be able to give you the attention you've been itching for" you rolled your eyes at him playfully "Bold of you to assume I've been craving your love" he cut you off saying "Oh? so can I assume that you calling my name in your sleep is not you wanting me?" "Oh come on!"

— ITTO ♡

The sound of laughter, playful shouting and things crashing and tumbling woke you up, quite rapidly, from your most deserved sleep. Although you were quite mad at whatever caused you to get up so abruptly, your rage settled into pure adoration as soon as you saw your lover with children around him playing his all time favourite game, Onikabuto fight.

You kept watching as the scenes unfolded. The blissful scene accompanied with the rustling of the tree leaves and grass with gentle breeze was too magical to be real amidst the internal aggression in Inazuma. Nevertheless, your lover still managed to find, like usual, the joy in little moments like these. And so did you. After losing for the nth time in a row, he bid farewell to the kids and his good gals, he rushed over to you like a toddler running towards their mother holding treats. "I'm here, I'm here love!" you smiled warmly, "Hello handsome, so how was your day?". Your voice was a little hoarse since you woke up not too long ago. "Let's go home now?" Itto quite readily agreed and as soon as you got up on your legs, he picked you up on his back giving you a piggyback ride. "I can walk you know?" "Well I'm cold! and the breeze is freezing me! you were the closest thing that was warm so not my fault!" You sighed at his childlike behaviour but, it was a little cold. "Alright then, let's go home now" and you sealed your words with a kiss on his cheek. "Ya got it!"

— AYATO ♡

The faint familiar voice and the aroma of freshly brewed black tea filled the room. You slowly opened your eyes, finding yourself leaning against the shoji. Accompanied with the scent of black tea, the fragrance of sakura in full bloom filled your olfactory senses. You blind once or twice and were greeted with the relaxed frame of your lover Ayato.

"Slept well dearest?" he said, voice laced with joy. A soft smile crept on your lips involuntarily, "Hello handsome and yes I had a good sleep". You stretched your arms to wake you up and energizer yourself. "Thoma brewed the tea just now, have it while it's still warm" saying so he picked the cup up. He looked calm. He glowed amidst the cherry blossoms. The slight curve of his lips and the peace in his eyes had you staring for longer than you actually intended to. As if hypnotised by his movements, your hands reached out for the warm cup right next to you. You smiled, closing you eyes you took the scent in. A petal had fallen from the tree on the drink but its alright.As if in a trance, you couldn't find the sttength in you to remove that petal. You took a sip of the savoury tea. "Hah..." you locked your eyes with his. "It's as delicious as always love"

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin diluc #diluc x you #diluc fluff #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin kaeya #kaeya headcanons #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x reader #genshin impact kaeya #genshin impact diluc #genshin ayato #ayato imagines #ayato fluff #ayato x reader #ayato x y/n #itto imagines #itto fluff #itto x reader #genshin itto #itto x you #itto x y/n #ayato x you

[hecateslore]

hey! so bad bunny has a song called perro negro idk if you ever heard it but there’s a line in that music that says “tu tiene cara que tiene la pussy linda” and i was wondering if you could write yk a little something with Simon and a fem reader who just started dating and their relationship is still in the early stages and they haven’t gotten in bed together yet and the reader is pretty shy but not the uwu shy the type of shy that laughs and gets shocked when she’s embarrassed and one day simon jokingly and lightly flirts with her and she gets a struck of courage out of nowhere and flirts with him back but in a more sexual way? and simon gets surprised and uses that or a variation of that line from perro negro with her and in results in a hot smut scene please 🙏🏻

(also i loved loved loved the two office fics you wrote with simon they’re 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻 can’t wait for more ❤️)

I did the best I could, but im suppeeer obsessed with the song FINA off his new album. I hope you enjoy lolz. ♥️♥️

Also I wrote this with Supervisor!Simon on my mind, cause y'all know how much I love how awkward reader is in this au lmao.

MDNI | afab reader

You and Simon decided to have a date night in, drinking wine and listening to the soft jazz playlist for the background.  You’d both got off work around the same time, you both got the  closing shift and decided to make dinner at your place. 

It's  also the first time Simon has seen the inside of your place, it’s small for him, but the perfect size for you. Almost every room decorated, a touch of you in every piece of furniture. You stood in the kitchen, pulling out the two aluminum tins filled with tonight's dinner out of the oven. “These’ll pair well with the red, no?” Simon nods, watching your frame move around the kitchen, earlier you denied his help and told him to shush and sit. So he did. 

“I like it here.” Simon looked around your apartment once again, “Very you.” he teased. 

“What does that mean?” you pretend to look shocked as you hand him two glass plates. “It’s like you all around me.” Simon chuckles.  “You’d want me all around you.” you snort, “Oh wait-” 

Simon's eyes widened at the sleazy joke. Your hand immediately flies to your mouth in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean-” Simon waves you off, “It’s okay, I wouldn’t mind checking if it's as pretty down there as it is up here.” He sends you a wink as he fixes both of your plates, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. 

The next forty five minutes was the two of you flirting back and forth at the dinner table, saying very lewd jokes to each other, Simon making you extremely giddy- his deep brown eyes watching you intently as you went on and on about how a certain coworker. 

You both then moved to the living Area, “No shoes on the carpet” You reach your arm across his frame blocking him from entering your lounging quarters. He begrudgingly took each shoe off, “My clothes next?” that earned a little “simon!” from you. 

The two of you plop on the couch, Simon slouching while man-spreading and you right next to him, “you’re lucky I didn’t tell you to bring a change of clothes.” he turns his head to you, “why?” “outside clothes on the couch. I’d never let anyone do this, you’re the exception.” you say. 

“I could just take them off?” he smirks, “Simon don’t be gross.” you let out a hearty laugh,swatting playfully at Simon's arm. "No funny business on my couch," you warn him with a mock stern expression. Simon raises his hands in surrender, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Alright, alright, I promise to behave," he teases, leaning back against the cushions. 

“You’re a sweet girl, you know that?” He raises his large hand to caress your cheek,“I’d like to believe so.” you turn your head to kiss his palm softly, savoring the tenderness of the moment. you lean in to peck his cheek,Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly trace circles on Simon's chest with your fingertips. He shifts slightly, his eyes gazing into yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Do you want to see what the inside of my room looks like?" you ask softly as you continue to trace circles on Simon's chest. He raises an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Are you inviting me to your room?" he teases. 

You whisper to him, "I think you should follow me!", you make a fake shocked expression that makes Simon let out a cackle "Lead the way," he whispers back, getting up, you make way into your bedroom, going down the very short hallway that leads to your room, Simon's hand on your lower back.

You push open your door, refraining from jumping him the second he passes the threshold, you go to sit on your bed and Simon admires your room for a quick second,"Did you mean what you said in the kitchen?" you question, he looked confused, "about seeing me," you motion past your waist "down there.""Yes," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I've been holding out until you felt ready, I wouldn't want to ruin this for you"Simon takes a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. "But only if you're comfortable," he adds, his voice soft.

"I'm comfortable, are you comfortable?" you look into his deep brown eyes

"I am," he replies, Simon takes another step towards you, bending down so now he's kneeling between your legs, your lips brush against his, a small smile on his lips before he closes his eyes and allows himself to be lost in the softness of your kiss. It's deep and it intensifies, each movement filled with desperation. Without breaking the kiss, Simon's hands slide up your body, groping your breasts and tugging at your blouse, you let out soft moans opposed to Simon's growls and groans.

Simon breaks the kiss,"Go lay on your back" his accent thicker than usual. He starts pulling his shirt off-You obediently peel off your blouse and lie down on your bed, Simon quickly discards his clothes and joins you, "These pants have to go." he pulls your work slacks down with an unnatural ease, leaving you only in your panties and bra, Simon in his boxers. He kisses you again then trails down your body, wet kisses in between the valley of your bust.

His fingers plunge into the cup of your bra, and he pulls you up and out of it, leaving you in nothing but your panties. He kisses you again, his tongue flickering across your lips. You moan softly, savoring the sensation of his touch against your skin.

Simon's hands slide down over your panties, and he tugs them off, leaving you naked. His two large hands rub up and down your inner thighs, causing you to spread your legs wide open for a better view, "Even prettier than I thought." he says as his lips inch closer to your core, you tense up slightly, biting your lip in anticipation.”You're a very dirty man-" your cut off as he leans in and presses his lips against your core, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. You let out a loud whimper as his tongue glides against your folds, tasting your wetness for the very first time.

"Oh, God," you moan, thrusting your hips upward. Simon's hands grip your thighs, He pulls back form between your legs, "I need to be inside you.'' He rids himself of his boxers and you can't help but to stare at the man before you, Simon is big. His cheeks and ears red from the adrenaline, he looked so handsome, your hand immediately goes in between you thighs, you rub yourself "Fuck me, Simon. Please," you plead, Simon swats your hand away and guides his thick cock head into your very wet and swollen pussy, pushing in slowly until you're both gasping for breath. His eyes locked onto yours, He starts thrusting, his hips moving in and out, filling you up with every stroke. He grabs your face while he moves in and out of you teasingly slowly, "Look a' me" you whine at his movements. He leans down to kiss you, his tongue intertwining with yours as he continues to thrust into you. You meet his movements with your own, wrapping your legs around his hips, pulling him deeper inside you.

"I'm gonna cum Simon," You whimper out as he drills into you harder and faster, "I want to feel you come around me." Simon fixed his gaze on yours and increased his pace, his hips slamming into you with each powerful thrust. "I told you I wanted you all around me didn't I?" Simon growled, his voice low and sensual. "Oh my god i'm gonna cum," you gasp out. His eyes darkened with lust as he felt your walls beginning to tighten around him. "Don't cum in me." you manage to moan out.His movements slow down, but the intensity of them only grows. you can feel his warm breath against your ear, and his voice is low and ragged when he says, "I won't, baby. I promise."

his palms press down on my thighs, spreading my legs even wide, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming" Simon moans in reply, his hips bucking, "Oh fuck!" he yells as he pulls out and  strokes himself. You watch, breathless and aroused as he speeds up his pace, his muscles tensing, He  then lets out a loud groan as he releases his cum all over your sloppy cunt. Simon collapses onto you, panting heavily, his heartbeat pounding against your chest. You can feel his hot breath on your neck, and the sticky warmth of his release between your legs.

You both lay in silence for a second, before Simon lifts himself off of you. “Well that was fun" you breathe, he chuckles and kisses your forehead, "It sure was. who knew you could be so vulgar?" You swat his arm,

"Simon!"

#lunden’s response ❀— #supervisor!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost smut #ghost smut #smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon riley cod #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #cod 141 #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #task force 141

[justporo]

Be my remedy

Being in an established relationship is still very much uncharted territory for both Astarion and you. Thankfully, your companions arrange for you to have a moment of privacy.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Well, this was supposed to be nothing but a little warm-up drabble. But by now I doubt my ability to write anything below 2k words... So here you go with some fluffy fluff, enjoy!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: talk of past trauma if you squint Wordcount: 2,2k

Song: Be My Remedy - House of Say

~~~

It hadn’t been that long since Astarion’s confession at Moonrise Towers and your promise to each other to actually try and be in a real relationship with each other. You’d agreed to take it slow and especially allow Astarion to have all the space he needed.

You couldn’t be happier. Your heart was overrunning with love every time you looked at him. Wanting nothing more but to see those soft happy smiles from the vampire again. Those he gave you in these moments when he felt comfortable and content while being with you – even if those were still short and mostly quickly overpowered by other stuff: worries about the next day, insecurity, fear of the future in general, Gale being annoying.

And the way it’s been almost chaste with him since you’ve committed yourselves to each other almost broke you. With how gentle and tentative this budding relationship was this far.

You’ve gotten used to spending the evenings and nights together in one of your tents. And you enjoyed the time spent simply talking or cuddling endlessly.

You’d also stolen small little touches and kisses time and again when the others were around. But you were still cautious with it. Partly, because this was first and foremost for the two of you to share and keep. But mostly because a sudden shyness had somehow befallen both of you, now that it was more than just sultry flirting and sneaking off into the woods at night. Now that you were both sure that real feelings were involved on both ends, it was suddenly so different. And – without specifically putting it into words – you both felt a lot more vulnerable about what it was the two of you shared now. And the thought of someone carelessly putting strain on it scared you.

Not that the others didn’t know already. Of course, they had noticed. Although Astarion and you might have been wrapped up a little too cozily in your new little bubble of tender affection - to notice that they had noticed.

But the others had more or less silently agreed to not pester you about it although Gale could hardly hold back all his comebacks he’d painstakingly come up with. Karlach had needed to be elbowed more than once to not squeal out happily when she, for example, had seen Astarion cautiously grab your wrist, lifting your hand and pressing a small kiss to your knuckles. Coincidentally at the same time that Lae’zel had to be pinched in the side to stop making loud gag noises observing the same scene.

The day had been long and exhausting. Everyone had been happy when you had finally set up camp and barely even spoken when you’d sat around the campfire enjoying the latest of the wizard’s dinner creations.

You were sitting next to Astarion – like always as of late – and were softly talking to him. You were both excited to finally see your hometown again, no matter what more horrors might await you there. Sharing bits and pieces about different places in the city you each liked and how your experiences of being Baldurian were both so utterly different, you didn’t even notice how anyone else had been quietly getting up and leaving for their own tents. A few understanding nods and glances had been exchanged and now it was just you and the vampire sitting next to the warming fire.

“I really need to take you to my favourite tavern some time, you’re absolutely going to hate it”, you said to Astarion with a huge shit-eating grin while the vampire answered with a pained grimace.

“I’m beginning to ask myself why I volunteered myself for this relationship”, Astarion muttered mockingly under his breath and dramatically rolled his eyes at you.

You laughed and softly slapped his arm. And then you realised that you were the only ones still sitting by the fire. You looked around and found that no one even was in sight – very suspicious.

When you pointed that fact out to Astarion, he smirked: “Well, maybe our friends all got a sudden lesson on privacy.” “Astarion!” “What? I have nothing to do with this, I swear!”

You gave him a look and crossed your arms over your chest while he kept insisting that for once he was totally innocent (“Actually quite like most of the time, love, you are – all of you – just way to used to just, of course, conveniently blame everything on the big bad vampire!”).

The vampire pouted now, making these big red puppy eyes at you. You were pretty sure he’d already figured out that they made you positively melt and give him just about anything – bastard.

And it got you now, too. So you scooched a little closer to your vampire on the log you were both sitting on and embraced him tightly. You could hear the sigh Astarion loosened when he felt your arms around him, and you could really feel how he relaxed into your touch. His shoulders relaxed and his usually very straight and tense spine was allowed to bend towards you as he wrapped his arms around you in return.

Your thighs and knees were mushed together as you held each other. You buried your face at his chest – directly at the point where his shirt was opened, and you could feel his cool and smooth skin. You sighed as well now. Meanwhile Astarion put his chin on top of your head.

Ever since the first hug you had shared you lived for these moments when you could just hold him. Just knowing how much comfort it gave him, even though he himself might not yet be ready to admit to himself how touch-starved he was for non-sexual intimacy that had to go nowhere but the present moment.

And you were right there with him – basically never really in your life having had someone who would have held you to just console you or just because.

You remained in the embrace for quite some time. Astarion’s hands softly moved up and down your back as you held onto him desperately and tightly – not willing to ever let him go again.

After a long while you felt how the vampire’s hands sneaked both downwards. And then with his roguish quickness, Astarion grabbed you – one hand under your knees, one on your butt – and lifted you on his lap.

You yelped and clawed your hands into his shirt as you stared at him in surprise.

Astarion grinned playfully at you, adjusting you on his lap until you were both comfortable. You were still flustered by this sudden change of position and your mouth opened and closed helplessly a few times. Not because you didn’t like it – quite the opposite. But this was a sudden step up in public display of affection for him – at least the possibility of someone seeing you like this was existent.

When the vampire saw your reaction, his smirk dropped and he started fidgeting: “Oh uhm.”

He cleared his throat a little, his eyes darted around. And it was only made more awkward by the fact that you were so close to each other and he was firmly holding you so you didn’t slide off his thighs.

He coughed again and you felt that he struggled with holding your gaze. By now you had adjusted to the new situation and were quite endeared by how shy Astarion had gotten all of a sudden: overwhelmed by his own courage.

“Ah, I hope this”, Astarion finally began and wiggled his arms and legs around (which in turn made you wiggle around and giggle), “this is alright with you?”

You looked straight into his eyes once he had found it in himself to hold your gaze again. You softly cupped his cheek and let your thumb wander over his cheekbone: “It is – more than alright even!”

For a quick moment you softly dragged his face down to yours, so his forehead touched yours shortly. “I will just tell you if something’s not fine with me, Astarion. And…”

Now it was your turn to fidget awkwardly. You were only barely more experienced in this relationship thing than he was, but you were absolutely keen on giving him the space to find out what all this meant for him.

You took a deep breath and leaned back a little. You saw a single curl fall onto his forehead when you moved away a bit – you looked at it when you spoke again.

“And I’m more than happy to let you explore and experiment with what you want and expect from all this - whatever it is”, you finally finished and felt how a blush crept up your neck and then onto your cheeks. Although it might not seem much this had cost you some overcoming. Too many times had you had bad if not downright horrendous experiences with people you had offered too much before. But you were completely sure of doing this with Astarion. He had your full trust and you wanted him to know that and be as free as possible to explore this new chapter in his life.

You were still mesmerized by the soft strand of hair on Astarion’s forehead. So you lifted your hand from his cheek and lightly, between two fingers, moved it up again. A tiny sigh left the pale elf’s lips at the innocent gesture.

The vampire looked at you as your hand now lightly wandered through his hair. His eyes were shining like rubies in the warm, flickering light of the campfire. He carefully lifted one hand up to cup your face with one hand. He let his thumb wander over your bottom lip and that was also where his gaze dropped.

“That means an awful lot, my love”, he replied softly. “I promise to always tread carefully with the trust you’ve put in me.”

His eyes found yours again. “And I guess I know what I want to do with this trust right this moment.”

He leaned in to kiss you. His soft, cool lips met yours tenderly as any remaining thought in your brain just vanished. Your hand in his hair softly curled around one of his pointy ears, your thumb gently wandering over the edge of it.

You let him set the pace, patiently allowing him to decide how much he wanted. But you didn’t need to wait for long: Astarion’s lips parted and he eagerly deepened the kiss, making you sigh into his mouth yearningly as your other hand, that had been on his chest, now balled up in his shirt and unconsciously tried to drag him even closer.

Astarion’s hand was still cupping your face and now spread out. Caressing you lightly from your cheek, down your neck and almost reaching to your collarbone with his long, elegant fingers. His other arm was holding you securely on his lap but also subtly pushing to lessen the space between you even more.

It was passionate but delicate at the same time. Inducing a fire that was burning brightly, powerfully and, most of all, warming while not being all-consuming or destructive. And you were sure that this fire would keep burning unyieldingly – especially if it was fuelled passionately like this.

After a while of getting lost in the kiss Astarion’s hand wandered slowly from your face to where your hand was still clawed in his shirt – desperate to hold onto him forever – and softly loosened it, so he could hold it. He very tenderly pulled back as your mouth left his with a long low sigh leaving your still parted lips now swollen from kissing.

Your eyes were probably still glazed over but you saw how Astarion too only slowly seemed to come back from that particular cloud you’d just been on.

“I hope that was alright as well?”, he answered with his signature smirk and a teasing tone after a few more moments of regaining composure. You were just about to scold him for ruining such a romantic, emotional moment, when you heard something.

Somewhere behind you, you heard something squeal – almost as if someone was torturing a squirrel? You turned around on Astarion’s lap and quickly spotted… Karlach peeking out from behind her tent flap, her hands balled up into fists and lifted to her mouth. You could feel her giddy, happy energy from over where you were sitting. But you were too flabbergasted by what the tiefling had obviously just observed.

You felt yourself flush from head to toe. “KARLACH!”, you shrieked as you heard Astarion laugh (albeit a little nervously).

Karlach’s eyes widened as she realised that she might’ve been a little insensitive about this all.

“Uh – I’m sorry. I just…”, she started and then stopped again. “I’m just so happy for you”, she blurted out and you saw some of her joy return. But then she remembered that she should probably leave you alone. “Alright”, she muttered while she made to disappear into her tent again. Quickly she lowered her tent flap down again and was gone.

But then she stretched out her arm once more, offering you a firm thumbs-up.

“But just so you know, we’re all rooting for you two”, were Karlach’s final words before disappearing for good. You blushed again and turned back around to find Astarion smile genuinely at you. He softly started to laugh, then more and more. His head fell back and his eyes closed and you couldn’t help but join in.

And then that was settled.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #tav #bg3 #bg3 companions #karlach

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Jon Snow and Robb Stark

Pairings: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 17.5k

Warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, discussions of various kinks, mentions of past sexual assault and trauma, talk of pregnancy, hard dom/soft dom/sub dynamics explored, bdsm related content

Notes: The dynamics are based off of pairings from my series Heart of the Great Wolf, but can be read on it's own for the most part. Broad strokes for it being read without my fic series context: the relationship timeline was the reader secretly seeing Jon pre start of show/books, then married to Robb in an arranged marriage during the Kings visit to Winterfell, and then back with Jon post his resurrection hence why his sections are split into two parts. Might contain some spoilers for part 3 and a bit of part 4, for my fic in some places.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

You two had never gotten far that normal aftercare was ever needed. Jon might be teasing, but he was gentle and slow, and that went right through start to finish.

Sometimes, all you had was the alone silence of the middle of the night, and whatever you two had tentatively done with one another always ended with a struggle to let the other go. Jon simply didn't have time or the freedom to take care of you after making you cum. Even when it was something more simple, kissing the other on his bed, his back against the wall and you perched in his lap, as the closest you got as a grind against his covered cock. Jon would kiss you gentle once on the lips another to your forehead as he held you tight until he was sure you were alright to be on your own.

The last thing he wanted was to send you off to your own chambers, feeling as if Jon had just mindlessly kicked you out.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

There is very little Jon takes more seriously then caring for you after sex. He knows exactly what he is, intense and overwhelming, and he knows he is rougher with you then he sometimes realizes in the moment.

As soon as you both settle from your peaks, Jon will pull you quick into his arms. Some nights he will keep you on his lap, tucking your face into his neck as he runs a hand over your hair and the other gentle along your back and waist, until he feels your breathing return to normal. Or Jon moves to lay you out, normally somewhat on your side so he can turn to face you, tucking you into his chest. His own face buries in your hair as his voice is low and rasping, soothing words to you of comfort. Praises of how well you did as he tries to convince himself to be gentle if he kisses you.

Jon will always ensure you feel safe, and loved before anything else, and he will keep running his hands gently on your skin and murmur comforts in your ear until he feels you fall asleep. Even then, he normally continues to stay awake, watching you until he finally feels his eyes beg for sleep of his own. The rougher he takes you, the more gentle and soothing Jons touch and words are after as he coaxes you back for him.

Robb Stark:

Robb is fully aware of how hard he goes with you. You have minimal experience outside of him, and he brought you into this sort of thing with rough thrusts and a dominating nature. But it also means he knows how much he needs to make up for that when it's all over.

He will check up on you, ask if he went too far or if you didn't enjoy something and the next time he pays close attention to how far you've dropped and when. Which with him, is often. But Robb switches when it's all over, and the second he looks at you, all he sees is the love of his life and he wants to bring you calmly back to him. He'll hold you, speak soothingly to you with tender touches along your skin and many times he tries to get you to talk. The more you talk, the more clear your head is, and if he can make you laugh then Robb knows you're alright.

Much of the time, you often end up falling asleep together in the same position your aftercare was spent. Robb usually on his back, his arms wrapped around you as he tucks you into his side and your head drapes comfortingly on his chest. For all his talk, Robb loves nothing more then to just lay in bed and cuddle with you when you're done, and he adores that you are just as needy for a loving touch.

If anything, aftercare that Robb needs from you, is to just let him hold you and keep you tucked into his arms as much as you need his touch to calm you down as well.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you were to ask Robb, his brother would joke that it's his hair he likes best about himself. But in truth, Jon never really thought much of it in that way. Of himself. He looked how he looked, and he didn't really care about much of it.

Robb was more handsome and Jon didn't really care what girls thought of how he looked because as long as you liked how he looked, that's all that mattered.

On you? Jon had two answers, if it were blatantly sexual Jon would say your breasts. Soft, seemed to be made to fit perfectly in his hands and you were sensitive as all hell, that simple touches could work you up in an instant.

Not sexually though, it would be your smile. Not just any, but that soft, gentle one you'd give him when no one else was looking, beacuse you just wanted him to know you were paying attention to him no matter what. You were so stone faced all the time, but whenever you'd give Jon that smile? It could make the worst of his days better in an instant.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Easily that would be his hands. He did much with them and despite the amount of which was death and bloodshed, Jon knew he never did it beacuse he liked it. Jons hands were to him, a reminder of the man he had become, someone who at their core, was a protector. Of you, of the innocent, fighting for what was right when no one else would make the sacrifice.

But they also were the same hands that calmed you down. Your worst moments, trapped still somewhere in a hell of Ramsay Boltons making, they were the same hands that would cup your cheeks, run along your soft skin until you looked at him with those eyes.

Eyes that were something he could never get enough of. Soft and wide, you held so much more emotion in them now then you ever did before, and Jon adored it. You almost couldn't hide from Jon as long as he could find your eyes, and read whatever was in your head in seconds. They were beautiful to him, and they were the same eyes he kept dreaming that your children together would have, and that made them the thing he adored the most.

That, and Jon knew he had a tendency to make you look him right in the eyes when he was inside you, and he was weak to how needing they always looked when you did.

Robb Stark:

Robb easily loves his hands. How since you've been married, since you escaped Kings Landing and came back to him, all hes wanted to do is use those same hands to protect you. It's easy to tell, Robb almost always has a hand on you if he's near and it's heavily rooted in how he knows your safe and he can protect you, if he feels you right beside him.

He also knows how much of a mess he makes of you with them in so many ways. Those hand go quickly from innocent and protective all the way to perverse in seconds. And he knows exactly where to put them to make you melt to him.

On you, his favourite more innocent part of your body is your hips. They're perfect to him, shaped just right to the way he can so easily imagine you with his child right in your arms, a son perched near your hip as even then, you still speak to his lords and knights with command. He has a hand on them a lot, likes to move you with hands on your hips, they're just soft and perfect for him.

More on the filthy side, Robb fully can admit he is utterly obsessed with your ass. He knows it, you know it, there's no question. He wants you in pants all the time just beacuse of how well they shape your ass, the harder he smacks them the more he watches your cheeks jiggle and he gets worked up aggressively when he can see the red outline of his hand print after he's slapped and groped your ass as much as he can get away with.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Call it insecurity, but Jon almost didn't want his end to be part of the equation with you. If he could make love to you and not have to worry about that, he'd have been ready a long time ago.

To him, sure it felt good, but when he was with you he was always plagued in the back of his mind. Getting you pregnant was truthfully his biggest fear, and so he spent a lot of time learning what felt best for you when he touched you, and not wanting to let you do much back. Jon loved learning what made you cum, but he was almost strict in not really letting you reciprocate. He liked making you feel good, and he didn't ever want to risk ruining your life by getting you pregnant, and he certainly refused to force his own child to be born a bastard.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon knew as soon as he slid inside you for the first time, it was different. Not a shred of that insecurity was in his mind anymore.

He fucked you against the wall that night steady and slow, and there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that he wanted to cum as deep as he could. Pressing you tight against the wall and sinking as far as you could take him, all Jon wanted to do after, was do it again. And again. He dreamed about it, he craved it, he loved cumming inside you and he didn't have the sensibility or willpower anymore to stop himself.

He was quick all on his own to have everything to brew you moontea, he wasn't about to get reckless. Until you were both in the right place together, Jon would make sure part of taking care of you after was to make you some as you rested. Easing whatever parts of both your minds would worry if you became pregnant before either of you were ready.

But really, Jon wanted only to spill inside you, and when you couldn't take anymore then he'd paint your beautiful skin with whatever he still had left.

Robb Stark:

There are only two places Robb wants to cum, down your throat or inside your cunt. If some gets elsewhere then you look like a dream painted with his seed, but if he isn't cumming inside you, he wants it down your throat.

He would watch you swallow his seed and the man could almost orgasm again just from that sight and feeling. The knowledge that even just your stomach is filled with him, as much as he fills you with his cock, makes him lose his mind. And you swallow him so happily too, as if you love the taste of him and he suspects you are too embarrassed to admit you do.

But he also loves cumming inside you. At his core, Robb is a man dedicated to family, it means everything to him. And he wants every and any chance to start one with you, so he always wants to cum deep inside you as many times in a night as he an get away with. The more he does, the sooner likely you may find yourself pregnant.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

It's not dirty, nor is it much of a secret really, but Jon sometimes wondered if you truly understood just how long he's been in love with you.

He knew Lord Stannis Baratheon's daughter was coming to serve as his fathers ward, but he didn't think much of it until the day you arrived. He and Robb were 10 and had been in the training yard. But his memory was so striking and vivid when his father had come by with this small 8 year old girl with scared eyes looking everywhere with uncertainty.

Robb was swinging a practice sword at him, and almost accidentally smacked him in the head, beacuse Jon had stopped paying attention since he was staring so much. When he realized who you were, he almost wanted to throw up at realizing he was going to have to spend months in the same home as you, beacuse he thought you were the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

When you had been introduced to Robb, you looked at him after and asked what his name was. He was nervous telling you he was a Snow, but as soon as you asked simply if he was the other son of Lord Stark which your father mentioned, he realized you had barrelled right past the fact that he was a bastard and just lumped him in the same place as Robb.

Jon hadn't ever said it, but he was pretty sure he fell in love with you then, and it never stopped for even a second after.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon sort of has two secrets. One is more blatantly filthy, one is a little more serious. The serious one is something you think is only a joke.

He had told you once, that he had previously wondered when he was thinking of taking the black, if he should just take you far north instead. Leave, and build you a nice, warm home there where you could just be together. But in those dreams, Jon genuinely wanted children. He could see at least five, in that memory. Four little ones running around, and you swollen with his fifth child, beacuse who you two were didn't have to matter.

It was a sensitive subject for you now, and he would never even consider pushing before you were ready. But by present day when he would joke that his dream was up to ten children, Jon didn't know how to tell you that he wasn't really kidding. He never thought he would have a family, and now that he could with you, he wanted as many as you both could possibly have.

His second was blatantly filthy. Jon loved your breasts, perfect size for his rough hands and they were so sensitive. But Jon heard something from one of the free folk once, and now he held this dirty image of marking them up. Bruises and indents from his mouth and teeth until they turned colour, marking them right up until they were so sensitive you could tear up.

Then he wanted you to lay out on his bed, and he'd climb up over you and fuck them. Slide his cock in the space between your breasts and fuck them like he was inside you.

Then, just to finish the image, right when he was about to cum he'd pull back enough to make sure he coated both of your breasts in his seed, before grasping you again roughly to spread himself all over them.

Not in any life would Jon want to ask you for that, but it didn't stop him from thinking about everytime his teeth ran over the small buds on your breasts.

Robb Stark:

Robb has done it in small doses, tying up your wrists behind you, but Robb dreams of you letting him go a little more feral with it.

He wants you tied up all the way, at nothing but his mercy, can't move on your own, tie your pretty legs to the bed posts to keep you spread and your hands together up above your head. He'd blindfold you, too.

He wants to be so in control of everything that happens to your body in that scenario, without you even being allowed to see what he does, he wants you to trust him to such a degree you give up all your control left.

He won't ask you for that, he knows he'd be asking for something that's too extreme, so he does it in small doses. Makes you keep your eyes closed, ties only your wrists, only drags a small blade down a shift to expose your breasts when really if he could, Robb would do so much more. Maybe keep you standing in the middle of his bedroom, hang your arms up above your head with rope and cut off all your clothes like they're nothing to him. He has no idea where this desire has come from, but gods does he ever come up with new and inventive ways to ease you into every bit of it.

Maybe one day, you'll let him be enough of a animal, to just let him treat you like a pretty little slab of meat he can do whatever he wants with. Just once.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Not a shred of experience to be found. But Jon wasn't embarrassed about it.

He didn't care what others said about him, they didn't know Jon had you. Jon had been in love with you since he was 10, he never wanted any other girl that entire time, and he couldn't convince himself to look at one long enough to even try for a kiss. You and Jon were each others firsts. He was 18 by the time he kissed you that night in the wolfswood, and he was so happy he saved it for you.

After that, he dreamed of learning what you both liked together, and he enjoyed discovering all of it. You never went that far together, you both enjoyed taking it slow, but it was always at the exact same speed as the other.

So he'd let Theon make his jokes about him not being with a girl, Jon and you would get there when you both were ready.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon knew his approach to physical intimacy with you was different now, but he didn't like thinking about why.

On one hand, he knew you had much more natural experience. You married Robb, he took your maidenhood, and he taught you everything you had learned of sex in the three and a half years you shared. But then you were the Boltons captive, and every single bit of confidence, every part of you that was growing comfortable with sex was destroyed, taken away from you by force at the hands of Ramsay. And in a horrible way, whatever confidence Jon had spent 6 years building with you, was taken away from him too.

Calling his time with Ygritte “experience” made him feel unwell. It wasn't that. It was survival. Jon knew in his time travelling with her, he had tricked himself into thinking it was normal. Pretended it was normal to never want it, pretended it was normal to actively feel such deep self hatred if his body even remotely enjoyed the physical sensations alone, pretended it was normal to actively find ways to avoid letting her near him if he could. He didn't want any of what Ygritte took from him, but that was all the experience in terms of sex that Jon had.

It was why he pushed so hard to do certain things, like putting his mouth between your legs, with you as often as he did. If he consumed his mind with doing it with you, it negated the force in which made him learn about it in the first place. It wasn't easy, and he still knew he was avoiding talking about the worst of it with you, but Ramsay had hurt you more then Ygritte forced him, and so Jon preferred to focus on taking care of your safety.

Robb Stark:

If he were to summarize it in simple terms, Robb would say girls liked him more then he liked the girls. He wasn't stupid, he understood it. Robb knew he was handsome. He was the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark, and he was also the heir to Winterfell. Robb knew he had a charm to his attitude that swooped in the easy giggles from girls.

But Robb more enjoyed that in a playful manner then he did serious. Sure he had sex with some of them, a few of them more then once but he never really had feelings for them beyond surface level affection. Never enough that his father or mother even would've really met any of them except in coincidental passing. Hell, compared to Theon the two men used to joke, Robb may as well have the experience equal to that of a septa.

By the time he married you, he hadn't been with a girl physically in years, and even if he did, all it meant was he knew how a girls body worked a little better then most guys. He knew your body better then you did before he ever touched you though, considering how overwhelmed he made you on your wedding night.

You were always so innocent compared to him, that he knew it made you feel as if he had hundreds of girls before you. But in truth it had only been a handful. And more importantly, he had never been anywhere near in love before he married you, and so you were the only experience he cared about.

He didn't fuck you on your wedding night like he did other girls, he fucked you in a way he had carefully planned out that you would enjoy. His experience just meant that he went in with more confidence then not on your wedding night.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

You two had never gotten that far, so he never really had a reason to think about what he preferred.

Jon did enjoy standing behind you when you two were alone, his hands gently trailing along your skin or under the collar of your dress. His hands rough and pulling gasps that you would bit your lip to prevent when he would twist and pull at the small pink buds of your breasts. Jon would always press his lips lightly to your neck, beacuse he loved how you would instinctual lean back into him. Rely on Jons firm stature to keep you standing on two feet as he eased you into his touch.

Maybe he was biased too, but if he were touching you more intimately, he liked having you sit on a surface as he stood between your legs. It was the way you two were positioned when he touched you for the first time out in the wolfswood, and he treasured that day a lot. He loved cupping your cheeks when standing before you like that, knowing as soon as he'd let one hand drift down your arm, you'd almost tense up in wonder if you'd feel his hand jump to pull the skirt of your dress up. Or if he'd simply wrap it around your waist to pull you more into his kiss innocently.

It wasn't a position of sex he liked about it, he just knew you associated it with the same afternoon he did, and Jon loved to tease you with his touch so you could only wait and see if he'd once more grace you with the experience again.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

There was no question Jon didn't just prefer missionary, he adored it.

Not a single other way he's taken you has Jon liked more or even anywhere near close to when he simply hovers over you with your legs gently spread for his body. One large hand hoisting your thigh up onto his hip while he felt your other leg move to almost wrap partially around one of his legs as if needing him to keep you steady flat out on the bed.

He loved taking you when you were nice and comfortable, spread out on his bed or on the furs in front of the fire in his chambers. He'd hover over you and be able to see every inch of you, move your legs either apart or over his shoulders when his mouth watered at the thought of tasting you. He could kiss you anywhere that way, and hold you down, as his strength meant he could keep you there as he kissed his way down to your cunt. And it also meant he could follow that path right back up and force you to taste yourself on his tongue while his other hand moved to sink his cock deep inside you. All the while, Jon could watch you and your eyes perfectly and you never had to do the work if he held you there. Just the way Jon wanted it.

Jon loved being able to control the pace he would fuck you at, ensure you were nothing but in deep pleasure. He could reach his hands up, interlock his fingers with yours and press them into the sheets. He could watch your face twist in pleasure, and your hands would tighten around his own fingers too, the closer you got. Or he'd let them go free, and you'd unknowingly claw your nails down his back as you arched into him as you came. He could bury his face in your neck or hair and the position meant he could go as fast or gentle as he wanted.

There was not a single thing which would beat how much he could focus on you when Jon took you in simple missionary.

Robb Stark:

He loves taking you from behind, and there is no way Robb could deny it. Nor would be bother to. He was a gods forsaken wolf about it.

The second time he ever fucked you, he had been apart from you for months. Now back, you were both going to war, you had just escaped Kings Landing and hadn't been with him since your wedding night. But he had spent so much of that time, letting his mind drift to you during his days, that finally seeing you again he almost jumped into it as if you'd been with him all that time. Theon had once commented that he could've mistaken you two for being married for decades, the way Robb would bring you up more then he ever had in the eleven years the men knew one another.

But then he had you back, in his bed as you raked your small hands through his curls that so gently woke him up, and more importantly, woke his cock up. He flipped you over, and as soon as you were on your hands and knees he yanked your hips so you basically were only lifted off the bed only by your ass, so he could fuck you from behind. The way in which you so willingly submitted to him in that position, how Robb could pound into you like that as fast and rough as he freely wanted, and all you could do was cry his name and take it.

You soaked his cock like none other when he had you on your hands and knees, and sometimes he'd shove a hand in your hair and hold your face down to the pillow and all you'd do was clench tightly around his cock.

He knew he was acting nothing of a gentleman, and his mother would be utterly ashamed that Robb would take his wife like a complete brute. But when you were bent over in front of his cock, giving yourself over to his mercy or lack thereof and would beg for more even when he was rough about it? It made him lose his mind.

Besides, Robb was quite blatantly obsessed with your ass and from that position, he could smack and grope it all he liked. But when you really lost yourself to his cock? Your own hips bouncing back on him the whole time he fucked into you? Well it would just make him run his mouth even filthier towards you for it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Goofy was not a word anyone had ever used to describe Jon Snow.

He was brooding, intense, he felt things very raw and that extended to you entirely. Jon would tease or smirk at the start when he'd kiss you, but the second it got a little more serious he dropped the act. He took your pleasure seriously, your mood seriously, and he didn't want his time with you to turn into a laugh when it was such limited time in the first place to have with you.

He loved to hear you laugh, don't get him wrong, but his physical time with you was limited, and it just wasn't the place he wanted to do that.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If Jon was not a humorous man before, he was even less so now.

Both in life and sex, but it was more obvious when he was with you physically. Jon didn't even smile when he fucked you, not beacuse he didn't like it, or love you, but he felt nothing to be amused by. Sex was very serious to him, your safety and your well being couldn't be watched if Jon was goofing around or making you laugh.

He dedicated every ounce of focus to taking care of you, and he didn't like humour being involved there. Your safety was not funny to Jon. Sex with him was never goofy. It was intense, raw, and overwhelming for both of you. He had time to make you laugh later, that's what his words of teasing were for.

Not for the bedroom, though. Not now, not ever.

Robb Stark:

Robb would chuckle dark in what he know was a bit of a sadistic tendency towards you.

Would chuckle as you were a crying mess for him, or sometimes he would laugh at how you sounded begging for him, or gasping out that you love him. It meant you had him comfortable enough to drop the dominance enough to show the cracks of the mischievous boy underneath the rough man.

Even better was if he could make you laugh after sex, that was even better then during. He loved hearing you laugh, it was a gorgeous sound so many men would never hear in their lives. Robb loved that he was trusted enough with you, that you would let him hear you giggle like a little girl in the most venerable of moments of intimacy. He loved seeing you relaxed enough to feel that amused at anything.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

Jon Snow:

If there was a place in Westeros which that kind of personal grooming for men was common, the North wasn't it.

He didn't let it get out of control, but it wasn't as if smooth, clean cut men were the norm here, and Jon was not that anyways. His hair atop his head was long, wild, black, and thick and it was around his cock as well. Coarse and rough, more like his facial hair.

But at the least Jon did enough to ensure it was fair to you.

Always clean and trimmed enough that it wasn't out of control, but Jon didn't exactly put time into it. He didn't really care, only enough that was to treat you right.

Besides, if Jons cock was deep inside you, he knew when it was on the longer, wilder side, that coarse dark hair could brush against your clit and he knew the sensation was enough to make you grasp tightly around his shoulders and back. Once he learned that, he trimmed far less often.

After all, he knew you liked how much his facial hair could burn against your sensitive skin, so why would the hair around his cock be any different.

Robb Stark:

He won't lie to himself, Robb is sort of a classic Northern man in that sense. Body hair didn't feel like something he should be ashamed of. He wasn't a wild man around his cock, but he didn't trim as much as what he assumed fancy Southern men would like to do.

Tons of them in the Kings visit were clean cut, no facial hair to be found, and groomed all fancy, and Robb hated that his mother had his curls trimmed and face clean cut. She said it was for the Kings visit, but he knew it was supposed to be for you, even though Robb knew you liked him with facial hair. You had told him as such more then once before. But at least during the Kings visit, Jon had to suffer with him on that one.

The hair by his cock was dark, coarse, and unlike the hair on his head which tinted a Tully red in the sunlight, below his hair was as dark as it ever was. It was trimmed only enough that it wasn't obscene for you, but you also clearly didn't care that much. You sucked his cock no matter what state the hair around his cock was in, so as long as it was manageable he didn't think much of it.

Robb knew he fucked you like a wild beast, so maybe it made sense he kept himself groomed only slightly above one in return.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon doesn't have much of an active physical relationship with you, mostly due to the nature of keeping things secret.

The biggest part of what he can give you, is simply romance at its core. Gentle touches, soft hands, doing little things for you and always with low tones and comforting murmurs in your ear. Sometimes if he had you in his lap, then he could feel his heart tearing at him a bit, insecurity yelling as he doubts whether or not he's treating you well.

He wants you to be loved, no matter what he's doing and even though you both hadn't reached having sex, he's just as romantic about all the rest as he is when you're both innocent and fully clothed.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon is as romantic in the moment as he is utterly intense.

His emotions are at an all time high when he's fucking you, and yet he feels almost terrified of letting you think he's anything but obsessed with loving you with all his heart. His touches are tighter, rougher, words harsher as they come out, but Jon will cling you to just as much as he knows you do him.

Sex is intense with Jon, and making sure you feel loved, safe and cared for is his biggest priority.

You've both had your share of being forced on by another person and Jon will do everything to ensure you never come close to that again with him. Jon knows he's addicted to you, worships you, he'd go to the ends of the earth and back for you. And if you don't feel that and more when Jon is inside you, then he would consider that a failure on his part.

He's raw and intense, but romance and intimacy is what he treasures with you now and he would do anything to ensure he never gives you less then that.

Robb Stark:

If Robb was aware of a massive problem he struggled with, it was that he tended to forget the romantic side of sex with you.

He loved you, he adored you in every single way, but Robb definitely was a bit on the rough, and hard dominant side when he fucked you. Rough attitude, degrading words, harsh and controlling touches and he didn't kiss you a lot during sex.

He wanted to hear you whine and beg and he couldn't do that if he were gentle and sweet. He could be the meanest parts of himself knowing that he would take gentle care of you the moment he was done.

You were the love of his life, he wanted to take you home and treat you like the actual Queen you deserved to be with him in Winterfell, but at war it was different. He wasn't always like that during sex, but it was common enough that he had a heavy heart knowing you trusted him to truly take care of you when you handed your obedience over to him like that.

Robb knows he is more of a man that thinks of sex as fucking rather then making love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you were in Winterfell, no, he didn't masturbate.

Jon wanted to spend time with you, treasure every chance he got to feel your soft skin, your beautiful lips against his. If you were in the North, Jon had no thought of it, beacuse he had everything he would be fantasizing about anyways. You slowly explored things together, so if you were right in front of him, that was enough. But you weren't always there.

He hadn't started touching himself thinking of you until nearing fifteen. But really, what else was a teenage boy, with a crush on his best friend, supposed to do? It happened more after he kissed you though, he was eighteen and exploring more of an appetite for things sexual in nature anyways.

When you weren't there he would try and hold off, but sometimes you were gone for so long that he couldn't help it. It wasn't ever as satisfying as even being near you like that, but it was all Jon had when you'd be away from him for months.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon has you. He doesn't want anything else.

He came back to life, and only minutes after that did Jon slide his cock deep inside you for the first time, and he lost all interest in doing it himself then and there. He wanted you, your touch. Your wet, warm, and tight walls that clenched around him.

The only time he came close to masturbating anymore, was if he would bring your hand to his cock, covering it with his bigger one and help guide you to stroke him. But only ever until you felt confident to take over, otherwise any touch his cock got, he wanted it to be with you.

Masturbating just didn't interest him now. Jon had you, and he wanted you. Why settle for less then when he knew you wanted him as well?

Robb Stark:

Never once since you came back to him after escaping Kings Landing, did Robb not have you right there at his side. So in truth, Robb hadn't masturbated since you came back. What would he want that was better then his pretty little wife right in front of him?

When he was acting Lord of Winterfell, he admits he masturbated a bit more in the very dead of night then he used too. Partially the stress of everything, being away from his new wife after one night messed with his head on top of everything.

Robb would end up kneeling on the bed, grasping rough at what was supposed to be your pillow and stroke his cock. Through gritted teeth Robb would mutter as he did so how much he missed you, how much he wanted you back with him and how much he wanted to teach you beyond your first night together.

But then you were finally back, and Robb once more found no love for his hand when he had his pretty, needy little Queen ready to do whatever he said.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Without ever actually having sex, Jon didn't really have much of a concept of that kind of thing. He knew what he liked when you two were physical, but that level of sexual interest hadn't existed yet.

He had things he liked of course. He adored when you would run your hands through his hair, nails scratching along his scalp and giving little instinctual tugs when Jon would be a little more bold. He also knew he liked to take care of you, he liked making sure you felt good, and he loved to tease you until you might just pass out from a flustered embarrassment.

It was never in a context of genuine sex, but you and Jon learned together what you liked. You just didn't have the chance to take it that far.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you were to ask Jon directly, he'd say he didn't really have any kinks. But the more he'd think about you, the more he touched you it was clear there were some major ones.

Always making sure he was soft about it, and gentle as to not push you too far, but Jon loved being dominant with you. His entire life was at the bottom, out of his control and lacked any choice. But now? Now things were different, and you trusted him with your well being during sex and Jon took charge of that with immense responsibility.

He didn't like feeling not totally in control when with you, and dominance was the most natural way Jon presented himself during sex.

Jon didn't admit it to you, but he was obsessed with cumming inside you for a reason. He wanted to fill you with his seed constantly, over and over, keep it deep inside you until neither of you had anything left.

Jon would genuinely dream about keeping you tied to his bed, fucking you over and over, until you were with child.

Gods help him when he was with you, and his mind started to think about getting you pregnant. Because Jon didn't stand a chance of composure after that, all he dreamed of was you letting him spill inside you again and again until you swelled with his child.

And if that was a kink, then Jon absolutely had it.

Robb Stark:

Robb knows he can get a bit mean during sex.

He's dominant, very dominant. A strong, controlling weight on top of you that knows exactly how to order you around in the most pleasurable way for you. He gets off on being controlling dominant, and he also really gets off on how insanely obedient he's taught you to be.

You trust him so much that he could ask you to anything and you'd do it because you trust him to take care of you. It drives him mad how much you submit to him.

How he adores you with all his heart, but Robb degrades you like you're a whore in some brothel he's paying a copper for. And how much you love it. He so easily calls you a needy little slut, his whore of a Queen and you will whine everytime he hisses those things in your ear.

He also admits, that perhaps what helped him get used to being called a King, was hearing you say it as he fucked you. Having his Queen beg for her King to fuck her certainly made Robb learn he enjoyed it, at least as long as it came begging out of your pretty mouth.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

One might think his favourite place to be with you was the privacy of his own room, but it was really the opposite.

Jon had five siblings, three of the youngest which liked to barge in on him at any moment during the day, meaning anything he and you did in his room like that had to be very easily hidden.

Most of the time, you and Jon liked to just go for a ride on horseback for a while, and wherever in the wolfswood you would end up was where the most exploration you two had with the other. No one was around, the likelihood someone would find you exactly there was so minimal in the vast, large expanse of the not very populated North.

You both loved being outdoors like that, where no eyes would find you and you could be as close and affectionate with the other with total freedom.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon has two similar favourites, and a guilty pleasure.

Mostly, he loves taking you in his room. Either he wants to lay you out on his own bed where he can climb over top of you and take you as many times as he wanted, or Jon would do so as you were both bare on the fur in front of his fire. His room always ran cold, but between the heat of the fire he diligently would tend to, and the quite warm temperature of Jons own body heat, even on the coldest nights he could have you sweating if he fucked you in front of the fire for long enough.

He loved the intimacy, the freedom of fucking you where was the most personal to you both, and now his position and title meant being barged in on was unlikely. Jon would pull you into his arms, and let you tuck into his chest bare as anything as you fell asleep. If in his bed it was easier to cover you up. But if he laid with you after out on the fur, if someone walked in now, that was their fault.

He did however, have a more perverse pleasure in fucking you up against the Weirwood tree in the Winterfell godswood, the night sky all around. Jon loved taking you deep for only the unjudging eyes of the old gods to bear witness to his need for you.

Robb Stark:

If Robb is a traditional man in any way it's how he has no interest in fucking you anywhere but in his room, in his bed, or at least what tent acted for your room out in his army camp.

He's fine with people hearing you, if anything he hopes his men have had a few good nights with their own hand listening to the degree to which you whine and beg when his cock is pounding into you. But he never once would let them see even a glimpse. Not a chance.

One time Theon had walked in, and Robb got so mad at what he almost saw that the Greyjoy later swore Grey Wind was about to rip his head off. After that, Robb would have Grey Wind guard right outside your tent together, as long as he was there, no one came in for any reason.

The direwolf would come in to sleep when it was all over, but he kept guard so Robb could fuck you into the mattress as hard as he wanted without any more risk of someone seeing you so pretty as you took his cock over and over.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

For a man who was terrified of getting you pregnant, Jon knew it was strange to get worked up watching you with children. So much of the time you were stoic and serious. But you were so soft and easy to smile with children that he couldn't get enough of it.

Much more specific, the first kiss you shared after each time you would return to Winterfell would work Jon up. You two always having to wait until the dead of night, and finally when he was able to kiss you after however many months it had been, it inevitably turned into you both kissing passionately for quite a while.

Jon had to learn how to be very controlled when he wanted you, knowing neither of you had the freedom of just being able to express that whenever you desired.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Were you to strip Jon down to his bare essentials, he would honestly just be turned on by you at any time. It took mostly, for you to even be a thought in Jons head for him to want you.

Your soft eyes gentle smile and even more gentle and caring touches worked him up. Worse so, the more innocent your kiss, the more genuine your touch that wasn't sexual, it would make Jons cock the hardest the quickest.

You two were together and had the freedom to show it, Jon had no more reason to want to hide how much you made him want you. It definitely wasn't always sexual, but sometimes it was a struggle for Jon to not let it turn sexual.

He didn't want you thinking he saw you as an object to fuck, sex was something he trusted so much between you both that it was an extension of how much he loved and adored you. But it also meant, you made his cock stir more often now then Jon had likely even been hard in his entire previous life.

Robb Stark:

Jealousy was one of Robbs most blatant traits. He was so jealous of the way other men looked at you or spoke about you to the degree that it made him noticeably possessive.

But what made it so strong as a need to fuck you, was how little you noted or cared about any attention that didn't come from Robb. You ignored or didn't know what men were leering at you like, but the second Robb came over with rough touches and a strained voice he was so jealous, you'd ease it by instantly going to him with gentle words and a soothing, innocent touch.

He wants his men to hear you, because none of them with their whores visiting their own tents get from them, sounds anywhere near what Robb pulls from you for free.

You are the love of his life, and what turns him on too much is how easy it is for you to remind men of that just by your innocent dedication to his love in public. He would keep a hand on you, kiss you, be sweet with you in front of his men and you would get flustered over it but let him do it because you knew that's how Robb liked to treat you.

Robbs own jealousy was a motivator, but he also knew he was easily turned on by your continued ability to be so damned innocent.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

You would tell him it's ironic, considering half of the time he spent with you in the training yard over the years was him knocking you into the dirt, but Jon would never do anything that would hurt you.

His touch was sure to always be gentle no matter what, and never too rough or demanding. He also knew that he didn't want to treat you the way he knew a lot of men treated women they were with. Or if he were honest, the way Jon reluctantly knew Theon was with women. You shared a stretch of corridors with Theon where your own chambers were and thus you and Jon spent much time when in your chambers, coping with what was inevitable to hear.

Jon didn't want to be harsh and vulgar, treat you in a way that would make you feel as if you were just like a whore in a brothel he paid for. You had brought up, or tried to nervously bring up something you'd heard about from one of the girls around and Jon shot it down.

He knew somewhat of the girls you meant, and a few of them worked the brothel just outside the castle walls in Winter Town. And Jon just didn't want to treat you the way most men treated those women.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

A lot of his previous turn offs remained the same. Only now, Jon had to work on his own intense possessiveness versus his needs. He was a lot rougher with you now, and he had to consciously remind himself that he didn't want you to feel used.

He didn't fuck you hard like that beacuse he wanted to treat you that way, Jon would just lose himself in how you felt around his cock. But it all tied into not liking to feel out of control. He struggled to let you suck his cock, beacuse he would too easily lose control and overwhelm you by going too rough.

Jon didn't like being out of control, but he knew he was lucky that you did not want to be the dominant one in bed, as much as Jon did not want to be the submissive one. It worked well, you trusted to hand your safety over to Jon and he got to be the one to take care of you entirely. He wasn't really much interested in the opposite, he didn't want to be ordered around or told what to do, not for this, not with you.

He knew he had to work on how intense and rough he would get, but Jon sometimes just didn't realize how rough he was getting. You never seemed to dislike it, but he didn't want you thinking you were just here for someone to fuck. He loved you, he adored you, and he wanted to be the one to take care of you.

Anything less then being in charge, Jon just wasn't interested in anymore. If he ever really was in the first place.

Robb Stark:

Robb really only had two hard limits for himself. He didn't want to fuck you with any risk that someone was going to see you, and he refused to do anything that would genuinely hurt you.

He went rough and played dirty but not once did Robb like the idea that you could get hurt by his hands. You trusted him with your safety in bed and Robb would always take that responsibility with the heavy weight it deserved. He knew your limits and would never push you, if he thought he was at risk he would stop.

Check in with you, gauge what kind of response you gave and decide if he needed to ease up for your sake or not. Robb would slap your ass until it was red and painful, but only beacuse you liked when he did it. That smacking would never go anywhere but your ass, and maybe your cunt when you were being particularly needy.

Otherwise his biggest no is having anyone see you. Again, he ended up having Grey Wind stand guard outside his tent anytime he intended to fuck you, just to make sure the King in the North was given the proper time with his pretty little wife that he needed without interruption. You were his, and he wanted none of these men in his camp to have a chance at seeing you no matter what he teased with.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

It was ironic that you ended up being the one married with more experience, considering that Jon knew you had so little idea about sex it almost was endearing.

He had joked once that if your chambers were by Theons, how did you still know so little about sex. And you'd shove him all flustered, muttering that just beacuse you could hear sure as hell didn't mean you listened.

You had come to him one day about taking his cock in your mouth, and Jon knew you had learned it from those girls who worked in and around the Winter Town brothel. You weren't a whore he was paying for, he didn't want you on your knees like they would for any brute who had a copper to spare.

He had known somewhat about tasting a girl between her legs, but by the time he heard about it, you weren't graced with enough time for him to even try and bring it up. It was a story Theon had told when he, Jon, and Robb had a little too much wine one night. Robb had shoved the man and gotten up to find a tree to piss on, leaving Jon to listen to a drunk story but he was far too unconfident to ask a single question about it. By the time Jon might have wanted to bring it up to you, you had to leave for Kings Landing and wouldn't return until you did with the royal company to marry Robb.

And that was the end of anything he assumed.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If Jon could abuse his new title, and simply order you to not suck his cock anymore, he might have. But that was too authoritarian, and way too controlling.

The issue for him was, Jon didn't like being the one not in responsible control, and he was too wild and unpredictable when you took his cock in your mouth. Jon would much rather live and die between your legs.

It was one of the first things he did when he had come back, and maybe that turned it into an addiction. Jons mouth watered at the very thought of tasting you, and he a time or two had done it for a few hours continuously beacuse he truly couldn't convince himself to leave. He never tasted something like the wetness he would drink from you, and he never would anywhere else. It was like an oasis crafted for him alone.

Sure, it felt unbelievable when you sucked his cock, but if he was going to lose control he'd rather it be with his mouth attached to your cunt where the most pushing he could do was shock you from too much pleasurable stimulation. Rather then pushing your safety and your anxiety too far, with his cock in your mouth when he knew it could go from enjoyable to unpleasant for you in a second.

Robb Stark:

There was no point in lying about it. Robb lived for you sucking his cock.

It was one of the first things he fantasized about still during your wedding night. He imagined guiding your mouth over him so often when you and him were separated after the wedding, that when you came back to him, it was the first thing he properly did with you. Had you suck his cock like a good girl, and ever since he was obsessed.

How well you did, how much you truly, desperately wanted to be able to take all of him, how you'd close your eyes and barley realize you were letting out hums of moans and needy whines the more you sucked him. He'd guide your head at his own choice of pace, and he loved filling your stomach with his seed as if that was all you needed to live off of.

He'd known somewhat about putting his mouth on you, but by the time he had wanted to try, you two were at war and there just wasn't a whole lot of places to figure out what he'd be doing properly, and he wasn't about to go asking whatever whores his soldiers hired, to ask how to taste his own wife. That, and Robb didn't want to make you feel nervous by introducing something so intimate, and so brand new to you so suddenly.

He desperately wanted too, but it was just something he didn't know quite how to bring up to you yet.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Without ever having sex, pace wasn't exactly something Jon payed attention to. The rate in which your actual relationship developed was slow.

You had known each other for fourteen years, been together for six by the time you both wanted to try having sex, and even then you both realized neither of you were ready.

Everything he did with you was slow, he didn't rush, he didn't push, and he made sure everything he did do, was gentle. Exploring exactly what you liked, and making sure you felt loved when doing so. Something more of an urge in him sometimes whispered in his ear to go faster, or rougher with you but he could push that down easy. In your minds at the time, you both had all the time in the world.

If it all took a slow, loving pace to get there, then so be it. Or so you both once thought.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon tries to be gentle, he really does.

He often starts out slow. A loving gentleness rooted in how heavy you make his heart feel, but the more into it Jon gets, the more of something of a darker animal inside him does he let out.

He never contains himself the entire time, it's impossible. At some point, even if just right at the end, Jon will end up pounding his cock into you fast like a true wolf with his mate . Whatever dark, needy filth locked away in his head accidentally pours out in a deep husk in your ear beacuse he can't stop it.

Don't get him wrong, its passionate, intimate, and always ensuring you feel safe, loved and protected, but once Jon can hear how wet you are each time his cock sinks into you, its the beginning of the end. That's music to his ears, and he returns such a harmony right back. Fucking into you rough enough that anyone within 50 feet can probably hear how loud and rough of a slap Jons hips rutting into yours becomes. If the slap of your skin together echos in his ears, hes likely already too deep into the darker part of his mind to slow down.

He would never push you too far, never once. But Jon is unpredictable. He can start slow, sliding his cock almost all the way out before pushing himself back in as deep as he can, all the while you feel every inch of him beacuse he's just going that slow. But eventually, he picks up the roughness, and right near his final orgasm, that slap of skin becomes a steady smack as he rushes himself towards being able to cum one last time deep inside you.

But Jon knows his limits, and he is always hyper aware of how close he's getting to pushing you to yours and never once in his life will Jon ever actually cross that line. He'll get right up to it as close as can be, but never will he even slightly tip over into pushing you too much.

Robb Stark:

If there ever was a man who was a real wolf in the bedroom, it was Robb.

Slow was saved for when he used his fingers on you, and that was it. As soon as that man gets his cock inside of you, it's done. He is fucking you rough and fast until you are soaking his cock around him in a desperate cry.

Hes slow when he's in your mouth, beacuse he knows that's something you both enjoy, and he doesn't want to hurt you by pushing you too far, but your cunt is another story. Robb will fuck you fast to the point you can barley catch your breathe before he's pounding back inside of you.

The slap of your skin together is telling of how rough he goes, and the men have sometimes joked they're shocked you can ride a horse the next day, let alone bloody walk. Sex with Robb is fast and dominating, and he is happy to slow down and take his time doing everything else with you, just not when your warm cunt is clenching around his cock.

He knows if he could take you home to Winterfell, he'd be much better. He'd take you slow, take his time with you, but you were both out at war and he didn't have the luxury no matter how much Robb wished he could take you gentle and slow.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

When Jon thought about in in retrospective, it might have been the perfect time for you two to have quickies.

Always in secret, never having as much time as you both deserved with the other. Were you two actually having sex, fucking you fast and quick would have been optimal. But as it stood, you never had sex. So you two never did anything even close to that.

But, in Winterfell? With his father, the household guard, Lady Catelyns judging eyes, and the varying rambunctious nature of Jons five siblings, having you quick like that would have been risky.

Someone would catch you. Anything you did had to wait until you knew you were alone. Hell, Jon once got a little too eager to gently kiss you one evening, and as it turned out, Arya had spotted you both in the stables, and that's how she found out. Jon trusted her not to tell, but he never took anything of that risk again.

In total private where he could take his time, or not at all.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you went to Jon right now and asked if he liked quickies, he'd say no. He would say he hates them. And that would be the biggest lie he's ever told in his life.

It's possible he was abusing his status as King in the North to do so, but if he were a little late to the meeting, no one was going to say anything. And he was far better at pretending everything was fine then you were, so if only Jon walked in, no one would know. Except Tormund. Somehow Tormund always could tell, and Jon would spend the next 20 minutes actively ignoring that prideful but amused glint in the mans eye.

But he loved quickies. Jon loved fucking you needing and fast. Finding an empty wall to shove you against, sinking deep inside you and overwhelming you in seconds to the point you were powerless to do anything but let Jon take you. The way you'd cling to him in those seconds after, knowing this was all you had for now when normally Jon would kiss and hold you tenderly. It just made you needier for that later.

He never would admit it, saying he only wanted you when he could take his proper time and care. But the amount of times Jons almost gotten you both caught, beacuse he desperately needed to fuck you out of nowhere, was starting to stack up quickly.

Robb Stark:

One man truly and honestly hates quickies with all his being, and his name is Robb Stark.

If he has to fuck you quick, he's not going to do it and that is without exaggeration, the end of that. Robb wants to take you apart, he wants to ruin you for hour and hours until you have nothing left but his cock inside you, and then he'll build you back up like the Queen you are. That takes time, and patience.

Robb almost gets more worked up the more he cums, he hates the idea of fucking you quick in the middle of the day. Robb has things to do, he can control himself long enough to just get over it if he wants you. Part of it goes hand in hand with not wanting anyone to see you or come close to catching you, since Robb has no shred of privacy to touch you outside the isolation of your tent at night.

You're the love of his life, he wants to make sure you never question that fact. He may whisper in your ear like you're a whore in a brothel, but he won't fuck you like one. Not like he's here to throw a copper at you, cum and then leave. He hates that idea, it doesn't even appeal to him.

Robb wants you proper, in a bed, where he can fuck you hard, and then show you how much he loves you. He can't do that if he just ruts inside of you like an animal, roughly against a wall in the middle of the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Technically, Jons entire relationship with you was the risk. He was a bastard, you were a highborn girl and niece to King Robert of all people. You were supposed to be courted by men like Robb, not a bastard with nothing to offer you but his heart.

He didn't try any experimenting or risk taking in sexual terms beacuse you two didn't have that freedom. The risk, was what Jon already did.

The risk was that night in the pouring rain in the wolfswood. He was 18 and you were nearing 16, he and his brother would hunt you and Theon in the wolfswood and see who could make it until midnight without being caught by the two wolves who knew this land like the back of their hands.

It was close to the end, Theon had been caught and Robb had given up once the rain started, so it was only Jon and you left, and Jon had finally caught you. Grabbed you from behind and held you to his chest with a low rasp of his victory, teasing in your ear.

He didn't know at first if you understood why the air changed. You were younger and certainly more innocent then him, but you were suddenly nervous enough that Jon felt confident it wasn't just him anymore. You tried to run, escape the way the air between you two changed to something heavy you didn't understand, but Jon didn't want this to stop. If you left now, he may never be confident enough again. So he grabbed you once more, tossing your back against a tree to make you stop running. You were soaked from the rain, eyes so wide and bright with lips just slightly parted in confusion, and it was too much for him to hold back.

It was the biggest risk Jon ever took, but he moved quick. Cupping both of your cheeks and leaning down to press his lips to yours. But the fact that you arched right up into him? Kissed him back eagerly and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck?

Jon knew there was no risk of him getting caught being with you that could outweigh how much this one payed off that night.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Risks were half of what Jon took now. Risk this fight, risk that battle but none were more worrying then every risk he took with you.

At every turn since having you back, it felt as if something threw a new test between you at every opportunity. Put on question how much Jon could protect you, and too many times did he not know how to stop it.

But, if there was a solace, it was that risks were only not unwilling to be taken when it came to taking you. Neither had done much and Jon fantasized about more and at every turn, he was fairly certain you would want what he wanted. He worried about it, worried that he was too rough, was too demanding, his intentions too forward but each time you came back to him with as much eagerness as the first time.

He knew he was gaining advice from either the best or worse sources, as the free folk around him all spoke rather blatantly about the sexual things they had done. Some of which Jon barley heard of, most of which Jon knew you had never known existed. And it took some work to tell himself not to try everything, but he certainly thought about them. Would hear the men go on about it, and just as he wondered why do it if it wasn't good for the woman, he'd hear just that other side from them and suddenly Jon learned far more about ways in which he could take you that you might enjoy, then he ever imagined. And he was willing to do them all, as long as you liked the idea, and it didn't harm you?

Jon might never say that he wants those things, but if they came up between you, he'd want to do it in a heartbeat.

Robb Stark:

One may think Robb would be a risk taker considering the degree to which he can fuck you any and everyday with his dominating mind and desires. But in truth, he doesn't like to take risks with you. That scares him, no matter if it's innocent or sexual in nature.

You're his wife and he came so close to losing you the way the Lannisters murdered his father, should Ser Barristan Selmy not have helped you to escape Kings Landing.

Taking new risks with you, while can be fun to playfully bicker about when you are naked in his lap as he keeps his cock sunk deep with a silent hope he's helping his seed take, he rarely will introduce anything that would be considered one.

You both are at war, you fight by his side in battle, that's more risk then Robb ever wanted with you, and he won't do any more beyond what you two already have.

He wants you home in Winterfell, swollen with his child before the proper start of Winter, he doesn't want to risk you in anyway that delays that anymore. He knows it's a big paranoia considering how much you trust him with your body, but Robb knows what your limits are and what his limits are and he refuses to go beyond those in any capacity.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon didn't have much way of gauging what he'd be like with you, at least in that manner. Much of what you two had done could've taken of their time and wasn't too taxing on either of you.

He'd draw it out as much as he could for you, and on the nights he managed to be weak enough to have you perched on his lap in his bed, he wasn't really aware of the time which passed. Of course, the time that passed sometimes went well over two hours without realizing. Sometimes he'd cum, but he could keep going after, likely the most he had in one night with you was three, but again, it wasn't quite direct touch and he had no way of knowing what being inside you might be like.

On his own, where he'd have too much of you he missed and no way to see you? It depended on how worked up he was. If he was mostly just horny, he could look to a memory of you and not last long and be satisfied.

But on nights he really missed you, he'd take out a stashed article of clothing of yours that he kept close. Grey eyes drifting to a letter of yours, and trying to read it and hear your voice in his head. Bracing a hand on the stone wall near his window, and the other on his cock, Jon could keep himself that consistently worked up for at least an hour straight on those nights.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Whether it was always in him to be like this with you, or if something about returning to life changed aspects of himself, Jon didn't know. But he could last for longer and stay hard so much longer then most men.

Jon could cum four times in a row and still be as hard and desperate as before the first. As long as something of his cock was inside you, Jon seemed to be able to last as long as it took to wear you out. His cock having that aggressive drive to fill you until he was empty just so he could do it all over again the next night. Hours it would last.

That night in the Ice Cells of Castle Black, Jon had no concept of how long he had been fucking you, but it was certainly past the hour mark by the time he pressed your back into the floor.

Again, Jon knew there was something not normal about the degree of his stamina, judging by the fact that he could spend hours fucking you so much that you practically would pass out in his arms, and Jon still would lay you down under the furs of his bed, telling himself that he can't just take you when you're this sensitive and already falling asleep.

If you truly tested his resolve, Jon would start at sun down and still be taking you by sun up. He'd need good few rests of a couple moments in between, for you and him, but it wasn't as if he needed much recovery time. On a good night, Jon wouldn't even get anywhere less then still more then half hard when pulling out of you until you two were fully exhausted.

Robb Stark:

Gods be good, the more Robb cums, the longer he can go it seems. You'd think he actually gets more hard after each time he cums inside you.

He has to rest in between, normally beacuse he knows he is rough on you and he doesn't want to accidentally push you from sensitive to in pain, but once the dust has settled? He's ready to go and Robb will tell you to just lay there and take it like a good girl if you're too tired to do the work.

He's perfectly content with doing the heavy lifting in bed for you, doing the hard work beacuse this is nothing compared to the hell outside your tent.

There are some nights his men are fully aware neither their King nor Queen got a wink of sleep, beacuse the guards near his tent could hear you both all night without exaggeration. If something could magically give Robb more energy when it made no sense, Robb had found that magical source in sinking his cock deep inside you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon hadn't even gotten his cock inside you for the first time, he certainly wasn't about to let some pleasure toy get there before him.

He didn't really see the point as well, but he considered that maybe since he's a male, he might be unfairly overestimating the ease in which women would pleasure themselves. Men were a no brainer, but Jon had to take his time learning to fine tune your pleasure like a delicate instrument and toys might help in that capacity alone.

But he knew you didn't even realize such a thing existed, and he wasn't about to introduce that to you when he himself didn't like the idea.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Not a chance.

You had a significant amount of trauma behind you now, and thus you trusted Jon to take every step of the way to ensure you were safe and alright. Jon had no interest in using anything like a toy on you, he wanted to feel you, he wanted you to feel him.

Neither of you liked fucking in a way together with little physical contact and using a toy felt so lacking of intimacy. So lacking of passion. He couldn't gauge how you were feeling, or if you were close with a toy. Jon knew where you were at by the tiniest of clenches of your cunt around his cock or fingers and he'd never know with some toy inside you.

You wanted him, not something just used by him. And Jon wanted you, he wanted to feel you not just watch you get that feeling alone.

Robb Stark:

He wouldn't consider them toys, but he has tied you up before. Not much, just by the wrists but he wouldn't say that was a toy.

He knows what toys are out there and he dismisses that idea. What would something not real do for you that Robb couldn't give you himself in droves. He already has a cock that drives you insane, he has long fingers that reach your sensitive walls beyond what any toy could provide you.

Robb wants to tie you up more, blindfold you even but that was more of a, he wants you to trust him even more, sort of thing, rather then he wants to get wild with what he fucks you with. He wants what he introduces into sex to be a tool to help make the sex more pleasurable for you, not something to act as the sex itself without him.

Robb recalled once asking Theon what the point of them was, and having a good laugh between them that it's probably just what some Southerners invented beacuse their too boring with small cocks to actually pleasure a woman with what they barley have themselves.

And judging by how much you are utterly weak for Robbs touch, he would consider that to be likely more true then not.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon had to be subtle about it, but he was relentless.

Knew the exact look to give you to make you stiffen up and hide how flustered you could get. Knew just how briefly of a touch of his hand across your lower back as he passed in public to make your breathe hitch. Jon of course, also teased you just in words. He was quite good at teasing you at all stages of your friendship together but he was sadistic once you were were involved.

Some teasing was normal, others sounded more biting and mean to people around when you knew he was just trying to get you worked up. Get you annoyed, so that he could feel you melt against him later when he finally kissed you at your most irritated at him, and tease more that you were quite predictable.

This passed to touch as well, the first time he pleasured you was simple. A nice, exploration of his fingers on your clit as he worked out what you liked best, and just as he payed attention to what it is you about to cum looked and sounded like, did he pull away. Then he worked you up and did it again as you almost whined.

He loved it, he loved keeping you on an edge that had you not being able to do anything but rely on his touch, before he took it away at the perfect moment.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Gods be good, he is one of the seven hells sent directly to torment you. Jon no longer has to be subtle or secret, he can just tease you. It doesn't matter.

He doesn't act that way in public, no. But he doesn't need to hide his wants, desires, intentions. No, Jon can work you up in seconds and just keep you dangling over a free fall all day long. It's in his words, they aren't filthy, but they are needy. He wants you and he tells you, but he won't take you. He saves it, and torments you with his own patience.

He some days, won't let you cum. Gets you right there, and takes it away. Sometimes more then once in a row, and many times, he will keep you like that for days. Some times he teases you all the same the next night, sometimes Jon takes your orgasm away at the last minute in one overwhelming night and will just leave you like that for a week.

He loves it. He loves keeping you that way, keeping you needy for him, that the second his voice rasps low in your ear, you shiver for him.

If teasing you in and out of the bedroom could be a feat worth crowning one of, Jon would've been a King months earlier.

Robb Stark:

Robb wishes he had the patience to tease you, he does. But he doesn't.

He does it in small doses, will yank you to him and whisper that he wants you naked in his bed when he returns or that he expects his good girl to show her king her appreciation later that night. But it doesn't tease beyond that really.

He prefers to take his time with you, and teasing you like that doesn't really fit into that mindset for Robb. If he wants you, he wants you then so why would he tease you for later? Part of it stems from how much you are by his side. Robb constantly has you beside him, often with a hand on you somewhere. Leaving a kiss to your hair, or a gentle kiss as he runs his thumb along your cheek in front of his men beacuse he needs you to breathe more then the air around him.

Robb doesn't want to tease you more then the little bit he does, he just wants you. And out in a war, there isn't a worse place he could think of to be a tease. He will work you up as much as it takes for you to know he wants you in his tent that night before it got too late to take care of you, but he has no patience for teasing beyond that. He already has you, he doesn't want to waste that time.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

If he and you are in the castle in Winterfell? Jon tries his best to be very quiet. He wasn't loud, more of a growl or a hiss at the sensation.

But sometimes a deep gutted groan could leave him, and that certainly was not common enough of a sound from Jon to pretend it wasn't for something filthy.

He had one trick though once he and you got comfortable enough. Jon would yank down the front of your dress, usually pulling your arms from it or unclasping it enough so it pooled around your waist, and occupy his growls or grunts with his mouth on your breasts. It was the most perverse thing the two of you would do, but it kept Jon quiet, while his other hand honestly? Well if his mouth wasn't hiding your high pitched, beautiful gasps and whines in his kiss, he'd reach a free hand up and roughly cover your mouth as you grasped at his wrist with both hands. Burying in each other to hide the sounds of your sinful secret together.

If you two were out in the wolfswood alone, it was a bit easier. Jon would let himself rumble deep, and freely encourage your breathless gasps with a gentle press of his lips over your cheek, forehead, neck, whatever he could reach.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Take that growling and grunting, and multiply it by a hundred. Jon once more, knows he no longer has any need to hide what you two do. No one cares that he has you in his bed, and so no one who could even hear through the thick stone walls that muffled much noise, would think twice.

They knew you two were together, it didn't matter now.

Jon could growl and hiss as you clenched tight and soaked around his cock, bite at your neck until he could rasp deep and strained in your ear, as he spoke the first things on his mind usually much more needy and filthy then he intended.

If he was trying to be discreet, he would bury his mouth into your neck with kisses, licks, bites, sucking rough bruises into the skin and it would cover the deep noises from within. But in turn it made you gasp and cry for him so loudly that everyone would hear anyways.

Jon wasn't really a talker, not with sex especially. The closer his orgasm got the more his heart rambled, but it wasn't intentional. He spoke from his deep desire for you with raw intense honesty. All in between rough breathing to keep him collected, only to feel that hiss or growl in his chest at how beautiful you felt around him.

If no one heard you two in low tones though, many would simply be able to hear the smack of skin as he fucked into you rough, or the hard bang of a table slamming against a wall, if he took you somewhere more public.

Robb Stark:

At the most dense, Robb has had an army camp of almost thirty thousand men at the start of the war, when he had joined with the River Lords. If someone had told him that all thirty thousand men had heard Robb and you fucking at night, he'd smirk with pride and say he hopes they got off nice and hard to how perfect you begged and pleaded for your Kings cock.

Robb is a talker in bed, he runs his mouth as filth pours out. In return, you cry and moan and beg for him, and it all is a harmony of filth that he knows so many men by now have heard from you and him.

Robb doesn't moan, he growls and he groans rough when he's deep inside of you, his voice normally warm and soothing dropping to a strained roughness that scratches at your ears as much as it soaks you between your legs as well. Robb knows just what to say to make you an obedient little mate, and he takes full advantage of that the entire night.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jon Snow:

If the only thing Jon was allowed to do for the rest of his life was kiss you, he'd never have a single thing to complain about. Last life or this one, Jon was addicted to your lips.

The way they were so soft, moulded to his perfectly, how sweet they tasted and how much you let his tongue explore your mouth with strong desire. He adored having his lips on you somehow, and the only thing that changed one he came back was he could now do it without fear of being caught. But the love for it stayed the same.

Kissing foreheads was something he always did with everyone, his brothers and sisters and you, but what was different is how rare it was that he gave you any passing kiss alone. A brush of his hand, lingering too long and getting too close to your lips when he pulled back.

To Jon, kissing you is practically a hobby. He finds his lips to you in some way constantly, and if he's inside you then he adores keeping your lips pressed to his. He loves to cum deep inside you, keeping your lips trapped against his kiss. Jon wishes to hear your moans, and swallow them into his own mouth, just so he can lick into yours and demand more sounds gifted into him.

If Jon would be able to say he has one talent, he was confident enough to say he's quite a good kisser. And he wants all of that to go to none but you. Jon kisses you more, then an entire brothel of whores will kiss all their paying men in their entire lives.

Robb Stark:

Telling you now would be so unfair, he knew. If he said it now, the man wasn't there to defend himself or refute it, and beacuse of that, he didn't want such a comment to change your view of your best friend.

But Robb was not stupid. Robb was more observant then he was likely given credit for on this one, but it didn't bother him so he didn't bring it up to a soul, not him, and definitely not you.

He didn't know the true extend of how strong it was, or if he had feelings, or for how long he felt this way. Robb didn't know those details, but he knew without any doubt, that in one way or another, Jon Snow wanted you.

He had suspected it for a while since your last visit. The way Jon would look at you, was so much more then the man thought he was giving off. He was so brooding and grouchy the month before you arrived with the Kings company, and Robb truly felt bad. Here Jon was, desperately wanting to fuck you, his best friend, only to now watch you get married to Robb.

But now, Jon was at the wall, and you were Robbs wife. Telling you now would just be rude, and a breach of trust that Jon didn't know Robb had been holding onto. But the real thing that he wasn't saying, was that if for some miracle, Robb won the war, and brought you home to Winterfell, he had seriously considered it.

Either Robb would get lucky enough to find a way to bring his brother home where he belongs, or Jon would simply come visit, the way their Uncle Benjen came to visit their father. There was no harm, you were Robbs wife after all, that wasn't breaking a vow.

But Robb couldn't help but wonder, if he could at the least get Jon to come visit from the wall, he wondered how easy it would be to convince his brother to fuck you. Now, Robb wasn't just handing you over to his brother, but just maybe, Robb wondered, Jon might be open to sharing at least some parts of you, if just your body.

Robb held out hope he could bring you home one day, and just maybe, find enough in his jealous heart to share at least something of you with Jon. He was at the wall after all, and you were his best friend.

It wouldn't be much, but maybe the wall would be a little less lonely for his brother, if Jon were to go back with the freedom to know what it felt like to slide his cock into his best friend's sweet, soaking cunt, and more perversely, how it felt to willingly fuck his brothers wife.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Jon Snow:

Jon had an ongoing joke with Tormund, just taking any opportunity the free folk could find to make some comment about how small Jon was.

It had stemmed from a nickname which Tormund called him all of his own choosing anyways. The tall, lumbering man with wild orange hair, thick beard and loomed over most. He would joke and call Jon "Little Crow", and that turned right into jokes about his size. But in honesty, that was the furthest from the truth.

He didn't quite realize at first if he was well endowed, Jon having little to no interactions that would end up at discussing cock size, all he knew was the nights he'd help guide your clothed self over his covered cock, at his most hard Jon knew he would sometimes feel you shake, hold tightly onto his shoulders and try to hide the nervous exhale at the feeling. Well, if the free folk were anything, it was not shy about that sort of aspect of them. Only realizing internally that there weren't quite many who matched up to him.

He was long, yes. And it showed even when he wasn't at all hard, how long he was. But it was how thick his cock was that was the intimidating factor, at least in terms of fucking you. His cock was long, but adding just how shockingly thick his girth was, he always left a stinging burn when he slid inside you.

Jon was just lucky that you craved that very feeling as much as he wanted to give it to you.

Robb Stark:

Robb has a distinct memory of when he had sex for the first time, how the girl afterwards when getting dressed, made a comment that for someone whose never been inside a woman before, Robb knew how to use a cock like that.

At the time Robb just wanted to put his clothes on and leave, but she then kept going. Saying that most men with a big cock were idiots, and that Robb fucked like a man who was compensating for a small one but without the small part. He didn't care about that until he married you. Then suddenly, Robb was all too aware that yes, he was well endowed and knew how to fuck.

Because now you were his little innocent wife about to take her first cock, and it was long and thick. He had kept your eyes on his when he finally undressed so you didn't get intimidated, only to then make you watch as he slid inside you for the first time, so you understood how much you were taking inside you.

He knew you would feel that sting the next day constantly from his size, but that just meant Robb knew he needed to work you up and make you wet as could be to reduce the chance of his thick cock hurting rather then being a perfect pleasurable amount of pain.

Though, Robb would admit, he got off way too much at how wide his cock stretched your pretty mouth when you sucked him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Sex wasn't something he thought of all too often. Honestly, most of Jons sex drive in those days were also tied simply with how much he missed you.

He felt more worked up about being with you when you were in Kings Landing and he couldn't do a single thing about that. He never told you just how often he'd read your newest letter to him, sitting it on his desk, bracing one hand against the stone wall in front of him and stroking his cock with the other as he read it. Trying to hear your voice, pretend as if he knew what your hands on his cock would feel like, pretend he had any clue what being inside you could feel like.

He ruined a few of your letters with that habit, not that he ever said it to you. But it was just something desperate really. He felt lonely without you.

When you were in Winterfell, he wasn't that worked up. He knew his time with you had to be careful, and you two would enjoy the other to the fullest when you got away alone. But when you were gone, you weren't just the woman he loved. You were his best friend, and being in love with your best friend meant that a lot of how much he just missed you, ended up tying itself into how much he yearned to touch you.

You were so much more then just a woman he wanted to touch, but when you weren't there to calm him down with your mere comforting presence, Jon had no outlet but that.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If putting gold on it, Jon would say he doesn't have a high sex drive. And if he did bet on it, he would wind up being the poorest man in all the Seven Kingdoms.

It wasn't out of control, Jon had a strong drive and focus as a leader, but he could take you any time of the day. He didn't ever not want you. Jon could control his want when he needed to, and that was easy but the moment he could find any excuse to take advantage of your alone time, Jon felt his need clawing at his chest like an animal desperate to rut.

He fucked you quick during the day all the time, beacuse he was always just that ready to take you, always wanted you even when he was skilled at never showing it. He didn't want you thinking he just wanted to fuck you like an object, you weren't a whore in a brothel he wanted to use.

Jon absolutely adores you, but both your pasts have made sex something a bit strangely tied to how Jon shows he loves you. A lot of sexual trauma sat between you two, you from Ramsay, Jon from Ygritte but together you and him were learning to move forward and find a healing together. That just meant learning that Jon was a wolf with a ridiculously large appetite, but it was always with love.

He didn't want to be without you, and sometimes the only way Jon, a brooding, stoic man of not many words, knew how to express that was to taste you, kiss you, and fuck you. It was a way to express his feelings as well as move together past something that still deeply haunted you both in your own ways.

But if you asked him, Jon would say he doesn't have a high sex drive, and Tormund and Theon who have to stand there and watch how ridiculously turned on Jon would get around you constantly, would just glance at the other with an exasperated shake of their heads at Jons degree of denial.

Robb Stark:

It was a bit complicated, essentially, Robb only had much of a sex drive when he knew he had time.

First leading a war, then becoming their King and having so much of the Lannister regime fighting against him alone that he had to split his mind into two. If he was thinking about the war, he didn't want to distract himself, and you were a perfect Queen by his side and knew exactly when Robb wanted to focus.

But then at night, when it was quiet and Robb could have you all to himself, then he suddenly felt that drive come crashing through the walls of his tent and bombard him. Once alone, you worked Robb up to wanting to fuck you in seconds. You just had to look at him alone in your tent and Robb was already almost fully hard, you made it so easy.

Sun down to sun up, Robb wanted you again and again and he could think of nowhere else he wanted to be then with you, and inside of you. You were his perfect girl, and your drive matched his perfectly too. You always wanted each other at the same time, so once Robb wanted to fuck, you were ready to hand yourself over to his cock and his mercy or lack there of, depending on the day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon never slept very well. Always would either wake up and be unable to go back to sleep, or he couldn't fall asleep in the first place. And in truth, it left a lot of nights where all Jon wanted to do, was leave his room, go down the stairs to the corridors your room was in, and find his way into laying in bed with you. He'd imagine how gently he'd crawl in beside you, gently guiding you onto your side so he could pull your back against his chest and hold you tight.

But he couldn't do that, no matter what you two did, sexual or otherwise, as soon as you and Jon were with the other, falling asleep in the others bed was a bad idea. You or him would gravitate into the others gentle embrace fast asleep too unplatonically to explain it away should one of his siblings walk in.

Which Jon hated, considering during your first visit to Winterfell, you sometimes had difficult nights you couldn't sleep or a windy storm would blow through the castle and more then once you'd find your way to Jons room asking if it was alright if you slept in there, you feeling a bit nervous being in that corridor all alone.

So now, Jon would spend his nights with you, exploring you, kissing you and he'd have to part ways to sleep separately and he never slept more then 5 hours at the most after that. He missed having you close too much.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon still didn't sleep well if you weren't there.

His bed too cold, his arms with nothing to pull tenderly into his chest, he couldn't lean over and press a tender kiss to your sleeping lips beacuse you were too beautiful to resist. He wanted you in his arms at night.

But when you two would fuck, Jon willingly didn't sleep for a while after as well. He'd run his hands gentle along you until you fell asleep, then he'd switch between watching you in more peace then you ever looked in your waking hours, or running his hands along your bare skin beacuse he loved how soft you were under his rough, large hands. On nights he wore you out particularly rough, you'd fall asleep so easily and he loved doing that for you.

You had nightmares now, more then you were ever willing to admit, and the more exhausted Jon made you with his cock, the better you slept after. And Jon liked to hold you, watch you sleep and ensure he was keeping you safe even now from the horrors in your own mind. And only when you had been quiet and peaceful for a good half hour to an hour, would Jon finally fall asleep.

You were the most vulnerable when you slept in his arms, and Jon was there to protect you. And he just liked staying awake to do that, getting some time to himself to admire you blatantly without you getting flustered over his loving gaze for so long.

Robb Stark:

Robb only slept well with you twice since marrying you.

Both of those times when you were in his bed in Winterfell after becoming his wife. Robbs room was decorative and the fabrics draped around kept the heat in well so it was always cozy in there, and under the furs of his bed. Robb never treasured a nights sleep more then the only two times so far he had in his bed with you as his wife.

He slept terribly in the war. Some nights he was so busy you couldn't even convince him to come and sleep at all, and you'd have to try again the next night. So when it was all said and done, Robb would lay with you asleep in his arms and be awake for a while. Longer then he was honest with you about.

He'd run through war strategy day after day, and at night try and piece together the life he wanted to bring you home to once this was all over. You didn't sleep well either, but as long as Robb fucked you, you slept better then he did and so he'd do it every night if it were that easy. When he did sleep, it was more what he wanted, being in bed with you in his arms, but Robb never got as much sleep as he would have, should he be able to bring you home safely to Winterfell.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

[meiieiri]

water’s edge | 02

₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au | official playlist

₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?

₊˚.༄ author’s note: did i really just punch out a 12.9k chapter? 😅 thank you again to the loml @angstbot2000 for beta-reading! sorry for the wait everyone and thank uou for the sweet messages! again, reblogs are highly appreciated.

₊˚.༄ masterlist

Flashback: Shinjuku Opera City (a week after the jubilee gala)

Click. Beep. beep. beep Your wristwatch mimicked a ticking time bomb right now. You breathe once to make sure you were still, for all intents and purposes, alive. The smell of the Sauvignon blanc laid in front of you was so heavenly, its grape-like aroma tempting you to take a sip but you couldn’t, afraid that your body will just reject it in its current state of shock. You must have had a few too many earlier, your commoner palette not exactly used to the refreshing and crisp taste of white wine directly sourced from the rolling hills of Pouilly-Fume, and you must be hallucinating all this in your drunken stupor. Yes, all this was a hallucination, some sick naive dream you conjured after sharing a passing glance with the prince of the nation. It had to be, otherwise, why does it feel that your body has shut down? You were unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to think.

And you were adamantly sure that you had also been rendered unable to breathe.

“…Huh?” That probably sounded stupid to your unlikely companions, well, normally it isn’t that stupid if you haven’t said that every five minutes or so during this fateful encounter. “This is a mistake. You really want me to-?”

“-Yes,” he said immediately, his mother nodding alongside him. His finger glided across the rim of his scotch glass. He took it neat, of course, the Crown Prince is a man of good taste. “I can ask my people to help you move your belongings to a more dignified residence tomorrow morning.”

The empress frowned at Satoru’s backhanded comment about your way of life. “Satoru, you’re scaring her,” she whispered worriedly to her son.

“If she’s smart, sure,” Satoru hisseed under his breath. If he was going to propose to you and consequently marry you under his parents’ orders, he was going to do it his way. “Look, Ms…?” he trails off, your name escaping him.

“(Y/N),” you provided. “My name is (Y/N).”

He makes a soft ‘tch’ sound which goes unnoticed since you were too preoccupied in shaking away the haze of thoughts in your mind dimming your ability to think. He continues, “As I was saying. Ms. (Y/N),” he puts emphasis on your name, etching the loathsome sound of it into his mind. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

What did he mean by that? “Excuse me?”

“I know I said that I was just a fan when I sent you those flowers after your performance tonight but, I guess you could say I’ve become an admirer of yours.”

This was all scripted, and Satoru, despite having had a memory good enough to memorize has a good his entire family tree including the collateral branches before he even graduated from primary school, found the words getting stuck in his throat and he trailed off, his mind was filled to the brim with nothing but the face of the woman he is unwillingly betraying in the name of protecting his status.

But wasn’t this what she wanted when she threw herself at the emperor’s feet that night? She was selflessly allowing him to go through with this despite knowing that every false tender word that he says to you would be a dagger to her heart, that every moment spent with you instead of her would make her cry a river of tears.

It feels as if this entire thing was a circus he had been forced into because his crown was hanging dangerously off the edge of the tightrope above him. Forced to perform, forced to act, forced to smile so that he wouldn’t feel the sting of the whip his father, the ringleader, had in his hand. Wasn’t that something Satoru has always done? How was this any different from all the elaborate ruses he’s been ordered to perform? Gojo involuntarily looks behind his seat, craning his head back, hoping to see the familiar figure of the love of his life standing exactly a meter away from him, just as she’s always faithfully done, but that was all wishful thinking; Himiko had been removed from the duty of accompanying him tonight.

“I don’t think I’m just a fan,” he continues, turning his attention back to you, the words confessing his so-called love being uttered stoically. You stop him right there, the amount of bewilderment in your heart at a fatal maximum. His hand finds his pocket, searching for the godforsaken ring he is about to present to you. “And I—“

“—You’re just curious, Your Royal Highness,” you dismissed his so-called feelings with a shake of your head. “You’ve never been with someone outside your circle, and you’re curious about what it would be like to be involved with a commoner like me.”

When the words leave your lips, a stretch of panic washes over your face. Did you just disrespect the prince and the empress by doubting the sincerity of his words? Or did they disrespect you by treating you like a moron? Were you just supposed to believe that Prince Satoru had feelings for you? Your mind was spinning, and you were feeling a migraine aura beginning to form at your peripheral vision. You had to get out of there. Quickly moving the chair back so that you could stand up, you bow contritely to excuse yourself from the room. “Ms. (Y/N), please wait!” the empress sighs exasperatedly when you leave the private dining room of the high-class restaurant, your heels clicking against the marble floor as you hurriedly see yourself out.

Perhaps, they were being too hasty for you to say “yes”, too secretive about their true intentions. If they were to even have a chance of convincing you to marry Satoru, they have to let you in on the truth. Luckily, despite her age, the empress catches up to you just as you are about to hail a cab which was proving to be difficult since it was now past eleven o’clock and even the busy skyscraper district of Shinjuku was starting to look deserted.

“Ms. (Y/N),” she breathes, stopping just a few feet from you. “Please hear me out. I’m sorry, this was a mistake…”

“It's fine, Your Royal Highness, I know the Crown Prince doesn’t like me the way he says he does. I may not be as highly educated as you but I’m not an idiot.”

The empress looks on sadly. “Well,” she sighs, standing next to you. “I knew you would figure it out sooner or later. Still, I’m really sorry for what happened back there.”

You don’t respond for a long while, contemplating what to say; the air between you is one of awkwardness and something’s gotta give, otherwise, you and the empress would be standing in the middle of the empty street like total fools. You are the first to break, “Your Highness. Why me? And what’s this really about?”

Why on earth were you chosen over so many other women in Tokyo’s most affluent families to become Prince Satoru’s wife? You expected that this so-called dinner would be nothing more than a courtesy call to thank the prince and the empress for visiting the last night of your show. One could only imagine the emotional whiplash you felt when the prince suddenly offered for you to become his wife which was totally unexpected considering you have never spoken a word to one another before. Just what kind of a messed up Shakespearean romantic tragedy did you wind up in? This entire thing felt like a work by some deranged author who’s had one too many to drink while writing this poisoned manuscript of a love story.

“It’s exactly as the prince said,” she says succinctly. “The prince isn’t getting any younger and he’s in need of a wife. That’s what I would have told you if you were one of those shallow high society women I’ve had the displeasure of meeting.” The empress bitterly thinks about one specific girl that is so loathsome and vile that she has forcibly brought Satoru on the brink of total destruction. Last week’s fiasco with the emperor was a warning shot, and knowing her husband, there won’t be a second time.

You frown, not liking it when people are purposefully brought down to compliment another. “I’m sure that’s not true,” you mumbled, not really knowing what to say.

“But it is,” the empress insists. “People who are born with everything have this tendency to think they are above everyone else. Maybe that was what caused the prince to become this way, because his own mother was born from nothing,” she chuckled.

Knowing that the prince was the only son she will ever be blessed with, having had him at the age of forty-one, she overindulged Satoru by giving him everything, and bending to his every will. So, Satoru grew up confident that he’d only have to point at a storefront window and his mother would get it for him, otherwise he’d throw a tantrum. Maybe that’s what’s going on — all the scandals, all the controversies — was this another one of Satoru’s tantrums because they refused to allow him to have a relationship with, much less marry, his chief-of-staff?

“Nothing? I thought Your Highness, well before you married His Majesty, was an heiress to a car company. I don’t think you should lump yourself in with us.” Those who were truly born from nothing, you thought to yourself.

The empress puts a hand over her mouth as her shoulders begin to shake as she giggles. “Is that so?” she laughs, reaching into her coat pocket, in search of something. Finally, she feels the familiar feel of the trinket she keeps with her day and night.

You expected her to pull out something more valuable than a five yen coin, and it looked like it’s an old one, judging by its rough and rust-stained edges. “See this?” She carefully places the coin in her hand as if it were a precious item. “This was the first ever money I ever had to my name at only eighteen years old. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it even now,” she smiles wistfully as memories of her youth, albeit a simpler time away from the intrigue of the imperial court. She gently places the memento in your hand.

It was so light, it barely weighed a few grams yet it held so much of the empress’s heart in it, like a personal diary that has kept her company throughout the years, or perhaps it was a compass that led her to the path that resonated with her true self- the girl of only eighteen that had the look of a dreamer in her eyes, or maybe it was an anchor that served to keep her feet firmly planted on the humble ground in spite of her exalted status as the emperor’s consort.

You studied the coin. “Only five yen?” Even you, a musician whose finances are scattered to the wind, could make more than five yen in less than an hour. You were confused. Was this another one of their tricks to get you to say yes? No, it couldn’t be, seeing as how the empress seemed so genuine now, almost like the conversation you were having was like a mother and daughter having a heartfelt chat.

The empress nods. “I was a store clerk at a music shop when I was young. It was the only way I could save up and go to college. Of course, this was all before my father invented that powerhouse of an automobile when he was tinkering around with a few of the customer’s cars in the mechanic shop he ran.”

Listening intently to the empress’s story, a sense of solidarity seemed to grow between you and her. “And this was your first salary? Hard to believe music shops pay so little back then.”

“No, no. That was a tip I received from a customer when I returned her wallet. She left it in the shop and I ran after her. Of course if I were a thief, I would have taken off with it, but it was completely empty.” That caused you to laugh. Who knew that the empress who always carried herself with poise and dignity had such a deadpan sense of humor? “So, she gave me the only coin in the wallet to thank me. A five yen coin. Since then, I’ve kept this with me at all times. Call it an old lady’s sentimental ramblings, but this is what keeps me from letting all this get to my head.”

You nod in understanding. But what did this beautiful story have to do with marrying Satoru? The empress senses the question before you could even form words to ask it.

“What I’m saying is that Satoru was my outlet,” she sulked. “My second chance. So I gave him everything his little heart could ever want. And as a mother I know it was wrong of me to raise him to think he’s above everything and everyone.” She didn’t actively do that, though. Satoru just developed that toxic kind of thinking somewhere down the line. “I’m sure you’ve heard the nasty things they say about my son.”

The atmosphere suddenly turns sullen. You remembered how you watched in horror when Prince Satoru appeared on your TV screen the morning after the jubilee gala. You normally saw the prince attending royal functions such as groundbreaking and ribbon-cutting ceremonies, and while you are aware, just like everyone else in the country, that Satoru had his own share of misfits, you dismissed it as the actions of a rebellious young adult. You never thought for one second that you would see the prince battering a man until he was closer to death than a rat caught in a mousetrap outside of a shady gambling den in an unsavory district in Tokyo.

“I’m pretty sure the press is stretching the truth at times.” That was the right thing to say, you didn’t want to badmouth her son in front of her.

She scoffs humorlessly. “I’m not asking you to defend him. What I’m asking of you is to help him.” She takes your hand in hers. “Ms. (Y/N), this marriage may start out as a publicity stunt, but you could turn into something better than that.”

Maybe you’d fall in love with the prince, and maybe he could open his heart to love another again, someone who was healthier for him than Himiko. While the disbelief in your face was clear, the empress’s words give you a sense of hope but again, being excused from this narrative was what you wanted more than anything. “I think you overestimate my power, Your Highness. What you are asking of me will only end badly, I’m sure of it. It’ll be a disaster for everyone.”

Looks like there was no convincing you. A lot seems to be going on inside the empress’s head and you sympathized with her anxiety, but this was something you couldn’t do. You have been what people call a “pushover” your entire life, but the subject of your marriage is critically non-negotiable.

“I understand,” the empress is now resigned to her son’s fate. It seems, after all that song and dance in front of the emperor, it was all futile in the end. At this rate, this time tomorrow, the son of the empress’s unwilling mistress would probably be declared heir apparent and she would be powerless to stop it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just my mother taught me that marriage is sacred and that I should never mess around with it. You could have asked me for anything, Your Highness, and I would have said ‘yes’ in a heartbeat.”

“Your mother seems like a very wise woman,” the empress smiles softly. “And she’s very lucky to have you as her daughter.”

You stiffened at that. “I…I wouldn’t know if she feels that way, really.”

A wave of confusion crashes over the empress. What did you mean? “Sorry?” she clarifies. You hesitate to let her in on your own pain and you feel a slight prick of guilt poking your heart. She had been so vulnerable tonight, so open with you about her grief while you guarded yours in a titanium safe. She decides not to push the subject further and instead places a hand over yours comfortingly before turning to leave.

A thought occurs in your head and everything seems to slow down. The cars passing by the main avenue of Nishi-Shinjuku seemed to be running at 10 mph instead of the road’s minimum 20 mph. The billboards towering over you have momentarily lagged like some fatal error occurred in the LCD screen.

…This was wrong, you shouldn’t even be thinking of this.

...What would make you any different from a bloodsucking gold-digger?

…Don’t run after her.

She wouldn’t want you to do this. It would kill her if you did this. But haven’t you killed her many times before? What would make this time any different? Absolutely nothing. Your mind is made up.

…

“Your Highness, please wait.”

6:12 AM.

You didn’t know that the smell of flowers could be so vile and revolting.

Sat in the middle of a room with about a hundred bouquets of flowers from a multitude of well-wishers, at six in the morning on the day of your wedding, you gaze up at the huge mural of your new residence in the imperial palace. The pupils of your eyes followed each image on the vast painted ceiling which, compared to your tiny Tokyo apartment, felt like the entire sky altogether. Your eyes follow the image painted by Kanō Eitoku depicting life in the old seat of the imperial system, Kyoto, each blink of your eyes, you hone in on a new aspect of the mural: the mountain of Ryūgatake, the old imperial palace which you were told still existed today, the grasslands surrounding the ancient capital, and the people of Kyoto as they go about their daily lives.

If only those people could speak and were not just plastered images on a lifeless cement canvas to keep you company, maybe you won’t feel as lonely having had to wait for your wedding day to roll by without your husband-to-be by your side.

Sighing, you fall against the carpeted floor, your hands clutching a greeting card from one of your friends who gushed about how you had suddenly become a princess-to-be overnight and how you must be so happy to be engaged to such a handsome man that is prince Satoru Gojo. You hold back your tears, your fingernails digging into the vellum card.

You’ve given up calling the Imperial Household Agency to connect the line to Satoru, they come up with a different ruse each time. “Please, I need to speak to the Crown Prince,” you would sniffle into the line’s speaker desperately.

“His Royal Highness is busy right now in his office.”

“My apologies, Ms. (Y/N), but Prince Satoru is unavailable right now due to [insert name of engagement which is perfectly-timed with the wedding consultations he’s supposed to attend with you here].”

“Prince Satoru is currently away to inaugurate the new building for [insert any imperial charity foundation here].”

But you know all those so-called reasons for his absence were lies, excuses to keep their future consort from overthinking where her distant fiancé could be. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen Himiko around either, that alone should be enough to answer the lingering questions in your head about Satoru’s whereabouts. It wasn’t as if you could suddenly act like some jealous spouse when 1.) You aren’t married yet. 2.) You are the trespasser in their relationship. 3.) You are simply a bandage solution to clean up the prince’s image, someone who had unknowingly been at the right place at the right time. You are well aware of where you stand in the grand scheme of things; that kiss as you drove out of the palace compound that day should have been a good enough reminder that you will never truly be your future husband’s better half.

That title, the one you unwittingly stole from a woman you’ve never even met before, is something you can never truly call your own. You were no different than the typical other woman who would wear the legal wife’s wedding dress like some thief.

Yet how is it that you know all of these things like scripture but you still spent the entire night crying over a man who finds it physically impossible to be in the same room as you? Why did it hurt so much when you saw your fiancé shield his girlfriend from the autumn chill the same way you hoped he would shield you from the many challenging questions during that press conference? Why does it feel like a dagger had been plunged into your chest when you saw Himiko kiss Satoru so tenderly, and your husband-to-be returning the gesture with equal fervor?

You lay on your side, the velvet texture of the carpet somehow providing you some semblance of comfort. What would your retainers say when they come into this room and see the crumpled form of their future empress on the floor, her knees hugged to her chest as she tries to make sense of everything that has happened these past few days? You imagined that they’d probably think you were crazy, and Satoru would probably jeer at the thought of having a simpleton as a wife.

You were only a girl of twenty-three summers, you should be enjoying your twenties by doing the things that you love with the people you love. These sunny days of youth pass by in the blink of an eye, but in your case, you have been totally robbed of it, now being primed to become not just a princess but a wife too. While the former is certainly an intimidating role, the latter is just downright petrifying for someone as young as yourself.

Not a single soul save for the empress went to check up on you last night, the only people you were expecting to keep you company today are the hairdressers and makeup artists to prepare you for the wedding. Of course, the austere members of the Imperial Household Agency are also set to make an appearance in your chambers today probably to make you sit through another briefing session on court etiquette. You glance out the window, it was barely light out due to the winter equinox when nights are longer than daytime, and somehow that made you even more sad than you already were laying down on the floor of your room, desolately alone.

A knock at the door awakens you from your trance and you sit up, arranging your hair neatly and pulling on your shoes. Sighing, you make your way towards the door and see someone who you do not quite expect. He momentarily shifts his attenton to the battalion of attendants behind him, nodding to them. “Leave us alone.”

“Your Majesty, good morning,” your breath hitches in your throat as you hastily bow your head before the emperor who seemed to be more anxious about this day more than you, seeing as he is already dressed in his three piece suit and slacks ensemble with the Collar of the Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum hanging between his lapels.

The emperor was an enigmatic figure who mostly kept to himself, his chamberlain and main staff often joking amongst themselves how the emperor was really a recluse who had only been born to become the sovereign ruler of a nation by an unfortunate stroke of fate. Your future father-in-law hums in acknowledgement and you are left to wonder if this is where Satoru gets his aloof nature from. “Good morning, (Y/N). May I come in?” he asks as if this entire compound wasn’t his.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

He eyes the many bouquets in the room, sighing heavily as he does, the guilt of putting you in this impossible position weighing on him. He admits that he jumped the gun when the empress offered to have Satoru marry someone who could brighten up his public image from the many blemishes it incurred during the night of the jubilee when he and Himiko were seen together, causing trouble in the casinos of the infamous Kabukichō red light district.. To have you bear the weight of becoming a lamb to the slaughter with this marriage was just downright cruel, knowing that his son will certainly make it his life’s purpose to destroy you, but what choice did he have?

It is the crown that makes the choice for him, he’s been told by his own father.

“Listen, do you have the slightest idea of what you’re about to go through?” the man whom you would call your father-in-law in just a few hours asks flatly.

Of course you do, Satoru has already given you a taste of what your marriage is going to be like. You solemnly nod “I think so,” murmuring softly, crestfallenness is evident in your voice. “Satoru has made it clear.”

The emperor purses his lips as he fumbles with a tulip that had been nestled in one of the bouquets in your chambers, “Well, it’s good that you know. I know my son and I am not here to tell you that everything you’ve seen these past couple of days will get better,” he eyes the telephone, one you haven’t even placed the phone back onto the handset in hopes that Satoru would call you. “In fact, it’s only going to get worse from here.”

You frown, crestfallen. “How so?” you asked, your hand gripping the fabric of your dress. “Are you saying that this is just the beginning?” Truthfully, you were fine with this being the beginning, only if you could have the reassurance that all this will come to an eventual end. But it seems now that this was going to be life as you know it, with a husband who gags at the sight of you and has the innate ability to treat you like you were his personal bedwarmer and doormat.

“Yes,” the emperor says gravely, a dark look crossing his features. “So if you’d like to back out now, now is your only chance. Satoru has made enough messes, a canceled wedding will barely do anything to his reputation at this point.”

He’s right; these past days have only proved that Satoru is probably granting you a way out, maybe that’s why he has done nothing else but to ignore you as a final act of mercy if you ever decide to bail. One tiny kiss on the cheek is nothing when he starts to go missing in the middle of the night to attend to his mistress’s beck and call, when he starts to bring home his mistress for dinner to actively spite you with their relationship, or when he, god forbid, starts fucking in her in your marital bed while you’re away on some royal function.

You could live a full life without him, having barely even known him save for his proclivity to emotionally torment you, but it feels wrong to just…up and leave after all that song and dance in the press opportunity.l Shaking your head, the emperor’s offer is refused insistently.

“I’m not going to give up on him, I won’t give up on our marriage before it even begins,” your eyes bore into the emperor’s own. You’ve promised yourself and the empress that you’ll see this through, if Satoru is going to make your life a living hell, then, you’ll just have to take all his blows like a champ.

“I don’t doubt your willpower, (Y/N). I’m just saying that this might be even more difficult for you than you think,” the emperor warns. “Satoru doesn’t just push back, he’ll run over people who get in his way.”

“Your Majesty, it’e alright. I’ll manage somehow.” you mumbled. “The empress and I made an agreement that if I marry Satoru, I…” you trail off, not really wanting to reveal more than you should, the emperor waits for you to continue, his eyebrows furrowed together.

What would you get if you married Satoru if not unnecessary suffering? And even then, that didn’t sound like a good deal, the emperor thinks to himself. You could have gone on happily with your life, blissfully unaware of the trials of being married to the white-haired prince, you probably would have continued climbing the career ladder before finding someone to settle down with, maybe you’ll have a few kids along the way, and Satoru would also be blissfully unaware of a certain (Y/N) (L/N) existing on this plane of reality with him.

Why were you so committed to marrying him?

“I’d be able to…” you stutter. There was no use hiding it now but maybe you could conceal the truth a little longer, if not for your sake, but for the empress — no, a grieving mother — who met you in a hotel café that night with the weight of the world on her shoulders and asked you to keep the details of this transactional union a secret. “I would…”

The emperor raises a hand to stop you, though he is mildly perturbed at your hesitance to open up to him, he decides that whatever you and his wife were keeping from him does not concern him or the throne and that it is simply a thing that should be left unsaid. He really didn’t want to pry into the details of the contract you agreed to, and since you seem to have already made up your mind, all he could do now is hope that you do not give up so easily on his son the same way he did, and that this choice to marry Satoru would not backfire on you or the imperial system in the long run.

“Stop. I understand,” the emperor nods, his shoulders seemingly slumping in defeat as he is unable to convince you to cut it and run from the horrible fate you were speeding towards at a hundred miles an hour. Maybe Satoru was right to make you out to be an idiot, the emperor frowns. “But…don’t say I didn’t warn you, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you all the best.”

And just like that, the wedding pushes through as scheduled, having declared before the father of the groom that you weren’t one to give up so easily, or…maybe it’s just your blind optimism talking.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you settle into an ornate curtsy, your foot gracefully tucked behind the other, your hand postured in a cordial handshake with His Majesty. The emperor’s pupils dilate, his mouth runs dry and he feels like something in his body had momentarily stopped working or had broken entirely — he knows that trademark act of obeisance so well — you’ve perfectly captured the image of a younger version of his wife who had perfected royal protocol in just under a year when they got married. She must have sought to teach you everything she knew or rather she was forced to learn by herself when she was in your position in an act of true esprit de corps. And for a moment, he finds himself surrendering to your doe-eyed but unmistakably poised charm, and he starts to become more convinced that you were a worthy future daughter-in-law.

He shakes his head, swiftly snapping him out of his trance, now was not the time for these things. The emperor nods back to return the gesture before turning to leave, just as your attendants are about to arrive to get you ready for the ceremony. “We’ll see you in the cathedral, then, (Y/N).”

But as soon as he is halfway out the door, he turns back to look at you one last time as (Y/N) (L/N), for the next time he will see you, you will then be (Y/N) Gojo, his first daughter-in-law, the first royal bride in centuries who neither hails from a family of politicians nor influential persons alike, the icon of a new chapter for the imperial family.

He sighs, turning back around to face you, having almost forgotten the task he’d been entrusted with by his wife. “I almost forgot. Ijichi,” he calls to his faithful grand steward who is waiting outside your chambers to bring forth a rather special gift he and the empress intended to present to you after the ceremony but he figured now might be a good time. The tall, lanky and sickly-looking spectacled man known as Ijichi bows before you which leaves a strange feeling festering within you, he was carrying a navy blue felt case that seemed so valuable that he had been compelled to wear gloves to prevent his bare hands from touching the fine fabric.

The emperor motions to open the case and your face pales when you see what is inside. “This is intended to be worn by the Princess Royal on her wedding day but since I don’t have a daughter to give that title to, the title will now belong to you.”

The tiara in his hands is a hefty thing, molded entirely from the most of valuable of silvers, it resembled the Queen Mary Fringe Tiara that had been worn by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II on her wedding day, with an abundance of baton diamonds dotting every conceivable nook and cranny. It takes some time for you to adjust when it is placed upon your head, it only weighed a modest 1.7 kilograms, it was much lighter than the many tiaras the family keeps hidden away in the imperial vaults but for someone like you, it is an awfully heavy thing not just in the literal sense but also in the figurative side of things.

As of this moment, you weren’t just an ordinarily forgettable face in a crowd anymore.

“Carry the weight.” The emperor’s voice is commandeering. He steps back, scanning how the tiara looks on you from afar and though it looked awkwardly placed on your head with how you are struggling to balance its weight, you still managed to carry it adequately. “Now…you’re one of us.”

8:55 AM.

“Need some help?”

Satoru looks up to inspect the reflection on the mirror and a sad smile crosses his face when he sees the familiar figure of Himiko leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest as she gazes at her beloved getting ready for his wedding day. “You don’t have to be here.” He begrudgingly fumbles with his collar, unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he professes, despite having immeasurably hurt you these past couple of days instead.

Himiko shakes her head. There was no use in grumbling about it now when just on the other side of the palace, Satoru’s unworthy bride-to-be was being pampered by her many ladies with manicures, foot massages, and practically anything to make you happy while she, the prince’s true love, was condemned to watch him be cruelly given away to someone else. There was a sense of finality with how hundreds of palace staff rushed through the hallways carrying all sorts of wedding paraphernalia to decorate the Chowaden reception hall and the courtyard to welcome the wedding guests.

Satoru frowns when her hands find his collar, she skillfully untangles the ribbon medal and readjusts the silver emerald-studded necklace that came with it.

Please…just one more minute…one more minute with you, Satoru closes his eyes as Himiko’s thumbs tentatively rub his chiseled cheek as if she were memorizing every bump and every curve of his skin before someone else tries to claim that they know every bit of Satoru inside and out. She knows it will never be true, no one can ever know Satoru the way she intimately knows him, not even if he was going to marry another woman. It may be possible for you steal everything from her — the emperor and empress’s favor, the public’s warm approval, the ring that had been fitted to accommodate the size of her finger before it was given to you — it may have been easy for you to pull the rug from underneath her, but it would be difficult — no, impossible — for you to ever claim ownership of Satoru.

He was hers and she was his, Satoru leans against Himiko’s touch, sighing woefully. “I’ll make her pay, I promise. I’ll break her, destroy her again. And again. And again until nothing’s left of her,” he recites the promise, punctuating the words with a kiss every time, as if they were having an illicit wedding of their own, and his words were a marriage vow — the only one that he will honor with every fiber of his being. Himiko bites her lower lip before she slowly nods, appeased.

“But Satoru, marrying her is the only way for you to be restored as heir apparent. Either way, we can’t win without doing this your father’s way.” Her hands leave his collar and she sadly gazes out the window, her narrow eyes glazing over the ancient ginkgo tree at the center of the palace’s vast atrium which was now shedding their green leaves to take on the tell-tale yellow hue as autumn draws near. She always loved the view of the palace courtyard from above, especially in this room where she and Satoru spent many nights proving their love for one another.

Gojo frowns at her melancholia, he comes up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’ll think of something, I promise this won’t last longer than it needs to,” he kisses her cheek, nuzzling it with his nose tenderly.

“I don’t mind waiting, Satoru, I’d wait for you forever, and as much as we both hate her, we need (Y/N),” she spits out your name as if it were rat poison in her mouth. “So, let’s just play along. It’s not like we’re not used to meeting in deserted parking lots at midnight, right?” She offers him a half-smile, reminding Satoru that their entire affair has always been illicit in nature.

It’s not like she was accepted by his parents to be their son’s future consort. They’ve been through this before, hundreds of times rather, even before you came along. They’ve had to deal with so many forces ripping them apart over the past three years from the oh-so-omnipotent emperor who hardly wields any political power to his neurotic wife whom she has called, on several occasions, a bitch.

And yet, together they remained as it has always been, with Satoru cradling Himiko in his arms as he peppers kisses up her neck, sucking at the soft flesh, his hips flush against hers. He does this in front of the window for any unfortunate passerby to see. Hell, Satoru was hoping you’d walk by and see this heartbreaking display and maybe you’ll just run home in your wedding dress with your tail between your legs.

“We don’t have to get used to it, Himiko,” he mumbles into her neck, inhaling her sweet perfume, the one he liked the most. “One day, we won’t have to hide anymore,” he kisses her cheek tenderly, caressing the bone of her wrists which still bore faint marks from the handcuffs that had been wrongfully placed on her with his thumb. “And people can say whatever they want about us, and it wouldn’t matter because I will have been the emperor by then and you, my empress.” He presses their foreheads together, the tips of their noses barely touching in a moment of silence.

After a long while, Satoru lets go of Himiko, his eyes scanning hers as if he were searching for answers hidden deep within her soul. “What is it?”

“I just wish you hadn’t stepped in back there.” It was a thought that kept him awake these past agonizing nights. “Maybe if you just stayed out of my father’s office, this wouldn’t have happened. I was alright with you visiting me in my jail cell, you know.”

“As if I’d ever let that happen,” she sighs when he pulls away to fasten his cufflinks, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened at the loss of his touch. She kisses his cheek, looking at his reflection through the mirror, her eyes alight with adoration. “I promised I’d always be your ally, didn’t I?”

When she and Satoru first met three years ago in the selection for his chief-of-staff, Himiko Zenin, despite coming from the affluent Zenin clan, lagged behind compared to her contenders who aced the exams that tested their knowledge on the law, constitution, history of the imperial system, royal protocol, foreign languages and other aspects that may prove useful for the prince’s right hand. But there was one thing that she had that all the other applicants didn’t have, and she demonstrated that perfectly when Satoru unexpectedly dropped by during the final interviews to speak to each of the candidates himself.

Satoru stared at Himiko with a bored expression that day, his being devoid of any emotion. “Ms. Zenin, it seems you did poorly in all of the exams,” he glances at her file which should have been tossed in the bin by the time she placed last in the jurisprudence exam. “And you’re affiliated with one of the more morally ambiguous families in the country. Looks like today’s just not your day, huh?”

It was true. Having Himiko Zenin as his chief of staff was dangerous from the get-go. The Zenin clan’s head back then during the time of the selection was on trial for graft and corruption. But, there was something Himiko had that all the other applicants did not. At the time, he couldn’t quite put a finger on it but now, after years of selfless service to him, Satoru realizes that it was the ferocious loyalty that hid underneath her then perfectly ordinary shell which he personally refined into the gem of a woman she is now, and she never swore allegiance to the crown but rather to him, Satoru Gojo.

“But, I’ll indulge you,” he reclined against his chair that day, his arms crossed. “Why should I even consider you as my chief of staff? What can you offer me that the others before you cannot?”

Her answer to that question instantly won him over and in that instant, Himiko’s life had changed forever. “Whatever you ask of me, Your Royal Highness, I’d give my very life for you.”

Satoru turns away from the mirror, his lips instantly on hers. His hand dangerously hovered over the hem of her dress. “S-Satoru, what are you doing?” she moans into his mouth as Satoru moves both of them to the bed, he climbs atop of her as she lay on the mattress, her locks splayed over the silk sheets. She knows what he’s doing, this was almost like a film she has seen many times before; this was how tense conversations with Gojo go with him impatiently parting her legs, their hands desperately discarding their clothes until they are left utterly bare before one another.

He wanted to destroy you the same way you destroyed what he had with Himiko. This anger translated into his rough pace. He roughly jostles his hips against Himiko’s, her arms wrapping around him as he buries his cock inside her, his lips covering her milky flesh with dark-purplish bruises, marking her as his.

Call him a sadist but he hopes that Himiko would change into a dress that could flaunt her marked skin so that when you fearfully look around the cathedral, warily searching for her, your heart would break at the sight of the countless hickeys on her neck and collar. He wanted to see you cry the first of the many tears you will shed for the crime of marrying him.

“Satoru…!” she cries out as the luscious feeling of his girth pistoning in and out of her. He grunts as he feels him inch closer and closer to his high. “Mmph—‘Toru,” she whines when he reangles his hips, plunging deeper into her, his arms locking behind hers as he violently chases his release. He’s so close. “I love you, I love you…-a-ah!”

A symphony of pleasured groans falls from his lips, his very being uncoiling as he cums. His hips involuntarily keep thrusting as hot spurts of his cum drips down Himiko’s entrance, mixing with her own release. Himiko frowns as Satoru clicks his tongue at the soiled sheets beneath their connected forms. He groans as he pulls out, sinking into the warmth of her embrace, his still hardened cock poking her inner thigh. “Promise me you’ll only love me?” she whispers as her fingers absentmindedly play with his white hair.

“I promise,” Gojo murmurs into the crook of her neck as he lulled to sleep by her soft, even breaths. “I promise it’s only you…no one else.”

11:45 AM.

Only half an hour left. A crowd of, from what you have heard, 70,000 have gathered on the strip of the main road that the bridal car will pass en route to the cathedral.

“It’s true,” your maid of honor who people refer to as Ieiri says, showing you her phone which showed the many tweets from news agencies, famous personalities and normal people alike about how excited they were to witness your wedding day. There were countless social media posts consisting of yours and Satoru’s official engagement picture and many have taken to hosting their own live-streaming sessions of this monumental day.

“Everyone’s so excited. I wish my wedding would be this big,” one of your bridesmaids sighs dreamily. You manage a small chuckle at her, maybe if she knew of your plight right now, she would probably be eating those words alongside the many petit fours she’s been munching on this past hour. “Look at all those people,” she continues scrolling through her phone.

“It’s the first televised imperial wedding so obviously, it’s a big deal, Riko,” Utahime laughs. “Not to mention, it’s the first time a member of the imperial family would be married in a Western-themed ceremony.” For everyone to see.

One of your newly appointed helpers enters the room, and jogs over to you as quickly as she can in her heels, she has a small jewelry box delicately decorated in an ecru gift wrapper in her hand. “Ms. (Y/N), this is from the prince. His butler told me to give this to you.” You’ve been sad all day and your ladies-in-waiting heave a sigh of relief when they see a hint of a smile on your face, even if it did hold a bit of apprehension.

“Really? For me?” You stand up to accept the small token, careful not to ruffle your wedding dress too much as per the dressmaker’s instructions since the fabric used to construct the piece was susceptible to crumpling. Momentarily setting your phone down on the vanity table mid-text, you graciously accept the wedding gift. Maybe Satoru was starting to warm up to you and that he is now chipping away at the wall he built between the two of you. You hoped that by sending you this gift, this would be the start of something new and better with your husband.

But given how things are, that would be impossible. This was probably just a gift he sent to appease you after many days of effectively acting like you don’t exist.

You open the box and your ladies chatter around you excitedly. “It’s so pretty!” the youngest of your bridesmaids, the daughter of the Japanese ambassador to France apparently, marvels at the pair of earrings. Briefly smiling at her, you then turn your attention to the small letter that was neatly slotted between the groove of the box’s padded interior that held the earrings in place. His handwriting was so conscientiously beautiful that it almost looked like a computer-generated font, there wasn’t a hint of clumsiness in each stroke.

“To (Y/N),

I’m sorry about these past few days. This won’t make up for it, but, I’d like to join you in wishing for a successful marriage together.

– HRH Satoru Gojo”

Your heart slows at the cold closing. He had omitted the words “love” and “sincerely” before his name, but you expected that. If scraps of affection are all you could ever hope to get out of him, you have to learn to deal with it sooner or later; this was your life now, you will always be second to the love of his life. It must have taken everything out of him, and it must have caused an argument to erupt between him and Himiko, to send you this and you understand that he’s also having a difficult time with how things are now but it mattered so much to you to see him try. Regardless if this gift was given to you freely or not, you couldn’t refuse it, even if every voice in your head was screaming at you, reminding you of the horrific scene you saw that day when you caught your fiancé kissing another woman out in the open immediately after you announced your engagement.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” Riko asks. “I’m sure the prince will be happy to see you wear these.”

“You really think so?” you wince when your helper struggles to find your earlobe piercing. “I didn’t know he could be so sweet.” That’s obviously a lie; you know full well Satoru could be sweet, it just pained you to remember that he’s capable being sweet to another deliberately causing you immense grief. Your helper stiffens slightly. She has seen him become sweet before, albeit to another, but she didn’t have to divulge any details and accidentally ruin your wedding day.

She nods shyly, succeeding with the first diamond earring and then the other. She steps away from the mirror. You looked radiant. “Y-yes.”

Noticing her discomfort, you expertly steer the conversation elsewhere. “I see. Well I should probably return the favor.”

You’ve gotten Satoru a wristwatch you and the empress had personally had commissioned by a famed watchmaker that could rival the craftsmanship of a Rolex. It just arrived last night and well, given your current mental state then having taken the brunt of Satoru’s ire the past few days, you couldn’t bring yourself to wrap it. Momentarily deciding if you still had time to have one of your helpers buy some wrapping paper, you realized it would be cutting it too close so you hastily scribbled on a blank dedication card you randomly plucked from one of the bouquets you received. Luckily, some of them had extra cards.

“To Your Royal Highness,

Please don’t apologize, I’m sorry too for being pushy lately. Thank you for the gift, I’ll be sure to take good care of it. Happy wedding day, and I’m looking forward to better days together!

Wholeheartedly yours,

(Y/N) (L/N)”

Reading through it one last time, you affix your name at the end. “You guys are so sweet,” your youngest bridesmaid gushes as she presses a button on the room’s telephone to request for a butler. “I’m sure the prince will love it.”

“Whatever ‘sweet’ means.” You grimace, your unease getting the better of you. A few moments later, a butler peeks into the room. You bound over to him, placing the present in his hands. “Could you please give this to Prince Satoru?” you asked him and the butler looks slightly bewildered at your choice of words. If it was an order, you could have just said so. Perhaps you were still getting used to the idea of having people waiting to attend to your every beck and call.

“Right away, ma’am,” the butler replies obediently nonetheless. “Also I ran into His Majesty’s chamberlain just a while back and he asked me to remind you of the time. Everything’s ready,” he informs you just as he turns to leave in the direction of the palace’s east wing where Satoru's private chambers are. Upon hearing that, the bridal entourage starts to get ready to leave ahead of you, they’ll be going to the venue with a separate convoy from the bride’s since you’ll be driving through some of Tokyo’s major avenues en route to the cathedral.

You watch as they file out of the room in their cream dresses, each one of them, despite having known you for only a little less than half a day, pull you into a bone-crushing hug wishing you well. “Congratulations, (Y/N).”

“Thank you,” you kindly smiled at each one of them as they left.

When you are left alone to your devices, you take one last look at (though you could hardly recognize yourself) the mirror, swallowing harshly, your hand absentmindedly playing with the locket which you continued to wear, ignoring the gracious advice of the Imperial Household Agency’s grand steward to set it aside for today’s festivities as it was uncustomary for royal brides to wear articles of clothing and accessories that did not hold any relation to the imperial family.

Only thirty minutes to go ‘till everything changes. Wait no, that was grossly inaccurate. Everything changed the split second you laid your eyes on him. Since then, everything seems to be a jumbled haze like some sort of psychedelic trance that just won’t end. Reaching for your phone one last time, you hastily search for a particular contact number, your finger hovering over the call button. No, there’s no point, you sniffle softly. Calling her would only make things harder than it already is and backing out of this now is out of the question.

Another knock is heard on the door, but it isn’t as insistent as the first few ones as everyone was starting to get a bit frustrated at you. Did they think you were stalling for time? “Just a minute,” your voice wavers. You just received a new text message from the number you were planning to call.

“We’ll be moving her in a few hours. Will send you her new room number when we get there.”

Bringing the phone to your lips, your heart makes somersaults in your chest when you receive the news. The sacrifice you were still yet to make has already paid off and your ledger of personal favors crossed out with a red marker effectively completing your transaction with the empress. Without even giving you time to text a quick “thank you”, another urgent knock is heard on the door. “Ms. (Y/N), I’m very sorry to interrupt but, we should get going now.”

“I’ll be right there,” you said again, quickly typing another message on your phone: “I wish I was there with her. Please hold her hand for me.” The second it goes through, you quickly shuffled towards the door, your head bowed in apology. You hold your breath as you balance the tiara on your head hoping that it won’t fall as it hangs precariously off-center on the crown of your head, your eyes trained on the ground as the door slides open. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries, I’m pretty patient. Ijichi, on the other hand? Not so much.”

His voice is feather-soft and melodious like a harp string being plucked delicately so that it produces a clear and deep bell-like sound, the very language he chooses to speak with is devoid of neither a shrill nor sharp word unlike the fusillade of orders you’ve been mercilessly bombarded with this entire day. Walk like this, speak like that, don’t do this, and most certainly never do that, you must have gone through a decade’s worth of rules and regulations to follow during the ceremony and even after you’ve said your “I do”’s. Still, you found solace knowing that Satoru is slowly warming up to the idea of cooperating with you, and has even found it in his heart to give you an olive branch of sorts which was now hooped through your earlobes, sparkling under the light like a clear drop of water from the sky.

At first, you naively think it’s him. Did Satoru really come over to see you? While that seemed uncharacteristic of him, the very thought of him voluntarily visiting you planted a sense of relief in you regardless. Maybe he wanted to settle things before the ceremony, to be upfront with you about his intentions in this marriage, how the two of you will be towards one another going forward, and if your luck holds out, maybe he’d finally let you in on his acts of impropriety with Himiko.

But, you would recognize Satoru’s indifferent timbre anywhere, this voice was far too different and seemed much kinder and softer than your fiancé’s.

You slowly open the door to greet your guest, confirming your suspicions as you meet the gaze of a man you haven’t met before. He seems severely unfamiliar.

No, wait. That can’t be it, he may seem unfamiliar but he’s definitely recognizable. In fact, you’ve seen him a few times before, standing feebly next to your fiance during the emperor’s birthday broadcast. Then, it clicks. Wasn't this…?

“Crown Prince Suguru?” you blinked. He’s the only senior member of the imperial family that you’ve never been officially introduced to. Of course, you are on speaking terms with the emperor, the empress and of course, Satoru, but never the prince that idly lingered in their large shadows.

The raven-haired man chuckles deeply at your shocked expression. Clearly, you didn’t expect to meet him under these circumstances, and that caused you to accidentally refer to him as the Crown Prince when that title only belonged to Gojo. He looks at you endearingly, finding you intriguing.

So this was the woman his younger brother is to be married to. Suguru has heard a lot about Satoru’s docile bride-to-be, in fact, he received news of the engagement while he was in Rome, the last leg of his first solo tour in Europe. People were so quick to label it as a pivotal point in the history of the Japanese monarchy and that you are the symbol of change, specifically, they likened you to a camellia blooming in a sea of chrysanths, a breath of spring in the imperial family’s everwinter – alluring in every sense of the word. But, alluring isn��t exactly a word he’d use to describe you seeing as you’ve only just met but, right now, he found you to be so adorably cute that he might just start to believe the things they say about you on the news.

“It’s just Prince Suguru. Satoru’s the Crown Prince.” The gentle correction makes you so flustered that you feel blood rush up to your ears, a tell-tale sign of your abasement. “But you could just call me Suguru.”

“Oh, right, my mistake,” you rub your eyelid, growing embarrassed. “Prince Suguru,” you stressed his correct title, remedying your earlier mishap. Despite you being in heels, you can’t see past him, given that he towered over you so easily so you stand on your tallest tiptoes, trying to peek over his shoulder. “You haven’t happened to see Mr. Ijichi, have you? He was right outside the door a few minutes ago.”

Suguru buries his hands in his pockets. “He just left, you’re welcome,” he winks at you, having sent Ijichi on his way when he accidentally stumbled across him furiously tapping on your door as he was making his way to his car.

Ijichi was…difficult to get along with — he’s short-fused, demanding at some times, and he is what people could call a stickler for the rules — Suguru isn’t doesn’t really want to say nasty words about his father’s grand steward and he’d give credit where it’s due since Ijichi is not just efficient when it comes to running the imperial household but he is also fiercely dedicated to every member of the imperial family.

Still, he couldn’t count the many times Ijichi had to scold him for all the mischief he caused while he was growing up even if his life depended on it. The worst scolding he got from the older man was when Suguru went missing on his fifth birthday, having snuck out of the banquet hall with at least ten pieces of bread stuffed in his pockets with every intention to feed them to the many ducks in the imperial garden’s ponds.

“What?” your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, you were going to get an earful later. “You mean he went ahead without me?”

“It’s alright. You’ll see him later, sure he’s probably going to talk your ear off but he means well, trust me,” Suguru flashes you a reassuring smile.

You look at him, your lip curled into an uneasy grin. “That doesn’t sound like fun,” you bemoaned, having had enough reprimands to last you until your next life. “So, with Mr. Ijichi gone, forgive my bluntness, but am I right to assume that Your Highness will be the one to bring me to the cathedral?”

Suguru accommodatingly holds out his arm for you to hold onto. “You assume correctly,” he says warmly. You expect him to hurriedly lead you down the steps leading to the palace’s main driveway, but he does something entirely different. “Are you ready to go or do you still need more time?”

That was the first time anyone in a kilometer-wide radius has asked you what you want to do instead of telling you what to do.

Suguru watches every small change in your expression. He figured that you must be pretty tired of people treating you like some robot, training you to blindly obey every order perfectly. The jet black-haired prince has only known you for two minutes and his heart is already disintegrating for your current predicament of feeling completely and entirely alone. If he could alleviate your troubles even with just a small act of kindness by engaging in polite conversation with you and actually listening to what you have to say instead of talking over you like most of your etiquette coaches have done all day, then, he’ll gladly tune in to listen to you even as you read through an entire book of sonnets if you ever felt up to it.

Being validated comes a long way, and if anyone understands your plight, it was him and even if he didn’t understand, he’ll do everything he can to try regardless.

“I-I’m ready,” you nodded hesitantly and Suguru doesn’t walk ahead right away and allows you to set the pace as you walk past the line of attendants that bowed to you and the prince as you made your way to the imperial family’s very own Toyota Century convertible which had been custom-made for you.

The open top roof gave onlookers access to see their future empress as the motorcade departs from the Kōkyo Imperial Palace and follows a 4.6-kilometer route that will travel to the St. Mary’s Cathedral, the seat of the Roman Catholic archdiocese of Tokyo. Neither you nor Satoru were practicing Catholics yet, the imperial family has decided that a Christian-themed wedding rather than the ancient Buddhist matrimonial ceremony that is usually done away from public view would make the imperial system appear more accessible to the people.

Suguru helps you into the car, gently arranging the train of your gown so that it doesn’t get all wrinkled. “Thank you, Your Highness” you whisper to Suguru who squeezes your free hand as if to say “you’re welcome”. The car’s engine hums to life the minute the two of you are settled in the backseat. “W-what am I supposed to do now?” you asked, readjusting your grip on your bridal bouquet.

The prince lets out a humored snort, having forgotten that this was your first official function. Showing you the correct way to wave and the right angle to face and bow to the crowd, he watches you closely, allowing you to struggle for a bit before stepping in to help with some encouraging words. “Just keep smiling and waving. It’s just like being onstage, you know.” At the center of the motorcade, six police cars patrol every side of the convertible forming a ring of protection just in case someone in the crowd with ill-intentions would try to harm either you or the monarch next to you.

Countless people erupt in happy cheers at the sight of you and Suguru, some are simply content with waving while others are holding up flowers and tossing them to the front of the crowd barriers in jubilation. “It feels a little more intense than just being onstage,” you mumbled, your eyes landing on a little girl sitting in her mother’s arms as she waves a little Japanese flag in her hand which looked like she made it in her arts and craft class. You awkwardly wave at her, chuckling when she happily waves back, delighted to see you directly looking at her.

“Well, you’re doing great.” He inches closer to you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist while the other guides your hand, gently angling it in a more prominent position so that you look a little more assertive. “Like this,” Suguru helps you wave in a more continuous manner, teaching you to center the motion by keeping your elbow mostly stationary and allowing only your wrist to subtly move from side to side. “And keep doing what you’re doing. Make eye contact with them; make them understand that you see each and every one of them.”

Suguru watches you bow and wave to the spectators with a proud smile on his face; the motorcade has now reached the Shinjuku area and is nearing its destination of Bunkyo-ku where the cathedral is and even still, the crowd doesn’t appear to thin out. Suguru feels like he’s watching history unfold before his very eyes. He wonders if Satoru had purposefully chosen a commoner to conjure up a classic “love conquers all” romance of his own wedding day, if he did, then Suguru must congratulate him for a job well done. No one has ever come out to see a member of the imperial family in this sheer number, he daresay, not even the empress on her wedding day or His Majesty on his coronation day.

But with you, this day is nothing short of a revolution.

“Your Highness, you’re staring.” Suguru hums, confused, before realizing that he’s been looking at you funny. “You’re still staring,” you said succinctly.

“Oh, sorry.” Suguru says awkwardly and you couldn’t help but let out a slight snort. “What?” he cocks his head in your direction. You were laughing, though brief, the very sound of it brings a smile to his face. “It was about time though. We’ve been in this car for more than fifteen minutes now and that right there is the first genuine act of happiness I’ve seen you make,” he remarks. He was starting to think that you were incapable of smiling which he found a little unsettling since brides aren’t exactly despondent during their wedding day. Of course, what would he know? His little brother had gotten married ahead of him.

You crinkle your nose in mock displeasure. “That’s kinda mean and probably the last thing I’d say to someone I just met…with all due respect, Your Highness.”

Suguru grins at your tiny jab at his character, and to think that he nearly bought into the whole “as demure as a butterfly” thing they said about you in the papers. Make no mistake though, he sees how elegantly ladylike you are, but he also sees how you are so effortlessly spellbinding with your wit translated into a few short but sweet words. No wonder Satoru fell for you and even gave up his vice-like romance with his chief-of-staff to marry you, he thinks to himself. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry that was a bit uncalled for.”

“Oh— Your Highness, I was just joking.” You waved to the crowd of people on Suguru’s side of the car, grimacing when you see a few schoolboys, probably university students with how tall and mature they looked, pretend to blow you kisses. Indulging them, you subtly return the gesture flustered beyond all measure. Everything feels so public now, and you are left wondering about how you could survive the rest of your life like this.

“…I knew that.” Choosing momentary silence, Suguru finally decides to chip away at the facade you were putting up. He could see it in your eyes, you were a cross between scared and unhappy which is clearly normal for someone who is marrying into the oldest monarchy in the world. You weren’t at all what the members of the Imperial Household Agency said of you when you were out of earshot: a sorry excuse of a future empress who is privileged in every way but can’t find it within herself to stop her endless complaining. “Just trying to make you smile, that’s all.”

Shouldn’t your future husband be doing that? You sighed. Oh right, he was probably busy comforting Himiko. She probably needed him now more than ever after everything you’ve done to torment her. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Suguru,” he corrects kindly. “If you’re going to marry my little brother, you could, at least, drop the troublesome title when you’re talking to me.”

Little brother? How have you never heard of this before? You knew Satoru had a brother, but you never thought Suguru would be the older one out of the two of them. If that was the case, then, why didn’t he get the title of “Crown Prince”?

“Weird, huh?” He breaks you out of your trance, as if he heard the question swirling around in your head. “Why is Satoru the Crown Prince and not me?”

“Are you psychic or something?” you playfully teased, slowly growing more comfortable with the jet black-haired prince that sported an Apollo-like smile - warm, and inviting. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Suguru shrugs. “Why? Whose mind do you want to read?”

Satoru’s, you smiled sadly. Maybe by unraveling the inner machinations of your soon-to-be husband’s mind, you could learn to meet him halfway by understanding him a little better; no person is born inherently cruel and while you had your doubts, you know, in your heart, that Satoru is no exception to that rule. “No one in particular.”

“Ah, well, I expected that.” He grinned at how guarded you are, reclining against the plush seat of the car to rest his stiffening back for a minute. The convoy is about ten minutes away from the cathedral now.

You offered him some consolation though, grateful for this light-hearted chat. “Let’s just trade answers next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Himiko thought this day would be horrible but it turns out it isn’t as bad as she pessimistically thought. If she only knew that this was how the love of her life’s wedding would go with him still inviting her to his bed before he gets hitched off, then, maybe she shouldn’t have been so awful towards you who never stood a chance against her. Competing with you would be like making a rival of a rat; it would be unnecessary trouble. Still, even if she had all but won against you (as if you were worthy enough to even become her opponent), that didn’t stop the Zenin clan’s little darling from causing a little trouble today.

Her eyes flutter open to reveal Gojo’s handsome slumbering face, utterly spent from their lovemaking session, their naked forms still entangled together under the cotton-percale sheets. She stretches her supple body luxuriously, and pulls away from Satoru’s embrace earning a small “mmph” of disapproval from her lover. Giggling, she plants a soft kiss on his chiseled cheek.

“Your Highness?” Someone says from behind the door. Taking one last look at Satoru’s sleeping form, she walks leisurely to answer it, clad only in the prince’s shirt which ran above her knee.

Leaning against the door, she answers for the prince, a detestable act similar to a cardinal sin. It was forbidden for a mere servant to speak for any member of the imperial family. In the past, in the Japanese empire’s golden age, a servant who took the words out of their master’s mouth would have their tongue swiftly sliced off. But Himiko is not a servant, nor is she subject to the rules as long as the prince was around. “His Highness is asleep.”

On his wedding day? The butler nods stiffly. “I see. Ms. Zenin, can I trouble you with this? The prince’s fiancé has sent him a wedding gift.”

Himiko doesn’t answer for a long while and a tense silence fills the room. “Fine, but have you done what I asked?” she relents opening the door, the butler’s face turns red at the sight of her lack of modesty. “Having you run my errands isn’t cheap, you know.”

The attendant bows his head, “Yes. She’s currently wearing it right now, last I saw.”

“Good. I’ll be taking this then.” She shakes the box to get a feel of what’s inside, not that it would be anything of high value though given its cheap sender.

Curiosity gets the better of her and she succinctly opens the gift, her eyebrow quirked. A watch. Very typical. She notes how it’s made out of silver and she scoffs harshly. Even if she didn’t chuck it into the trash, Satoru would have done it himself since he prefers gold pieces over silver and he most certainly wouldn’t want to touch anything that was from you given how he loathed the very idea of you.

The attendant gulps when he sees Himiko harshly discard your gift. “Ms. Zenin, don’t you think that giving her that would be taking it too far? You know how the Crown Prince feels about those earrings. If he ever were to find out that it had gone missing…”

She turns her head in the direction of the bed where Gojo was currently tossing and turning in his sleep. “Then, I’ll tell His Highness that his chief butler,” her eyes were aglow with cunning as the butler trembled slightly at her murderous gaze. “Is a thief who stole from the imperial vaults, and if you ever decide to rat me out, who do you think the prince will believe? A nameless no account like you or me?”

It slowly registers in the attendant’s mind that he had been utterly played when Himiko asked him to give those earrings to you via an under the table agreement, it’s not like Satoru prepared a wedding gift for you anyway thinking that showing up to the accursed wedding in itself is a generous gift already. “…You used me…!” he whispers angrily, not wanting to rouse the prince.

Himiko shrugs nonchalantly. “And you were stupid enough to be used for a few banknotes. Now get lost, I’ll just inform His Highness of your voluntary resignation tomorrow morning.”

She closes the door on the rattled servant and saunters back over to the bed, slipping back under the sheets. Satoru sleepily notices the bed dip with her weight, and unconsciously snuggles closer to her, his arms wrapped around her form. She lovingly strokes his disheveled hair alternating between twirling his locks in her index finger and massaging his scalp as if she hadn’t just ruined a man’s life two minutes ago. Her hands reach for the phone on the nightstand and she scrolls through her feed watching a video of the bridal car pulling up to the cathedral.

She boredly watches you step out of the car with your hand looped through Suguru’s arm shyly waving to the thousands happily anticipating this glorious day while your bridesmaids help you with your wedding gown’s train so it doesn’t snag across the concrete steps. It takes about five minutes for the cathedral’s towering doors to open and she smirks when she sees you slowly make your way inside, completely oblivious to the fact that your groom is not at the end of the aisle where you expected him to be and is instead still soundly asleep next to her.

The silence that follows is indicative of the horrific scene that greeted you and Himiko switches off her phone, settling back into the pillows contentedly. Serves you right, (Y/N), she smirks.

12:30 PM.

Funny how you think that you’re immune to awful things that happen to other people…before it happens to you. There’ve been hundreds of stories like this before, but you never thought that you’d find yourself in the long list of unfortunate jilted brides. Your hands tremble as you hold your bouquet of white calla lilies and baby’s breaths. Surely you must have gone blind or something or this was all some sick dream, you desperately search the cathedral room with abject horror in your eyes. It couldn’t be…you take an uneasy step toward the witness as your wedding guests whisper amongst themselves, their hearts filled to the brim with condolences for you.

Something in you jeeringly mocks you as if to chide you for living too long in the forest of your fantasy, dodging every pocket of reality’s sunlight as it shines through the many trees you’ve cultivated with your delusions that this…whatever the hell this is…could miraculously work out in the end. That you stood a chance against all the cards that were catastrophically stacked against you, and that he could give you even just a scintilla of respect if it was truly impossible for him to ever learn to love you.

“Suguru,” you instinctively clutch his hand as if by him squeezing your hand back, you could miraculously be put together again. You were so heartbroken that you didn't even realize that you just called him by his name, forgoing the mention of his venerable title. “…I-I…” you gulp as you feel the dreaded words lodge deep in your throat, clogging your airways with uncried sobs.

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m so sorry…”

“…Where’s Satoru?”

water’s edge taglist: @dummyf @kentokaze @esthelily @mandysfanfics @userbananababes @strawberryjimin13 @snowprincesa1 @naturallyspontaneous @kooromin @gojoist @dcvilxswish @13-09-01 @peachipeachy @iluv-ace @sawendel @helloitsshitzulover @jjuniescuderia @ackermendick @starrylibras @timetobegone @heelariously @idktbhloley @jeon-blue @8aif9sgbsnn @purpleguk @rednezvous @yeseurri @floralsightings @yoheyyosup @dontwannacry04 @dragonladyy

REBLOGS AND INTERACTIONS IS WHAT KEEPS AUTHORS GOING SO SHOW SOME LOVE ✨💕 mwah! see you all in episode 2.5!

#fic: water’s edge #gojo smut #jjk #jjk angst #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x reader angst #gojo x you angst #geto x reader angst #geto x you angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader angst #geto suguru x reader angst #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #jjk imagines #gojo angst #geto angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk gojo #jjk geto #gojo satoru angst

[lecsainz]

love notes

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: cute french nicknames and charles being an amazing boyfriend.

authors note: i would literally die if i saw charles playing on the piano some taylor's song, just imagine how perfect it would be.

word count: 824

Y/N woke up to the soft sound of Charles humming a tune. She opened her eyes and smiled, seeing him lying next to her, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

"Bonjour, ma chérie." Charles said, opening his eyes and giving her a sleepy smile.

"Good morning, my love." Y/N replied, leaning in to kiss him.

They cuddled for a few more minutes before Charles sat up, stretching his arms above his head. Y/N couldn't help but admire the way his muscles rippled under his t-shirt.

Y/N blushed, feeling a surge of affection for him. She loved the way Charles spoke to her in French, using terms of endearment like "mon amour" and "ma chérie." It made her feel special, like she was the only woman in the world who mattered to him.

"What do you want to do today?" Charles asked, turning to her.

Y/N shrugged. "I don't know, maybe explore the city a bit more? Or we could just stay in and watch a movie."

"Sounds like a plan," Charles said, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "But first, breakfast ma belle."

They got up and headed to the kitchen, where Charles whipped up a delicious omelet with cheese. Y/N watched him move around the kitchen with a smile on her face.

"What are you thinking about?" Charles asked, noticing the far-off look in Y/N's eyes 

Y/N smiled, turning to face him. "Just how lucky I am to have you," she said, taking a bite of the omelet. "You've changed my life in so many ways, Charles. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Charles leaned in to kiss her, his lips soft and tender against hers. "You don't have to thank me, mon amour," he said. "Being with you is all the thanks I need."

Y/N blushed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She loved how he took care of her, always making sure she had everything she needed. And she loved how comfortable they were with each other, able to spend lazy mornings like this without feeling the need to fill the silence with small talk.

After they had breakfast, Y/N was curled up on the couch in Charles' apartment, reading a book. Charles had disappeared into the other room, and Y/N could hear him fiddling around with something. After a few minutes, she heard the sound of a piano.

Curious, Y/N put down her book and walked into the other room. Charles was seated at the piano, his fingers dancing across the keys. He was playing one of her favorite songs - "Daylight" by Taylor Swift.

Y/N couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Charles, how did you learn to play that?" she asked.

"I wanted to surprise you, mon amour," he said, smiling. "I know it's one of your favorite songs."

Y/N was touched. She walked over to the piano and sat down beside him. "You're amazing," she said, leaning in to kiss him.

As Charles continued to play, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the man sitting next to her. They had only been dating for a short while, but already she felt like they had a deep connection. And this moment, with Charles playing her favorite song, was the perfect example of that.

After Charles finished playing, they sat there in silence for a few moments. "That was beautiful," Y/N said finally. "Thank you for playing it for me."

"Anything for you," Charles replied, taking her hand in his.

Y/N smiled and leaned in to kiss him. "I can't believe you learned that song just for me. You're so sweet."

"Well, you're worth it," Charles said, returning her smile. "I love making you happy."

Y/N's heart swelled with affection for him. She couldn't believe how lucky she was to have found someone like Charles, who not only accepted her for who she was, flaws and all, but also went out of his way to make her feel loved and cherished.

As they cuddled on the couch, Y/N couldn't help but think about how much had changed since they had started dating. She had been hesitant at first, unsure of whether she wanted to get involved with a formula 1 driver, but Charles had won her over with his kindness, intelligence, and sense of humor.

And now, she couldn't imagine her life without him. He had become her rock, her confidant, and her partner in every sense of the word.

"I love you," Y/N whispered, snuggling closer to him.

"I love you too, ma belle." Charles replied, wrapping his arm around her. "I can't wait to see what the future holds for us."

Y/N smiled, feeling grateful for the present moment and excited for what was to come. As they sat there, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, she knew that whatever the future held, they would face it together, hand in hand.

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics #f1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc #formula 1 #charles leclerc imagine #fanfic #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc ferrari

[gtgbabie0]

hii i saw your requests were open so here :)

could you write super fluffy tender love with spencer reid x reader

(also maybe a mention that she’s also in the bau)

no pressure at all, hope you have a good day <33

-Spencer Reid x reader

{Getting ready for work with Spencer Reid}

Sorry this took so long! I was kinda stumped with this but I Hope you enjoy nonetheless my lovelies!! 💕

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It’s criminal how early it is, the sun hasn’t even begun to rise and yet here you are brushing your teeth with sleepy eyes and you wouldn’t mind it so much if it wasn’t so cold, the autumn chill well and truly set in motion.

Spencer pops his head around the bathroom door as you finish up, his eyes meet yours through the mirror. “Do you know where my purple vest is?” He asks through a yawn and you can’t help but smile as you turn around, the sight of his curly bed hair and the remanence of sleep still very visible on his face.

“Yeah it’s folded up with the rest of the clean washing,” you tell him softly as you reach over to tuck his unruly hair behind his ear.

He whispers a small 'thank you', pressing a kiss to your palm as he leans into your touch before smirking to himself, noticing you’ve got a little toothpaste on your chin. Before you can even ask him why he’s smiling he responds, poking your chin as he speaks “You’ve got a little something… here”

With that he walks away, laughing to himself as you groan, washing your face before following him out into the kitchen. You stand behind him, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist with your face pressed into his back as he continues to make two cups of coffee, adding one extra spoon of sugar into his cup.

“It’s gonna be so cold out today” you whine, shuffling away slightly as he turns around to face you. Spencer takes a moment to hold you, his chest blooming with warmth when your arms immediately wrap around him, once again, holding him closer to you in search of warmth.

His hand soothes the expanse of your back, drawing comforting circles into your hip as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Mhm, I’ve already packed your hand warmers.” He whispers, knowing just how cold your hands can get.

It’s such a small thing but it means the world to you, how he picks up on the little things that none else ever did. You swear he knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. “You’re the best” you mumble into the fabric of his vest, the soft material against your cheek only drives you closer to him.

“Yeah I know” he chuckles, pulling away from you when the kettle pings and the loss of warmth immediately hits you. He can feel you watching him as he goes back to making the coffee, he catches you from the corner of his eye, the way you watch his hands as he stirs the warm beverage.

“Go get dressed” he laughs, reaching over to push at your shoulder.

“Why can’t I just spend the day admiring you?” You ask, and you take pride in the way he looks away from you with a bashful smirk, trying to hide the way he blushes.

“Because we need your beautiful brain,” he says, looking over at you with love in his eyes. “And, I need you focused” his tone is quiet, and there’s a certain seriousness to his words that doesn’t go amiss.

He knows the difficulties that come with working in the bau and how they seemed to double when the pair of you got together and yet the two of you still pushed your way through all the challenges in fact Spencer would argue that it made your relationship stronger.

But that still doesn’t change the fact you’re both still human. You reach out to place a gentle hand against his arm, “Of course” and your soft words seem to calm his nerves for now. He leans to press a kiss on your cheek, and before he can move away, you pull him back, your hands cupping his warm cheeks as you pepper kisses all over his flushed face.

You bask in the raspy chuckle that leaves his lips as he tries to push you away. “Go get changed,” he gasps in between kisses. Placing his hands on your shoulders, he pulls you back gently with a loving smile. "Hotch will kill us" he says and you all but huff a dramatic, “Fine” dragging out the words as you make your way to the bedroom.

The sun has finally started to rise, casting a low light through the kitchen where Spencer waits for you, tapping his fingers against the table, but his attention soon shifts entirely to you when you walk through the door.

“Do you think we’ll have time to stop at the bakery?” You ask, waiting for an answer that doesn’t come as Spencer admires you. There’s something in his soft expression that makes you go giddy with love.

He walks over to you, and his hands immediately find your hips. “Is this new?” He asks, as his hands begin to soothe along your waist, feeling the soft knitted fabric of your sweater.

“Oh yeah, I got like the other day… hey, we’re kinda matching” You smile, noticing the same shade of purple that Spencer is wearing.

“Derek is going to have a field day with this” he tells you, already preparing himself for the day-long commentary, that he’s sure Emily will also chime in on.

“Do you me to go change?” You ask and without missing a beat Spencer shakes his head with a frown, almost offended you would even suggest such a thing. He pulls you closer to him.

“What? no, of course not, you look really good” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing along your cheek, “You’re beautiful” his tone is hushed, almost a whisper as he presses one last kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat, how he looks at you with nothing but love in his eyes and how that same love bleeds into his touch. “And yeah, we should have time to go to that bakery, if we leave now” he says, handing you your coffee in a to-go cup.

You nod with an excited gleam in your eyes as you grab the car keys from the glass bowl. Walking out of the apartment, Spencer follows closely behind you, his hand slipping into yours as you, make your way to the car, preparing yourself for the long day ahead.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid cm #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds spencer reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x you

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

(3) TENDER LIKE A BRUISE ─── ethan landry 𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “Let me hold your tenderness for a moment, Forgetting all pains that the tenderness has caused….” — Luffina Lourduraj

pairing. spiderman!ethan landry x reader

warnings. heavy swearing, mention of blood+death, alcohol

summary. ethan calls during a patrol, frantic, and you have no choice but to find and save him. (1) (2) (3) (4)

a/n. another bit of the spiderman!ethan landry universe. i'm being pretty carefree about the timeline atm, so basically you and ethan have been fake-dating for a few months already. also, do tell if the relationship progression is too fast or too slow!

iii.

Your fake-dating label has stuck, following you everywhere. 

From having an awkward dinner with Ethan’s parents (which would have been one with his entire family, but Quinn could not keep a straight face and had to leave), having double-dates with Annika and Mindy, Ethan having to ward off weirdos hitting on you at parties (which, was actually rather welcome), and the like.

Sometimes, entirely to keep your cover straight, you and Ethan have to engage in some… physical contact. Mostly, it’s hand holding, or wiping something off his cheek, him tucking your hair back behind your ear, fixing his shirt collar, him tying your shoes — all the little intimate things that make your fake relationship seem so much more real. 

It’s kind of sweet, actually, how in-tune you guys are becoming with each other. Like, Ethan knows how you like your coffee, and you know what shirts he likes to keep at your place more than the others. You can trust the boy to pick an amazing place to order food from, and he can trust you to wash his Spidersuit like no-one else. (Seriously, he is shocked at how you can clean it in forty minutes and he can spend four hours in his sink without doing much at all.)  

However, once, you and Ethan had to kiss. Well, “kiss”. It was drunk couple stuff, trying to fly under everyone's radar. 

Your friends were beginning to think it was a little odd you had never done anything while drunk together, because everyone did. Sure, you two could be very private considering PDA, but everyone saw how sweet you were in front of others, so it was getting suspicious.

To void these pesky suspicions, during a low-key drunk night between friends at Chad and Ethans place, you downed a full shot of gin, let it burn in your throat, and pulled yourself onto the equally drunk Ethan. 

You had climbed atop his lap, his fatigued head thrown back against the leather couch. Your hands graced the sides of his face, and through your alcohol stained lips you whispered close in Ethan’s ear. 

“I’m going to kiss you, Ethan. Fake, though,” You said simply, your mind addled with that familiar alcohol fog. 

You waited for his familiar hum of acknowledgment, the one he voiced when he was brushing his teeth, or drinking something, all his little sounds you’d grown to know. 

When he did, you leaned your head at just the right angle that to everyone, it looked like you were going to town on Ethan, when in reality you were pecking the side of his lip. 

Your hands had carded through Ethan’s soft, curly locks, tugging slightly and repositioning yourself on his lap, his own hands settling nervously on your waist. You moved onto hovering around his neck, sending shivers down his spine with your hot breath on his skin. 

Ethan could taste the citrus stains you left on the side of his mouth, and he was beginning to feel feverish. His entire body was incredibly warm, either from the alcohol, or how close you were to him now. 

He gulped, watching you on his lap, pretending to do everything he had exactly zero experience in. You - this, made him so incredibly nervous, he was losing his mind over your touch. 

And as soon as it started, it was over, and you pulled yourself off the flustered boy. Chad whistled at the intensity of the action, a “proud dad” moment of sorts. 

Ignoring it, your hands itched towards another shot of alcohol. Through the corner of your eye, you saw Ethan, breathing heavily, eyes coursing over you. 

His gaze, low and deep, made your heart skip a tender beat, beginning to thump louder in your ears—

You downed another shot, and let it wash those thoughts away. Perhaps it is denial, or perhaps you don’t want to lose him. 

(Somewhere deep in you, you’re terrified of losing him. Literally and figuratively, you could lose Ethan in so many ways it's beginning to hurt.

One of those ways comes far too soon for your comfort.) 

-

It’s Halloween. 

You’re stuck in someone's house, and a drunk girl you don’t know the name of is regaling you on her outfit choices for the night. 

Quinn and Mindy are fighting over who's the better superhero, Spiderman or Iron-Man (and when Quinn heatedly declares Spiderman is some friendless, familyless freak, you snort), Tara and Chad are… doing whatever their newly blossomed situationship requires to make even more tense, and Annika is passed out on Mindy’s shoulder. 

Ethan is on patrol tonight, after he left you alone in the middle of the party. Apparently, it had something to do with candy and costumes making criminals more “devious” (whatever that meant). 

Sometimes, you really wish trick-or-treating wasn’t just for kids. 

You slip away from the drunk girl, whose friend group has since found her, and sneak into the very same bathroom Ethan had jumped out of earlier. In the mirror, you finnicked with the costume you were wearing. 

“I couldn’t exactly find anything similar, so I made it myself.” Ethan had said a few hours ago, holding up the costume. It was an odd black-and-white version of his Spidersuit, with a white hood and pink underarms. 

“It’s made of a mix of spandex and a flexible carbon-fiber I stole from the evidence locker at the NYPD - the same stuff as my suit. And, I know, not morally great, but whatever, I’ll make up for it by catching the criminals who owned that stuff.” Ethan continued, stretching the fabric. 

You raised a brow, taking the slim piece of fabric off his hands. “And why exactly do I have to be some Spiderman dupe tonight?” 

Ethan scratched his cheek, gaze veering from yours.  “If I’m wearing this, you’ve gotta wear that. To keep the cover, obviously.”

You two were sitting on your bed, Ethan already decked out in his own well made Spiderman “costume”. Everyone else was dressed, too, just waiting for you to finish.

“So,” You leaned in closer to Ethan, “this is just a matching couple costume… for the cover.”

Ethan nodded rapidly, still avoiding your eyes. 

You surveyed him for a moment: his brown eyes were coursing across the whole room, on anything except you, lips bitten between his teeth, hair askew, slight blush blazing across his face. 

Something about that look of his just got to you, and the sound of the blood rushing to your face was positively deafening. 

You pulled back, trying to ease your stuttering heart. “Isn’t this a bad idea? Wearing the suit and all, aren’t you scared of someone finding out?”

“I think it’s ironic.” Ethan said under his breath, a small smile gracing his face. “And it’s the opposite. If I pretend to be some superfan, people won’t think I’m him.” 

You puffed up your cheeks, blowing the air out. “Okay, fine. I’ll wear your couples costume. Just don’t, and I mean it, Ethan, do not leave me alone at the party to go on patrol.”

“[Name]. You know I can’t promise you anything, I mean, what if there's a dog or something getting stolen out of an apartment—“

Without thinking, you stopped his rambling by pulling him close to you, hands gripping lightly at his arms. The two of you held still for a moment, staring deep into eachothers eyes. 

You would have been ready to say anything, but the heartfelt words you had thought of, the feelings you knew were burning in your heart, about to burst at any moment, died in the sudden hesitance you felt from Ethan. 

Unknowingly, your face contorted into one of hurt. “I know. I know, I’m sorry, I - I know that's selfish of me to ask, I just…” You let go of him, “there will never be enough time in the world for you to be both Ethan and Spiderman. Which one - which life, relationships -  do you value more?” you turned away, whispering under your breath. 

And if Ethan had heard you, he didn’t say anything. Tension settled in the room, with a terribly miserable air of regret. 

Suddenly, Mindy had called out from the living room that you’d all be late to the party if you didn’t hurry up. Ethan exited your room quietly, and you didn’t see him look back at your door with so much guilt it was choking him. 

Remembering that bitter start to the night, you sighed, patting down your spandex suit. 

Then, someone on the other side of the bathroom door started banging it, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying under the blaring music reverberating throughout the entire house. 

“Wait a minute!” You shouted, straining your throat. You began to continue in the loud tone, but the familiar buzz of your phone interrupted you. 

Quickly, you fished out the device from a sleek thigh pocket you were thoroughly impressed with Ethan for designing, and clicked it on. 

“Speak of the devil,” You mumbled to yourself, seeing the ever-present contact name of ETHAN LANDRY buzzing atop your phone screen. 

You answered, pressed the phone to your ear. However, before you could get a word out, Ethan began frantically shouting into the phone. 

“[Name]! Goddam—it, okay, I need you to - to - I left my backpack at your place, and I can’t do this without—“ 

“Ethan! Ethan, Eth— slow down, I can’t—“ 

“Get my bag, please, and don’t find me, just— leave it at Blackmore, near the fountain, I’ll swing by— and— oh, for fuc—“ 

And then he hung up. Or, more precisely, probably broke his phone swinging away from whatever was causing him to act like that. 

You felt your heart drop, finally registering the intensity of Ethan’s voice. The boy was often lighthearted and dorky, extremely endearing in his polite awkwardness, so hearing how alarmed he was now was sending you for a loop. 

You shook your head, storing such feelings away for later. You made a mental note of Ethan’s requests: bag at your apartment, leave at Blackmore fountain.

Nervously, you cranked open the window in the bathroom, eyeing the slingers attached to your wrists. You’d found out entirely by accident after sticking to a beer bottle that Ethan hadn’t merely created a fake pair of web slingers for the costume — he’d supplied you with a functional pair of his own. 

Ethan had done a full run-down of his suit once, entirely fascinated with the thing. He was so proud of his own creation, rambling about how the web-fluid took ages to perfect, and about the one time his father got in trouble for “forgetting” to keep track of evidence from the NYPD locker. 

This identity was entirely Ethan’s own, and he was so incredibly happy with it. You realized then how selfish your comment had been, how it must have stung him so. 

You bit your lip, and pushed yourself back on track, slipping on the matching mask the costume had. Surprisingly, the vision in it wasn’t terrible, and it was merely a little foggy. 

Then, at the window, you decided you needed to use the web slingers. You knew this could go extremely wrong, seeing as you obviously hadn’t been bit by a radioactive spider, so your agility, physical build, and pain tolerance were at an all time low in comparison to Ethans, but you remembered how frenzied the boy-hero was— and swung out the window. Time was of essence. 

You finnicked with the webs, feeling the cool night chill bite your face, and tried desperately to replicate how Ethan so easily thwipped building to building. You just barely made it into an alley a few blocks away from the party-house, and almost hit your head on a lamp post on the way there, so you knew after this incident you’d never even approach the web-slinger cuffs. 

You ran the rest of the way to your apartment, climbed up your fire escape, and shimmied the small gap for Ethan in the glass window open with your foot. After a moment of scanning, you nicked Ethan’s characteristic green canvas bag, and braced yourself to swing once more. 

Your web made a slippery connection with the building in front of you - Danny’s apartment - and you swore you saw your life flash before your eyes when you almost fell. 

After several moments of climbing down the wall with webs, a situation which closely resembled rock climbing with a rope, you broke into another run, heading to Blackmore University. 

You would have felt dead tired by now if not for the adrenaline pumping through you, your anxiety for Ethan up to your ears. That, and maybe the amateur web-slinging that almost killed you, were the only things keeping you upright as you ran around New York. 

However, as you made quick shortcuts through other alleys, you heard a familiar cry come out from an approaching block. 

“Fucking—“ You heard the boy cry out, heaving, alongside the sounds of an intense scuffle. 

Without any acknowledgment of doing so, your body pulled itself to the dimly lit backstreet lane, and you found yourself watching Ethan, partially unmasked, fighting a group of several masked people, weapons and duffle bags of money thrown on the ground. In the distance, you could vaguely hear an alarm — perhaps a banks — beeping on and off. 

“E—“ You stopped yourself mid sentence, breath catching in your throat, and when one of the men threatened to grab the pistol lying haphazardly to Ethan’s side, you shot a web at the gun, bringing it to you. 

Quickly, you slid the offending weapon away, and did as much as you could to help the still-fighting Ethan. From throwing measly punches of your own, tossing weapons away, or pinning the burglars to the wall with webs, you did it all, until it was just you and Ethan, sitting on the cobblestone, breathing heavily. 

He slipped his mask fully back on, and turned to say something to you, obviously seeing your own mask on, as well as your use of his web slingers. 

But, then replacing the bank's alarm in your ears, several police sirens could be heard making their way down to the backstreet lane you were occupying. 

“We have to go. Can you swing?”  you said to Ethan between gasping for air. 

“I’m out of web fluid. It - it’ll take too long to refill,” he pointed lazily to the long-forgotten backpack. 

“I’ll do it, then,” You said, trying not to show your hesitancy. Before Ethan could voice his own surprise and fear, you wrapped an arm (and several webs, as you knew you could not fully support his built body) around him and shot a thick string of webs at the closest tall building. 

“You’re—“ Ethan’s eyes were wide open, “doing it wrong! We’ll— fall!”

“Just—“ you swung to the next building, completely unaware of how terrifying your technique was to an expert, “bare with it! I promise not to - kill us!”

“I’m unsure how - trustworthy - your - words are!” 

“Stop - distracting me!” You said, making a close call on a parked garbage truck, before making your last swing to the fire escape window at your apartment. 

Thank god the bank was not all the way across the world to your apartment, for you didn’t know how long your poor swinging skills and decent luck would last. 

You two entered your room, and you immediately ripped off the white hooded mask you were wearing, taking in fresh bouts of air like a fish entering water. You felt extremely relieved that you two had made it back safe, alive — but Ethan clearly felt differently. 

He tore his mask off, rapidly turning to face you. “I thought I told you to leave the bag at Blackmore!” Ethan’s finger was pointed accusingly, “I told you not to find me, for fucks sakes, [Name]!”

“Excuse me?” You said, in shock. “If I hadn’t found you — and I was going to Blackmore, I was taking fucking shortcuts, Landry — if I hadn’t found you, alright, you could be dead right now. You said it yourself, you were out of web-fluid!”

“Not then! I would’ve made it out fine!”

“Is this fine to you?” You gestured to his bloodied state, beaten up and bruised. “What? Were you gonna drag your broken bones up my fire escape, ask me to fix you up again?”

Ethan’s eyebrows creased. He had no answer for your words. “Just— I fucking told you not to fucking find me!”

“Jesus christ, Landry, you are fucking stubborn. I did find you, okay, but not on purpose— I fucking stumbled upon you. So don’t get all up on me for something you did.” 

“You didn’t have to help either,” he said viciously, “I have escaped worse situations without your help. I have done this for years without you, okay?”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh my god, are you serious right now? I wouldn’t have to help you if you didn’t call me, if you didn’t forget your web fluid, and if you just fucking listened to me and didn’t go on patrol tonight.”

Ethan went silent, digesting your words.

“You know this is your fucking fault, right?” 

And as soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You wanted to catch the air and stuff it right back down your throat, undo your harshness, realize how increasingly broken Ethan’s tone was. 

Realize how he stared at your cuts and limp, realize how guilty he looked as he asked why you went to find him. 

Why you put yourself in danger. 

Ethan’s mouth opened and closed, unsure of how to tread further, his anger falling off him in waves, revealing the pain he held underneath. 

“Fuck, Ethan, I’m sorry, I—“ you started, but stopped when Ethan looked you in the eye. 

“You could’ve died,” he whispered, “and you were - you were swinging and fighting armed men, [Name], I—“

“Ethan, I wanted to. I wanted to help you, it was my own goddamn choice. My own stupid choice.” 

“No - no, you were right. I should’ve never called you, I have done this all before, in worse moments, all by myself—“

“That does not mean you should, Ethan. Being alone in this kind of danger is not smart.” 

“I’d rather be alone than endanger you.” 

“Ethan, I’d rather be endangered than have to lose you.” 

You stared deep into eachothers eyes, not unlike the way you did at the beginning of the night. Except this time something had changed, perhaps the way you unearthed your hearts to one another now made it so much easier to breathe, to feel, to do. 

But there was still hesitation there. Untread territory and past regrets making things - this - so much harder to make real. 

You and Ethan wanted to do so much more, to do all the things you pretended to do, but instead, you wrapped your arms around his broad back and hugged him like there was no tomorrow, like you were the last people on earth before a meteor struck. His arms snaked around your waist similarly, longingly, and terribly grievous.

It felt like connecting broken pieces of a heart together, and though you did not kiss, you felt so equally joined to him like you had. The hug was long and intimate, so close you could smell the dull impression of his cheap cologne from earlier, the lonely heat of your bodies joining to warm you both so completely.

You felt so at home in his touch. You could only wish he felt the same. 

(And Ethan did. He melted into you, the only thoughts in his mind being that this felt right. 

Somewhere, deep in his mind, where he kept his guilt hidden, he felt he was just going to lose another thing he loved. That this love was futile, fading, the loss inevitable. 

But today Ethan wanted to be selfish, breathe you in, and be at peace, even for a second.) 

a/n2: no kiss, and not quite to the official relationship yet, folks! but we’re getting there, slowly but surely. have these lovely crumbs for now. though, big milestone: the acknowledgment of mutual love!

taglist: @iloveneilperry @backtotheshitshow @hazehepburn @powowowy @ifilwtmfc @oscarisdaddy69 @al1v3cvp1d2 @bloodyeverything @diamondci1ty @l5bryinth @gojosbucket @volturi-girl-imagines @sflame15-blog @thatoneembarrasingmoment @bajadotcom @cerealzzz @elynka @theapulidooo @solaceinwriting-blog1

(strikethrough: wouldn’t allow me to tag!)

#ethan landry x reader #jack champion #ethan landry #spiderman!ethan landry #jack champion x reader #spiderman x reader #scream 6 #scream vi #marvel #spiderman

[forever-rogue]

Kind of a big ask…but I am a sucker for 5+1 fics. Are you able to write something from Joel’s perspective about the five times he almost kisses reader and the time he finally does?

AN | I’ve never done one of these before and I hope it’s okay! It was so fun to write! 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 3.7k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The First Time

The first time Joel almost kissed you happened to be the same night he finally met you. Yeah, it wasn’t exactly anything you had bargained for. 

You’d been drinking for a little while with your girlfriends and he’d walked into the bar and a few beers with his brother Tommy. He was new to Jackson, you knew that much, but also devilish and ridiculously handsome. 

But it definitely wasn’t love at first sight…the complete opposite honestly. He’d caught your eye right away as you had his. You’d met him and seen him in passing but - unfortunately - it hac never been more than that. 

“Hey,” it was liquid courage talking…it had to be. Normally you wouldn’t be so bold and brash. In your previous life you wouldn't have dreamed of doing this.

Joel looked at you and raised an eyebrow, making a small sound of acknowledgment before turning back to Tommy. The younger Miller, meanwhile, gave you a sweet smile and greeting. He was always kind….unlike his brother apparently. 

But in your wine-tipsy state you weren't talking no for an answer, "I said hello, Joel Miller. You're not going to say anything?"

"Hello," his lips pulled into a line as he looked you over. You couldn't tell if he hated you or wanted to devour you, "is there anything else I can do for you?"

And oh. There was just a hint of a southern drawl behind his words and you decided that you very much liked him. But that was probably just the alcohol talking. Right? Right.

"Oh, there's a few things I can think of," you said softly as you attempted to wink at him, "being less of a dick would be a start."

Tommy snorted in amusement as Joel glowered at him.

"Alright," Joel shook his head before sighing heavily. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist before gently pulling away from the table, "I think it's time for you to get home. You've had enough to drink."

“I’ve barely had anything,” you beamed at him, cheeks warm and eyes wistful, “I can handle another drink! Oh wait - dance with me!”

“I am not letting you have another drink or dancing,” he hated to admit that you were adorable even when you were tipsy, “you’re going home.”

“Only if you come with me,” you were definitely going to hate yourself in the morning when this all came back to you. 

“I am taking you home,” he agreed, looking towards your friends and gesturing that he was taking you out of the bar. They seemed to understand what was going on, wicked little smiles on their faces, “but I am not staying.”

“You’re so boring,” and yet you were following his lead, at his side like a puppy.

“And you’re not sober,” he reminded you, following your instructions to get back to your place. You fell into silence, studying each bit of him, wanting to get to know him as best as possible. You were home much more quickly than you would have liked. He turned to you and appraised you for a moment, “are you okay to get inside?”

“Yes,” your answer came out as a whisper as you looked at him with wide, soft eyes. You noticed the way his breath hitched in his throat and his hand twitched at his side. What was invisible to you was the inner turmoil that had surfaced within him as you looked at him, “Joel?”

He remained silent for a moment before bringing his hand to your face and brushing his knuckles along your cheek. You gasped lightly in surprise at the tender gesture but remained silent otherwise. It took everything within yourself not to lean into his touch. Your entire body was calling out for his touch and there was nothing you desired more than to kiss him. 

And if you weren’t mistaken, you were sure that he wanted to kiss you as well. He leaned in ever so slightly and you prepared yourself for it but then - he pulled back. 

“I can’t,” you weren’t sure if he wasn’t talking to himself or to you. You already missed the warm touch of his hand, “you’re not sober. And I’m not…I can’t.”

You swallowed thickly but nodded nonetheless taking a step closer to your front door. You offered a weak little smile in return and before disappearing inside. You watched him through the peephole; it was a while before he left.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Second Time

The second time Joel Miller kissed you was after you were injured on patrol. 

It was a few months after he’d moved to Jackson and established a life for himself and Ellie. And ended up in a close knit friendship with you; not that you were complaining. You were just as drawn to him as he was you. 

You’d been out on patrol with Matthew when it happened. It wasn’t even anything horrible and the way you’d gotten injured was…self-inflicted. Basically you’d rolled and twisted your ankle and scraped up your knee as you tried to follow a bunny you’d seen. Yeah, alright, even saying it out loud like that made it sound terrible.

You’d seen the cute bunny and couldn’t help yourself. It wasn’t like there was anything else happening and Matthew was boring company - when he wasn’t trying to get in your pants - so you took the opportunity to see the bunny. But you’d slipped and list your footing and took a tumble you hadn’t quite expected. 

The look on Joel’s face when you had returned seemed like he was ready to commit murder to anyone who had done this to you. Oh, he was gonna love hearing that it was your fault.

“What happened?” he sounded so upset that it almost made your heart ache. He stopped in front of you, hands finding your face as he looked you over, “you’re bleeding. You’re hurt.”

“I-I didn’t,” you found it hard to focus on anything as you looked into those big brown eyes of his, “nothing happened…”

His gaze shifted to your swollen ankle and bloody knee.

“Okay nothing that anyone else did to me happened,” you laughed nervously, hoping to alleviate his worry, “I, ugh, itrippedandfell.”

“Pardon?”

“Joel, fuck,” you groaned lightly, “I saw a bunny and got off my horse and tripped and fell.”

And…now he was laughing. You pouted at him and that caused him to try and hold down his giggles. But at the same time…it felt good to see him relax and not lose his mind over you. 

“You are…” he trailed off as he tenderly wiped some dirt off your face. But when he was done he didn’t move his hand away. Instead he leaned in closely and you were positive that this was the time he was going to kiss. The tension had been building up for some time now and you kept wondering when it was going to break, “something else.”

“So are you,” you didn’t back away but the megawatt smile on his face was worth it. And if you leaned in even the slightest bit more, you could have kissed him. Your lips would have brushed up against his, “Joel Miller.”

And you wanted to kiss him and you wanted him to kiss you. To want to kiss you. Every fiber of your being was humming with energy. And just when you thought he was about to do it, slowly crouched down to look at your leg. 

“We need to get this cleaned up,” his voice sounded thick as you almost sighed in exasperation, “and get your ankle elevated and iced.”

“Yeah,” were you bad at reading the signs or was he just avoiding it all together, “good idea.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Third Time

The third time that Joel Miller almost kissed you was when you were in his house, helping him take of a very sick Ellie. You loved the kid as much as you had fallen for the man himself, and you would have done anything for either of them. 

You were in the kitchen, throwing together some soup and singing along to the record you had playing. It was simple moments like this that made life feel so utterly normal and wonderful; moments that made life worth fighting for. 

“Hey,” his voice was soft as he tried not to startle you. As soon as you heard him you turned around and gave him that smile that had started to make him turn into jelly.

“Hey,” you tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, “how’s Ellie Bean doing?”

“Feeling a little better,” he said and you related slightly, “she’s still a little warm but she’s sleeping now.”

“Good,” you continued chopping some vegetables for the soup you were putting together, “hopefully she’ll have an appetite when she wakes up. I’m making soup…obviously.”

“It smells delicious,” he admitted as he looked over your shoulder and into the pot. You stilled momentarily as you felt him behind you, his warmth and delicious smell overwhelming your senses.

"Family recipe," you tried to keep calm, "my grandma used to make it whenever anyone got sick. She always claimed it cured you right away."

"Did it?" There was a bemused little smile on his face as he leaned against the counter. He stole a piece of carrot and popped it into his mouth to which you playfully huffed.

"No," you grinned, "but no one ever told her that. And it's still delicious. Wanna help me make some bread?"

"Whatever you want, I am at your disposal," he winked and you wanted to perish a little bit, "just have to say the word."

It turned out that Joel wasn't too bad of a helper at all. He listened to your instructions with rapt attention and then delivered on making delicious bread. It was so easy and fun with him that it had your heart yearning for this bit of domesticity all the time.

"I have something to ask you," Joel took the bread out of the oven and set it down to cool. Your heart skipped a few beats before you nodded at him to go on. First he walked over to the record player and switched it to a different record, "dance with me?"

Well. Joel Miller asking you to dance definitely wasn't on your bingo card. But you weren't about to turn him down either.

"Yes," you whispered as he came back over to you, holding out his hand. You offered him yours in return and he wasted no time in taking it and pulling you into his arms. 

You almost instantly decided that his arms might have been your favorite place in the world. His touch was gentle as the two of you stayed to the music and you laid your head on his shoulder, allowing yourself to be lulled by the steady beating of his heart.

"Joel?" After a while you whispered his name and he pulled back, watching you with curious eyes. You swallowed the lump in your throat, all words suddenly lost.

Joel seemed to know what you were saying and leaned in closely, so close to kissing you once again. You were ready to jump for joy because surely this was the time he actually did it. 

You closed your eyes and waited and just when you thought he was about to do it, "hey! Whatever you're making smells delicious."

Both of you groaned slightly when you looked over and saw a very tired but happy looking Ellie in the doorway, bundled in a large blanket. 

"Hey Ellie Bean," you tried to make the disappointment in your voice at yet again not getting by him, "its good to see you up. We made some soup and bread. Hope you're hungry!"

"Starving," she grinned; unfortunately Joel felt the same way. As did you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Fourth Time

The fourth time Joel Miller almost kissed you was the same night he became your savior. 

You'd gone out with your girlfriends and had some drinks. You weren't drunk, that was never your style, but it was evident that you'd had a few drinks. But you were with your friends and dancing and having a good time.

You felt safe and everything seemed fine. Joel was even in another part of the bar, out with a few with a few of the guys, unbeknownst to you. 

It wasn't that he was keeping an eye on you but…for his own sanity he was keeping a bit of an eye on you. He just wanted to know you were safe, especially when your guard might have been a little lower than normal.

And he was glad that he had. Because as he watched you dance with your friends he saw the man walk over to you. Joel stayed back for a moment to see if maybe you knew him or something. But when he leaned in and you almost instantly recoiled, a frown on your features, he knew something was wrong.

Joel wasn't about to let that happen. He was on his feet and storming over almost immediately and was grabbing the man's collar to pull him away. Anyone could have sensed what was going on. The relief on your face was palpable as you looked back at Joel. He gave you a nod before dragging the man outside. 

"What the fuck did you think you were doing in there?" His voice was low and dangerous as the man shook with nerves. He knew exactly who Joel was, "answer me!"

"N-nothing-"

"I don't believe you," Joel whispered, "and I don't think you do either. Don't ever do that again. And don't ever let me see you again."

"Sorry! I didn't know she was your girl-"

"It doesn't matter if she is or isn't," oh yeah, he was angry now, "don't ever do that to any woman - anyone - ever again."

"I said I was sorry-" and the next thing you heard was the sound of a loud cracking sound followed by some pathetic whimpering.

"Sorry isn't good enough," Joel pushed the man away and he stumbled backwards, clutching at his face, "don't let me see you again."

He ran away without another word, leaving you staring wordlessly at Joel. You couldn't deny that while your heart was racing with anxious nerves, you were feeling a type of way at how protective he was.

"You shouldn't be out here," he slowly turned around, a worried expression on his face. You could see that his hand seemed to be bothering him, "did he do anything?"

"He didn't get a chance to," you whispered as you stepped closer to him, the tension thick but the anticipation so delicious, "thank you."

"You weren't supposed to see that either," he kept his eyes on yours as if he expected you to say something yes. To yell at him or…anything, "I probably shouldn't have done that."

"You did that for me," it wasn't a question, a simple statement instead. He swallowed thickly before nodding. You were in front of him now and reached for his hand, gingerly examining the bruising that was blossoming across his knuckles, "oh. You're hurt."

"It's nothing-"

"It's not nothing," you brushed your thumb across the back of his hand as you looked at him with soft eyes. You were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it, "let me take care of you. Please?"

His breath hitched and he looked at you in wonder. How did he get so lucky as to win your affections? Something so good and pure shouldn't have to deal with something so broken. But he wasn't broken. Not to you.

Joel took his injured hand and lifted it up, putting on your face as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. Your lips pulled into a small smile as you inched closer, every part of you screaming for him to finally kiss you. 

He leaned in too - he wanted this.

And then you heard the sound of your name being called by your girlfriends as they stumbled out of the bar to make sure you were okay. The two of you pulled apart quickly, looking at each other like children that had been caught being naughty. 

You cleared your throat before pointing over your shoulder, "I, umm…I should go."

"Yes," he agreed softly.

"Put some ice on your hand, okay? I'll come by in the morning to take a look at it."

"You don't have to-"

"It wasn’t a question, Miller," you grinned, "it's a statement. So - see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, sweetheart."

Once again so close, but so far.

-─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Fifth Time

The fifth time Joel Miller almost kissed you, he was positive it would happen. The universe could only keep pulling you apart for so long, right? Eventually it would have to give…or so he hoped.

It was your birthday and what better time to have a little kiss, right? The man had it all planned out. Like he was going to kiss you and put his heart out to you. Yes, it was scary and daunting and in some ways he would have rather dealt with clickers but he was going to do it. You were worth the risk.

So he planned this whole party for you; a big bash filled with lots of food, silly party games, and lots of friends. It was the biggest birthday party you'd ever had and it was never something you'd imagined having again.

But Joel wanted to celebrate you and make sure you knew how loved you were. It had been a complete surprise when Ellie had lured you to their home under the guise of needing help with schoolwork. You'd fallen for it easily but the shocked look on your face as you walked through the door had been worth it. Your eyes always seemed to find Joel and it was like there was no one else, only the two of you.

It took a while for the two of you to make your way to each other, but you finally managed to get a moment alone outside.

"Thank you for all of this," you tried to blink back the tears of emotion that had welled up, "this was so sweet of you."

"It was nothing," he tried to play it off as you just smiled at him. You reached up and brushed a few rogue curls off his forehead. The gesture was enough to make him practically vibrate with energy, "happy birthday, sweetheart."

The two of you looked at each other wordlessly, an unspoken understanding flowing between the two of you. This time, everything else be damned, you were going to kiss him. 

Joel gently cradled your face in his hands and leaned in. You could feel his warm breath fanning across your face, his lips almost touching yours-

"Hey!" Joel audibly groaned as Tommy poked his head out of the house, "let's do cake now!"

Joel audibly groaned, cursing under his breath at his younger brother. He pulled back and you looked at him sheepishly before shrugging. You quickly ducked inside before he could say anything else. You really just wanted to kiss him too.

Joel ran a hand over his tired face. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him something. But either way - universe be damned. He was going to kiss someday.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And Finally

When Joel Miller finally - finally - kissed you, you'd all but given up on anything happening between the two of you. Part of you, the very disappointed part of you, thought that the universe might just want you to be friends.

But then it happened.

It was at a wedding in the spring. At first you'd thought it was odd when people were still having weddings in this day and age. Then you realized why people did it - it was a sense of normalcy, of life going on, and was still something special.

So there you were, celebrating Anna and Nathan's wedding. And you were having fun, despite what you'd initially thought. You'd gone with Joel and Ellie, and it was definitely not a date…despite how much you wanted it to be.

You were on the dance floor with some of your girlfriends when the beautiful bride decided to toss the bouquet. Antiquated tradition? Yes. Still tons of fun? Also yes.

The only surprising thing was when you caught the pretty flowers, easily and effortlessly. You made a small sound of surprise and when you looked up you immediately caught Joel's eye. Because of course you did. Of course.

Joel's expression turned incredulous as a smile tugged up the corner of his mouth. Your face turned so warm that you forced yourself to look away. 

Eventually the excitement died down and you stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. It wasn't long before you heard his telltale footsteps making their way over to you. 

You turned around and smiled softly at him. He looked ridiculously handsome and it only served to make your heart ache, but in a happy way, "hi."

"Hi," he smiled back at you. And then it happened - finally! 

He took your face in his large, soft hands and didn't hesitate to kiss you. It took you a moment to catch up with what was happening but when you did, you kissed him right back, settling your hands on his hips.

Kissing Joel Miller felt so natural and easy; like you'd been doing this for years. You hoped you'd be doing it for many years to come.

Joel only pulled away, reluctantly still, when you both needed a moment to breathe. You looked at each for a moment before sharing a soft giggle. 

"Finally," you beamed at him and he practically melted, "had to wait long enough for that."

"I hope it was worth it," he touched your cheek tenderly.

"Absolutely."

"Good," and then he kissed you again, "because I plan on doing that a lot more."

"I hope that means forever," and yeah. You were kinda, sorta, definitely in love with him.

"Forever is perfect."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #5+1 fic #tlou #tlou hbo