#i swear it's the intense sunlight that's making this so hard

[50shadesofrossi]

Ruining You

Ser Harwin Strong x Female Reader

Summary: You’re Viserys’ eldest daughter, the blood of the dragon running thick. You have a temper, and it seems Harwin is the only one brave enough to tame it despite your mutual loathing

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, swearing and depictions of violence

A/N: Holy shit. This was originally 13k words but in the last thousand the plot went a bit haywire and the writing was bleh so I deleted that and just fixed a few things to make it where it is now. I sincerely apologise if this isn’t what you thought when I originally posted the idea, it did kind of run away on me but at the same time, I lowkey love it. Enjoy, this 12k fic :)

Rage boils deep within your veins, the bubbles extremely close to spilling over. Your father always said you and your sister Rhaenyra share the blood of the dragon, especially the hot temperament, though he underestimated just how ferocious you can get, even as a child. 

You feel every emotion with such a raw intensity that sometimes you don't know what to do, or how to deal with it and it explodes, consuming you whole and turning you into someone entirely different. Your alter ego, as your uncle Daemon calls it. 

Much like now, wildfire blazing within your eyes, steam simmering out of your ears and blood spilling into your mouth from grinding your teeth so hard. It takes every ounce of strength to not erupt, destroy anything in your path and embarrass your father further. 

"Are you even listening to me?!" Viserys yells from the throne, his voice echoing down the great hall for all to hear. 

No, you're not listening to him, too busy trying to direct your anger elsewhere, direct it at someone else. Pain flares up your arms, wrapping around like a snake as your nails dig into your palms. 

Viserys calls your name and almost stumbles back in response to your attention flickering up to him. "Is that all, your grace?" You grit. 

The small group of occupants cease breathing. Viserys sighs exasperatedly, gesturing for your dismissal. Without hesitation you spin on your heel, marching your way out of the hall and toward the fastest exit out of the Keep, away from prying eyes. 

Servants, lords and ladies all evacuate the premises, steering clear of your path of destruction as you make your way toward the back of the gardens, your secret area you call it. Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heeled boots clipping the ground. 

You barely make it in time, rounding the large tree and searching for your hidden blade. The steel glints under the sunlight, ringing as it slashes through the air and makes contact with the already-exposed bark. Bits fly everywhere with each swing, your bottled-up rage slowly leaking out. 

You don't hear the person approach, nor do you feel the eyes watching you intently, silent and observing. To say the knight is used to your outbursts is an understatement. You never fail to remind him of who you're descendant from, the unyielding anger and raw emotions of a Targaryen. 

A dragon. 

"Fuck!" You scream angrily, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and your knees buckling. You hit the earth harshly, staining your dress, not that you care at this moment. 

The sword falls from your grip, landing amongst the dirt. 

"I half expected you to climb atop your dragon and burn King's Landing to the ground," the knight muses from behind you, making himself known and slowly approaching you like a rabid animal. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing him away and hoping to awaken from this horrible nightmare. You hear the debris snap under his weight with each step closer, reigniting your hatred. 

With precision, despite the dress, you come to your feet and whirl around, your hand having grasped your blade in the process. "And you best believe I'd burn you first, you fucking snitch." You seethe, pointing the end toward him. 

"Princess-" he starts, daring to place his foot down and inch himself closer. 

"Unless you want to be choking on your blood Ser Harwin," you address him. "I'd stand down and leave me be." 

Harwin swallows thickly, an inkling of fear rolling down his spine. "It wasn't me," he starts off carefully, deciding to keep his distance. "I never told anyone, certainly not your father or mine. But to be truthful, I'm glad someone else did." 

"Liar," you approach him with purpose, resting the point of the blade on his knitted tunic. "You have the most to gain by staying on his good side, being rewarded with his favour; Commander of the Gold Cloaks." He holds your eye, his fingers twitching. "My uncle is bound to screw up eventually and when that happens, you'll slide right into his position. All you heirs are the same." 

"Princess," he tries again. 

"Breakbones." 

His jaw flexes. You've struck a nerve, a nerve you love to hit. "Don't," he warns. 

"Go guard your honourable princess, and leave me alone. I'm in no tolerable mood." You indicate your younger sister, Rhaenyra. 

Harwin breathes steadily through his nose, ignoring the fact that you're trying to get under his skin, to piss him off like you are. It's almost routine by now, especially when you're this riled up. 

"And so you plan to torture the tree? With that flimsy sword, which by the way, will shatter the moment it meets real steel." 

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling harshly. Harwin makes a split-second decision, one that he's sure will land him as food for your dragon. He knocks your sword away, the unexpected force causing you to stumble back and blink up at him. 

"Never take your eyes off your opponent." 

Confusion begins to overlap your previous state, your fingers twisting for a better grip on the handle of your sword that now is by your side. "What are you-" 

"Who taught you to wield a sword?" You don't answer. Harwin speaks your name, a different kind of fire burning within you. "Who taught you?" He presses, his tone firm, as though he talks to a child. 

"Ser Criston Cole." 

"Ser Criston Cole," he drawls, almost in disbelief. "Of fucking course." He mumbles to himself. His own kind of anger sparks, his skin crawling at the thought of the two of you alone. "And let me guess, you begged and pleaded with him to teach you how to defend yourself because you know that going outside the Red Keep is a stupid fucking idea." 

He should slap himself for speaking so indirectly, informally to you, his princess. Yet, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. 

During your nights, you spend them down in Flea Bottom, or anywhere that's not the Red Keep, spreading your wings and soaring. You hate being holed up, being monitored and being expected to carry out duties you never asked for, never wanted. Even as a child, you wished you of been born to a low-born family, even a lady and lord would be better than King Viserys' firstborn. 

When your mother and brother passed, Viserys was prepared to bake you his heir, but you declined. You could think of nothing worse, having seen the stress and duty your father must endure on a day-to-day basis. You know Rhaenyra will be a better Queen. 

Not to mention, you wish to marry for love. As childish and dreamer-like for you to want, you gave up fighting years ago. 

On most of your escapades, Harwin finds you, and ultimately drags you back to the safety of the Keep. He's the only knight that you know of, that's caught you, leading you to believe he is responsible for reporting it to your father. Hence why you were abruptly dragged from your chambers this morning. 

"And you think you can do better? Ser Criston at least understands that I'll do as I please, not try and reprimand me at every given chance." You lower your voice. "And watch yourself, Ser Harwin, I'm still your princess, no matter how much you hate it." 

Regret flashes in his eyes before it's gone. "Then let's see what you've learnt." 

Harwin draws his sword, knowing damn well he could be executed for doing so. But at this moment, you're both too wound up to differentiate between what's right and wrong. A habit, of the both of you. 

You flinch at the large sword, deep down knowing Harwin would never jeopardise you, never put you in harm's way or risk hurting you. You lift your chin, swallowing the lump in your throat and raising your sword. 

He watches in amusement, allowing you a heartbeat before he attacks, bringing his sword down. You block with ease, unprepared for how light it is. He's pulling all his strength back. You push the sword away, moving around and keeping your footwork light, smirking. 

"Is something funny?" Harwin raises an unimpressed brow, his eyes never leaving you. 

You bite back a smile at his clear agitation. "No." 

He grunts, striking again. Your reflexes move before you think, blocking and attempting to counterattack yourself, refusing to show your frustration. He's still clearly overpowering you and much more experienced. 

You silently pray for those that meet the end of Harwin's fury. 

"Tell me, Princess" he starts, a loud ringing vibrating into the area as your swords clash. "Has Ser Criston taught you hand-to-hand combat, or how to escape someone's grip?" 

The question takes you off guard, your head tilting as you try to remember. Harwin uses the moment to smack your sword out of your hand, his own dropping for your safety and his arms wrapping around you. 

You cease breathing, the constricted in your throat and your heart skipping a beat. An arm gently presses against your throat, Harwin having put you in a controlled headlock, your back flush with his front. 

Your lips part, your fingers instinctively digging into his arm. Heat crawls up your neck, blood pounding in your ear. You know this is a training exercise, but you can't help in feeling so safe in his arms. Your muscles automatically relax, your adrenaline calms and your breath slowly comes back to you with each second. 

You should hate the situation you're in. Granted, if it was any other person you'd be kicking up a shit storm and preparing to have them fed to your dragon but it's not just anyone. It's Harwin, and that makes you hate him more. 

Hate him for having this effect on you, for consuming your thoughts and imprinting himself amongst your dreams. Though you know he's not to blame, it's yourself. 

For falling so profoundly, and irrevocably in love with him. 

"No doubt, you could handle yourself in an armed fight but what if they get the upper hand, like I did just now, and you're left with close combat, or even worse, they grab you like this," Harwin says to you, his voice thickening with an emotion you can't quite place. "How do you get out?" 

You shake with nerves, at the thought of your escape plan. It's stupid, and it might not work and fuck everything up. Though it could work, and once again, fuck it all up. You push the insecurities down, knowing that he's trying to teach you a life lesson, even if you don't want to hear it. 

You twist your head, his grip not being tight in any way, and find his lips with ease, capturing them. Harwin falters, his arms opening and allowing you the opportunity to slip through and distance yourself from him. 

"That's how." You lick your lips, drawing the taste of him into your mouth. 

Harwin studies you with a deep look of something, mixed with unhinged anger and fear. He doesn't say anything, even as he quickly reaches for his sword, sheathing it against his hip and holding your eye for a moment longer. 

"One day," he croaks. "You're going to wake up and find yourself all alone." And with that, he turns his back on you. 

You watch him leave, shakily bringing the pads of your fingers to your lips, brushing them tenderly. You feel humiliated, shameful and disgusted. You also feel lighter, having finally answered your own question; his lips are soft and the taste of his breakfast still lingers. 

"I already am." You whisper to yourself, biting your finger to keep the tears at bay, the anger subsided.

The sun begins its descent from the highest point in the sky before you arrive back at your quarters, dismissing your maids in exchange for silence. You sit atop a lounge on the windowsill, breathing the fresher air from the high distance, ignoring the crestfallen ache in your heart. 

You knew something like this would happen, that Harwin would reject you and push you away. It's part of the reason why you hate him because you know you can't have him. Your father would never allow it, as his firstborn. He'd see to it that you marry a beneficial house, to further strengthen your sister's claim to the throne since you turned away from it. 

It doesn't make it any easier, or any less hard. You've spent almost every day in each other's presence, in either passing or company. You've known him since he was a boy. Uncoordinated and lanky, until he grew and filled out into the man he is today. 

"I don't know what you've done, but I'd steer clear from father," Rhaenyra bursts inside, speaking before seeing you. She calls for you when you don't respond, hoping she'll leave. 

She doesn't. 

Rhaenyra perches herself beside you, brushing a strand of your curly hair behind your ear. "What's happened?" 

"Ser Harwin told father of my nightly adventures." 

Rhaenyra frowns, gazing out the window. "It wasn't him, it was Ser Criston," you gape at her, shifting to lean your back against the wall, mirroring your sister. "He said as much when Ser Harwin confronted him about teaching you how to wield a sword, and the two go into it." 

"Shit," you murmur, leaning your head back. 

"I assume he came from seeing you, with how riled up he was. Never seen him so angry." 

She looks at you expectantly. "I kissed him." Her eyes widen. "To prove a point! He asked me how I'd escape from a headlock, and I kissed him, to distract him. It worked because he let go of me." 

"Makes sense," Rhaenyra nods, referring to his destructive path. "What was it like?" 

You glance at her, a small smile ghosting your lips. "It was only brief, but they are smooth, the complete opposite of him." 

You both giggle, dismissing the fact that you dishonoured not only yourself but Harwin. For a few minutes, you sit in silence, relishing in the company of your sister. These moments are rare, as of late, with her newfound responsibilities. 

"Are you going to listen to father?" 

You stare at her, the answer shining in your lilac eyes. "What do you think." 

-

Harwin surrounds himself with his fellow gold cloaks, in an attempt to enjoy his night off. They laugh and joke, spilling their alcohol and losing their hands on woman's bodies. 

He finishes his drink rather frustratedly, slamming it on the counter accidentally. He can't get the stupid fucking kiss out of his head, replaying the scene over and over. 

The way your body moulded to his own, your smaller frame engulfed and your erratic heart pounding against his arm. How he divulged himself and allowed his nose to brush your hair, inhaling your scent and losing his control. 

And fuck, when you leant up and kissed him, he couldn't help but respond. His restraint snapped at that moment, and if it weren't for you slipping out and distancing yourself-he doesn't want to imagine what he would have done.

From your first meeting, he knew he'd grow up to love you, your hot-headed temperament and stubborn wilfulness. Before he arrived in Kings Landing, his father had drilled into him how to act, how the royal family would act, yet there you stood, unaware of his presence as you yelled profanities into the sky. Not to mention, when you caught him gawking, asked him, the fuck are you looking at?

Your first words ever spoken to him. 

He sighs dramatically, rubbing his face and deciding to leave, knowing that drinking his problems away won't solve anything. The cool air nips at him through his woollen clothes, his dark cape swaying behind him as he makes his way back to the Keep. 

Approaching the gates, he hears a rustle, pausing to make sure his senses aren't clouded. "Fucking shit," Harwin immediately reaches for his sword, keeping his hand on the hilt whilst cautiously making his way closer to the whispered profanities. 

He watches you, straightening your clothes and checking to make sure the coast is clear before you walk off toward the city. He raises a brow at the choice of clothes; black pants and a shirt, with a jacket that is a size too big and a cloak to hide your white hair. Though nothing can cover the deep lilac of your eyes. 

He makes the hasty decision to follow you, keeping his distance yet being close enough to protect you should anything happen. Harwin smiles to himself, knowing this is the perfect opportunity to teach you a lesson. 

If it's so easy for him to sneak up behind you, imagine someone else, with impure intentions. 

He follows you for some time, a small part of him enjoying the look of awe and joy at the sights. Each night you leave, you try to explore new parts of the city, learning about your folk. Harwin must admit, not many royals would do so, preferring to stick to the comforts of the Keep.

The moon is high in the sky, shining down and revealing clear paths as you steer left and right, nowhere in particular yet taking note of each turn. You may be reckless, but you're not stupid. 

Harwin chooses this moment to make his move, observing the way you slip steadily down the passageway and pause at the sound of water lapping against the walls. He creeps out, covering your mouth and pulling you to him, stepping out of the light and into the darkness. 

You scream against his gloved hand, thrashing wildly and reaching for your concealed knife when, "and just like that princess, I've killed you. Or worse, knocked you out and used you for my pleasantries. How many times must I tell you until you get it through your thick skull that this isn't safe." 

You stop, your heart thundering and your adrenaline pumping. You close your eyes, subconsciously leaning further into Harwin. He hesitantly removes his hand, waiting for the explosion. 

"I could have killed you," you murmur, the weight of the blade heavy in your hand. You were prepared to stab him in the kidney. The thought of harming him destroys you. "I could have killed you, all because of your stupidity!" You whirl around, still touching him. 

"My stupidity?" He repeats. 

"Yes!" You fire, glaring up at him. "All to teach me a lesson, when I'm not stupid! Have you ever thought that maybe I just don't give a fuck? I know it's not safe, why do you think I sneak around and blend in." You pause, avoiding his gaze and staring at the Strong house crest on his chest. "This is the only time I feel normal, where my existence is insignificant." 

"Princess, no one asks to be born into their roles, to be born rich or poor," he starts, remembering all the times you spoke of wishing to be someone other than a princess, other than Viserys' firstborn. "But it's our duty to push through, to become what we're meant to be; Lord of Harrenhal, and Princess, of the seven kingdoms." 

Your emotions are high and twisted, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. "I didn't want to be a Queen, I sure as hell don't want to be a princess. I just want to be someone's wife, someone's mother. Someone's greatest love. Is that so hard?" 

You can't control the words, the heartfelt words that shatter Harwin. Suddenly, he understands you. He knows you. He says your name, softly, bringing his hand to your chin and tilting it up. Forcing you to look at him. 

Harwin wipes at your cheek with his thumb, tenderly caressing the flesh and relishing in the feel of you in his hand. So small and frail. So exposed. He opens his mouth to say more when the sound of metal armour clanging together draws his attention elsewhere. 

"Shit." He curses. 

He has nowhere to move to. The path spans over a hundred metres, with a wall on one side and the water's edge on the other. He couldn't even go to a corner. Solutions run through his mind, the sound of guards nearing causing him to do the first thing that pops up. 

"Sorry, Princess." He mumbles, pushing you against the concrete wall and covering the majority of your body with his, with no space left between you. Your brows furrow in confusion, question flashing in your eyes. 

Harwin does what he's always wanted to do: press his lips to yours. 

You squeak, given no time to prepare, your eyes wide in surprise. Only twelve hours ago, he was looking at you with utter hatred and disgust for you doing the same thing. The blade clatters against the ground.

The gold cloaks walk past without an issue, chuckling at the two of you but paying no mind. Harwin keeps his lips firmly against you, hating having to put you in this situation. 

When they become a dot in the distance, does he pull away, searching your eyes. "You kissed me back," you refer to earlier. That was your first kiss, this you never realised Harwin had responded. Your eyes harden, your lips pursing as you inhale as much air as possible before being your hand up and slapping him. His head snaps to the side at the sheer force, shock yet understandable written on his face. 

He doesn't respond, the words unable to form in his mouth. He swallows thickly, his jaw taut. He deserved that. He dares look at you again, his chest rising rapidly and the air crackling. 

You push off the wall, shaking your head in disbelief and attempting to round him. Your shoulder clashes with his when he turns to grab your upper arm, halting you. You glare up at him, opening your mouth to hurtle harsh words at him. Harwin moves first, pulling you back to him and claiming your lips. 

You're not even given a chance to respond before he pulls back, his face still close and his breath fanning your cheeks. He looks at you with hunger, lust and want. Realisation dawns on you; he's just as conflicted as you are. 

Your heart tugs you forward, your hands gripping his tunic and meeting him halfway. Harwin's hands cup the sides of your head. 

He devours you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease and his hands sliding to the base of your neck and head, titling you up to give more access. You whimper, grappling with his tunic as if he could suddenly move away from you.

He doesn't, shifting to have your back against the wall again, his apparent hard-on pressing into you. Your lungs ache with release, the lack of oxygen making you lightheaded yet desperate for more. 

Slowly and reluctantly, you part, his forehead resting on yours. Your lips are evidently swollen, the taste of him still lingering as he peppers you softly, not quite wanting to stop. 

"Harwin," you whisper, gliding your hands up to his cheeks, running the pads of your fingers over his beard and around his features. 

"I know." 

He could be executed for this, you could be disowned. But gods, does it feel right. Right to be in his hold, to be desired and kissed. You never want to stop. 

"Fuck I know." He repeats, lower. 

You nuzzle each other, refusing to leave the comfort of one another's warmth and touch, despite that nagging thought tugging in the back of your mind. Harwin murmurs that he needs to return you to the Keep, reluctantly standing straighter and removing himself from you.

You follow him in silence, sticking close and for once, not giving him grief. A step up from your usual nights out. 

You soon arrive, pausing before you part and he enters through the main gates whilst you scamper up your hidden passageway. "I know it wasn't you, who told my father." You start. "It was wrong of me to accuse you, and I hope one day you can forgive my insolence, and accept my apology." 

"Of course, Princess. It is known for spoilt children to lash out when they don't receive what they want," he begins to walk back with a teasing smirk. 

You narrow your eyes, watching him for a heartbeat longer and then turning to disappear yourself. The journey back to your quarters is always short, your footsteps light as you work to not attract attention to yourself. 

Heaving the door open, you stop dead in your tracks at the sight of your father standing in your room. "Father-"

"Where have you been?" He says in a low, deadly voice. 

"Taking a walk," 

"Don't lie to me!" Viserys yells. 

The room falls silent. You stare at one another, refusing to break contact. "What will it take for you to listen to me?" 

You think over your choice of words. Is it wise to mention that you wish to marry for love? That you wish he'd allow for you to leave this godforsaken city and be elsewhere, anywhere. Be with Harwin. 

"I wish-" you choke, refusing to look at him as you lay yourself bare. "I wish to marry of my own free will." 

Silence. More silence, his fury-ignited eyes never leaving you, even as you brave the idea to glance up. "No." 

"What-"

"You refused me in naming you heir, you will not refuse me in arranging a marriage for you. That, I can not accept." You gape at him, horror and sickness twisting deep within you. "Take this as your punishment for disobeying me." 

"You can't do this!" You yell at his retreated figure, anger surfacing and exploding. 

"Yes, I can." Viserys ends the argument, storming out of your quarters and forcibly shutting your door. You release a blood-curdling scream, frustration and betrayal gnawing at you. 

You grab the closest object, a cup, and hurtle it across the room. It clangs every time it meets the ground, the metal ringing dying down when it rolls to a stop. Your chest heaves, your jaw clenching and unclenching as you grasp for some control, to leash your emotions. 

You can't. 

You want to hurt your father, hurt him like he's hurt you. There's only one way you know how, leaving you to quickly exit your room through the hidden passageway, navigating down unfamiliar tunnels. 

When you were younger, you explored them all, yet there is only a small handful you use, mainly for your adventures outside the Keep. 

You basically float over the ground, your steps carefully placed despite your fast pace, eager to arrive at your destination. You reach the door, knocking quickly but firmly, making sure you don't arouse the Hand of the King, or his younger son. 

"Princess?" Harwin questions, glancing beyond you. "Is everything alright?" 

You say nothing, surging forward and claiming his lips. Harwin can only raise his brows in surprise, at both your forwardness and boldness, your hands resting on his chest to walk him backward, closing the door swiftly behind you. 

"What was that for?" He presses, distancing himself from you. He doesn't want to think of the penalty if you were found at this very moment. "Hmm?" 

You nibble your lip, holding his gaze even though you'd rather burn for the next words that come out. "I need you." 

The room falls silent, only the crackle of the fire is enough from keeping it dark and noiseless. Harwin studies you, not quite believing you. "You need me?" He approaches, agonisingly slow. "I find that very interesting, since only an hour or so ago, you were quite content." 

He stands before you, his fingers coming under your chin and leaning your head up. He observes you, enjoying watching you squirm. "The truth, now." He knows you're lying, or at the very least, not entirely honest. 

"I am telling the truth-" Harwin changes his grip, pulling you close to him by your chin. You almost collapse. He murmurs your name, the sound rolling down your back on waves. His eyes glint with a challenge, daring you to protest. Your neck heats up. "I could find little sleep, and my," you stop, wishing for the floor to open and swallow you hole. Harwin raises a brow. 

"My fingers were insufficient."

You don't realise, that the previous fire of wrath has simmered down, laying dormant. A different burn ravages your body. 

A wicked smile pulls at the corner of Harwin's mouth, his demeanour shifting. "Was that so hard?" His voice holding a certain husk, that you've never heard. 

His thumb brushes your smooth skin, braving the course of your lips. You release a small breath you didn't realise you were holding and your mouth parts. Harwin drags your bottom lip down, enjoying your compliance. 

"You need me to soothe that ache, Princess?" He tortures you, his mouth ghosting you yet inching up every time you try to close the gap. 

"Please," you're not sure what you're begging for, the words just tumbling out. You close your eyes in frustration, his breath fanning you. 

He finally relents, coming down on your mouth heavily. You barely have a moment to properly respond, his fingers tightening on your chin and his free hand coming to the base of your neck, keeping you steady as he takes your breath. 

"This is all you needed," he pulls a hairsbreadth away, his nose pressing onto the side of yours. "Someone to dominate you, leave you powerless." He realises, looking over your wanton state. 

Your hands fist his shirt, desperation clear on your face. He smiles softly, abruptly pulling back and creating a well-spaced distance from you. You feel as if a cold bucket of water has been poured over you, watching as he takes a seat by the fire. 

"Go to bed, Princess." 

You gape at him, fury bubbling to the surface. "Harwin," you start, taking a tentative step forward. 

"What you are asking for, is treason. The fucking death penalty." 

You flare up. "So is kissing me! What is going a little further?" 

"We are talking about your virtue." He raises his voice, momentarily forgetting about his whereabouts. Gods above, should someone come knocking. "That would be despicable of me, to take something that belongs to your husband." 

You frown, coming to stand before him, the sudden rush of heat inflicting goosebumps. "It should be mine to give away, not his to take." 

He looks up at you, his curls dishevelled and unruly. He wears a worn shirt, the casual appearance causing your stomach to twist. What you would give, to share days where you are laid bare with each other, to see the other side of Harwin, the improper side of him. 

"I trust you, Harwin," you begin, standing between his legs. "I want it to be you. No one else but you, who sees me, and touches me." You hoist a leg over his lap, moving to straddle his lap, your knees digging into the edge of the cushion. 

Instinctively, Harwin's hands come to your waist, keeping you situated. He battles with his morals, his body and heart reacting completely opposite to his mind. If you were a low-born, he'd have fucked you back in the passageway, without a care of onlookers. 

But your status halts him. 

You say his name again, caressing his jaw, your nails scraping through his beard. He doesn't break contact, his palms wandering along your side, moving with a mind of their own. It's plain to see, how much he wants you, how much you want each other. 

Painstakingly obvious. 

You swallow nervously, inching down to press a gentle kiss on the underside of his jaw, allowing time for him to push you off should he really not want to continue. You wouldn't ask that of him. His fingers flex into your flesh, his head angling up slightly. 

A ghost of a smirk plants itself over your lips, a sudden arrogance blooming at his reaction, at his heavier breath intake. You travel to his neck, feeling the urge to nibble lightly, Harwin rolling your hips into him reflexively. 

You gasp into his skin at the sudden pleasure, the seam of your pants pulling tightly over your clit. Harwin groans lowly, both at your mouth finding his sweet spot and your hips rutting into him. A sinister thought crosses his mind. 

Effortlessly he hoists you up, placing you over his thigh. You sit back in confusion, your initial reaction being that he wants to stop, until he speaks. "You say you use your fingers," your slightly wide eyes are enough of a confirmation. "Then use me. Get yourself off using me." 

Your lips part, your eyes searching his. He smiles reassuringly, dragging your hips over his thigh. "Take your pleasure, Princess." 

Your head drops into the crevice of his shoulder, an airy moan escaping you at the new sensation. Naturally, you begin to move on your own, a hand snaking up the other side of his head to thread through his curls, using him as leverage. 

Harwin jolts his leg up, the action bringing a new wave of pleasure through you. You whimper into his shoulder, your mind reminding you how improper this is, how a woman takes no pleasure from laying with a man yet your body ignores every lesson you've ever been taught. 

A low pressure builds, your thighs starting to shake and your movements quickening. Harwin makes the split decision to help, driving your hips down and over, the new motion brings you to your release. 

You pant against him, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to move you gently, drawing your orgasm out. Slowly he comes to a stop, allowing you a moment to really comprehend what's happening before he shifts in a way that he can plant a kiss on your head.

"Was that good?" 

You nod, a familiar heat rising in your cheeks. Gods that felt fucking magical, and he barely did anything. You can only imagine how his cock will feel. 

He chuckles lightly, coaxing you to sit back and reveal your pretty face. He drags the backs of his fingers down your cheek, memorising each fine detail. Deep down, a small part of him fears this will be the last he'll ever see of it. 

In one movement, Harwin stands and gingerly lowers you onto the fur rug in front of the fire, the flames dancing dangerously close. He knows how much you love the heat. 

You gaze up at him, allowing him the opportunity to worship you. His large hands slip under your shirt, dragging the material as he roams every inch of your side. You arch your back and raise your arms, allowing easier access to glide the shirt off. 

Goosebumps erupt under his hardened callouses, his fingers interlocking with yours once he moves up your arms and allows the shirt to bunch above your head. "Keep them here," he murmurs, capturing your lips. 

You figure he means your hands, nodding against his mouth. His tongue invades your mouth, his breath becoming your own and his fingers flexing at the sheer taste of you. You have no idea how much power you wield over him. 

His hands begin their descent, grazing your flesh and finding solace on your breasts, his mouth following suit. You grab onto the edge of the fur rug, gripping it firmly. 

His tongue flicks your erect nipple, his teeth meeting the tender flesh. He nips and sucks around the area, a hand paying attention to your other breast, careful to administer equally. You gasp and writhe under him, unaware that he could bring you any pleasure from this. 

Eventually, he moves on, stopping at your waistline. He flickers up to you, a silent ask of permission in his eyes. You give an airy yes, anticipation gnawing at you. Harwin pulls your pants and undergarment in one motion, the cool air causing you to jump. 

He laughs softly, grinning at your nakedness, at the way your skin glows under the firelight. Right now, you're all his, his to take, to touch and love. His mind captures this moment, storing it away for a time when he plans on replaying it over and over. 

"How do you feel, Princess, knowing you're about to be my dessert." 

Your eyes brows raise at the comment, unsure of his hidden innuendo. A dark part of Harwin relishes in the fact that it's him, that gets to taint you. That he's the one to open the gates to a whole new world of pleasure. He plans on ruining you for any other man. 

"What are you doing?" You ask more in curiousness than fear. Of all your lessons, the Septas never mentioned a man putting his head between your legs. 

"I'm dining on my Princess, is that alright with you?" A dark glint shines in his eyes from between your thighs, his beard grazing your soft flesh. You whimper, biting your lip and giving him the go-ahead. 

You suck in a deep breath at the first contact of his tongue, your body seizing. Fuck. You throw your head back in a silent moan, Harwin's mouth ravaging you. His tongue explores your folds and clit, emitting all pitches of sounds from you. 

Suddenly his hands snake around your thighs and grip you thoroughly, spreading them further around his head and giving him easier access. You squeal at the feeling of his tongue entering you, pumping in and out. 

"Harwin," your knuckles have since turned white. 

This is a high you never thought you could experience, the intensity hitting you like a wave. The combination of his tongue, his lips and his beard is enough to drive you over. Of course, Harwin intends for you to be fully prepared, momentarily coming up to gauge your reaction as he pushes a finger into you. 

You release a deep groan at the intrusion, the pleasure brewing. He takes his time, moving in and out of you, slowly adding a second finger at the same time his thumb rubs your clit. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to do anything but writhe under his hand. Gods you wish you could put your arms down and grab him, show him how good he's making you feel. Harwin spreads his fingers carefully, intently studying your reaction. He wants you prepped as best as possible, wanting your first-time pain-free. 

With all these motions and pleasantries you fall over the edge, calling out his name. Harwin continues his movements for a second longer before removing his hand, allowing you to come down from your high. 

He skims over you, capturing your lips and emptying your lungs. You instantly wrap your arms around him, eager to keep him close. He grinds himself into you, allowing you a moment to feel how hard he is. 

You lick your lips whilst you watch him undress, tossing his clothes somewhere before diving straight back down to you. You barely get a chance to admire his hard-earned body, instead running your fingers deep into his back muscles. 

"Give me your hand," he guides it down, wrapping it firmly around his cock. You suppress a giggle at his involuntarily deep groan. "This is what you do to me," he says your name. "This, and so much more. You have no idea the kind of control that's in your favour." 

You can't help but smirk. You leave your hand wrapped around him, a little unsure of what to do. "You take the lead, whenever you're ready." Oh. He means for you to put him in. 

You glance down, hesitantly gliding to the tip, drawing it closer. "Can you help?" You have no fucking idea what you're doing. 

His hand envelops your own, guiding it to you and nudging your opening. You suck in a deep breath, flickering up to his own deep blue eyes. He leaves you to your own devices, gritting his teeth at every inch. 

The feeling is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For the time being, it's uncomfortable and unnatural, your body's initial reaction to close your legs and get him out of you. But you don't, removing your hand and granting Harwin the opportunity to ease in. 

"Harwin." You grunt, clawing at his shoulders. 

"You're doing so well, taking me so well." He praises, finally stopping once he's filled you. As time passes, your body begins to relax, climatizing to having his cock stretch you open. 

"Move, please move." You strain, wanting this first part to be over with. 

He does, slowly rocking out and in, the slight pain shifting to pleasure, your deep breaths becoming short. You have no idea what to do besides lay here, wrapped around Harwin as he thrusts into you, restraining himself from fucking you into the rug. 

That will be for later. 

For now, he intends on showing you a softer, gentler side of him, one where he tenderly brings you to release.

He fists the fur beside your head, his other hand on your hip as he steadily moves within you, your back arching slightly when he reaches parts of you, you never thought he'd reach. 

You bring a hand to his face, brushing a part of his curls back and revealing his prominent features, trying desperately to hold contact. 

He uses the hold on your hip as leverage, lifting your hips ever so little when he ruts into you, eliciting all frequencies of sounds from you. Your walls begin to clench around him, alerting him of your impending orgasm. 

Slipping his hand over, Harwin teases your clit, eager to really please you. With this being your first time, your climax quite quickly, Harwin's name falling from your lips. 

You gasp at his sudden eviction, a small part of you wondering if that was it. Harwin soon answers, scooping you up off the ground and planting you beside the fire, your front pressing against the wall. Thankfully the fire leaves it warm. 

"Harwin, what are you-oh fuck!" You cry out at his sudden intrusion, entering from behind. 

Harwin leaves no space between you, your legs spread to give him better access and a hand weaving through your hair and pulling your head to the side. "You wanted this, Princess, and you'll take it." He grunts into your ear, his thrusts hitting sharply. "But don't worry, you'll find yourself soon enjoying it." 

You almost flutter around him, the words sinking in and leaving you in a hot and bothered state. His guttural voice mixed with those cold, demeaning words. 

In a way, he's not wrong, the new position causing all sorts of pleasures to tremble through your body; your nipples grazing the stone, his cock hammering into you and his dominant hands manoeuvring you like a whore. 

You snake an arm around, cupping the back of his head, keeping him close. With your cheek melted into the stone wall, his breath moulds with your own, your lips dangerously near, yet not touching. You close your eyes, enjoying the brutal fucking and not to mention, Harwin's own grunting and groaning. 

It brings you joy to know that he finds great pleasure in you. 

"You have no idea what you've just done, allowing me the honour to be the first to have my way with you. It wasn't a smart move Princess because I intend to ruin you," it's as though his own words spur him on, harshly rutting into you and carving you into the wall. You can do nothing but take it, and endure his treatment. 

You wouldn't have it any other way.

"I intend on breaking you in to my cock, destroying all hope for you to ever enjoy someone else." He lowers his voice almost menacingly. "No one will ever fuck you like I am." 

You attempt a nod, knowing he's correct. As fucked up as it seems, you know that only Harwin can bring you to these highs. He's the only one you'll ever allow to treat you this way. Like an object, a vacant hole. 

You know your close, your legs beginning to shake and your breath quickening. "Harwin, please," you whimper, once again not entirely sure what you're pleading for. 

Whatever it is, you know he can grant it. 

Somehow he hits a deeper angle, leaving you to cry out clenching around him. He falters for a second, close to spilling over himself. He so desperately wants to, but he's holding out. With the new tempo, you crumble, spilling around Harwin as he continues to thrust into you. 

You whine against him, the overwhelming pleasure causing tears to prick in the corners of your eyes. He doesn't stop, only slowing as he whirls you around, picking you up by your thighs and clamping them to his waist. 

"Gods," you moan airily, his cock ramming against your sensitive walls. 

"The seven won't help you here." He muses, observing your expressions. 

Amazingly enough, Harwin increases his tempo, similar to before. You choke, pawing at his chest. "Harwin I can't," 

"Yes you can, hey," he cups your jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. "One more, be a good girl and give me one more, you can do it." 

You bite your lip at the pain beginning to throb, your body exhausted and to be honest, your pussy used. His dark eyes watch you, a hand coming down to press against your clit, helping in relieve that pressure building once again. 

He groans your name, his other hand moving to brace against the skirting around the fireplace. With his strength and subconscious force, he breaks the corner of it. You barely react to the stone crumbling at his feet, more focused on climaxing for a third and final time. 

He swallows your scream, the rush of you around him enough to bring him over, spilling his seed deep. You lean your head back, your chest heaving and no doubt your back scratched. You feel content, Harwin slumping into your shoulder, nuzzling your flesh. 

"I never imagined it would feel like that," you say more to yourself, your fingers threading through his sweaty curls. 

Harwin lifts his head. "It's never like that, Princess." 

-

The wild winds blast through your hair, your dragon's head blocking the majority from hitting you smack bang on your chest. At this height, the force is unimaginable. 

You slowly begin your descent, dreading the moment you land and go back to reality, your cruel reality. In these last few months, you were made to follow your sister during her tour, allowing the lords to put themselves forward for your hand, alongside Rhaenyra. 

You scowled the entire time. A cold, blank sheet was over your face, your eyes narrowed and dark. You could burn your father for the agony he's put you through, refusing your one ask of him. He's strained his relationship with you. 

As more and more days pass, you ponder the thought of running away, denouncing your blood and flying off into the distance, far from this heartache. 

You know it's foolish, that you must uphold your duty, but fuck duty. 

Your dragon lands smoothly, his large frame dwarfing you once you climb down, your hand brushing against his scales and his head. He growls softly, leaning into your palm and hoping to draw this time out. He's missed you, much like the dark-haired knight that only just received word of your arrival. 

You and your sister returned in the night, and since dawn you've been up in the skies, forgetting the situation at hand for a while longer. 

You gesture for the dragon keepers to guide your dragon back into his nest, turning swiftly and making your way up to the Keep. Eyes watch you, studying you with every step. Since your last conversation with your father, you've turned into a cold little bitch. 

It's the only way you know to protect yourself. 

Your steel gaze burns through anyone who makes contact, challenging them to speak their mind. You know of the rumours that spread, how you've turned down every suitor, how your attitude has changed and you are no longer the nice Princess. 

You don't notice the deep blue eyes following your every move through the courtyard, studying your behaviour. A part of you wonders how your first interaction would be, having not spoken a word to him since that night.

After he helped you dress, you snuck back into your room riddled with guilt. Suppose you came to your senses, realising exactly what you'd just done. But somewhere, you didn't care, you still don't. The next day you prepared yourself to send him away, should he come looking, but he never did. 

And then you left, following your sister around Westeros. 

"Have you seen him?" Rhaenyra sidles up to you, accompanying you to your quarters where you must prepare for the large feast. Your father has organised a large gathering where he can personally meet both of your suitors. 

"No." You answer plainly. 

You confessed the incident to Rhaenyra, trusting her to keep it to herself. She has and is more excited for the two of you to speak than you are. 

"We should have you dressed your best tonight, show him what he's had a taste of, and what he's no doubt missing." 

You roll your eyes, looping an arm through hers. She's been your rock through the whole ideal with your father, understanding both sides, yet gravitating towards yours. 

Rhaenyra takes the opportunity to order your ladies as she sees fit, demanding your hair be styled up to accentuate your chest and collarbone, as the dress she picks is an off-the-shoulder. The black and red material falls to the floor, the sleeves being a cape, tying to the bodice only at the shoulder and leaving your arms to be either hidden or shown. 

The dress plunges down your breasts, opting for a revealing look, courtesy of Rhaenyra. She finishes it off with a dragon-like necklace, alluding to the animal protecting your neck. Throughout the design, scales to represent your house has been embroidered, making it one of a kind. 

Your sister's dress is similar, in the revealing sense. The both of you are definitely pushing your father's buttons, and you have no care. 

The hours past by swiftly, and soon it's time to present yourselves. You walk side by side to the great hall, an anxious tug pulling within your stomach. You can't help but wonder how the evening will play out, and just what will happen with Harwin. 

The great doors swing open, Rhaenyra being introduced first as she's the heir, and you second. Your heart rate quickens with each step, hundreds of eyes staring. You debate whether to search for his, your pace faltering as you connect. 

Gods be fucking damned, he looks divine. 

Your mouth dries at his black attire, at his curls being pulled back and revealing his defined features. It seems he's had a similar thought, dressing his best. 

So many words portray through your eyes, so many thoughts and emotions. His jaw flexes as you draw near, his seat being close to the high table. The rest of the room fades, his gaze agonisingly slowly moving down your body, images of your naked figure coming to mind. 

He pauses at your breasts, subconsciously moistening his lips before he flickers up to your face. He inhales sharply. These past months have done you justice, or you've simply become a woman since he had his share of you. 

Your exchange doesn't go unnoticed, by both of your fathers. 

Rounding the high table, you opt to take your seat, unlike Rhaenyra who greets Viserys before joining you. Neither of you bothered for Alicent, who flares daggers at you in particular. She normally leaves you alone, yet since the altercation with your father, she guns for the both of you. 

You keep silent through the speech, given by your father, focusing on the detail of the cloth before you. A burning sensation spreads through you, almost like a sixth sense, sensing a pair of eyes boring into your skull. 

You clench your jaw, preparing to scare them off when you pause. It's Harwin, unable to keep his eyes off you. Your skin heats up, your thighs pressing together. Fuck, the effect he has on you. 

Viserys takes his seat, the people either beginning to eat or taking to the dance floor, music filling the air. You decide to eat, keeping your attention locked on your plate, desperate to finish it before you go looking for Harwin. You want answers, and one way or another you'll get them. 

At some stage a young lordling braves the high table, asking for your hand. You pause your chewing, your eyes venomous. "As you can see, my lord, I have yet to finish my meal," you gesture to the full plate. 

The boy's cheeks redden, and quickly he excuses himself.  You scoff, resuming your meal with your eyes scouring the hall. You watch the people dance, eventually ditching your plate and leaning back in your chair, your eyes narrowing at Harwin's empty place beside his brother.

You find him amongst the crowd, his attention on a young maiden. Or so you thought, until his gaze flickers up to you, before averting again.

He wants to play that game.

Rising, you round the high table and descend the small flight of stairs, accepting the first person to offer a dance and joining everyone else. At first, you attempt to pay attention to your partner, your bodies moving in partial sync across the floor.

It's not until you spin outward, that you notice Harwin, now with a different girl.

With each movement, you glance over at him, a shadow of annoyance covering you as you realise he refuses to acknowledge you.

You inhale deeply, deciding to ignore your heart's biggest ache and try to enjoy your time without him. You switch partners, losing sight of Harwin as the night progresses. You've lost sense of yourself, spinning and moving to the flow of the music, changing partners every so often that you have no idea who each one is. Your cheeks are warm, your eyes alight. You haven't had this much fun in a while, the suitors flocking to you for a chance to dance. 

Your current partner twirls you around, his grip firm and unwavering. For the first time, he matches you, each movement sturdy and confidence clear in his steps. He makes for a great dance partner. You can't help but laugh as he draws you to him, only to raise his arm over your head and redirect you. 

His hand slips from yours, signalling a partner change, and you spin to stop in someone's chest. You instinctively brace yourself on his chest, an apology on your lips as you glance up. "Ser Harwin," you breathe his name. 

"Princess," he curtly acknowledges. 

His chest tightens at your appearance, wide and excited eyes, wisps of hair falling from their place and framing your face. Not to mention, your delicate hands still pressed to him, leaving only a splinter of a gap between you. 

You follow his gaze, realisation dawning. You go to remove yourself from him, when his own hands cover yours, gently plucking them off his chest. You expect him to let go, throw you aside and move on, but he doesn't. 

Harwin grasps your hands, leading you into the next dance. You follow him, lost within the depths of his blue eyes, so many words threatening to tumble out. You move fluently, matching his pace. 

"Harwin," you say lowly, unsure of how to proceed. 

"Don't." Your brows furrow, your chests pressing together as you both move in. "Just don't say anything." 

You scoff. "You expect us to dance in silence?" He says nothing, despite the electricity sparking around you. "I've been gone for months and this is how treat me?" 

"What do you want me to say?" He grits. 

"Anything!" You say a little loudly, breaking contact to stare at his house emblem stitched to his chest. You sigh, closing your eyes. "Why didn't you come to see me?" 

"My apologies, Princess, I didn't realise I was your lap dog." 

You snap up to him. Fire burns within your hard stare. "What is your problem? Why are you like this?" 

He raises an eyebrow, extending you away from his body, only to snap you back to him. You collide with his chest harshly, flashbacks of that night coming to your forefront. Reminders of how easily he dominates you. 

"Are you so dense, Princess, that you can't see your actions have consequences." 

You gape at him, matching his hard levelled glare. "Careful Ser, anyone else and I'd have their head." Normally, Harwin would never dare speak so freely, yet at this moment the mere presence of you sets him alight. He grunts in response to your warning. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply to keep the dragon at bay. The last thing anyone needs is for you to boil over and explode. "What actions are you speaking of?" 

You honestly have no idea what he's referring to. "Ahh, so you're ignorant as well. Tell me again why you came to me that night, why you begged," 

"I did not beg!" You almost growl. Fuck he makes you angry, almost rivalling your father at this moment. Your veins simmer, your stomach twisting in rage. "I told you why-" 

"I don't believe you." Harwin cuts you off. He lowers his face, so close to your own. His breath bares down on you, his lips dangerously near, yet Harwin's movements are calculated. There's no warmth in his eyes. "I think someone got angry at daddy, and decided to get back at him using me." 

You freeze. You never expected him to say that, to call you out. "Harwin," you start, desperation filling you. You need to explain yourself, to make him understand. 

Betrayal flashes across him, his back straightening. "Good evening, princess." He spits out your title, removing himself from you entirely. 

"Harwin," you choke, reaching for him when a figure steps in front of you. You barely give the man a glance before you intend on following the knight. 

"If I may, Princess?" 

You ignore the man offering his hand for a dance, staring off at Harwin as he makes his way through the crowd and exits the hall. Distress floods you, your body shaking as you fight the urge to heave. 

You feel sick. 

"Sister, are you alright?" Rhaenyra notices, immediately coming to your side. You can't say anything, darting between her and where Harwin just left. She nods in understanding. "Go, I'll tell father you're feeling ill."

You squeeze her hand gratefully, before making your way toward a different exit, with a plan of cutting him off. You have vague ideas of where he would go. With everyone in the hall, it leaves the corridors vacant. 

Picking your dress up at the knees, you pick up a run, your shoes hitting the floor lightly as you intend on making minimal noise. Blood roars in your ears, your heart pumping erratically.

You round corners, desperate to slip out of the Keep before anyone realises. Finally, you enter the gardens, stopping when you spot Harwin storming his way toward you, unaware of your presence. 

You step into his view, flinching as he stops dead in his tracks. He goes to speak, but you beat him to it. "I am to speak, and you are going to listen." You raise a finger, keeping him rooted whilst you close the distance. 

You stand dangerously close, your chest heaving and your hair falling to your shoulders. "Yes, I came to you because I was furious because I knew that it'd destroy my father much as he'd done to me. He asked what it would take to contain me, and I voiced a marriage of my own free will. He refused." Harwin stands rigid, his fingers flexing at his sides. "But I came to you-"

"Because you knew I'd do it. You took advantage of my affections for you, you used me!" Harwin raises his voice, his emotions controlling him. You deny it, trying to explain yourself when he talks over you. "You have no idea how I felt the next morning when my own gold cloaks told me that the King was to select your hand. You shattered me," you close your eyes at the sound of your name leaving his lips with such pain, tears building. 

"Yet you have such a fucking hold on me that I stupidly offered my hand." 

Your eyes fly open, meeting his own despite the darkness. The bright moon shines down, lighting the area as best as possible. "You," you drawl, comprehending his words. 

"Yes, and I had to endure your father and his court's laughter." 

"But your his Hands son-first born son! Heir to Harrenhal!" 

He chuckles darkly. "Exactly, all I have to offer you is a half-burnt castle, courtesy of your ancestors." 

You can't fathom that your father didn't even consider Harwin, that he belittled him. He has no idea what he's done. 

"Harwin," he shivers. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. What my father did is cruel," 

"A trait that runs in the family." 

A tear slides down your cheek, defeat seeping in. It seems no matter what you say, Harwin refuses to hear. After a heartbeat of silence, Harwin moves to round you, pausing at your palm coming into contact with his chest. The feel of him sends a shiver down your spine. 

Harwin slides your hand off as if you've burnt him, continuing on his path. An intense wave of pain surges through you, obliterating every part of you without remorse. Your chin trembles, your mind steaming at you to stop him, to fuck the protocols and policies. 

You open your mouth to call out, to tell him the truth but it falls short in your throat, lodged well. You fear for what happens when you lay yourself bare, what he'll say and do. 

"I'm in love with you." 

Harwin completely seizes, as if he was close to falling off a cliff. 

"I came to you, because deep down I knew my father would never approve, especially of us marrying." With each word Harwin approaches you, his body weightless. "So I decided that before I became caged and forced into a dull marriage, that I'd take control and choose who takes my virtue. That I'd lay with the man that I love, even if it were for a night." 

Harwin stands directly behind you, his front pressing against your back, his breath on your neck. "If you're lying to me," 

You turn to face him. "You think I'd allow anyone to treat me like a whore?" 

A flicker of understanding passes between you. How he manoeuvred you, how he controlled you like a puppet and fucked you against the wall without mercy. 

"What do you know of being a whore?" 

You tilt your head, standing on your toes to brush his cheek. "I know I'd let you do whatever you want, so long as it pleases you." 

Harwin inhales sharply, his body itching for you. He murmurs your name, his voice trembling and his restraint slipping. He allows his fingers to loosely hang off your hips, drawing you closer. 

Your mouth ghosts his, the temptation seeping in. You move your arms to his neck, threading your hands through his hair. Harwin groans, his hooded eyes burning through you, his control snapping. 

He captures your lips, his grip on you tightening and his palms travelling every inch of your back, one of them ending up in your hair, the other on your neck. You whimper softly, Harwin using the opportunity to slip in his tongue and ravage you properly. 

You're powerless against him, the lack of oxygen having its effect on your brain. You feel him move you backward, directing you through the garden until you stand flush to a wall, out of sight. Harwin found this hidden spot behind the bushes when he was a young lad, oft venturing here as he grew older to escape his reality. 

He skims down the skirt of your dress, lifting it to cup your pussy. You whine, pulling apart to lean your head into the brick. Harwin smirks at your state, his palm moving in circular motions. 

"Your drenched Princess. How long have you been like this?" He taunts you. 

"Since I laid eyes on you," you answer airily.

Harwin hums in satisfaction, removing your undergarment and tapping the inside of your thigh to signal you step out of it. A chill shudders down your spine in realisation; Harwin plans on having you against this wall, where anyone could easily happen upon you. 

"Hold this," he refers to your skirts, bunching the front into your stomach. You do as he says, biting your lip as he works to remove himself. 

Harwin pauses, his cock hard and throbbing in his hand. "Tell me you want this," he rasps.

"I want you to fuck me." 

A cold smile tugs at his lips, "as my princess commands." 

He nudges into you, giving you a moment before he slides all the way in. You tense, having only had him months ago and nothing since. It doesn't exactly hurt, it feels uncomfortable, like he should be there but he is. 

You grapple with his shoulders, hissing once he reaches the hilt, filling you with every inch of him that you can take. He shudders at your walls clenching around him. 

Slowly he eases out and in, working you to a steady rhythm as to make sure he won't hurt you, that you've accustomed to him. You have. 

He slams his hand onto the wall beside your head at the same time his hips rut into you. Your mouth opens in a silent groan, your forehead pressing against Harwin's as he intends to watch you. 

Each thrust is intentional, his cock hitting as deep as possible and his slow but hard movements driving you crazy. Your whimpers and small sounds spur him on, a hand on your hip to help leverage him into you. 

Though he's fucked you before, you still have no idea what to do, not wanting to just stand here and take his brutal pace. You remember how it felt to have your legs around his waist, how he was able to hit deep angles and completely fill you. 

Lifting a leg up, you hook your ankle around his waist, Harwin instantly shifting. His hand glides down to your thigh, keeping it locked to him and his hips drive deeper into you. 

You begin to feel that burn within your abdomen, brewing with each thrust, especially as he switches to almost completely vacating you before he hits home. You cry out, Harwin instantly covering your mouth. 

"Quiet Princess, otherwise this ends very quickly." Harwin grunts, referring to someone potentially finding you. 

You attempt to nod. He doesn't exactly trust your control, keeping his palm where it is as he continues to piston out of you, his heavy pants signalling how close he's getting. 

You dig your heel into his lower back, so close to falling over the edge, desperate for him to follow. Harwin glides his hand from your thigh to your clit, paying particular attention to the bundle of nerves and the added sensation being enough for you to climax. 

Your moan is muffled, Harwin's hips faltering at the feeling of you gushing around him. His own restraint slips, his cock ramming into you one last time, his seed spilling. His head falls to your shoulder, his hand slipping from your mouth to rest on the side of your head. 

Your chest heaves, a slight sense of fatigue threatening to wash over you. "I hate you, with every fibre of my being." He whispers into your skin, his lips grazing your exposed collarbone. 

"I know." You reply, your mouth dry as you run a caressing hand over his hair. You don't know what to do from this point onward, whether you and Harwin go your separate ways or you fight for him. 

It ultimately falls on him.

"I would burn this fucking city to the ground for you," you murmur, wanting him to comprehend just how much he plagues you, how much he wields you, how nothing else matters in this lifetime but him. Hesitantly, Harwin lifts his head, unprepared for the serious glint in your eye. "Don't give up on me, not yet."

"Then don't leave me." 

Your lilac eyes shine with fire and determination. "Never. I love you too much," he looks away, releasing a heavy breath as though he doesn't believe you. "Hey," you grab his face, forcing him to meet your stare. "I have loved you, since I was a girl. You, are why I hate my status. If I were a lower-born daughter, we could have wed a long time ago, without the burden of our duties." 

"Show me," his words are barely audible, but you catch them. Show me.

Steadily you lower your leg from his waist, ignoring the slight irritation from your hips and sudden blood flow. His soft cock slips from you, hanging limp. Pushing down the nerves that erupt along your body, you sink to your knees, glancing up at him through your lashes. 

A flicker of surprise passes over Harwin. He didn't exactly mean this. Though he'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity. 

"You're the only man I'll get on my knees for," you quip, tentatively wrapping your fingers around his cock. 

Harwin hisses at the contact, his hand bracing himself against the wall. You allow instinct to take over, cautiously pumping him, studying Harwin's reactions. His lips part, his breath becoming heavy with each glide, his cock hardening under your touch. 

"Am I doing it right?" You ask nervously, unsure of what else you could be doing to him. 

"Princess," he grits, his fingers curling into a fist above you. "You keep that up and I won't be able to last." 

Your cheeks flare at his comment, your thumb brushing over his inflamed head. Harwin grunts under your ministrations, his other hand flexing as he withholds the urge to grip your hair. 

"Can you teach me, how to use my mouth?" 

Harwin's eyes fly open, instantly finding your own. "You don't have to, what your doing is just fine." 

"But I want to," you pause your movements, looking up at him expectantly. "Either teach me or I'll learn myself." 

His eyebrows rise to his hairline. "You are a determined thing, aren't you?" You scowl, gently tightening your grip on him. "Alright alright," he repeats, his body stiffening. "Put it in, and for the love of the seven, don't use your teeth." 

A wicked grin spreads across your face, setting Harwin on edge as you take him into your mouth, inwardly cringing for a moment. Harwin shudders, his hip's reflexively jutting forward. 

"Just," he pants, at the mere feeling of his cock inhabiting your mouth. "Move like you were before, and use your tongue." 

Your brows furrow slightly, hesitantly gliding along his cock and back down, dragging your tongue on his underside. He groans, his hand coming to your hair and threading it. How he so desperately wishes to face fuck you, but he won't. Not until you're his. 

You bob your head, following Harwin's instructions as he guides you to bring him to a climax, his leverage on your head allowing him to gingerly rut his hips into you. "Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes closing in pleasure. 

An idea flickers, your tongue swirling around his swollen head and your hand wrapping around the base of him, a small smirk threatening to spread as Harwin stammers. 

You feel powerful, knowing that your mere mouth can bring Harwin to this state, his moral restraint close to breaking like the chains kept around your dragon. 

Harwin calls your name, his cock twitching in your mouth. He's close, dangerously close and he fears that if you don't stop, he won't pull out in time. You remember how he felt you near your climax the night he disappeared between your thighs, sucking gently on your clit to bring you over. 

You wonder if the same applies to him. 

You move to his tip, gently sucking. Harwin cries out at the unexpected sensation, forcing his hips forward and ultimately thrusting his cock further into your mouth as he shatters. 

You squeak, his seed filling your mouth and slipping down your throat. You can't help but cringe at the taste, pulling off him to wipe your mouth. 

Slowly raising, you observe Harwin's state, as he comes down from his high. He releases a heavy breath, his senses clearing. A sense of pride runs through you, for being able to please him as he did to you. 

Being with a man, is not at all what the Septas told you. 

Harwin grabs the underside of your jaw, pulling you up to him. You fist his jacket, a small moan escaping you when his tongue slips in. He doesn't care that he can taste himself. 

He steals your breath, your lungs aching and that familiar burn searing through your abdomen. He reluctantly pulls back, his forehead leaning on yours, his lips feathering you, refusing to completely stop. 

"Harwin," you whisper, your hands sliding to his neck, playing aimlessly with his loose curls. "What are our next moves?" 

"Hmm?" He hums absentmindedly, too lost in the feeling of your cheek against his. He nuzzles you, an act of intimacy that even fucking you couldn't compare to. 

You chuckle, deciding to leave it and enjoy the moment, as much as the two of you should plan out the next steps. 

"You're mine," he says lowly, his gravelly voice sending chills down your spine. "And I'm yours." 

You nod, a smile gracing your lips. "You've ruined me for anyone else."

Tag List: @iwillboilyourteeth @sageshorrorblog @gibbsgirl7 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @missusnora @jdm-traash @happynerdtale @westeros-needs-me @killthedarkthoughts @stardustdragon9 @my-watch-begins @ietss @znanaworm @fulla02

#ser harwin x reader #harwin strong smut #harwin strong x reader #hotd #ser harwin strong #ryan corr #harwin strong imagine

[b00kdiary]

Better Than Any Fantasy | Ruhn Danaan + Tristan Flynn

Ruhn Danaan x Tristan Flynn x Plus Size Reader

Y/N’s been avoiding Flynn like the plague, and Ruhn knows why and is more than happy to tell him. Especially when that conversation leads to something much better than any of them could have hoped for.

Here's to all my thick, fat, plus-size girlies who want some SJM men love too xo

Warnings: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, eventual smut and the Ruhn and Flynn being utterly infatuated with their thick, beautiful lady.

MASTERLIST

“Ruhn!” The sound that escapes Y/N is like sunlight, the kind of goodness that could be bottled up and sold, a cure for the worst and darkest parts of a person’s nature. “Seriously, how can I flip the pancakes if you won’t let me go?”

“Then forget the pancakes,” I grin against the column of her throat, inhaling the feminine scent of her as I hold her to my chest, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her stomach, keeping her giggling figure close. “We both know they’re going to taste like shit anyway.”

“Asshole! I can’t believe you!” Y/N exclaims, slapping my hand but she does mercifully drop the spoon in her hand, pouting as she turns off the gas, saving us from having to grin and bear through eating them. “Well, no pancakes for you- The Crown Prince can starve.”

“Ouch, that hurts Princess,” I croon, smirking as I turn her to face me, my hands running along her lush body, down to her soft ass, “Looks like I’m going to have to satiate my appetite some other way then.”

“Really?” She whispers, biting her lip and I can smell her arousal in the air, my smirk deepening at the way her chest rises and falls fast, and she clamps her thick thighs shut, trying to stop the ache between them.

“Really,” I slowly nod my head, watching as her eyes flutter shut as I kiss her cheek, peppering and trailing my tongue over her jaw up to her lips. She gasps into the kiss, her back arching into the counter behind her and it takes everything in me to not lift her onto the edge and feast on the sweetness between her thighs.

I slip my tongue into her mouth, tasting the bittersweet hues of vanilla and coffee and it ignites something in my chest, a dark and intense pulse that burns all the way down to my cock, already hard and throbbing against my jeans.

My fingers curl around the curve of her ass, my nails digging in hard enough to make Y/N moan, and I revel in the feeling of her large tits pressed against my chest, and her stomach too, so comfortable and perfect moulding against me.

The sound of footsteps echoing down the hall toward the kitchen has Y/N halting, and the second her hands push gently at my chest, and her lips draw away from mine, I groan. She giggles at the dejection in my voice, on my face, before pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek as she peels herself away from me- those footsteps infinitely closer now.

“You really have the worst fucking timing, Flynn,” I spit, my dark eyes lifting over Y/N's head, to the brown-haired, golden-skinned pretty boy smirking as he leans against the door pane, looking more than amused at my irate glare.

“By all means, please continue,” Flynn shrugs nonchalantly, teasing us but my lip quirks up at the way Y/N’s body freezes, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of red at Flynn’s words- at the secret between us that made her so perfectly embarrassed.

“Hm, what do you think Y/N?” I mutter gently, my breath running warm against her cheek, and I have to bite my lip to force down my bellowing laughter at the murderous scowl she gives me.

“I need to go get ready, I’m meeting Bryce in a few,” She bites back, ignoring my knowing stare as she pushes at my chest, brushing past me, the stains of red deepening as her gaze meets Flynn’s, before immediately looking away.

“Hey, Y/N,” Flynn smiles softly, but his brow furrows as he takes in her fast-paced footsteps and the way her head is pointed down, unable to meet his eyes.

“Hi, Flynn,” Y/N mumbles back quietly, and before he can open his mouth to speak again, she’s rushing past him, her curvy body curling in on itself like a flower so as not to feel every inch of him against her.

I fold my arms over my chest, trying to blanket my expression as her footsteps bound away and Flynn stares after her, his face a mixture of hurt and confusion, so unlike the usual carefree nonchalance and humour we were used to.

“Okay- she’s barely said five words to me in days, any room I enter she leaves, and she can’t even look me in the eyes,” Flynn frowns, frustration locking his jaw as he comes to lean against the counter-top, staring at me in expectance. “What the hell did I do wrong?”

“You’ve noticed all of that, huh?” I muse, cocking my head at him, and the way his frown deepens, and he leans forward makes me smile. “She’s not upset with you, Flynn. But she is distracted- she sees you and her mind turns to something I said.”

“And what exactly would that be?” He demanded, folding his arms across his muscled chest, seemingly relieved that Y/N wasn’t angry with him, but the glint in his eyes had sharpened, and I knew he was interested, knew he couldn’t help but be intrigued by my devilish smile.

“Well…” I run my tongue across my teeth, my mind racing back to that night four days ago, and Flynn’s eyes darken with shadows as I recall every last detail.

“Ruhn,” Y/N moans, her head tossing back to rest against my shoulder, and I nibble on her earlobe as I fuck my hips up into her, the sound of her wetness mixing with her breathless gasps driving me insane.

I groan as she rolls her hips, my fingers gripping into the meaty flesh of her thighs and hips, guiding her back and forth, up, and down, and the feel of her back and ass pressed against my sweaty bare chest is like heaven.

“Don’t stop, please, please,” She pinches her eyes shut, and I love the sight of her face as she takes me, the TV light casting over her, highlighting every expression she makes- every time she bites her lips, or rolls her eyes, or opens her mouth to release the most delicious sound for me.

“Look at you, such a good girl, so fucking polite,” I croon, my right hand sliding up to cup her heavy breast, bouncing wildly with her movements, and I grin as I pinch her pebbled nipple, rewarded with another whimpered moan from her. “And yet you’re riding me like a slut right now, making a mess of my cock and in the living room, for anyone to come in and see.”

“Oh fuck,” Y/N cries, her body sweating and her breathing erratic and I know her peak is close, know by the way her knees start to give out, her fingers cutting into my arm as she tries to anchor herself. I chuckle, my voice low with headiness and I take it upon myself to drive up into her faster, deeper, to hit that spot that has her seeing stars.

“Bet you’d love that, huh?” I mutter, kissing her neck, running my canines down her throbbing pulse point, “Bet you’d love for someone to walk in right now, to watch you get fucked like a good little slut, your entire body on display.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” She nods her head erratically, fucked dumb and swimming in the clouds of her mind as I slip in and out of her, her wetness almost ridiculous, her walls clenching me so goddamn tight.

“Yeah? Does my Princess want an audience, does she want to be watched?” She gasps as I bite against her sweet spot, that hurt turning to pleasure as I lap my tongue there, feeling her racing pulse. “What if someone came in right now… what if Flynn came in right now, you want him to watch? Or do you want him to join?”

The whimper that escaped her at my dark words surprised me, the way her entire body arched and trembled against me surprised me- because she did want that.

“Huh? You want him to join? You want to get fucked and worshipped by me and my best friend?” The idea makes my core burn, and I know we’re both reaching that climax, that euphoric tipping point where she comes around my cock, suffocating me and milking me dry. “Answer me, Y/N, or I’ll stop.”

“Ruhn,” She pleads with me, and the sound almost makes me give in, give her what she wants, but I don’t relent and when my hips start to slow down, pausing, she groans, and the satisfaction that fills me as she nods her head, almost makes me finish right there. “Yes! Yes, yes, I want that, Ruhn, I want that.”

“Want what? Be specific, Princess,” I coax, groaning, guttural and low as I move inside her, her pussy throbbing around me, her body so happy, so fucking relieved at the feeling of me moving again. “Tell me.”

“I want you a-and Flynn, I want-want to be watched,” Her voice is shaking as she speaks, the sound of her ass slapping back against me so lewd in the air, and I have to grit my teeth at the pressure building in my gut. “I want you both- to touch me an-and fuck me, I want you t-to worship my body.”

“That’s my girl,” I praise, knowing that my encouragement was feeding into her pleasure, heightening it and I know she’s imagining the both of us fucking devouring her, “bet you'd look so good with his cock stuffed in your pretty mouth, or fucking in and out of this tight cunt,"

My cock, my words, the images tip her over that edge with a devastating cry.

“Ruhn, Ruhn, Ruhn-“

“That’s why she’s avoiding you, Flynn,” I state hoarsely, ignoring the way my cock aches, the image of her body and the feeling of being inside her tormenting me now that I’d opened that box up, allowing myself to remember it. “Because when she sees you, she pictures that fantasy all over again.”

“Shit,” Flynn mutters and I recognise the roughness in his voice, recognise the intense, unsatiated gleam in his eyes and the way his entire body has gone hard with restraint. He’s imagining her- her body, her tits, her cunt, her mouth, and everything he could do to her.

I would’ve thought the idea of my best friend fantasising about my girl would make me furious, make me murderously jealous and yet, the more I thought about it, the better it all seemed.

“So, Flynn,” I know he sees the challenge in my eyes, the hot mischief as I grin at him, and I see his brows raise in shock, in interest, as I lean forward. “How do you like the idea?”

***

“Ruhn?” I call, my heels clicking against the floor as I walk down the dimly lit corridor toward Ruhn’s room, my voice echoing through the silence of the empty house. “Hello? Ruhn?”

My phone beeps in my hand, startling me, and I pause a few yards from his ajar door, not hearing the familiar sound of my boyfriend's voice or any other person's voice for that matter. I click open our text thread, and heat instantly fills my body.

‘Come inside, shut the door behind you and close your eyes- no peeking.’

Another game. Ruhn loved his games, loved watching me pant and sweat and blush under his ministrations and my body pulsed in excitement, knowing that as long as I followed his rules, as long as I played my part, I would get my reward.

I bite my lip, discarding my phone on top of the bookcase outside his door and my knees felt weak as I slowly walked over, the anticipation clogging the air. I close my eyes as I step over the threshold, my hand on the doorknob as I close it behind me, the wood creaking before clicking firmly shut.

It was a mixture of terrifying and thrilling, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, but knowing that he was in here with me. That his eyes were on me, watching me, smiling, his gaze running over every inch of me as I stood there.

I hear footsteps echo against the floor, getting louder, and closer, and my nipples harden, the crisp air feeling hot and thick in the silence- knowing he was coming, what he would do, heightened everything.

“Always so obedient,” Ruhn’s voice ran over me like a caress, prickling my skin and I shivered under it, knowing he was inches from me. I swallow as his cold hand traced up the sleeve of my dress, moving slowly before resting against my chest, right over my thundering heart. “Nervous? Or excited?”

“Both,” I whisper, my voice breaking under the pressure of it all, his fingers teasing against my hot skin, barely touching me and yet it felt like I could feel him everywhere.

“Good,” He praised, and I inhaled as he slipped his hand into mine, tugging me forward. I followed, blindly, obediently, walking forward as he led me further into the room before eventually stopping, likely only a few feet from his bed.

His hand slipped from mine and the need to open my eyes intensified, the desire to see him almost overwhelming, especially as he circled me, like a predator, not speaking as he came to stand behind me, his hands clamped down like a vice on my waist.

“Do you want to open your eyes, Princess?” He whispers against my ear, and I can smell the mixture of alcohol and apples on his breath, it intoxicated me, and I whimpered quietly, arching my ass into his already hard cock.

“Yes, yes please,” With anyone else I would have been mortified by how my voice shook, at how desperate and helpless I sounded, but not with Ruhn, no, I couldn’t ever feel anything but thrill and need and comfort when with him.

“I think you’ve more than earned your reward,” Ruhn nibbles against my ear, his favourite tactic to make me dizzy, to fill my head with clouds, distracting me wholly. “Go ahead, open your eyes for me, Y/N.”

I inhale once, deep and steadying, and then with a long, slow exhale, I flutter my eyes open.

And my heart stops in my chest.

“Flynn?” I choke out his name, jumping at the sight of him sitting on the bed before me, leaning back on his strong arms, his eyes racking over me like I was prey, “What the fuck?”

“Breathe, just for a second, breathe,” Ruhn instructs from behind me, and my body seems to melt into calm, melt into him. It was as if I were predestined to trust him, to obey his words. I force the air back into my lungs as I stare at Flynn, my body shaking at the look in his eyes- for me.

“I don’t understand,” I mutter, my throat drying out as I glance over my shoulder up at Ruhn, to the pleased smile he wore. I watch as his gaze meets Flynn’s and something passes between them, some unspoken conversation I wasn’t privy to. “Tell me, Ruhn.”

“Flynn was upset that you’ve been avoiding him, he thought he had done something wrong,” Ruhn informs me, looking far too smug. It would have annoyed me if I didn’t feel so guilty for hurting Flynn. “I was more than happy to fill him in on the real reason you were being so distant.”

The real reason. That night, Ruhn’s words, his taunting, seductive, torturous words that have me picturing it all again- Flynn and Ruhn, all over me, touching me, tasting me, fucking me, absolutely ruining me.

“I see you remember it well,” Ruhn chuckles- the prick was taunting me, and I almost hated myself for how my body responded, how my arousal scented through the air, so obvious to the two arrogant males before me. “And we wondered if that certain fantasy was one, we could fulfil for you, Y/N."

“Oh,” It was an idiotic response, one that Ruhn would no doubt endlessly mock me about later, but I was speechless, breathless, my entire being trembling and weak at his words, at the insinuation, nervous under Ruhn’s watchful eyes.

“Is that something you would like, Y/N?” Ruhn mutters, and I sigh as he runs his nose down the vein of my neck, inhaling the scent of me. My eyes glanced to Flynn, patiently waiting, and the sweet smile he wore told me it was all up to me.

“Is- is that something you would want us to do, Ruhn?” My voice is weary as I glance back at him, and upon seeing the fear and concern in my eyes, that he would think I wasn’t happy with him, Ruhn smiles- one that warms my heart.

“I’m yours and you’re mine, Y/N, always,” He kisses my cheek, tenderly, and it’s enough to drive me mad, “But that doesn't mean I can't share, in fact, I'm more than willing to see you being pleasured by us both."

Excitement and thrill- that was always what I felt with Ruhn.

“Then yes,” I breathe the words and instantly the air in the room changes, the two males change and the predators in them, the hunters in them, the instinct of the Fae comes roaring out, their eyes latching onto me.

A low, rumbling sound reverberated through Ruhn’s chest and I felt it vibrate through me, straight to my thrashing heartbeat. I clench my hands as Ruhn turns my face toward his, and the second his lips connect with mine, every worry withers away.

I melt into the way his tongue laps against mine, smooth and graceful, so skilled in making something as simple as a kiss feel as intimate and real as when he fucks me, and it makes me just as wet.

“Why don’t we show Flynn here what’s under this dress, hm?” Ruhn muses against my lips, and I can feel Flynn’s intense stare and it’s almost terrifying how still he is. “Let him see what he's been fantasising about all day."

I gnaw on my lip, nodding my head and turning to watch Flynn’s reaction. Ruhn begins to tug at the zipper at the back, and immediately Flynn’s beautiful face turns lethal, feral, sharpening in a way that made me clamp my legs shut, so desperate to stop the ache there.

He tugs the zipper to the end, and together, we pull the material down my arms and chest, letting it slip over my wide hips and thighs before it pools to the floor at my feet.

“Shit,” Flynn curses, his jaw locking hard enough I can hear his teeth grating, and at that moment, wearing nothing but a black bra and panties, I’m glad that I hadn’t chosen something silly or unflattering to wear today- because he was looking at me like I was the beautiful one.

“I know,” Ruhn says, agreeing with his best friend, his brother, and my cheeks heat at the pride in his voice, the sheer masculine satisfaction. He was pleased with Flynn’s reaction, pleased that his chest was racing wildly, that his throat bobbed as he traced over my skin, pleased at the hard length imprinted against the seam of his jeans. “She looks even better without these on.”

Nausea fills me at the thought of Ruhn unclipping my bra and slipping off my underwear, nausea at the idea of being wholly naked before Flynn, every single curve and roll and stretch mark, all my cellulite and uneven skin and bumps on display.

It had taken me a long time to be comfortable enough for Ruhn to see me naked, and I loved him. Letting Flynn see me that vulnerable seemed like such a big leap to take.

"Is that alright, Y/N?" Flynn asked, and the tenderness in his face almost made me sob, the kind and thoughtful gleam in his eyes that told me that I could trust him told me that he would respect any choice I made.

"It's alright," I nod slowly, pushing down the insecurity and when Ruhn's gentle hands move to the clasp of my bra and he unhooks it, letting my aching breasts fall free of the material, I'm glad for that choice.

I recalled Flynn once stating he was a tits-over-ass man, and right now I could tell he was being honest. I watched as he ran a hand over his jaw, his gaze flickering back and forth between both of my breasts, a deep groan escaping him at the sight of them.

Ruhn chuckles, far too happy as he kneels behind me, his fingers gently hooking into the material of my underwear and began slowly tugging it down, over the curve of my ass and my wide hips, down my thighs, the material getting stuck between the places that touched and eventually down to the floor.

I curled my hands into fists, my nails cutting into my palms as Ruhn held onto each calf and slipped off my heels, one by one, and I giggled at the sound of him tossing the shoes behind us, my clothes and underwear flung back to some faraway corner as well.

"You were right, Ruhn," Flynn states roughly, his tongue lapping out to wet his lips, and I smiled under his eyes, the way they moved over me, over every inch, not blanching at any of me. "She's definitely better without anything on."

Ruhn stood behind me again, running his fingers up and down the length of my back, and something in me purred.

“I think Flynn should get a better look," I mutter, my confidence spiking as I glance back to Ruhn and his smirk is proud, arrogantly proud, "Or a better feel?"

The air went taut as I sauntered toward him, Flynn looking almost nervous as I came to a stop before him, staring down at his perfect form. I place a hand on each of his broad shoulders, my knees weak as I climb onto the mattress, his hands not hesitating to grab my waist and guide me to straddle his lap.

My sore nipples brush against the material of his shirt and my wet, aching core sits perfectly over the seam of his zipper igniting red, hot embers through my entire body. Flynn remains silent as he stares at me, his hands moving over my naked hips and thighs, waiting for me to make the first move.

Even if I could hear his heart racing, his eyes telling me that he was on the very precipice of his control.

"Kiss me, Flynn."

And by Cthona, he kisses me.

The way Flynn kisses is different to Ruhn, his mouth moves against me, all tongue, and teeth, suckling and biting and tasting, and I moan into it, relishing every second of him devouring me, every second of his hands all over me, palming and kneading my flesh, slapping, and clawing at my ass.

“Fuck me, Y/N,” Flynn growls in appreciation and I don’t have a second of reprieve as he kisses down my neck hastily, not hesitating to pluck a nipple into his mouth and suck at the taut bud. Gasps slip past my lips as he rolled it, bit it, lapped at it, the nerves alight as he moved between each, looking damn near giddy as he toyed with them.

The ache between my legs intensifies as he sucks at my breasts and I start rocking back and forth to ease the feeling, the material of his jeans and the hardness of his cock underneath rubbing against my puffy clit perfectly.

"Tsk tsk tsk," Ruhn muses from behind us, and my eyes flutter as I glance at him, moving to sit on the bed beside us, his shirt gone and stars gleaming in his eyes as he watches us. "The poor girls rutting against your clothed cock, Flynn, give her what she wants."

"And what do you want? Hm?" Flynn taunts, trailing his tongue over my nipple, his dewy eyes looking up at me as he does so, and I groan at the sight, and at the hold he has on my hips, halting any movement I try and make.

“Your fingers,” I croak, gripping his large hand and watching his breath catch as I drag it down my stomach, whimpering as I run his calloused fingers over my wet folds. “Right here.”

“You’re going to kill me,” He snarls, and my eyes clamp shut when he circles my clit, firm and sure, his fingers knowing exactly how hard and fast to go, and he has me arching my back and moaning, glad for the hand he had keeping me from toppling over. Flynn smiles, kissing my lips and cheeks, moving his fingers against my clit faster.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly my orgasm seemed to approach, and I knew I wouldn’t last long, not as that fire fanned in my core, edged on by every smooth flick of his fingers at my clit.

“You wanna come, Y/N?" Ruhn asks darkly and when my head turns, I see him palming his hard cock over his jeans, the muscles in his chest clenching and flexing in restraint, watching his best friend finger his girlfriend, and loving every second of it. "Be a good girl and ask Flynn if he'll let you."

"Please, please," I mewl loudly, my head throwing back as Flynn slips two fingers into my sopping cunt, the friction of him fucking his fingers in and out forcing me closer and closer to that edge, "Please, Flynn, let me come."

"So polite, asking me so nicely," Flynn croons and my thighs quake when he crooks his fingers inside me, pressing that magic button that has a swarm spreading through my stomach and core. "How could I possibly say no?"

He hooks his fingers against that spot again, and again, and his thumb brushes my clit and before I know it, I’m falling off the edge of a cliff.

“Flynn, oh-“ I cry out as his fingers drive into me repeatedly, hitting a spot that has my core exploding, hitting me hard and fast and lasting so long that my head starts to spin.

“Atta girl,” Flynn praises, and I feel his smile against my skin as he slows his fingers inside me, feeling every pulse and quake of my orgasm, before slowly slipping them out of me.

I sag forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder for support as I catch my breath, tendrils of release still coiling through me and gradually melting into oblivion. Flynn’s touch is soft across my back, waiting for me to come back down to Midgard.

“How are you feeling, Princess?” Ruhn asks quietly, his hand running through my messy hair, brushing it from my sweaty face and hooking the strands behind an arched ear. I flutter my eyes and meet both their gazes and again, that vicious, relentless monster of need rears its head.

“I feel like I want more,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and the heat that filled their eyes made my entire body ache. “Please.”

“Shit, Ruhn, you weren’t lying when you said she was a good girl,” Flynn growls and I giggle when his hands clamp down on my hips, lifting me with ease to sit on the bed between them both, the two of them rising from their seats. “She does deserve all the praise and rewards.”

“That’s my girl,” Ruhn winks at me and my cheeks burn at his words, joy and shyness filling me at the smile both males wore, looking at me like I was a fucking dream come true. “Move back on the bed, Y/N, we’ll give you what you want,”

Flynn chuckles as I rush to do so, my tits bouncing as I crawl backwards toward the headboard, stopping when I’m in the middle of the bed, space on either side of me.

My mouth waters as the two boys before me begin to reach for their clothes. I watch as Flynn unbuttons his shirt, one by one, almost agonisingly slow before he peels the material off his body revealing inches of muscle and rippling packs.

Where Ruhn was slender and lean, with hard abs and glorious tatted skin, Flynn was bigger, corded muscle and a six-pack for days. My pussy soaked at the sight of them both, grinning like they knew what they were doing to me.

I bite my lip hard enough to hurt as they both reach for their pants, the only sound in the air is my haughty breaths, the clinking of their unlocked belts and the sound of two zippers gracefully sliding down.

I whimper at the sight, a high-pitched, needy sound that makes them both look at me, Flynn raising an amused brow as he reaches down, tugging off his jeans and throwing them to the side, Ruhn following suit.

They were big, both of them. Big and thick, gloriously hung with strong veins and white pearly pre-cum leaking down their tips.

It took me a long time to adjust to Ruhn’s size, and even now my pussy was always too tight, always wrapped around him so painfully that he said it was the sweetest torture. And as I eyed Flynn’s cock, saw how red and angry it looked, I knew he would feel the same.

“Such a pretty girl,” Ruhn muttered, his blue eyes darkening to a tidal wave, a terrifying tsunami as he rounded the bed, his body glorious under the lights as he climbed onto the mattress, settling just behind me. “So, fucking pretty, right Flynn?”

“I can’t argue with you there, Ruhn,” Flynn smirks, and my thighs clench when he crawls onto the bed, his cock rising and hard as he settles just before me, looking down at me like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “I’m very jealous of your boyfriend, Y/N.”

He runs his hands up my calves, his touch bare as he moves up and down, going as high as my hip bone before swiftly moving back down, all the way to my ankles.

“Poor Flynn,” Ruhn laughs, and I groan as his hand slips around my neck, curling his fingers to grip my jugular, tipping my head back to meet his face above me, “You wanna help make our friend feel better, Princess?”

I grin, and Ruhn’s face is a mirror of mine as his hand slips away and I roll over and onto my front, my knees spreading and ass arching into the air. Flynn’s breath audibly catches, and the sound he makes is animal, purely Fae, at the sight of my pussy wet and bare, waiting for him.

“Flynn,” I mewl, my head sagging forward and resting against Ruhn’s stomach as Flynn runs his hands over my ass, scratching and fondling the flesh, but he doesn’t move further. “Please just fuck me, I can’t wait-“

“There we go,” Ruhn mutters and I can hear his grin as Flynn rubs his tip over my wet fold and before I can even moan, he’s pushing the head into my entrance, choking on a rough laugh as my pussy immediately sucks him in.

The sounds that escape me are high-pitched and restless as Flynn shoves the rest of his length inside me, not being gentle or slow, and I’m glad for it. Glad for the way he stretches me so thoroughly, glad that I can feel him sink all the way in, brushing a spot far and deep inside.

“Gods above,” Flynn growls, his nails cutting into the flesh of my ass as he draws himself out, nearly to the tip before plunging back in, the sound of skin slapping and my wetness making Ruhn groan. He swears lowly, watching as I suck up his length inch by inch, starting to move faster against me now.

Ruhn runs his hands over my hair, his face full of pride as he watches me kneel before him, my body wrecking back and forth, my tits bouncing as Flynn pounds into me, our moans a melody.

“Ruhn, Ruhn,” I plead, my wide eyes meeting his and he runs his thumb over my lip, a knowing gleam in his eyes, “Fuck my mouth, baby please, fuck my mouth.”

He didn’t say anything, nor did he wait, and my entire body trembled as his fingers gently collected my hair behind me, easily guiding me over his erect cock, waiting so patiently before me, and I closed my eyes as he brushed the tip over my lips and then pushed into my mouth.

“Shit, Y/N,” Ruhn groaned as he fisted my hair, guiding my head up and down his shaft, hitting the back of my throat more than once. I gagged and then moaned, Flynn spreading my thighs wider, and sinking deep into a tender spot within me.

There was so much spit drooling from my mouth, making a mess of Ruhn’s cock and stomach as he bucked his hips up, fucking my mouth just the way I liked, and as Flynn moved behind me in tandem, his cock slipping in and out, in and out, relentlessly, I was a whimpering, breaking mess.

It felt so good, felt so fucking right getting fucked at either end of me, and Ruhn swore, his body twitching as I moaned around his cock, the sound vibrating through him, bringing him closer and closer to that sweet edge.

“Shit, Y/N, shit,” Flynn gasped, his voice rasping and hoarse, breathless as he gripped my ass, as he had his way with me, still so painfully big but the hurt felt good, brought me closer to my end. “Look at that pussy, wrapped around me so fucking tight.”

His words encouraged me, and I suckled against Ruhn’s cock harder, tasting the familiar saltiness of his pre-cum, loving the ache of his fingers yanking at my hair, the pain at odds with the fullness of Flynn pounding into me, that dam inside me starting to fill.

“Princess, I’m not gonna last,” Ruhn warns, his fingers tightening in my hair, his hips stuttering, and I take it upon myself to get him there, to hear him moan my name as I suck against him, hard and fast, hollowing my cheeks and taking him even further down my throat. “Oh fuck- Y/N.”

He growls an animalistic, rugged sound that echoes through the whole room and makes my clit throb, his body jerking as I feel the warm, salty liquid squirt from his cock straight down my throat. I swallow, I always swallow, moaning happily as I do.

“Flynn, I’m so close,” I call out, Ruhn’s semi-hard cock resting against his stomach now and my face burying into his hip, feeling the tender touch of my boyfriend's hand in my hair, so opposing to the brutal, bruising hold of Flynn behind me.

“Me too, Y/N,” Flynn hissed, his cock starting to hammer into me quicker, and I can barely stop the shaking in my knees. I gasp when his thumb reaches around me, rubbing messily at my clit, and the angle changes, moving further and every single touch is too fucking much.

“There, there, there-“ I call out again and again and again, teeth biting against Ruhn’s thigh, something he fucking loves, as I’m hit with my release, a wildfire that starts at my core, and just erupts, moving through my veins and blood and bones and I can’t stop the sounds coming from me.

Flynn’s hips start to falter, curses endlessly falling from his lips as my pussy clenches around him like a vice, so tight and unyielding that he roars, stilling and growling as his cock spills inside me, filling me up.

Pleasure, hot and white and blinding, dying out so slow as Flynn moves inside me gradually, spreading his hot cum all over me, and it all feels like heaven.

I huff out a huge breath of air, my eyes clamped shut and head spinning and when Flynn ever so gently slips out of me, his hands holding onto the flesh of my hips and guiding me to turn and lay flat on my back, I don’t even fight it.

Pure exhaustion riddles me, so much so, that I lay there, my head against Ruhn’s thigh and my body trembling and weak against the mattress, unable to stop how my core throbs with the aftermath of my orgasm.

I blink open my eyes after several seconds and I’m met with the two males before me, their eyes returned to their usual bright shades of blue and brown, and their lips tilted up, sweet and wonderful as ever.

We’re all covered in sweat and panting, but as Ruhn look down at me from behind, and Flynn sits between my legs, rubbing at my weak thighs, I know we’re all fucked out- for now.

“Did that live up to the fantasy?” Ruhn mutters, his smile adoring as he brushes the hair free from my sweaty forehead, his fingers so gentle as he rubs the spots on my scalp he had yanked at before.

“Better than any fantasy,” I breathe, my cheeks hot as I grin, and Ruhn’s eyes brighten as he takes me in. I gnaw on my cheek, glancing forward to Flynn, his eyes never once leaving mine, “And for you, Flynn?”

“I agree, Y/N,” He smirks, his grip tightening around my thigh, and the look is so telling, that even Ruhn laughs, “So much so that I’ve got a few more fantasies that we could try.”

----------

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

#crescent city #ruhn danaan #tristan flynn #ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan smut #ruhn x plus size reader #acotar #plus size reader #smut #throne of glass smut #plus size y/n #crescent city smut #sarah j maas #sjm books #ruhn danaan x tristan flynn x reader #plus size smut #plus size girl

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Full of Surprises - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Inspired by @galaxy-of-stories's post

pairing: Lt. Robert Floyd x reader

warnings/content: virgin!bob x fem reader, oral (f receiving), p in v, swearing, hangman actually being a decent friend towards bob.

word count: 3k

minors dni below the cut

Bob chewed on his bottom lip nervously as he watched you from across the beach, his dark blue eyes watching you intensely from behind his wire framed glasses. He rarely took part in off-base activities with the rest of the Dagger squad, but today, he’d been coaxed out by Rooster and Phoenix to join the team for a relaxing beach day. What he didn’t know though, was that you would be there. You were Maverick’s niece, and Bob had pretty much instantly fallen for you. Smart, funny, beautiful and friendly - Bob thought you were the whole package. He loved the way your eyes lit up whenever you spoke about something you were interested in, the way your cheeks blushed whenever Maverick and Rooster started reminiscing about your childhood, having grown up playing with Rooster on occasion when you were little, and he loved the way you were so outgoing, and so unlike him. He always hated his incurable shyness, the fact that he struggled so hard to come out of his shell, he resented it, especially now that it made it next to impossible for him to hold a conversation with you. 

“Hey, Baby-on-Board, you coming?” 

Bob turned his head around to face one of the pilots on his squad, Hangman, calling over to him. Bob rolled his eyes at the nickname Hangman had given him and shook his head quickly, his cheeks turning red again. He prayed that the UV rays were strong enough that day that he could lie and say the reddening of his face was due to too much sun exposure, but he knew that wasn’t likely going to work as an excuse on anyone, much less Hangman. The tall blonde pilot raised an eyebrow at Bob as he folded his arms over his broad chest. 

“Jeez, Bagman, don’t you ever wear a shirt?” Bob laughed dryly as he poked fun at Hangman, who had long ditched his t-shirt to show off his sunkissed skin, trying desperately to attract any female attention he could get on the beach.

“Hey, at least I don’t keep mine on the whole time at the beach.” Hangman shrugged as he sat down on the sand beside Bob. “Why do you anyway? I mean, you do all the same workouts as the rest of us do. It’s because you’re covered in chest hair isn’t it?” Hangman smirked as he playfully shoved Bob, flipping his sunglasses down over his eyes.

“No, I just don’t like to,” Bob shrugged his shoulders, “You know me, I’m not one to draw attention to myself.” 

“I hate to break it to you, Bobby, but you’ve definitely drawn someone’s attention,” Hangman grinned at him as he pointed towards you with his thumb as he spoke, “Mav’s niece hasn’t been able to stop herself from giving you the bedroom eyes, it’s hilarious that you haven’t noticed it yet though.”

“Bedroom eyes?” Bob laughed and shook his head, “What the hell are bedroom eyes?” 

“You know,” Hangman put his sunglasses atop his short blonde hair and grinned, imitating the lustful look he was referring to, the one he was so convinced you had for Bob.

“I have never seen anyone make that face in my life, Bagman. Are you bullshitting me?” Bob raised an eyebrow as he leaned back on his palms in the sand and sighed softly as he watched you again. The breeze blew your long hair back and the sunlight hit your tanned skin just right, making you appear to have a sunkissed glow. The sight alone was almost enough to drive Bob crazy. 

“Hah!” Hangman grinned as he pointed at Bob’s facial expression as he watched you, “You’re doing it to her right now!”

“I am not!” Bob protested, shaking his head. “Look, don’t you have something better to do?”

“No, I know I’m a shitty wingman half the time, but this time, I’m making it my personal mission to be yours.” 

Bob sighed again as he rolled his eyes. He knew he wasn’t winning on this one, and Hangman wasn’t going to leave him alone anytime soon. He just wasn’t ready to make a move on you yet. He’d had a handful of girlfriends over the years, but he’d never gone any further than making out for one reason or another, usually due to nerves. As badly as Bob wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to be humiliated in front of you.

“I’m fine,” Bob said through clenched teeth. 

“Dude, you can tell me what your hang up is. I’m not gonna go blab it, I promise,” Hangman said, placing his hand over his heart playfully to show that Bob’s secret would be safe with him.

“Fine…” Bob exhaled and shook his head, “I don’t know what the bedroom eyes are or anything because I’ve never, you know…gone to the bedroom…with anyone,” He said as he gave Hangman a pleading look, his facial expression begging him for some sympathy and compassion instead of the relentless teasing he expected from him.

“You mean, never?”

“Never. Not even close. I think I’ve made out with a girl once. I was like 18 though.” 

“Wow,” was all that Hangman could muster out.

“So now you get it?” Bob asked softly, “It’s not that I don’t want to ask her out. It’s that I’m scared I’ll screw it up because of that.”

Bob sighed and shook his head again as he stood up. He brushed the sand off his shorts and forced a laugh.

“I’m gonna head home, Hangman. See you later.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hangman laughed as he put a hand on Bob’s shoulder, his firm grip stopping Bob from walking away, “You’re at least gonna talk to this poor girl. She’s been interested in you the whole time she’s been here visiting Mav. Christ, even Mav’s noticed it,, and we all know how observant he is.”

“What if you’re wrong though and she’s not interested in me? Maybe she’s just being nice. I bet you’re more her type anyway.” Bob frowned.

“Me? No, she’s uh…she’s made it very clear I am not her type,” He laughed softly, shaking his head, “I tried. She outright told me “the cute guy with glasses” is her type. And how many guys with glasses are on our squad?”

“Just me…unless she meant sunglasses. Then it could be anyone.”

“Robert, I swear, you’re the dumbest guy I’ve ever met sometimes,” Hangman laughed as he rolled his eyes, “She meant you, jackass. She likes you. She told me. Now, what are you going to do with this information?”

“Talk to her…?” Bob tried, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he thought about it.

“Attaboy, Baby-on-Board, you got this,” Hangman grinned as he stood up, “Now, do me a favour? Try to look a little less like you’re about to shit your pants over this ok?” 

Bob rolled his eyes and took a deep breath as he approached you, a friendly smile on his lips as he nodded his head towards you. 

“Hi, I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself,” Bob offered his hand out to shake and smiled, “Lt. Robert Floyd, everyone calls me Bob, sometimes Bobby though.” 

“Hi Bob,” you grinned and shook his hand, “Y/N. Nice to meet you. My uncle’s told me a lot about you. You’re a WSO, right?”

“Yeah, I’m the backseater, it’s kinda fun, I’m a big nerd, so I get to use a lot of math in it to calculate where to aim the lasers and all that.”

You let out a giggle as he explained his role to you and he couldn’t help but smile and laugh along with you. Hours passed between the two of you conversing together, Hangman proudly watching Bob impress you from the background. After a while, the rest of the squad cleared out from the beach, leaving just you and Bob there by yourselves. It was beginning to get dark outside when you stood up beside Bob and smiled warmly.

“Want to come back to my aunt Penny’s? She’s not gonna care if I bring you over, she and Uncle Mav speak very highly of you. Aunt Penny always says you’re incredibly polite, and Uncle Mav called you a “good kid” so I doubt they’d mind if you came back to hangout for a little while.”

Bob nodded his head and smiled politely at you, the sunset making his eyes shine as he turned to face you. He leaned forward gently and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulled away after a moment and shook his head. 

“God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that. I’m not usually that forward. I mean, I wanted to, obviously,  I just normally ask first. And now I’m rambling, fuck sake,” He laughed and shook his head again.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, quieting his anxieties and insecurities as your lips met once again. He moved his lips in time with yours as he kissed you, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip, as if he was asking permission for it to enter your mouth. Your tongues swirled together with passion and lust as you made your way across the sand and over to the front steps of your aunt and uncle’s home where you were staying, your lips barely breaking contact as you walked. You felt Bob put a hand gently on your waist as you pulled him inside through the patio door, into the sunroom where you were staying. You breathlessly pulled away from Bob to come up for air, shrugging your cardigan off your shoulders as you did so. Bob, finding a sudden burst of confidence, grabbed you by the waist with one hand and pulled you into his body tightly, pressing his lips to your neck. As his lips found your sensitive spot on your neck, his hands palmed their way over your breasts, gently cupping them and squeezing them as he felt you up. 

“Mhmm, Bob,” you groaned softly as he made contact with your sensitive skin. 

Bob pulled away for a moment and frowned slightly, remembering his earlier confession to Hangman. He let out a deep exhale before turning to face you, his facial expression full of concern as he spoke.

“Listen, I have to tell you something before we go any further, ok?” His voice was quiet and low, almost in a whisper as he spoke.

You nodded in response and waited, listening intently as Bob spoke.

“I’ve never…you know,” He finally said.

“Never?”

“No, never.”

“Do you want to though…?” You asked after a few moments of contemplation.

Bob bit his lip and laughed softly as he nodded his head quickly. 

“Believe me, I really do.”

“Then I’m honoured to be your first,” You nodded your head and kissed his cheek gently.

His cheeks flushed a bright scarlet red as you spoke. Without further hesitation, Bob leaned in and kissed you passionately again, tangling his fingers gently in your hair as he pulled you in closer to him. He pulled away ever so slightly as he spoke and laughed nervously.

“You’re going to have to tell me if I’m doing any of this right, ok? Kissing is about the only thing I know how to do.”

You giggled softly as you nodded your head reassuringly to Bob as he drifted his lips down your neck to your collarbone. He gently ran his hand up your leg, his fingers brushing against the hemline of your sundress as his hand drifted slowly up your thigh. You felt him take a deep breath as he pressed his lips to your collarbone again, his fingertips grazing your underwear gently. He looked up at you without saying a word, his lips still hovering above your collarbone, as if to ask for permission to keep going. You bit your lip, holding back a grin as you nodded your head, giving him the signal to continue.

Bob’s fingertips grazed against the dampening fabric of your underwear again, moaning softly into your collarbone, he looked up at you as he slowly dragged them down off your legs and laughed softly. 

“Wow.” he said, trying to hide his mix of arousal and curiosity, “You’re uh…you’re pretty into this, aren’t you?” He laughed as he tossed your underwear to the floor. 

“Mhmm,” You smirked at him as you guided his hand, his fingers gently brushing against your folds, feeling your arousal as it began to gather on you. 

“Shit,” Bob laughed softly as he shook his head, “This is where I start to not know what I’m doing.” He gave you an apologetic look.

“Everyone has a first time, Bob, I’ll show you what to do,” You smiled reassuringly at him as you continued to guide his hand along your core. He smirked as his wandering hand found your clit, two of his fingers pressing against the sensitive nub as he discovered it. The sound that fell from your lips was almost enough to make Bob lose all self-control on the spot. He arched his eyebrow at you as he continued to gently draw circles on it with his finger. 

“Y-you can use your mouth there too,” you nodded, trying your best to think clearly as he pleasured you.

Bob bit his lip gently as he positioned himself between your legs. He took his glasses off and sat them beside your leg as he ducked his head down in between your legs. He gently pressed soft kisses to your folds, his tongue carefully lapping up your wet arousal as he kissed at you. You let out a loud moan as Bob’s lips made contact, but before he could lift his head up to see if you were ok, your hand was grabbing a handful of his sandy blonde hair, pulling his head into you gently to tell him to keep going.

Taking the hint, Bob continued to leave soft kisses on you, grinning as he heard you moan out. 

“Feels s’good, honey, keep doing that,” You encouraged as he began using his lips to suck at your sensitive clit, your hips bucking upwards against his mouth, your body craving being as close to him as humanly possible.

Your compliment to Bob’s skill turned something on in him, and suddenly, he began moving his lips in the same rhythm but with more passion, like he’d just discovered his God-given talent on this earth was using his mouth to pleasure you into oblivion. As you reached your boiling point, Bob continued to lap his tongue at you, his lips sucking on your clit as you rode it out. He pulled his mouth away from you before pulling his t-shirt over his head. He wiped his mouth on his shirt before discarding it to the floor and working to unbuckle his belt before dropping his shorts to the ground. His boxers were tenting with arousal as he looked down at you, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. 

“Do you…do we need anything?” He asked as he tried build up the confidence to do what he was about to.

“I’m clean and on the pill,” You nodded your head and laughed softly, “So you’re good.”

“Right,” Bob chuckled softly as he nodded his head before peeling his boxer briefs down off his body. 

Bob stroked his length before lining his hips up with yours. He took a deep breath and looked to you for an indication that you were ready, that you were sure you wanted to go through with this. As you flitted your gaze to him, biting your lip as you sized him up, you couldn’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. Bob looked at you, somewhat mortified as his eyes widened.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing, you’re just…bigger than I’d pictured, if you get me. You might need to take a pause once you get started so I can adjust to you, mkay?”

“Gotcha, don’t worry darlin’,” Bob nodded knowingly and laughed as he ran a hand through his hair. 

You let out a sharp exhale as Bob lined his hips up with yours and gently pushed himself into you. As promised, he paused for you to adjust to his size, waiting for you to tell him you were ready for him to start. Once he heard you give the ok, he began thrusting his hips in and out of you, a deep grunt escaping his lips as he felt your body tighten around him, your arousal dripping from you and onto his cock. 

“Fuck,” Bob groaned as he thrusted deeper into you, finding his rhythm, “You feel so good, darlin’.”

“Keep going, baby,” you purred at him, encouraging him to continue before throwing your head back in ecstasy, moaning his name loudly.

Bob felt your walls clenching against him, gripping his erection tightly as he pumped himself in and out of your body. He felt as you arched your back against the bed, bucking your hips upwards into his thrusts as you came close to your climax again. He groaned loudly in pleasure as his thrusts became sloppier and more frantic.

“Fuck, darlin’, I’m so close,” He hissed as he let out another flurry of sinful sounding moans and grunts as he came.

The two of you sighed in unison as you rode your pleasure out together. Bob panted as he pulled himself out of you, his cheeks red from breathlessness as he tried to compose himself. He hovered over you, a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. You pressed your lips to his passionately, moaning softly against them as your overstimulated body struggled between wanting more from him, and wanting to take a break.

“How was I for my first time then?” He grinned at you. 

“I never would have believed you if you told me that was your first time after we’d done it. I also don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before this either.”

Bob smirked as he laid himself down beside you in bed, putting his glasses back on.

“Well, apparently I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?

#lt. robert floyd #lt. robert floyd x reader #lt. robert floyd x you #bob floyd #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #lt. bob floyd x reader #lt. bob floyd #top gun maverick fic #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert floyd x you #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x ofc #robert floyd x oc #robert floyd x ofc #bob floyd x ofc #bob floyd x oc

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ MARINE BLUE

tw. noncon!, dubcon, size kink, dacryphilia, biting, blood, interspecies sex, non-human anatomy, double penetration, blood, breeding, thalassophobia, captivity, creampie, sub reader, biting wordcount. 9.5k

a/n. here she is the mermay fic that is finally done. yes it's a monster of a fic but i promise it's worth it,, i sWear i swear ♡ enjoy merman/shark iwa rearrange your guts

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

The glimmer of the sunlight casting down on the wide open ocean is enough to make you a bit dizzy, holding up a hand over your eyes in hopes of shutting out some of the brightness. It’s undeniably beautiful, and the soft rolling of the waves brings a chilly breeze over the otherwise sweltering deck of the boat. Droplets of sweat roll down your neck, making your sunscreen covered back a little more sticky than it needs to be— but that’s a minor inconvenience to pay for a day out on the water.

Is what you tell yourself, and others when they ask. Beside you, Tobio is gearing up, yanking up his wetsuit with a little bit too much intensity and focus when it sticks on his calf or wrinkles around his thigh.

The sight makes you snort despite yourself. It’s the kind of expression on his face he has when he’s overly excited, though the narrowed frown your way would probably scare some people away. “Here, let me help,” you jump in before he rips the seal-like, dense fabric. Again.

“Yeah,” the noiret grunts. You wrap your arm around his lower stomach for stability and reach your free hand down the leg of it, feeling Tobio tense up beneath your touch. An otherwise innocent touch— but still your own face goes a few degrees hotter. He’s staring down at you as you force your hand along the length of his thigh until you get to the problem area, wiggling the sticky fabric away from his skin with a bit of work. Your hair sticks to the sides of your face when the wind picks up, but you pray you don’t look too horrible when you meet his eyes.

“I’m gonna pull it,” you say, and Tobio’s eyes flick away from your face back to his own body, then nods. “‘Kay, here— goes.” With one hard pull at the fabric it slots up the few inches and pulls nice and snug to those phenomenal thighs of his. You slide your hand back out along the side and let out a little puff of air, then take a step back to wipe your hand over your forehead. You’re most definitely flushed, nose and ears an obvious shade of embarrassment. But you are… painfully obvious, after all. “Good?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Kageyama doesn’t quite turn to face you when he says it, instead choosing to jam his arms into the sleeves with just as much enthusiasm as before, but it sounds genuine.

“Ahem,” the lithe, annoyingly familiar voice to your side chants, “if ya don’t mind, lover boy. The rest of’us are ready when you are.” Atsumu’s got his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow obnoxiously raised your way as you meet his look head on. There’s a short twitch of an amused smile that comes to his lips, before he sighs. “Yer’ gonna be okay up here, ain’t ya? ‘S not exactly the most fun of jobs, even if ‘a trust ya with ma life.” You nod, taking the softer look in his eyes of one of concern. Hidden under a lot of posturing and a lot of talk, but concern nevertheless. “Don’t get a heatstroke out ‘ere. We’ll be in for a little while, so drink some damn water.”

“I will, I will,” you roll your eyes, but the smile that comes to your lips is a genuine one, “thank you, ‘ma.”

He pointedly ignores your quip to help Osamu put on his oxygen, checking every tube and valve meticulously before they go. Bokkun, as always, is the first in the water, and you take a quick second to wave him out before undoing the rope around the railing and tossing the floaty down into the water for the big swimmer to grab. He says something that you miss when Osamu jumps the last bit of the ladder down, but the smile beaming on his cheeks is enough to settle you. “Have fun, guys!” you yell behind them, watching both Atsumu and Tsukki descend the ladder and get into the water.

Last up is Tobio, whose goggles and mouthpiece still dangle around his neck as he fixes the escaping bit of hair into his suit. “You sure you don’t wanna come with?” he asks, winding his arms around your lower back to pull you a little closer. “I mean, we can wait a little longer if you do. There’s plenty of gear down below, and we’re anchored. You don’t need to stay up here for our sake.” His little frown is pouty, and you’re quick to lean up and cup his cheeks. He has to dip down a little to allow you the comfort of reaching, as you lay a long kiss on his lips.

“I’m sure. You guys go have fun.” Your eyes go to his chest, then aside at the ropes of the ladder. He lingers a little longer, letting out a sigh and laying a kiss to the top of your head. “Bring me back something pretty.” You usher him along after the others, who in the meantime have connected the floaty to the weight a couple dozen feet away. A little far for your liking, but then again— keeping up with Bokuto when he’s on a roll is nigh impossible. The noiret sends you a thumbs up when in the water, and you wave him off with a small smile. It doesn’t take long before he’s reached the floater and resumes the last of the gearing up, then dives.

And then it’s just you. And the impossibly far stretch of the ocean as the bright midday sun gleams on its surface and glistens like a night sky full of stars. The warm waves and the salt bobbing peacefully against the ship belly, with the occasional hiccup or gurgle. You really do love it out here. The little alcove formed by the stacks of rocks is hidden in its shadow, running wind between the giant rocks where they stick out of the ocean strong and sturdy. In a hundred more years, these giants might have eroded away by wind and rain and the biting of its ocean footing.

But for now it is still your favorite diving spot, with the summer weather and the usually gentle pull of the ocean. Down below the surface, there’s a few underwater grottos, and a gorgeous stretch of land that used to be covered head to toe in coral reefs. Not so much anymore, sadly. Your last few years diving you’ve been more focused on the fauna— by necessity. The gentle bob of the waves against the hull of the ship calls to you, spattering into a million warm droplets.

It’s unfortunate. Your stomach still twists and turns at the idea of following them down, and you know that if you think about it too long, you’ll start to panic. And when you panic, your breathing goes short and hiccup-y and you get this awful urge to fight against your years-long collected knowledge; and that leaves you a useless addition to the team. Even just a few meters under had set you off last time. Left you sputtering and crying as you surfaced too quickly and your ears popped so hard you had to sit down for a while afterwards. It’s not fair, you think as you lay yourself down on the deck, legs still dangling off the side of the boat for the drops of cooler water.

How a single dive can ruin years of experience. But unfortunate and frustrating as it might be— you remember the darkness of the ocean. Night diving is always a bit of a gamble, that time hadn’t been a special occasion.

You remember being swept by an undercurrent, away from the guys, away from the lights. Remember your throat closing up when the water went a few degrees colder, the weight of the oxygen flasks on your back pulling you down despite your flippers working harder than normal. All scary, deafening— but then the yank. You’d never felt anything like that. Yanked a few meters deeper by a mean natured thing, the cold of it on your calf until you screamed around your mouthpiece and kicked toward your own leg.

The memory still gives you that tight feeling deep in your chest, that the ocean was victimizing you personally. You’d barely been able to force yourself to ascend slowly from the depths when you’d finally made it back towards the lights, shaking so badly Atsumu had to help you out of your gear after. Realistically, people die every day. Divers die being stupid, or reckless, or overconfident. The ocean doesn’t have a moral compass, after all. You don’t really want to become a number in a statistic.

But still, you long to join your friends again, to enjoy the perfect diving conditions to scuba around the familiar scenery yet again. You could spend hours for every day of the rest of your life and still never have enough.

You stretch out your arms above your head and let the sun warm up every fiber of you, glowing in the heat and the smell of salt winds that sticks in your nose and makes your hair a rough, coarse mess. It can only have been an octopus, you decided this only a few days after the incident, and you still believe it now. There’s a lot of them around the sandy ocean floor, hiding under rocks and nesting in the grottos from time to time, and while they are very strong, they’re not ill natured. It was an accident, you know this. So really, there’s nothing holding you from going back in. At least to splash around a little until the others return.

The time ticks by fast when you’re focused on the wind and the heat of the sun, lulled by the gentle tilt of the boat back and forth. Your feet a bit colder, toes stretching out towards nothing.

You sit up, pop the top off of your flask and down a few good gulps of water, then peer down into the water a couple feet away from you. The water closest to the stacked stone is only a good 10 meters deep, slowly dropping off the further you get away. Not even enough to truly hurt yourself if you do panic, though you’d rather avoid another incident. It rolls and bubbles under your feet, a clear, iridescent color that foams white. And you let out another wistful sigh, until your breathing hitches.

There’s a dark form that flicks through the water and under your boat, too fast to identify— all you see is that it’s big. Longer than the types of dolphins that come here. The ocean floor remains mostly undisturbed, but you suddenly jerk forward as the boat gets bumped from the other side. Your hand wraps around the railing while you stare, watching that same animal dart through under the water edge, tail whipping up a serious splash as the boat jerks again. You almost slip off the deck with the force of it. You’ve never seen any dolphin bump a boat this way either, you think in a fit of anxiety, sweaty palm wrapping tighter around the cool metal.

Your mind races with thoughts as you try to make note of what you saw, looking over at the floaty. It’s not nearly far enough not to come in contact with it if it’s aggressive, though the rapidness of the movements stay around the belly of your boat. The tail is the only thing you can really see because of the reflections on the water, but the pointy angles and fins don’t remind you of anything other than— You take a sharp breath. You do get sharks here from time to time, but Grey Reefs are small and gentle. In all your years diving you’ve never seen one this big— or aggressive.

And none of the guys are wearing chain protection suits in the first place, because there were no sharks reported in the area. You try to focus your eyes on catching where the shape should be moving down below, but the ocean floor is suddenly awfully vacant. And the wind picks up too, turning the boat further from the anchor point. Before you get the chance to climb down the ladder and switch on the red LEDs of the floaty, another bump jerks you off balance and you clamp your hand down around the rope ladder so hard it burns your fingers. You keep going down though, barefoot and in only your bathing suit as you get closer to the end of the ladder.

But the rope of the floaty isn’t there. Now, Bokuto is a carefree diver at the best of times, but you’ve never seen him forget to tie the rope in such a way that it stays connected to your boat. You panic. Despite all your experience, you get an awful case of cold sweat as your feet stand on the last step on the ladder and get kissed by the water, as you try to spot the floaty from your position. And sure enough, only a few feet out from the boat, the end of the rope bobs on the water surface as if taunting you. The ‘surfacing’ button is only a little further down the rope.

Your chest tightens as you look down below, at the aquamarine color and the soft weave of the waves around your toes. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. You’ve swam with sharks before. This isn’t just about your fear anymore now. Someone could get hurt if you don’t make sure they keep their eyes peeled. You take a deep breath and disconnect one hand from the ladder so you can aim your body towards the end of the rope, before sucking up all your courage to make a nice dive into the water.

Your body enters elegantly, barely splashing. The ocean feels a lot colder than you know it to be after sunbathing, gurgling around your ears as you force a few long paddles forward, then peek your head up. Your aim was a little off, but with a bit more reaching you can will yourself to focus only on the rope. It bobs temptingly just out of reach on each new wave. The water sucks a few degrees of your heat straight off of you, and your muscles are a bit sore, but your smooth technique is well worth it.

You manage to grab on, holding tight around the gritty texture as you paddle back towards the boat with your free arm. A tug stops you. Soft at first, you only notice your leeway is gone when the rope pulls down hard and fast towards the ocean floor and the burn of the rope leaving your palm is enough to have you flinching back. Instead of managing it back with the rope, you’re scared into swimming the other way when the dark shape appears back around the belly of your boat— you drag yourself instead to one of the low outcrops that surface just above the water edge. You’re shaking, your breath heaving wildly as you push yourself out of the water and onto the painfully sharp rocks on your knees.

You hack up some water you must’ve downed from the scare, before sitting down in the little sliver of sun to cast a cursory glance at your palm. There’s a few definite scratches deep enough to pull blood from the plasticized end of the rope, that now sting viciously from the salty water. More pressing is the subject of your panic though, as it lingers half hidden under your boat, only the bottom fin visible from your position. Though it certainly isn’t an ideal situation, you’re at least glad it’s staying by the boat. Visible to you means out of the way for the guys, and your heart rate— though still elevated, calms a little.

That panicked urge came up again, a thought that annoys you a bit too much as you spit onto the wound to at least wash some of the salt out of it. Your water bottle is still on deck, so you’ll have to wait until your new ‘friend’ loses interest. But the animal doesn’t budge even a little, staying right in place and course correcting with an easy whip of the strong tail. You have to admit— begrudging as you are— that there’s something slightly amusing about watching an animal twice your size just … sit under your boat like it’s taking a break in its shade.

“Thanks, jerkface,” you mumble towards the unmoving animal, though your mouth pulls up with a soft smile. The boat makes another noise when the creature bumps against it like the wave that splashes into tiny droplets again.

You can’t help but chuckle when you see some bubbles roll up along the hull and surface with a soft ‘pop’, pushing yourself up from your seated position. You should take a walk while you wait, let the movement keep you warm. The bit of stone you dragged yourself onto isn’t exactly big, but it curves into one of the bigger stacks where the gritty terrain creates a little cave. A soft splashing calls your attention back on the boat. And the absence of the previously tired shadow below it.

Salt water washes up over your feet as you sweep the area around your plateau for its shape, finding the ocean floor equally undisturbed. However normal all if this should feel on any other day, your skin stands on end, like an uncomfortable itch to run. As the wind drops, so does the twisting of your boat with the current. You drop your eyes to the far edge of your outcrop to study each rock as you think, only to go rigid. Your entire spine locks, toes digging into the stone. The top half of a face is surfaced above the water edge, as the man hides himself right up against your rock.

You stare, wide eyed and waiting— for recognition, maybe; or any explanation whatsoever. The guy doesn’t look familiar though. He doesn’t speak, but lingers just enough out of the water to keep his eyes on you, unblinking. It’s such a weird behavior that you’re not even sure what the hell to say, settling on a pitched “Wh— Sorry? I -what are you doing?!”

The man doesn’t respond, or move, and you can feel your anger rising above your concern. “This isn’t funny. You scared the shit out of me.” And then after a few seconds of pause, you point your thumb vaguely towards your friends. “We have a permit.” His eyes are sharp and angular and stunningly shiny, a pretty sort of watery green. You think you’d be able to appreciate it more if he wasn’t so damn creepy.

“... Dude, we’re allowed to dive here. Please just—” you swallow, thinking better of picking a fight. The guy is still between you and your getaway after all. “I can move the boat if you’re bothered.” Still no response. He barely seems to understand you’re even talking to him at all, and you take a few steps closer to get a good look.

It doesn’t… help. Your eyes go wide as you stare at the man— well… What seemed to be a man at first glance, doesn’t look anywhere near as normal as you really take it in. More accurate would be to call it a something. The creature bops unmoving in the water, not taking a breath, not blinking either. His hair colors a dark grey at the spiky ends, coarse with the salt water, and the skin around his jaw and cheeks is distinctly more grey too. It doesn’t move when you shuffle back a few steps, though it does seem to follow you with its eyes. Then sinks a few inches into the water to wet himself again, and back above the water.

You’re… floored. You didn’t notice any signs of dehydration, or of hitting your head— but then what the fuck are you looking at. It doesn’t make any sense at all, and you cast your eyes back at the spot where your friends dove a while ago, before turning back. The creature only takes his eyes off you a split second to follow your gaze, then goes back to staring. A deep sense of childlike curiosity washes over you the longer you stare. You’re unable to help it. You crouch down like you’d approach a stray cat, and shuffle a bit closer. Far enough to feel safe, but just close enough to take in every miniscule change on its face. “Hi.” There’s a dumb, long pause; before you point at yourself and say your name.

A few times for good measure. “I’m… I’m a friend.” As soon as you say that, though the creature doesn’t show so much as an ounce of understanding, he darts forward a few feet along the rock’s edge and closes half the distance between you in a blink. It scares you enough to fall back onto your ass with a yelp, hissing at the sting of the sharp rocks digging into your skin. The creature’s eyes are wide as he dips under the water edge basically instantly, his hiss ringing through your ears as you remain frozen for a few breaths. He moves so fucking fast. It’s a little terrifying really. The sound of bubbles is all that remains, before you allow yourself to peak a little closer to the edge again. His head is sunk about a foot under the water, but slowly comes up again when you stay in place to watch him surface.

Awfully close, only a good two feet away from your face. Too close for your liking. You give a little smile, then slowly sit back onto your heels. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” Even if he would, you somehow doubt he’d tell you this honestly, watching how a large wave washes over him and he carries on without blinking. The chill of the stone below you makes you shiver, teeth clacking. Only when you blow out a tense breath, unsure of how to proceed, the creature forces himself up a little higher out of the water with a leverage you don’t really understand.

It’s only now you really see the stark differences. Though anyone would be forgiven mistaking him from a distance, as close as you are, you can see the dark grey and lighter bellied pattern start to appear along his shoulders. Under the full head of hair, you can now see that where your ears sit, his are obviously absent, and the sides of his throat have gashes that open and close a few times, twitching against the cold wind. “Wow,” you can’t help letting your mouth drop open at this alien-like sight, looking both very human and distinctly separate.

Whatever curiosity that had sparked the creature to come up to watch you in the first place seems to get the better of him, leaning into the rock edge and pulling one clawed hand out of the water to rest it on the gritty surface. His fingers are a greyish blue, and have black, predatory nails only on the three first fingers; silvery membrane stuck between each digit. A hand that’s ever so slowly slid your way until his index finger bumps up against your knee and you’re too anxious to move a muscle. He taps the fatty pad of his finger along your knee with the tiniest movements known to man, as if testing you out, then slowly rests his hand over your knee.

You’re not sure why, but the touch is surprisingly comforting— maybe as a stark difference between the rush of adrenaline you had just minutes earlier. He, in turn, seems absolutely fascinated by your skin, poking and feeling and letting his cold fingers roam around the area. It gives you goosebumps. He looks up at you every few seconds as if to check for your reaction, before pulling back entirely and dipping back under the water surface. “Hey, wait!” you crawl forward to watch as he lingers at the rock edge, before floating back up. This time letting his entire body float up, and splashing his giant tail for good measure.

“What’s up?” You suck your bottom lip into your mouth. He floats easily, clearly very muscular torso flowing down into an equally ripped tail. It’s huge, with the same shark-like coloring going down all the way to the white tip of his fin. When you don’t move, he seems to raise an eyebrow your way, a reaction so strangely human you can’t help but huff out a laugh. He moves his tail again, throwing some water over your thighs in the process— as if encouraging you to touch in return.

“O-oh,” you struggle to come up with anything to say, “I’ll be gentle. Don’t… freak out.” However strange, the exploration seems entirely led by the creature instead of you. Your fingers brush over the colder, wet surface of his tail with just as much consideration as he had for you. It’s nowhere near as squishy as it looks, consisting of stacked muscle upon cartilage — you can feel as he flexes below your hand. He also has claspers, that you pointedly ignore to study the rest of him, but you’re glad your assessment was correct. Male it is.

You cast a glance back to his face, but he retains the same unbothered look as you slide down to feel his fins at the very end of his tail. “Your tail is very pretty,” you coo, and his fin moves to splash up a few droplets of water onto your skin.

At the very least, the sound of your voice seems to please him. He shakes you off to push his tail back under himself, flicking it a few times, before coming to hang back over the rock. Maybe with the confidence of your previous successful touch, you dare reach out your hand to his arm too, along the slightly coarser skin there. It feels a little like very fine sand, and seems to tickle him as he lets out a purring sound that can only remind you of a cat. “Can I see your gills?”

He tilts his head aside when you motion to his neck, understanding; you slide your fingers along his shoulder to the base of his neck. The narrow slits open and close automatically, and he jerks when you brush a finger over them. They’re much softer than the rest of the body, a wet, spongy sort of feeling that has you pulling back quickly. “Sorry! Sorry.” He blows some air through his nose in response, before wetting himself again under the water edge and coming back up. “You can’t stay out for too long, can you?”

No answer, of course. But you’re satisfied with the way he hasn’t left yet, and shift your legs to sit down more comfortably. Now exposing your feet, the creature only takes a second to snatch out and yank your ankle towards his face with one hand, going a little more light-handed when you yelp. He makes a clicking sound and pauses, which you take as an apology before he continues. His other hand pinches at your toes, moving them around with thinly veiled interest. His gills open and close rapidly for a few times, before he pulls your ankle again.

And again, and again, until you follow along and let the —merman— glide you down into the water, hooking your elbows onto the rock to stay afloat. He dips under your body to really inspect you, pushing and pulling your legs separately. Infinitely intrigued with your legs, he squeezes your shin where the bone sits closest to the skin and knocks it for good measure. Then he surfaces with what you can only describe as the start of a grin, exposing a row of sharp, shimmering teeth. You smile back, though it puts a definite pool of fear back into your stomach when he swims up close and starts picking at the straps of your bathing suit.

“Yes, my legs are pretty nice, huh? I,” you swat his hand away from the loop to shiver at the way he bumps his tail against your legs, “need my bathing suit though. No touching.” His clicking noises ring over the soft roll of the waves. You wish you could understand what he was saying. “You’re talkative all of a sudden.” Your laugh isn’t returned, but he seems to perk up at it anyway. The foreign sounds continue as you study the rest of his face, where little freckles sit on his nose bridge, and how large his pupils really are. He seems to notice your staring, because he grows quiet, and his brows go up like a begging puppy. The tip of his fin brushes along your shin, causing you another little shiver. And then, just as fast as you can blink, he sinks back under and disappears off into the water’s depths like it’s the easiest thing.

When you make a move to get out of the water, a harsh grasp around your ankle has you freezing up, ignoring the way sharp nails trail up the side of your body. The merman surfaces with a huff, blowing salt water towards you and you frown. But then he curls up a little closer, and you appreciate the way the rubbing of his skin feels like a warm spark on yours. He leans in to sniff at the side of your face and neck, then sinking down to your collarbones, and rubs his face against you in a stubborn sort of bumping motion.

His rough exploration with his hands soon grows a little too close for comfort to the lower half. “You got something you’re looking for?” you breathe out, turning aside a little to avoid the way his lips brush along your jaw and under your ear, hanging on with a tremor growing from the cold. He doesn’t seem to notice— or at the very least, care, and picks a nail under the leg of your bathing suit with curiosity. “Stop that, that’s mine. Mine,” you try to laugh off the heat starting to make itself obvious on your face, and ignore his narrowing eyes to softly push his hand away from you.

Something the merman doesn’t seem to appreciate much, because his tail wraps around you in a second and he turns you to face the rock side instead, swimming up behind you to trail fingers along the base of your neck. It’s awfully intimate, even when under the veil of innocent exploration. His claws drag along the veins in your neck where your cold body is pressed up against yours. He maneuvers you around to urge your hips back and up, letting out a frustrated rumble when you sink back under. “I don’t know what you want me to do,” you bite back. You watch as he dips back down and twirls around a few times underneath you, lifting your legs up and open to inspect. Before you can even think about your current position, he swims between your legs and pushes his face in between your thighs.

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you splutter and swallow. “F— Hey, h-” You shove your hand onto the top of his head to push him back down, but he doesn’t even budge, your fingers tangling into his coarse mess of hair as he grabs your thigh tight. “Hey!” You’re too embarrassed to look down as he pushes his nose against your pelvic area through your bathing suit— you want to chalk it up to just curiosity, but the sheer proximity is enough to make your stomach flip. For a second you swear you can feel what must be a tongue rub along the fabric, before you’re struggling off of his shoulders with a glow so hot it’s probably coloring your entire face. “O-okay, that’s mine too. So enough. That’s enough.”

The merman surfaces with a funny look on his face, somewhere between confusion and anger at being denied, when you push yourself out of the water and back onto your safe, little rock. He swims in a circle a few times, splashing your legs with a giant scoop of water, before placing his chin on the rock. And you force the frown off your face. “Guess you wouldn’t exactly understand me already being taken.” You reach out to scratch under his jaw until the purring noise comes back. You suppose it only makes sense he can’t speak English, but getting some questions answered would be really nice right about now.

“Hey, can you dive deep?” you mumble as he cracks open one eye to look at you, just to fill some of the silence. “This place has a ton of octopi this time of year, but I haven’t been able to go down to see any. Octopus.” You draw a little shape of an octopus in the air, then mimic it swimming with your hand and point at the water. “Did you see an octopus?” Though you’re sure it’s too hard to express what you’re trying to express in hand gestures, the merman does seem to take an attempt at figuring out what you’re saying.

Then he clicks his tongue, dives under with another hard flick of his tail and disappears from your view along the ocean floor just as quickly. A little bit of hopeful curiosity snuffs out at the sight, wringing your hands together. You suppose it lasted much longer than you could ever have asked for anyway, poking your feet into the water again to swing them back and forth. The sun on your skin is still nice as you take a few seconds to collect yourself, brush some hair out of your face and ignore the heat in your stomach. Right when you slide yourself back into the water to get back onto the boat, the dark shape whizzes along the ocean floor.

He blows out a soft huff when breaking through the surface, and swims up so close you’re chest to chest. Again. His thick tail curls around you to keep you both above the water, before he pulls up a clawed hand to show off the thing in his hand. Which you quickly recognize to be an octopus, poor little arms clinging hard onto his hand and spewing ink. “Oh my god.” He shoves it towards you as you squeak. “No, don’t give it to me! What am I supposed to do with it?” You barely catch the octopus when he tosses it, quickly setting it free. The thing darts off towards the open sea within an instant, and the merman hisses, before looking back at you with a frown.

Then he’s back under, chasing down the poor thing. When he surfaces again, he shoves you straight out the water onto your rocky platform, then launches the octopus onto it too. You feel awful watching it writhe, but are a bit more surprised by how easily you’d just been tossed out the water. You let him get onto the rock with you, and grab the octopus to hand it back to you. You’re almost in tears when you smile at him, shaking your head. “I don’t— I don’t want this. I really don’t.” A few more clicks come from him when you yet again try to release the octopus, hissing in protest. But you still carefully put the poor animal back, and wash off the ink sticking to your hands as it swims away.

Your merman is staring at you with disbelief, mouth corners pulled up in a half-snarl. “It’s okay!” you coo though, “thank you. That’s very sweet.” You sit a bit closer in case he attempts to chase it down again, and pet a hand down his chest. Which seems to douse the fire in his eyes enough to relax, looking between your face and your body a few times. His gentle purring continues when you don’t move your touch away. “I don’t eat live animals. But… I a-appreciate— the gesture. And,” you struggle to continue watching the glint of razor sharp teeth when he cracks his lips open, “you’re… you’re clearly a great hunter.”

When you try to place some distance between your bodies, he lifts his tail and pats it on the wet ground, before moving the length of it over your legs. “Hey,” you quickly say, swallowing the rest of your words when he moves over you more, face to face. His long lashes are awfully distracting so close, mouth hanging open a sliver to show you a peek of a pale, pink tongue. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was about to kiss you.

“I’m taken,” you mumble, averting your eyes and pulling your hands to your chest for good measure.

Whatever he understands that to mean makes him growl, low and possessive. He says something you don’t understand, then growls again. His hand comes to pet your shoulder, running his nails through the baby hair at the base of your head a few times. It snags every few seconds, makes you hiss and moan too. And it makes him grin. Even worse, it sends an embarrassing amount of heat to your cunt, grimacing when you feel your pussy get slick. The earlier touching and now the press of his muscular body over yours is leaving you a mess.

His hand pushes against your thigh, twitching hard, which has your eyebrows pulling tight. You go pale when you look down. What you assumed to be his hand was something else completely, moving around against your thigh with a sticky sheen being rubbed on your skin. The claspers you’d earlier seen to identify him as male, are swollen and extended, and he’s basically rubbing them against your hip like he’s grinding his cocks into you. His tail is heavy enough to keep you in place under him, and his crawled hand is slid along your side when the purring continues. “Oh, fuck,” you mouth, “oh fuck.” Trying to slip out from under him makes him let out a mean growl, mouth corners lifting to show his canines.

“I’m already taken,” you quickly whisper under him again, placing a hand on his shoulder as your eyes dart all around his face, “please get off. You— I- I’m flattered, really. But you should find yourself,” the growl turns into a hiss when you push at him, “a nice mer lady!” When you get one leg from under the heavy press of his tail he snaps his jaw and clamps his hand tight around your arm, laying down on top of you. His head is nuzzled— or forced— into the crook of your throat and his hips buck against you. “I can’t,” you squeak, shivering under his huge body.

He doesn’t care. The two cocks squirm against your belly, making you feel gross in every single way. Once again you try to push him away with a sad ‘no’, but this time the merman hisses and shows his teeth in a display that even you know to be aggressive. The blunt heads twitch and curl against you in a way that feels so foreign and uncomfortable that your lungs are folding in onto themselves, with only the fabric of your bathing suit that sits in the way. The man’s eyes, despite the brilliant color of them, are narrowed and uncaring. And you understand then, that he —it— has absolutely no intention of letting your begging sway him.

The impatient clawing at your thighs is painful, course skin rubbing against yours. You’ve never thought of yourself as delicate before, but pressed under the huge —absurdly so— creature, you find yourself crying. For yourself, and what you know will happen. It makes your skin break out into a cold sweat, adrenaline pumping under you as his heavy tail twitches over you, and he tries to pull you closer in a way that sends a splitting pain down your spine.

It’s only instinct to get away. Your eyes shut and you slam your elbow forward into his throat, kicking and wiggling until his grip loosens with a surprised noise, and you scramble up shaking. If you had more time to stop and think, maybe you’d think twice about rushing over to the edge of your little platform. But you only hear your mind scream to run! get away, and so you jump. Off the rocks into the coldness of the water, feeling the clack of the pressure on your ears and head, you wildly paddle yourself back to the surface and towards the blurry shape of the boat.

Your muscles are achy from the change in temperature, head fuzzy. And there’s this awful, rapid pumping of a heartbeat that should feel familiar, but doesn’t at all. You pull your arm out of the water and drag it through as hard and best you can, making a decent dent in the distance separating you from safety. But it’s not enough. If you’d been able to think twice, you would’ve known it not to be enough. The hand is back before you can so much as brace yourself, deathly tight as it wraps around your ankle and you’re yanked down. You take a stuttered gulp of air before being pulled under into the chilly cold again, and though you thrash wildly, you can’t see anything with the push of the wave on your skull.

When the tail wraps back around you, you open your eyes despite the salty water, trying and failing to shove at his shoulder before your arm is caught too. Your heart bangs so violently against your ribs you’re scared it might pop out through the skin. But you can’t really think, because your eyes shut against the pain of the salt, filling into your nose, clacking your ears. Your head flops forward as the merman drags you through the water; and it hurts. Your lungs hurt. Your eyes hurt. The panicked feeling screaming between your ears hurts, and without anything else to do, you open your mouth and  scream.

What little sound reaches your own ears gives way for the water to fill your mouth up, the gross, unbearable taste of the ocean water now drowning you. You’re drowning. You’re drowning.

And then you’re shoved so violently back onto the ledge that you don’t feel yourself land until the water is pushed from your lungs with the force of it, and you’re gasping and thrashing around on the stone now. You gag against the salt as spit drips out your mouth and the rushing sound of water leaves your skull for a calmer blurbing, leaving you catching your pitiful breath where you try to push yourself back until your back hits a wall. Tears are pooling in and streaming down over your cheeks in full hiccupy weeps— can’t help it. But as you rub and rub until the stinging goes away, you come back to yourself just enough to realize something.

It’s significantly darker and quieter than it was. You look around through your teary eyes, finding yourself stuck in a cave. The water at your toes is the only source of light you’re allowed, every other escape showing you only stone and moss. Wherever the creature took you… it isn’t a place you’ve ever been diving. And— you glance up to the middle of the pool that laps ever so calmly at your feet now. The merman’s eyes are glowing a glittering blue, vigilantly staring at you from just above the water edge where you can see his tail flick around elegantly under the water.

“D-don’t,” you try, only to grab at your throat when only a pitiful squeak comes out, swallowing a few times. “Don’t come closer. Don’t- d-don’t come.” Your shaking hand isn’t much of a shield. The merman’s clicking noise comes back in an equally forceful manner, as he swims all the way to the end of the pool and then back. Still glowering at you. When you don’t move, he swims a little closer, letting the soft brabble of the water carry him towards you. But this time you push yourself up onto your feet and kick at the water, and hiss back. “Go away! Leave me alone!”

“Leave me alone,” you squeak pitifully, and rub your hands along your arms, and glare back. He doesn’t, though you don’t expect him to. But now you’re fucked. You can’t go into the water without the merman grabbing you, not that you’re in much of a hurry to try again anyway, and you can’t get out any other way. The realization gives way to a wobbly lip and a whiny sob from somewhere in your body, as you sit back down with your face twisted into tears, wrapping your arms around your knees.

The merman doesn’t flinch when you glare at him, only peers those creepy eyes back at you. “Go! Go away! What the hell is wrong with you, I-I mean—” Your voice rises automatically, stress bleeding out into your waterfall of words like there's no stopping it. “I’m not even of your kind! Why the hell did you take me here, w-why did —You don’t even— I… You!” Your train of words leaves you when the sound of moving water sounds again, and ever so slowly, the merman starts dragging himself up the ledge.

It’s not big, barely enough for two people to lie together, and with the chance of sliding down into the water. And he’s big. You swallow and look away when he’s still hard —harder even, maybe— and try your very best to ignore the scooching and shuffling sound as he slowly drags his long tail out of the water and gets closer and closer. The merman purrs when he’s pressed against you again, wide chest pressing against your shoulder, and his head slowly nudges against your ear. It’s gross, and you hate him, hate how his hand trails up the inside of your thigh. How he sticks his tongue out and licks along the shell of your ear.

But you can’t help but shiver, a sad squeak breaking free from your throat when he purrs louder and louder each second he’s touching you. His tail slaps the wet ground with a satisfied sigh when he moves over you more and you resign yourself to laying down on the cold, damp floor. But you can’t help it. You have no other place to go, nowhere left to flee. The mere thought of trying to run away again is enough to have your stomach flip like you’ll throw up. You cry when the merman starts nosing hungrily down your neck, licking, dragging razor sharp teeth along the heartbeat.

He lays himself half on top of you, until you can feel the squirming dicks start to reach for your center again. They flop around and move as if with a mind of their own, a nasty sort of display that makes you want to gag again— so you cling to his shoulders instead. Whatever thoughts the creature has running through his mind, it doesn’t show clearly on his face. But you want to look away from his gaze nevertheless, ignoring the revenant way he watches your face twist with every crass touch. When his hands tire of exploring, the merman moves aside a little to shove you further up the rock, almost bumping your head against the wall in the process.

Your thighs are shoved apart, one leg hauled over his arm to get it out of the way. But your thoughts are so still, so awfully quiet. He stares for an uncomfortable amount of time as he leans down to sniffle around the area— and really, that’s probably the worst part. Because despite everything, how much you hate this, hate him, want to kick and scream and pull at his hair until he leaves you the hell alone, you’re still getting wetter. You can feel the heat between your legs, soaking into your bikini bottoms and coating your puffy pussy in glistening slick. It doesn’t take too long for the man to figure out that your bottoms can be pushes aside, to reveal your cunt.

And you suppose he says something, because he stares up at your face with a weirdly calculating expression. “Shut the hell up,” you grunt under your breath despite his silence, hating the —it feels like amusement that’s radiating off of him when he dips a finger into your wetness with a slow growl, and you turn your head to the top of the cave. There’s some shuffling, before he is back over you, and this time you hold the way your throat bobs as he wraps a free hand around it. Doesn’t squeeze, but the weight of his arm alone is enough to have you gasping, tears beading back past your lashes.

Then he shuffles some more, and his fingers are pulled away from your pussy to slot them curiously into his mouth. Aquamarine eyes roll back into his skull when he closes his lips around them, and both of your breathing seems to speed up. You, for his reaction, him; to rip your other leg to slot around his waist as he nudges his cocks against your clenching pussy. His dick is colder than your body, making your tummy flutter as he presses all his weight into you and the glossy head of his cock pops inside. Stretching you wide. Your eyes shoot open as you dig your nails into him. He looks absolutely feral.

The thin ring of blue is all that is left from blown eyes pupils, big and black and terrifying. But it’s the low growling noise followed by the way he leans down to suck the crook of your neck, right below his hand that really scares you. Because his breathing is so erratic, and his hips still haven’t moved. Your own voice comes out like a small child being chastised, when you tremble under him. You don’t want him to move. But you want even less to be speared onto his dick all at once. “Go slowly. Slowly,” you beg, moving to thread your fingers through his hair trying to coach something back.

But whatever it is you try to communicate is completely lost when he seems to break his trace and the dick starts squirming inside its very tight clutch, and he suddenly pushes your head out the way. His teeth clamp down hard and fast on your neck, ripping a sharp whine from you that dies within seconds. The coat of blood you feel running down your shoulder is sticky and burning, and you trash against him. But the moving of his cock continues, like a snake curling inside your dripping pussy. And before the head even starts pushing against your cervix, your other hole is starting to receive its own needy press.

“Ohh- g-god, oh please,” you breathe out, hiccuping and whining and moaning all at once. “Please, fuck—” It’s so tight. Your entire lower half feels like it’s being stretched so wide you should fight, but you’re trembling in pleasure anyway. Your ass is filled with the same impatient motion of his second cock, both twirling and prodding against your walls, and your head snaps back. Your body wound like a spring. You don’t get to think about your orgasm before it’s hitting you full force and knocking the breath out of you, your pussy clenching and gushing around the intrusion.

Your legs shake even when he lets go of your throat to heave his upper body over you again, and starts bucking into you. Relentlessly, with his sharp nails gidding into your thigh and his heavy body sliding you up and down on the floor with each thrust, as his tongue rubs along the skin of your wound. You think you’re crying, but you’re also half aware of the desperate, whining noise you’re making as he fucks your holes so deeply your eyes cross automatically. Your toes curling where your legs are wrapped around his waist, totally unaware of the wrecked way you’re drooling and curling against him.

The loud sound of skin meeting skin each time he bottoms out and fucks you, you feel full— so full it’s a different kind of whole-ness. You’re clawing at his back, ignoring the way he hisses when you accidentally touch the small fin along his spine or how he’s gone hovering himself over your body to stare at your face, and run a thumb over your lips. Every impulse is too much. The way his chest rubs against your oversensitive tits, how his cocks seem to find the exact spot inside you to have the air forced out of your lungs. The black swimming in the center of your vision.

“I can’t, I’m-” You feel him so deep you feel like you’re choking on it, and so you absolutely miss the way your teary babbling makes a grin pull at the corners of his mouth. That wicked mouth chooses the worst time to descend and swallow your noises with a greedy lapping into your trembling lips, when he pushes his tail under himself more to raise the both of you off of the ground. The angle of his cocks sliding in and out of your sloppy, messy pussy changes even deeper if at all possible, mixing with your panting and moaning for the most slurred swearing. 

As you feel the weight of him bump your clit and his rough skin stimulates it just right, you bite your own bottom lip so hard you start to taste copper— and you cum again. But the second shudders your entire body even more, hanging onto his neck as he huffs and sighs into your neck and the rhythm becomes unbearable to you. You want to stop, yet your limbs are welded shut against him— cumming so hard your mind seems to reset for a moment. The merman doesn’t stop, and continues to wildly chase his own orgasm as he pounds into you.

Heavy weight of his body meeting yours, he seems to clench every single muscle in his overly strong body. His nails dig into the stone next to your head hard enough to make tracks, before he shudders and shoots ropes of hot cum inside your holes. You can feel as it fills your stomach, filling you up with so much heat it feels a bit sickening. You’re entirely worn when you let yourself drop back onto the cold floor that’s now become a few degrees warmer, and cry out a long wail of exhaustion. Every part of your private area is completely covered in the mess of your mixed wetness, leaving you in an uncomfortable, sticky puddle when he pulls out.

And speaks to you with that low voice you have no chance of understanding, rubbing his knuckle along your cheeks in a gesture that should feel comforting. But you’re in pain, every inch of your body feels like it’s been bruised— and you squeeze your eyes shut and ignore everything. You ignore the way he pulls himself off of you, how he manhandles you around to lick at your cunt for a few moments, and how the water gurgles at the edge of the ledge when he slips back inside. You wrap your arms around yourself as you wait, and hope for your heartbeat to come back to you.

But you can’t possibly ignore when he swims around the pool a few times, before trailing a finger along your thigh down. Or how he stops, clears his throat with an awfully sore sounding huff, and speaks. Speaks, making your eyes shoot open to look right at him. It’s totally unpracticed and gruff as it fills the small cave-in, but he lifts a brow and grins wide and animal-like. It sends icy shivers down your spine.

“Mine.”

That’s how the beast disappears under the water edge, leaving you used on the floor of a dim cave, with no other way out.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2021. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

#iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi smut #iwa smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #tw.noncon #tw.blood #tw.dubcon #tw.size kink #tw.dark content #tw.breeding #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.iwaizumi

[ken-dom]

Did I Dream That?

Holland March x gn!reader

Summary: Holland had a great time last night. You were amazing, apparently.

Warnings/content: nsfw, oral (reader receiving - gender neutral), cream pie, alcohol, smoking

‘Mmhph,’ Holland mumbled into your chest as his eyes slowly blinked open. His eyelids were still heavy and felt as though they were glued together, so he gave up and just squinted at you through one. ‘You were amazing last night.’

You’d been awake combing your fingers through his messy hair for the past hour, watching him snore and drool onto your chest, wondering what he was smiling at in his dreams.

‘Why, what did I do last night?’

Holland chuckled, rounding off his soft laughter with a dreamy sigh. ‘You know…’

‘No? I really don’t… I came to bed to find you here passed out already, took your suit off and tucked you in… but I wouldn’t call that amazing, Holland, I do that frequently. Frankly, it was amazing that you’d actually made it into bed for once.’

‘Nooo,’ Holland moaned playfully, lifting his head and regretting it immediately when a painful stream of sharp sunlight hit his eye. ‘After that! I was awake and we… we made love!’ Always one for upholding an air of romance, he whispered the last two words as though they were dirty.

You laughed, shaking your head. ‘I promise you we didn’t.’

‘We didn’t?’

‘Let’s see. I watched a movie that you snored through, then I switched the lamp off, laid down and went to sleep. I woke up an hour ago and you were still unconscious.’

‘No?!’ he gasped.

‘Holland, we didn’t make love, I swear it.’

‘Oh shit! Did I dream that?!’

You smiled, shifting down to place a tender kiss at his sweaty forehead. ‘Yeah. I think so, baby.’

‘Jesus Christ… did I…’ he lifted the covers and tilted his head to peer beneath them. You bent your head under the sheets too, wondering what on earth he was looking for. ‘I didn’t. Phew! That would have been embarrassing.’

You realised he was checking to see if he’d actually had an orgasm in his sleep. You’d seen Holland cum in his trousers just from your teasing before, make a mess of the bathroom at a house party he’d dragged you to for a case (those poor towels), get hard at the most inappropriate times… but this would have been embarrassing?

You laughed again, and he joined you this time, although you weren’t sure he actually understood what you were laughing at.

‘I’m sorry. I should really make it up to you. You’ve missed out… you deserve the climax you had in my dream. Come here-’

He leaned in to kiss you, the taste of last nights alcohol filling your mouth and the faint smell of cigarette smoke combined with his cologne filling your nose.

It was an intense kiss, breathing him in, taking his eager tongue into your mouth, his moustache pricking at your face.

It was like drowning in him, and you felt arousal stirring between your thighs fast.

He pushed a knee between your legs and rolled you over so he was on top of you, resting between your legs, and began taking his time trailing wet kisses down your throat, over your collar bone and to your chest.

‘Mmm that feels nice,’ you breathed, stretching under the weight of him.

‘Wait until you see what I did in my dream,’ he smirked as he moved his lips over your belly and lower.

Your back arched as his tongue began to work it’s magic.

‘H-Holland- oh!’

Pleasure washed over you in a seamless haze again and again, and you wondered when he would come up for air (or need a cigarette), but he just carried on as you came and came and came again on his tongue and fingers, your own fingers wound tightly in his hair beneath the sheet and your thighs clamped around his head.

He did stop eventually though, not least because he had leaked so much precum onto the bedsheet it was becoming uncomfortable to stay down there much longer.

He came up to face you again, his moustache wet and sticky, and kissed you fiercely as he slid his throbbing cock inside, snapping his hips hard until he shuddered, filling you up.

‘UGHhhh!’ he groaned as the force of his release ripped through him and you clenched around him, finding release again.

His forehead fell onto yours, and as he caught his breath, you held him close.

‘Good as your dream?’ you panted when he rolled off you and flopped onto the pillows.

But Holland was rendered speechless — you supposed he had put his tongue through a work out after all — but he nodded and whined as he lit a cigarette. Considering he’d only climaxed once, he looked absolutely beat.

‘Don’t wanna get up. I wanna stay here all day,’ he mumbled.

‘Well, it’s only eight am. Holly’s at Janet’s-’

‘Jessica’s.’

‘Jessica’s,’ you corrected yourself, ‘so, we could spare another hour… maybe in the shower?’

His eyes popped open and he instantly dropped his cigarette into the ashtray on the bedside table to dive onto you again, accidentally banging his head against the headboard in the process.

Not appearing to have noticed his head bump, he grinned down at you wickedly before climbing off the bed and holding his hand out to you.

‘Hey, look at that. I just needed motivation.’

#not s f w 💀 #holland march x reader #holland march #holland march smut #holland march x you #holland march x y/n #the nice guys #the nice guys fic #the nice guys 2016 #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x y/n #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fic #ken dom writes

[cowgurrrl]

La Golondrina

Pairing: Javier Peña x CIA!reader

Author’s note: oooooooohhhh bitch plus disclaimer: I do speak and write Spanish and have for several years and will do so as I see fit for this series!! That being said, it won’t always be a perfect translation as I’m working off my grammatical knowledge and handle of the language. Please be patient :-)

Summary: The prologue [1.1k]

Warnings: backstory before the story, canonical type violence, torture

The heat of the room is suffocating. There are no windows, no fans, no fresh air. Sweat rolls down your back and sticks to your body. It's dark and dank and smells like cigarette smoke and mildew. The only light in the room emits from the crack under the door, the only indication you have of how much time has passed. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark as much as they can, and you can just barely make out the blood slicking the floor and the stained tools in the corner. 

This has been going on for so long. Maybe a few days. A week? You're really not sure. You don't know where you are, but you know the names and faces of the men who've taken turns busting their knuckles across your face. They've taken their time with you just as promised, withholding food and water as they bleed you out. You've done your best not to scream and cry, to not show weakness, as they tortured you for information and shoved a camera in your face to taunt the Agency. You've stayed strong. You've relied on your training. You've done everything you were supposed to. But you're so tired. You want to be done. 

Your head feels like it weighs a million pounds, and all you can do is let it hang dejectedly with your hands behind your back, metal digging unforgivably hard into your wrists. You swear you're burning from the inside out, but that could be the circular burns pressed into your skin. Your ribs ache as your lungs rattle to fight for breath. When will they come back? Did they leave you here to starve? Where the fuck is your team? Are you about to become collateral? The room spins around you, and your stomach churns from the bright pain dancing up your body. 

Unconsciousness dangles in front of you like a shiny carrot, and you're about to make the leap when a loud bang sounds somewhere in the building. Automatic gunfire, screams, and loud orders called in Spanish follow closely behind. The cuffs on your wrists keep you from moving to a safer position to protect yourself from stray bullets. Of course, I would survive being tortured by the cartel just to catch an American bullet, you think. You try to shift your feet in a half-hearted attempt to get down, but the floor is too slippery. You'd laugh if your ears didn't feel like they were splitting in half and your sore body wasn't tense with fear. 

The gunfire gets closer, and you can barely make out a handful of different voices, but you don't know if you recognize any of them. You don't know when the last time you heard a voice that didn't belong to a loyal sicario. You don't know what the fuck is happening. You let your head loll to the side in defeat and wait for the scale to tip. However this ends, you hope it's quick. 

A few more rounds find homes in bodies and walls before the building goes silent. Ringing takes over your senses, and you're almost positive there's blood dripping from your ear. The doorknob jiggles, and you can feel yourself shaking hard. You don't try to stop the tears from rolling down your face anymore. You're too tired. Your body is too weak. You're too ready. Another boom, and you scream as the door crashes down and officers swarm the room. Sunlight floods in and nearly blinds you as you squint against its intensity. Golden bullets wink at you, and barrels swing past you as they clear the room. Nobody gives you a second glance as you sit there, bleeding and trembling. 

"Soy CIA! No dispares!" Your voice doesn't sound like your own, all crackly and deep. You repeat it over and over again and hope that you're not hallucinating when you catch the Colombian flag on someone's vest. A hand lands on your knee, and your body jerks painfully to escape it. You kick at the person kneeling in front of you and let out a choked sob, unable to distinguish if the hand is friend or foe. 

"Hey, hey," a familiar voice says. You blink through tears, find his brown eyes boring into yours, and slump in relief. "You're okay. We're gonna get you outta here." Javi murmurs. He moves hair out of your face and wipes blood from the side of your head. You lean into his touch and let out a shaky sigh. 

"Are they dead?" You ask in English, hoping nobody but him can understand the cruel question. He nods and glances at your own handcuffs, forcing your hands behind you. "Javi, I need you to say it. I need to hear the words. Please." You beg. His hands gently frame your face and make you look at him as his eyes scan your injuries.

"They're all dead. Every single one, okay? You're safe now." He says, and you nod. Steve steps into your eyeline just enough to show you the key in his hands before he moves behind you to unlock the cuffs. Everyone is silent as they watch you. Based on the looks on their faces and how bad you feel, it's a miracle you survived. 

"I'm gonna have to maneuver them to get you out. It's probably gonna hurt." Steve warns. 

"Just do it." You urge and clench your jaw. The metal starts moving, and a pathetic moan slips from your chapped lips. If it weren't for you crying in pain, you would be able to hear a pin drop. Javi keeps you upright as Steve works at the cuffs, and the second the metal drops from your wrists, you fall into Javi's chest. 

"I've got you. You're okay." The words are soothing, and the tone is kind, but you sob anyway. You cling to him like a liferaft as the shock takes over. 

You don't remember exactly what happened after that. You know what they've told you. You know what's written down in a classified folder postmarked for Washington and forever relegated to the White Room. You know what injuries sent you into emergency surgery and which would cause aches for years. But the only thing you can say for certain about that rescue is that you heard Javi's radio chatter in Spanish and English, demanding an update. Steve tried to say something, but Javi beat him to it. Your eardrum was perforated, but you heard his words loud and clear.

“La Golondrina está libre.”

#wanted #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena angst #javier pena series #narcos netflix #steve murphy

[itsoutrageouss]

Like a bellflower - chapter one

chapter one of like a bellflower, a Joel Miller x Fem!Oc fanfiction.

warnings: violence, death, blood, the word 'rape', general apocalyptic angst things yk

words: 2,6k

Story taglist

1. A stoic rescue

✿✿✿

“If we don’t find some more fucking ammo soon I swear i’m going to kill someone,” Kade grumbled as we all walked along a broad gravelly road. He bit into the last of his dried meat with anger, ripping the flesh apart aggressively with his teeth. His arm nearly hit me as it swung back. I always stayed behind the four of them. Kade, Ryan, Sarah and Cole. When they found me, and agreed to pick me up along with them I thought I could find solidarity in Sarah. A girl. Or a woman I should say, because she is a lot more woman than me. 

Her shoulders were as broad as the mens, her figure sturdy and hardened like her face. No solidarity was to be found in those eyes. She met me like the men did; looking down at me with clenched jaws, demanding I fix us all food and making mean jokes when I try to brush and fix my hair. 

“That ain’t going to fix nothing sweetheart- how about a trip to the salon instead? It’ll be on me,” Kade would say with a nasty grin and they would all belt out laughter while they tended to their guns like I tend to my hair, with the same kind of care. The kind you should never use on weapons.

“But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue,” I always quote, biting my tongue until metal melts in my mouth.

“You have to calm down, we’re almost at the next town. If there isn’t any ammo, we’ll butcher someone that has some.” Cole replies, walking with fast, tough steps. They were always so hard, so violent. I watched intensely as my feet kicked the gravel. My gun didn’t have a lot of ammo left either but I would rather not have to hurt someone to get more. I’d run if I had to, but I really didn’t. 

The rest of the walk was silent, until old suburban houses started appearing. No one spoke to me. Wordlessly everyone divided to ransack the houses. Cole and Kade went together, so did Ryan and Sarah. Sarah, a dainty, feminine name for a woman with cold, rejecting eyes. No solace. I walked on my own, shoulders slumping. 

The house was a pale blue, the door was off the hinges completely, and I stepped over the rotten wood. Dust swirled in the beams of light that were pushing through barred windows. Someone had stayed here for a while, it looked like. Empty cans of food were piled on the dirty kitchen tiles. When I glanced back at the broken down door, I noticed the beating it had taken. The blood stains that the wood had absorbed. Scratch marks. I didn’t want to think of what had happened here, and instead I filtered through the flashes of sunlight, the warmth pulsing on my cheek. The air smelled like rotten wood too, as well as flowers. They bloomed in the corners of the walls, through broken tapestry they unfolded like nothing had ever bothered them. Like the whole world wasn’t dying. Untouched by the destruction, pretty and blooming. I wished to be like the flower. 

There was no ammo, but in the back cabinets I found old cans of beans that must’ve been forgotten in whatever hurry had happened here. Between the wooden beams that barred the window I saw the others gathering in the middle of the road. Soldiers, they looked like. Machines. They made my skin crawl and every soft thing inside me hardened. I solidified, when everything I fought for everyday was to be soft. Free, fresh and blooming like a flower. A war between me and the world to preserve the delicate human I was, but I felt like throwing it all up when Kade looked at me. He made me feel like he wanted to rape me. His eyes were wide like a drug addict, and his stare a direct look into the most damaged soul I had ever met in my life. I had no clue what his story was and I was terrified to find out. He wanted to hurt the world like it had hurt him and I didn’t want to be here to see it but I had nowhere else to go. 

They talked aggressively to each other, heads bent close together even though there probably wasn't anyone around for miles. I still never got used to seeing people standing in the middle of the roads. The cars were supposed to be there. And now all the cars were flipped upside down and stripped for parts. Sarah crushed a spiring dandelion under her foot. Her black, greasy hair flipped around her head when she talked. The day was beautiful but the people were not. 

We decided to camp there, in the house I found. I found a broken family photo in a bedroom upstairs. I was frozen, sitting on a four poster bed with a family full of strangers in my hand. This room was a memory in time. A photo in itself. If not for the barricaded window, where the sunlight slowly turned red, you wouldn’t be able to tell that life had died everywhere around it. So I stayed there all night. I went downstairs silently, like a child who’d awoken from a nightmare. But there were no parents downstairs, and I crept silently around them to grab a can of beans. Kades big hand squeezed my fragile wrist harshly and the can dropped from my hand. “You’re not taking all of that,” he spoke harshly before opening the can and pouring almost all of the content into an empty one. The rest he gave to me. “Sit down,” he stroked my wrist where he’d hurt me and I coiled away, sitting down reluctantly. I never joined their talk. Ryan was the nicest of them all, though the difference in their behaviors were minimal. They had been just them for so long that Sarah was Ryan and Ryan was Cole and all of them were Kade. Not one authentic trait that wasn’t given to them by the apocalypse. None of their own selves left from before. I pitied it, sort of. When they dozed off in their sleeping bags I snuck back up and crawled under the cold comforter in the bedroom with the photo on the pillow next to me. I tried to imagine living here. With my family, when they were still here. Sleeping next to my parents in their bed even though i probably was a bit too old for it. We wouldn’t tell anyone. Tomorrow we’d make breakfast together, maybe? 

Those thoughts put me to sleep. 

Bang. I woke with such a violent start that my hand flung the photo to the carpeted floor. It was already broken, but now the glass had fallen out of the frame in pieces completely. I had ruined the last memory of this family. Another bang. It was gunshots and the crashes that followed rumbled the old flooring beneath me. Impulsively I ripped the photo from the frame and stuck it in my pocket. I didn’t know how to move. We had never been in this situation. I had never been apart from the group when we were attacked. They were always there and always merciless. I had to fend for myself still, because they prioritized each other over me anytime. Sometimes it was as if they would purposefully let me fight on my own despite them being fully capable of helping me. I swung my backpack on, in case I had to run again. My hands trembled and the gun nearly slipped from my grasp. I creaked open the bedroom door, right at the top of the stairs. “Fucking get him!” I heard Ryan yell. More crashes, grunts. The stairs creaked as I took a step but another noise covered it. Blood sprayed on the wall next to the broken front door. Greasy black hair, fell with a thud to the ground. Blood started to pool around Sarah’s head, which was all of her I could see from this angle. I breathed in. It smelled like being on summer camp. Sunlight, fresh air but a metallic, wooden scent interfered with the peaceful memory. Kane roared and I heard him  surge towards whoever the perpetrator was. I closed my eyes harshly until it hurt, then I opened them and ran down the stairs as the spots faded away from my sight. My gun was stretched in front of me. Everything after that happened so fast I barely caught it. An elbow to Ryan's face who stumbled backwards. To clean shots through Cole's stomach. Bang, bang, thud. Bile rose in my throat. My gun was still in front of me. I didn’t move. I didn’t know what I felt. 

A loud grunt, a missed shot but a punch to the gut from Kade to the stranger. He was hardened too, but not in the cold, menacing way of the others. He looked human, I thought, right before he twisted Kades arm around in a nasty crack, pushing his back into the man's chest before firing a bullet right through his temples. Kade looked at me then, and for the first and only time I saw something else in his eyes. He looked scared. Like a little boy who’d been told off. Who’d been left alone and scolded and shown no love, who now pleaded for it for the last time ever. And then my eyes turned sympathetic. I did everything I could to give him that last piece of whatever feeling closest to affection I had for him and a peace fell over his eyes right as the bullet tore through him. My mouth was sour, and I leaned down, throwing up right next to Sarah’s body. 

The stranger let Kade fall to his knees, discarded him and stalked towards me with a reaction time that seemed inhuman. I expected the harsh, calloused hands of a man piercing my skin. Like Kade’s used to. I dropped the gun. It landed in my own puke. The man stopped between me and the mess. We both looked down. Then we looked up. My eyes were filled with hot, stingy tears from throwing up. Maybe fear. He breathed harshly, quickly and his nostrils flared. His eyes were dark as he looked demandingly underneath his furrowed brows. He had a handsome face, salt and pepper scruff, a hooked nose and sloped lips. But he also was hardened from this world. 

His shoulders fell, quickly aware that I probably wasn’t the biggest threat around. That irritated me, and I squared up, fisting my hands. “Get away or I'll punch you.” I said. There was volume in my voice that I didn't expect. He didn’t move, but looked down on my petty gun again. Then he turned around, and started searching the bodies of my old crew. He took their guns, searched them. I stood still. I was shaking like a leaf and tears rolled down my cheeks now silently. I wasn’t sad for these people. I was sad for the last time this happened. When it was the people I cared for that lay still while I stood up. I cried for them,  tightly fisting the photo of the family I found in my pocket. The man stopped, and looked at me. “I’ll leave some stuff for you,” he said. His voice was gruff. And it hit me like bricks, so hard I nearly folded into two again. I was going to be left alone. The man was looking done, about to leave again. Then there would be silence, like when snow falls. Nothing. 

“Take me with you,” I said, too desperate for my liking but suddenly he felt like the last thing I had in the world even though I didn't even know his name.

“No,” he said, and walked out the backdoor without looking back. I wiped my gun off in Sarah’s shirt, with a little regret but not so much that i felt guilty and followed the man out. He had a horse that was tied to a tree.

“You have to.” i stated, my breathing quick and shallow. I would not let him leave. 

“I don’t, actually.” 

Did he not feel any remorse? What if that was my family he just killed, and then left me for myself. Not even so merciful as to put me in the grave with them? But they weren’t my family and I would not go with them into death, but this man didn’t know. 

“You just killed everything around me.” It wasn’t the first time that had happened and I felt like I was grasping at water, trying to hold it in my hand. I heaved in a gasp of shock and sorrow and it was what finally made him look at me. His brows furrowed even more, if possible. His face softened, and I swore I saw guilt flash across his still-new features. He was listening.

“I’m silent. You won’t even know i’m here. And as soon, I promise, as soon as we come across somewhere else I can stay, I'll leave. But you owe me a ride.” I wasn’t used to selling myself, to making me sound like someone you’d want along on your travels and even though my face heated with embarrassment and the words I spoke, it was all the hope I had not to curl up in that four poster bed until I withered into nothing. 

He said nothing for a while, looking somewhere behind me in thought. I mustered my most desperate eyes. I tried baring my soul through them for him to see that I needed this. He already seemed ways better than any of the four people that had taken me upon since the tragic incident. 

“As soon as we find something.. livable, you’re gone.” he grumbled. The relief made my knees weak, air seeped out of me uncontrollably and I had to hold onto the tree so as to not fall in on myself. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I whispered, tasting tears on my lips that I wiped profusely. I was not to be a burden to this man before I had even gotten onto his horse. 

“Just follow me and stay quiet,” he said, pulling the horse along with him. We walked, and I didn't look back. The blue house I swore to leave forever behind me. The photo I held onto. The sun was only just rising, cold and bright as it stretched over the abandoned houses. We walked in the middle of the road, on each side of the horse. I felt warmth on my skin, on my hair and I combed it down with my fingers and braided it down my back. And no one laughed, or said anything. I realized this might have been my rescue as I looked up at the pine trees ahead, instead of down at the gravel. I looked anywhere I liked and made my hair look nice and I stroked the now curled up photo with my thumb, looking over at the man.

“What's your name?” 

I had already broken one of three rules: stay silent, follow me, leave me alone as soon as possible.

He sighed, “you’re not very good at this.” 

Even his scolding, and his glare was everything Kades wasn’t. There was no malice, no intention to hurt. I didn’t feel fear in my gut. 

“I’m Belle. Like the princess” I peaked over the horse’s moving body.

“Like bellflowers,” he said, glancing at me for barely a second. Like a bellflower, blooming, delicate and untouched by the world. I wish it was so.

“Joel. My name is Joel”

✿✿✿

chapter two

#joel miller #joel miller ff #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller tlou #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x fem!oc #joel miller x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel x reader #joel tlou #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x oc

[allisluv]

COMING CLEAN

Chapter one: Thumper

WC: 5.5k

Finnick O’Dair x OC

Dahlia Holloway sat quietly on her porch as morning dawn approached over the horizon. The events of the 67th Hunger Games had followed her back to district nine and almost a decade later, it continued hanging over her head like a black cloud.

Over the years, she had tried every trick in the book to stop the constant buzz of thoughts; writing down what she felt, walking aimlessly through the fields of wheat, having the shower turned up so hot that skin peeled off of her bones. Out of all the things she had tried, knitting was the only hobby that worked.

Every morning, when she had grown tired of staring at her ceiling when it was so apparent that sleep was not coming, she would creep downstairs and slip out onto the patio. It was peaceful and the one place that she could knit without the fear of someone intruding.

It was a neat little way to make money too; while her district was more commonly known for grain, cotton had become another popular crop over the years. Her brother often came home with baskets full of it and she would use it to make clothes.

It failed in comparison to the clothes that the Capitol citizens wore daily but the residents of district nine had more important things to worry about than attaching gems to their cloaks. So long as they had something warm for the winter, they weren't fussy.

Sunlight was beginning to creep up through fields of wheat and grain. Mockingjays had begun to wake up and whistled melodies back and forth while squirrels scurried up tree branches.

"You're determined, huh?"

Dahlia involuntarily flinched before casting a glance over her shoulder, fingers picking up their pace with the needle again. "One of us has got to bring money into the house," she teased lightly, the tension in her shoulders dissolving.

Her eldest brother, River, had always been light on his feet and he shot her a lopsided apologetic smile. A part of him forgot that she would never completely recover from her time in the games. Nowadays, they had to announce their presence rather than sneaking up on her. He had learnt that the hard way and had a broken nose to show for it. "Couldn't sleep?" he leant against the wooden bannister of the porch. She pursed her lips and shook her head. "Me either."

Dahlia silently continued working on her patchwork, refusing to meet his gaze. She felt as though it would burn a hole through her soon enough. Ever since she could remember, River had always been the one who wriggled answers out of her.

It wasn't intentional but he had these intense, prying eyes and sometimes, it felt like he could look straight through her soul. He would undoubtedly be met with the darkness in her chest and thirteen names carved into her heart but she tried not to think about that too often.

Most mornings started like this. Dahlia rocked back and forth in her chair, basking in the sunlight until River eventually graced her with his presence. Those were the mornings where everything felt quiet and she didn't feel so alone anymore.

Dahlia huffed out a sigh and ran a hand through her chocolate curls, flexing out the muscles in her legs. "I better check on the others. I swear to gods, if any one of them has kicked the bucket, I'll lose it," she failed to hide the bluntness in her tone but her brother had become more than accustomed to it.

Pushing through the back door, she slipped inside the house and busied herself with getting everything ready. Grabbing two wicker baskets from under the sink, she began stuffing day-old loaves of bread into them. River had to duck to fit through the doorframe and he grumbled under his breath, disappearing into his bedroom.

For once, she was grateful she had stopped growing before hitting the six-foot mark.

Dahlia crammed strawberries and blackberries into two jars, making sure there was enough to keep her fellow victors going for a little while. Just as she was wrapping up the goat's cheese and containers of fresh water, River shuffled out of his room.

"Here," he held out a packet of frosted cookies and slowly inched them closer to her. She blinked up at him, waiting for an explanation. "I got them from the bakery. Cost me five squirrels. Just leave one for Ivy and split the rest," he explained, running his tongue over his bottom lip impatiently. "I'm trying to be nice so... take it or leave it."

The corners of her lips quirked upwards and she dug her bony elbow into his stomach. "Aw, don't worry, I can take the credit. We wouldn't want you losing that reputation you worked so hard for," she stood on her tip-toes to lightly smack the side of his face, cackling like a mad woman.

He scowled down at her but she could see the hint of a smile trying to break through. Shoving his sister off of him, he narrowed his eyes jokingly. "I thought you were meant to be making sure our neighbours are still with us?" he arched a brow and shooed her out of the house, shoving another loaf of bread into her already overflowing arms.

The door slammed in her face before she had time to spew back a witty comment. He underestimated how soundproof the door was because she could still hear him laughing on the other side. "Bastard," she hissed.

It took some manoeuvring and wobbling on one foot but Dahlia somehow managed to loop the handles of the wicker baskets through her wrists. With a loaf of bread under one arm and a piece of (shoddy) needlework under the other, she trekked towards the other victors in their village.

She passed Juniper Sinclair's house, deciding that it would be easier to bypass it for the moment. Juniper was more than capable of taking care of herself for an hour or so.

Wyatt Riley on the other hand... well, he hadn't been doing too well lately—— and by lately, she meant the last ten years.

Despite her desperate attempts to return some of the light and joy to his house, it never stayed around for very long. His patio was littered with rotten, maggot-infested apples and Dahlia swore that the damn tree had some personal vendetta against her. They'd have to be dealt with later.

Rapping her knuckles against the front door, she didn't bother waiting for an answer. No one else ever visited and this had become a daily routine, so Wyatt wouldn't be caught off guard. Pushing her way inside of the run-down house, the floorboards creaked in a form of protest. "It's just me!"

Another broken mirror lay at the bottom of the staircase and splinters of glass crunched underneath her leather boots as she ventured further inside. It was safe to say he would not be receiving any more mirror-shaped presents from her at this rate; that one had only lasted a week.

She waded her way through rubbish and glass before forcing her way into the kitchen. It was almost pitch-black but there was nothing new there. Fumbling her way around furniture, she easily found the table and set her wicker baskets down. Now was the hard part; finding Wyatt.

Sometimes, the twenty-seven-year-old would be spread out on the floor and other times, he would be tucked behind the fridge. She supposed that he found relief in knowing that no one would find him in his hiding spaces. It was strange but acting oddly came hand in hand with surviving the games. She knew that better than anyone.

Dahlia wasn't in the mood to hunt for him and she let out a sigh of relief when she found him buried in blankets on the sofa. Flicking on the light switch and arming herself with a fire poker, she stood a short distance from the sofa. "Wyatt," she gently prodded him with the poker and waited for an answer. "Wyatt." He snored obnoxiously. "Wyatt!" she groaned, jabbing his ribcage with the poker.

Wyatt jumped out of the sofa with a gasp, wielding a kitchen knife in his hands and blindly flinging it into the air. Dahlia ducked and the knife lodged itself in a cupboard behind her head (and this was why the fire poker was part of their morning routine).

She clutched the fire poker in both hands and held it out in front of her, waiting for the adrenaline high to wear off. After a second, he seemed to get a grip on his surroundings. "It's just me. Are we good?" she arched a brow and brushed stray strands of hair out of her eyes, slowly lowering the weapon.

Wyatt nodded sheepishly, his adam's apple bobbing as he took deep breaths. Running his shaking hands down his face, he quietly muttered reassuring words to himself. Purple bruises were beginning to blossom on the olive skin of his knuckles. Dahlia guessed that was where the broken glass in the hallway had come from. Her heart constricted in her chest and she had to bite down hard on her cheek.

Sometimes, she wondered why she burdened all this extra responsibility on herself. Hell, sometimes she'd much rather let Wyatt rot in his house than deal with him. But then, there were moments like this, when he would mutter into his hands and she knew giving up on him wasn't an option.

Wyatt Riley was the victor of the 66th Hunger Games at eighteen years old. Dahlia remembered the day of his reaping—— she had stood with a crowd of other fifteen-year-old girls, each of them waiting with their hearts stuck in their throats, hoping and praying that they'd make it through another year.

Jasper Riley had been called and suddenly, someone from the crowd was screaming that they volunteered as tribute. The utter desperation in Wyatt's voice had been enough for people to allow him to pass through and then, he was stumbling onto the stage, clutching his chest as though it was going to give out on him.

He had volunteered for his younger brother who had been fourteen when his name was called. Jasper and Wyatt Riley were strangers to Dahlia at the time but she did know that they were kind people— until the games, that was. Wyatt smiled for the cameras when he returned home but there was something different. Something missing.

He used to radiate sunlight. His smile used to reach his eyes and laughter had come as easy as breathing to that boy. But that boy had died in the games. Hollow eyes and frown lines were all he was left with.

She had seen his light return once. Only once; after the games, when he got to reunite with his family. It was a fleeting moment but it was there. Dahlia saw it in his eyes——he had spun his wife, Violet, around in a circle, laughing and giggling as he captured her lips in a kiss. When the newlyweds finally parted, Wyatt had scanned the crowd and practically bolted toward his daughter. Every camera panned in on ten-month-old Isla and her father as he held her close and cried into his wife's shoulder.

She had never seen the light in his eyes again.

When Dahlia was reaped the following year, she was sure she would die in that arena, just like he had. The only living mentor for district nine was a man three years older than her. A half-dead man.

But even with her doubt and her scepticism, he had pulled through. He gave her pointers on appealing to the crowd and an angle to work with. He convinced the sponsors to root for the underdog. He gave her hope. No matter how difficult she made his job, he refused to give up on her.

And she wouldn't give up on him. Not now, not ever.

"I brought you some stuff," she cleared her throat and dug through the first wicker basket she laid eyes on. Kicking her foot at one of the wooden chairs, he obediently sat, a tired look in his honey-brown eyes. Berries, loaves of bread, goat's cheese, water, fresh eggs and cookies were unpacked from the basket. "I'll find some meat later. Swing by if you run out of food."

Wyatt nodded quietly, eyes surveying the mountain of food on his kitchen table. "Thank you," he tugged on his dark curls anxiously, keeping his eyes trained on a broken floorboard beneath his feet. To say that he was grateful for Dahlia Holloway would be a huge understatement. On mornings when exhaustion left him tied to the bed and grief seeped from deep in his bones, she never let him go hungry. And how did he repay her? By aiming a knife at her head.

Dahlia didn't seem to mind, though. She hummed a tune under her breath as she buzzed about his kitchen. Small talk had never been their strong suit and they opted to sit in silence instead. The knife hit the chopping board as she carved the bread into thin slices. Finding a jar of gooseberry jam in the fridge, she slathered it on two of the slices and slid it across the table to him.

"Eat," she ordered, tongue quickly running over the excess jam from the knife. She was sure he would happily starve if she didn't force-feed him.

Wyatt gingerly took the bread, muttering a soft word of thanks. In the time it took for Dahlia to sweep and restore a bit of order to his house, he had finished off another two slices of bread. He got to his feet to help but Dahlia glared over her shoulder and he sunk into the chair again. He was older but he also knew better than to argue with her— talking to a brick wall would be easier.

Pushing herself onto a countertop, she leant forward and cracked open a window to let fresh air in. Dahlia hopped down and wiped her palms in her dark jeans, spinning around to look for Wyatt. He had reclaimed his place on the sofa, curling into the far corner with a baby blanket clutched in his grasp.

She softly padded her way towards him and perched on the edge of the sofa, gently ruffling his dark curls. "It's okay," she whispered, the pad of her thumb running over his bruised knuckles. "It's all okay," she soothed.

They sat like that for the better half of an hour until Wyatt's breathing evened out and he fell asleep. She draped a fluffy blanket over the exposed skin that his baggy sweatshirts didn't manage to cover and started gathering up her belongings.

Balancing the lighter load in her arms, she managed to slip out of the front door without much noise. She kicked the rotten apples off the porch and hoped that the birds would take them off her plate.

Dahlia retraced her steps, trekking towards her final destination of the morning. Pale pink tulips bloomed in the flowerbeds outside of Juniper Sinclair's house, brightening up the young girls' front lawn. Before she could even knock, the door swung wide open and she was almost flattened as Juniper tightly hugged her.

"You're late today," Juniper pointed out, rocking on the balls of her feet as she grabbed Dahlia's hand and pulled her inside the house. A fond smile tugged at Dahlia's lips as she kicked the door closed behind her and followed the bubbly blonde into the kitchen. "Do you want me to take Ivy scavenging today—"

"What the hell is that?" Dahlia cut in, dark eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline as she stopped in her tracks. Hastily throwing the basket down, she chewed on a fingernail and watched with reproachful eyes.

Juniper squealed excitedly as she bundled the rabbit into her arms, stroking its black and white fur with a gentleness that resembled a mother holding her newborn baby for the first time. "It's a rabbit! My rabbit. His name is Thumper," she explained proudly, wisps of sleek blonde hair framing her face.

Dahlia resisted the urge to roll her eyes—— the last thing she wanted to do was upset the seventeen-year-old. If she had learnt one thing about Juniper, it was that the victor was easily upset. At the start, it got on her nerves but she grew more sympathetic when she realized that it wasn't an act—— it was simply part of who Juniper Sinclair was.

Instead, she folded her arms across her chest, eyeing the rabbit suspiciously as if it would launch itself out of Juniper's arms and start attacking. "Alright, cliché name aside, whats it doing in here?" she asked flatly, waving a dismissive hand about. "Please don't tell me you wanna keep it, June," she groaned, digging her fingers into her temples.

Juniper wrinkled her nose in confusion and the freckles dotted across her cheeks dipped. "Well... I've named him now," she frowned, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm keeping him," she paused as if she was hesitating on speaking. "I get lonely in this house. It just reminds me that I'm alone, I guess," she admitted, ducking her head to hide her flaming cheeks.

Dahlia's stomach was doing flips and bile burned the back of her throat. Memories raced through her head at the speed of light; kneeling on the grass outside of Victors Village as Juniper buried her face in Dahlia's jacket, sobbing and screaming.

Now, a year and a half later, she felt crescent moons forming in the skin of her palms as she tried to stay tied to the present. She couldn't dwell on it. Falling apart wasn't an option at this point.

Regardless of whether they kept it together or not, it wouldn't bring back their loved ones. Wyatt wouldn't get back his wife or his daughter. While Juniper may have managed to escape the clutches of the repulsive Capitol men, she was still an orphan.

Dahlia, on the other hand, had refused to sell herself to snobby Capitol citizens and in turn, traumatized her younger sister when she watched their parents be slaughtered. The final nail in the coffin, really, was that Snow had still managed to keep her under his thumb.

All he had to do was flaunt the threat of harming Ivy or River and before she knew it, she was being pulled back to her hotel room by a man who left bills on the dresser instead of saying goodbye.

Rolling her shoulders back, she clenched her toes in her boots and cleared her throat. "Alright. So long as you look after it, I don't mind, June," she shrugged a shoulder and turned her back but not before Juniper pumped her fist in the air excitedly. "What's a rabbit meant to eat anyway?" she mused, rummaging about inside of the wicker baskets.

Juniper placed the newest member of her admittedly non-existent family into a cardboard box and slid up onto the countertop beside the baskets. "Haven't got a clue," Juniper yanked her cream-coloured cardigan up over her slender shoulders. She rested her chin in the palm of her hand and Dahlia shot a pointed look her way. "I'll figure it out! He might like ice cream or bread or something!"

Dahlia's mouth fell agape and she had to fight back a laugh—— Juniper may have been cunning and a fighter, but god she lacked common sense at times. "June, if you want that rabbit to stick around, you don't feed it ice cream," she started searching the cupboards and checking expiry dates. "I think they eat grass and lettuce."

"Are you sure you're not trying to kill him?" June raised an eyebrow and tapped her fingers against her kneecaps as Dahlia chucked a gone-off banana out of the window for the birds. "Five minutes ago, you told me to get rid of him and now you're telling me about his dietary restrictions."

Dahlia snorted at the comment and playfully swatted her in the face with a tea towel. "I'm not trying to kill him, you idiot."

There was never a dull moment in Juniper's presence and today was no exception. As Dahlia restocked the pantry, she rambled on about every thought entering that little head of hers. Every so often, she would ask if she should stop talking and every time, the woman insisted that it was fine. She couldn't begin to imagine how isolated June felt at times.

Despite her bubbly personality, Juniper lacked in the friend department. She was the victor of the 73rd Hunger Games but, unfortunately, it didn't win her any brownie points with teenagers her age. Most of them claimed she was too much, too exhausting to be around, and her friendships usually fizzled out after six months.

Ivy was the only exception——Dahlia's younger sister and Juniper were like two peas in a pod. Both Dahlia and River had been slightly worried that it might end in tears but so far, they had been best friends for two and a half years (despite the two being polar opposites).

Once the cupboards were stuffed full of juicy berries, gooey pastries and tins of ripe tomatoes, Dahlia eyed up the rabbit once more, trying to make up her mind on it. So long as she didn't have to take care of it, she supposed it didn't matter. She didnt have a say in the matter, technically speaking, yet June nearly always ran things by her anyway.

Maybe it was because Dahlia had been her mentor in the games. In the last two years, she had grown fond of the younger girl, to tell the truth. Or maybe it was because Dahlia was the closest thing to a mother that she had left. Either way, she wouldn't tell her what to do unless it was something irrevocably stupid—- and a rabbit didn't exactly fall into that category.

She dragged her attention away from the rabbit and back to the girl, who was too quiet for Dahlia's liking. "What's wrong with you?" she interrogated, hands on her hips. "Come on June, spit it out," she impatiently dug her fingers into her hipbone.

June hesitated, slowly starting to rock back and forth on the counter. "Do you think our tributes will stand a chance this year?" she murmured, green eyes staring blankly ahead. There was no answer and she cracked her knuckles to fill the silence. "I mean, it's a quarter quell, isn't it? What do you think the catch is gonna be?" she shuffled back on the countertop until her spine hit the wall.

"I don't know," she muttered truthfully. Her answer did little to soothe the blonde's nerves. She didn't have all the answers but she backtracked all the same. "Well, it's four months away. I haven't thought about it, really."

She leaned against the oven, close enough to feel the lumpy dials digging into her pelvis. "Hey, at least it's not us," she teased, draping an arm around the girl's shoulders. "We're gonna do what we do best—- we'll teach them how to fight and we'll work our pretty little asses off to win them sponsors. That's all we can do. Got it?"

She chastely kissed the crown of Juniper's head and squeezed her shoulders before struggling to her feet. "Now, are you walking me out or do I have to do that on my own and all?" she raised a dark brow jokingly.

If Juniper was still upset, it didn't show. She hopped her way to the front door, dragging her feet along the tiles and grabbing hold of Dahlia's bicep when she remembered something she so desperately forgot to tell her.

Dahlia knew what she was doing—— it was obvious that she didn't want to be left on her own for the rest of the day (and, let's be honest, subtle was not in that girl's vocabulary). Nevertheless, she hummed when it fit the context and nodded without missing a beat.

If the years she had spent socializing with the people in the Capitol had taught her anything, it was how to fake a conversation she had absolutely no interest in. After an agonizing ten minutes, she stepped onto the porch and into the warm stream of sunlight before a shadow got in her way.

"Hello, hello, hello my darlings!"

District nines escort, Malaki, traipsed his way down the driveway, flashing the girls a dazzling smile as he approached. Once he was close enough, he grabbed a hold of Juniper's hands, squeezing them gently. "My god. You need to stop growing, Juney," he tutted. There was no malice in his voice—— there never was, not when it came to Malaki.

He turned on Dahlia next, picking up a few limp and loose strands of hair. "Bloom's gonna kill you, y'know that right?" he frowned, letting his hands drop to his hips once more.

As if on cue, a blood-curdling scream came from the woman behind him, followed by the frenzied clack of eight-inch heels.

Bloom clutched at her chest and Malaki had to slip a hand around her waist to keep her steady. "Oh my god, I need a drink already," she murmured between heavy breaths.

Within a split second, she was manhandling Dahlia, angling her head and prodding her cheekbones. "You need to give me something to work with, darling. It's the same every month," she complained, rubbing the crease between her brows.

Bloom began ordering about her gaggle of assistants, hysterically screeching that they were at least twelve hours behind schedule now. Dahlia chanced a glance at Malaki and it took every ounce of self-control that she possessed to not burst into laughter. That would certainly send her stylist into a breakdown.

Bloom's entourage of assistants were drenched with sweat from hauling bulky suitcases from the train. Admittedly, the train couldn't be any closer to Victors Village, but Bloom couldn't fathom the concept of packing light and it showed.

With aching arms and forceful pants of exasperation, the assistants began carrying the supplies up the hill leading to the Holloway house. Dahlia's house wasn't far— less than a minute away from June's, to be exact— and it was more a slope than a hill but with the amount of equipment her stylist had packed, she wasn't surprised by their lack of enthusiasm.

"Don't tell me you forgot about today," Malaki raised an accusing brow in her direction but she brushed him off with a roll of her eyes. "You're lucky Bloom hasn't caught on yet," he continued, checking his golden watch to double-check how long they had to pack. "You may be able to fool our little redheaded friend, but not me, my darling. I know everything."

Dahlia suppressed a smile by clamping her lips shut. He was right. He nearly always was. She had forgotten and Bloom would lose it if she found out.

Malaki always knew people better than they knew themselves.

If Bloom was fretting over a new outfit, he knew how to put her mind at rest. When Dahlia was searching for an escape route out of a particularly painful and uncomfortable conversation, he would glide onto the scene and sweep her away without anyone batting an eyelid.

Malaki wasn't scared of calling people out when they were in the wrong. He knew what to say and when to say it.

"How long does the Capitol need me to stay for?" she couldn't hide the bitterness in her tone as she kicked a pebble into the air. She narrowly missed hitting the back of Bloom's shins and made a mental note to keep her anger at bay before her stylist tripped in her ridiculous heels and broke an ankle— or worse, a nail.

"A week," Malaki replied, choosing to bite the bullet rather than sugar-coating the truth. He didn't scold her for her tone, not when her anger was directed in exactly the right place. "Since our star-crossed lovers won the games, there's been parties in the Capitol all night, every night."

He paused, fingers moving to toy with his lip ring. If he wanted to approach the subject, he needed to take precautions. What she was forced to do on her visits to the Capitol was a sour and sensitive topic and one that she didn't talk about. "I know it's not gonna be a lot of comfort, my darling, but at least you somehow managed to escape some of the parties until now."

She didn't answer for fear of what would come out of her mouth. She knew that he was trying to make her feel better but the reality was that nothing was going to ever make this better.

She sucked in a steadying breath and tried to remain focused as her house grew closer with each step that she took. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks," she choked out the words, offering him a tight-lipped smile.

Malaki gave her a curt nod. He didn't push her for a further answer and chose to walk in silence while the pair caught up with Bloom and her assistants.

Dahlia worked her way through the miniature sea of people gathering at her front door, each one of them slightly skittish. She couldn't blame them— Ivy and River had a history of being... hostile when it came to her prep team.

She debated asking them to wait outside but decided against it. Hopefully, she could gather her things and leave as quickly as possible. Ushering the group into the warmth of her hallway, she racked her brain for a plausible excuse that would satisfy her brother.

"What the hell are they doing here?"

Looked like she was out of time to think. Closing the door behind her, she let out a sigh and turned to face her brother's temper. "Dial it down, for gods sake," she huffed under her breath, returning his glare with just as much discontentment. Shoving her brother out of the back door and onto the patio, she left her team to their own devices in the living room.

River's eyes were blazing with anger but she knew it wasn't directed at her. No, it was aimed at the people who were associated with the Capitol, a group of rich and selfish people who had stolen his parents from him. His jaw was clenched so tightly that it ached. "How long are they here for this time?" he snapped, knuckles white from holding onto his bicep.

"Not long. I have to go to the Capitol for a week," she folded her arms over her chest shamefully. "I can tell Ivy that I have to do planning for the quarter quell or something," she pinched the bridge of her nose, head throbbing with pain.

While River knew about her... arrangement with the president, Ivy was unaware of why she was called back to the Capitol every month.

Ivy was seventeen and her older siblings had agreed that there was no need for her to know. She was still so young. She had a couple of childhood years left—and Dahlia was damn certain that the Capitol didn't get to take those, not when they had robbed her family of so much already.

River's eyes softened ever so slightly and he sighed through parted lips. "I'll come up with an excuse for Ivy. I'll look after Wyatt and Juniper, too, there's no need to worry about them," he said softly, rubbing at the crease between his brows.

"Just—— be careful, yeah?" he dragged a hand down the length of his face. He moved a bit too quickly for Dahlia's liking and she flinched without thinking. He muttered an apology under his breath, taking a step out of her space. "You better bring me back those scones I like, alright?" he teased, trying to break cut up the tension in the air. He lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

His touch began to burn and she wriggled out of his grasp, grinding her teeth. He didn't take it personally; between the Hunger Games and the men in the Capitol, she couldn't stand being touched.

Dahlia endured the physical contact whenever it was asked of her but if she could avoid it, she did. Ivy and River had witnessed one too many of her episodes to bother being offended at this point.

She wrung her hands together anxiously and craned her neck to peer through the glass panel in the back door.

Malaki ran his fingers over a painting that hung on the wall while Bloom hastily dashed about, scolding her assistants for messing with precious valuables.

Dahlia pulled her sleeves over her hands and turned her attention away from her prep team. "I should get going before Bloom pops a blood vessel." She made a start for the door but paused. "River?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't let June feed that rabbit ice cream."

#grace talks🐚🌷 #the hunger games #wlw #thg #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #catching fire #mockingjay #coming clean #dahlia holloway

[cryinginmelodrama]

another december. another year coming to an end. another version of me fading away as these last days of the year melt in the dusky foggy sky. a new me taking shape in the misty mornings. it is an extraordinary thing how humans are ever-evolving. we change a little with every new sunrise, every new sunset, with every new friend and every new lover. what are we if not the collective response to the places we've been and the people we have met? I often wonder who would i be if there wasn't any other person in my life. who am I without being a daughter, a sister, a friend, a lover? who am I when it's three in the morning and the time seems to have come to a halt, when melodrama is playing faintly through my speakers and i am staring at my ceiling? who am i when i am alone watching the sunset wishing i could catch a little sunlight in my hands and store it away so that I'll never have to say goodbye to the sun? who am i when i am watching my dog sleep in the backyard and have the sudden intense urge to cry? like there's a dam of emotions in my heart that is just waiting to burst open. who am i when i see the carved names of two lovers on the walls of an old building feeling like if i could just concentrate enough I'll hear the laughter of those two people madly in love? who am i when i am surrounded by a crowd but have this unrelenting thought that i can't figure out what my purpose in life is and want to dissolve into nothingness?

i believe it's almost impossible to know who you're on your own. my likes, dislikes, feelings, emotions all seem to be polluted with the essence of other people in my life. nothing that i feel seems to be purely of my own. but then in some ways its a comfort as i get to carry a part of the people i love within me. i don't have to look for them too hard they're always around. but i still crave to understand myself on some level. i feel an intense need to know the me detached from everyone else in my life. for the past few years self love hasn't been something that came naturally to me. i faintly remember a time when this heart used to be full of love not just for others but for my own self too. a time when my mind didn't know these hundreds of self critiquing remarks. when I didn't try to find fault in myself as i stared in the mirror every morning. when i didn't feel the need to speak positive affirmations in order to be a little kinder to myself. today it all seems like a distant memory. almost dreamlike. something that was probably there but i can no longer be sure of. but as i grow up and years pass i am trying to rebuild this broken sense of self. to learn a kind word or two for when i need them. to become the person i always dreamt to be. these past twelve months have passed away in a haze. but then there were days where i could swear that time had stopped moving ahead just to prolong my misery. we're made to believe that you've to gain from every emotional experience. to learn from them. to intellectualise them. but i think the most important thing that this year has taught me is that it's not necessary to make every experience a learning curve. it's okay to do things and go places and be with people just because they give you happiness. or maybe at times a much needed distraction. it's alright to not come out stronger every time you break apart. it's okay to just heal yourself. it's alright to not run your way through life. it's alright to just stroll through it. the only thing that really matters is how you feel about yourself. how you treat yourself. and if you're happy with yourself. so as this year passes by us i feel the need to make a promise to myself. a promise to keep living life on my own pace. to not make everything an intellectual experience. to be in moments. to feel love. to feel heartbreak. and to give my love to myself before anyone else. i know its not going to be an easy journey ahead, it never is. but i know I'll be alright as its just the end of another year, the best ones of which are still ahead of me.

#prose #quotes #dark academia #poetry #inspiration #spilled writing #dark academic aesthetic #dark acadamia quotes #poetic #writers #writing prompt #aspiring writer #writeblr #writers on tumblr #modern poetry #women writers #light academia #aesthetic #aesthetic post #aesthetic poetry #prose poetry #dead poets society #writers and poets #english literature #spilled ink #spilled poetry #sylvia plath #self love #life quotes #love quotes

[bluelockcodeblue]

Soft Jingo Raichi is still kinda hard...

Pro!Jingo Raichi x reader

Jingo Raichi is gonna treat people any old way he wants. Ain’t bout to be no arguments and talkback about it, m’kay? Except… sometimes.

He might have been more popular if he weren’t so cutthroat.

Like dang bro, you don’t have to be so hardcore all the time.

But to tell him that… Raichi’s lip just curls in disgust.

Cuz what’s he s’posed to do, play nice? Like Isagi? Huh? Like a little punk?

He’ll throw down with anybody in a battle of wills, no problem. They’re ultimately opponents after all, and it’s his job to crush all opponents.

But...

You’re not some scrub in his way.

You’re his woman.

The one he watches action/adventure movies with.

The one he can count on to work out with him and cheer him on.

The one he daydreams about when he thinks his teammates don’t notice.

The one he buys everything for, all the time, even though he complains loudly about it. (But at the same time won’t ever let you pay for anything soooo.... 🙄)

The only feet he’ll ever rub (and occasionally chomp on).

The only one he trusts to see his insecurities and share his pain with.

The one he makes sure is on the inner side of the sidewalk.

           ----------

Now, does he always succumb to his inner lover boy?

Haha, of course not!

Stubborn ass, that’s why you can’t stand him sometimes.

He’s noisy.

He’s crude.

He holds grudges.

But he tries to make it up to you.

Though that doesn’t stop him from manhandling you sometimes.

Grabbing your ankles and yanking you down to the foot of the bed when he gets done working out so you can give him a kiss.

“Jin! Ugh, mooOoovE!” You kick you legs to no avail. “Let go!”

“I ain’t letting go of nothing.” He’d stare at your mouth greedily, nails digging into your hips so you can’t escape his pungent, sweaty odor. “Gimme a kiss.”

“Not until you shower, have you smelled yourself?!”

Wrestling with you over the remote.

Smacking your butt so hard it stings every time he passes by you in the house. Don’t even think about trying to run and avoid it, he will enjoy every moment of chasing you down.

Wrestling with you over your phone. “Who’s got you giggling over there?! I’ll kick his ass!”

Pulling you down into his lap by your arm when you walk by and locking you in place with an iron grip that’ll only tighten if you struggle.

“Gimme a kiss first.”

Snatching you up against him and crushing you into his chest until you can’t breathe when he’s missed you.

“You think I won’t kiss you right now in front of all these people?” He really likes kissing you.

Like, why can’t he be more delicate??

But if he goes too far and hurts you, you bet you can let him know right then and there and he’ll cut it out. All that high intensity pain he likes to dish out is for the riffraff, not you.

          ----------

He can’t wrap his head around it but he can’t seem to pry himself from around your little finger.

He swears he’s not a simp, but everything about you has the potential to turn this man’s defenses into Swiss cheese.

Your intensity that grows and boils almost as hot as his when the two of you end up in a screaming match. He’ll yell all he wants but he would never put his hands on you. And when it’s over and Ringo’s feeling guilty and missing you, he can’t help but replay how fired up you were… and how hot it was.

When you’re annoyed, how your cheeks puff out, and he can poke them and make a little farting noise.

When you praise him for anything at all. It’s his egotist nutrition.

The way your eyes seem to blaze when the sunlight shines on them just right.

Your boobs. No matter what size they are, they’re his favorite. They’re his nuzzle buddies, and probably the safest area for you cuz he’s so gentle and purposeful with them. But he sometimes drools on em if he’s asleep. 🫤

The comforting scent of you that seems to linger everywhere in the house.

The way you scoot up and hug him from behind in the early morning when he sits up, pressing kisses down his neck and bare back as you encourage him to do his best at practice.

He hates how easily his body dissolves under your affection, but will bask in all its tingly glory anyway.

He knows he lets you get off easy with stuff he wouldn’t tolerate in anyone else.

And he spoils you rotten and then complains about it only to spoil you some more. 🤦🏽‍♀️

He won’t admit he’s getting soft, but he just…

Can’t go savage on you like he does everyone else. Ain’t bout to be no arguments and talkback about it.

#raichi jingo #blue lock raichi #raichi x reader #bllk headcanons #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bluelockcodeblue

[spxllcxstxr]

How Each Member of the Fellowship Takes Care of Their S/O with a Chronic Illness • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Could you perhaps make a list or some Headcanons about which LOTR and The Hobbit characters would be the best at taking care of a chronically ill s/o? Or would enjoy having that kind of significant other the most? — @tolkien-fantasy

Warnings: I don’t have a chronic illness, so this is all based on like research and knowledge I got from living with my friend at college so it might be a bit inaccurate/different and for that I’m sorry, I did keep it a bit vague though so... this takes place before the events of lotr

A.N: I swear to god Gandalf is more platonic jlwnljw, I typed “each member” and “s/o” without even thinking about Gandalf’s inclusion lmao, gn!reader, I hope this is done and written well!!

•

Gandalf

Immediately consults ancient texts to try to find a cure or at least some way to help alleviate the pain or make it easier to go about your day

Because that makes it so he can’t stay in one place for too long, he brings you to Rivendell

There, Elrond and other healers try to help you, and Gandalf tries to visit often

Even if he doesn’t find anything new, he’ll bring you books and maps and other things to keep you entertained

He sits by your bedside often

Let’s you borrow his staff as a walking stick if it’s hard for you to walk, shows you some magic to keep your spirits up

Gandalf genuinely thinks of you as his child and he hates to see you in pain

“I will forever be by your side, dear child, I will help you every step of the way,”

Aragorn

Aragorn will also bring you to Rivendell

Gives you soft kisses to your forehead every morning before locking himself in the healing chambers with Elrond to find a way to help you

Is so excited when he finds something that may help you even a little bit

When you want him to just sit and relax with you he gladly relents

Loves sitting in the gardens with you, basking in the sunlight

When he goes in his adventures throughout Middle Earth he’ll always send letters back to you, mostly describing the land that he knows you wish you could see for yourself

On particularly bad days he’ll pull you close to him and he’ll murmur elven songs to you or tell you stories of ancient battles

“My love I am here.”

Boromir

As the son of the Steward of Gondor, he makes sure your shared quarters are perfection for you

The finest bedding, blankets, making sure everything is within reach of you

Even has a balcony close by for you

He loves sitting there with you, watching the sunset, fingers intertwined on the table top

Will not consult the elves, but has all of the finest healers in Gondor helping you, finding methods that may help your aches and pains

Keeps a guard with you at all times when you go out just in case something happens

You become great friends with other wives of other lords of the lands, and they are such great fun and a great distraction from everything when Boromir is gone

Boromir loves stroking your cheek at night as he whispers to you

“I love you (Y/n). I am so sorry you hurt, I wish I could take all the pain from you.”

Legolas

Oh he totally panics

The bond you share is so intense that he really hates it when you’re in pain, he feel so helpless

But he stays so strong for you

Gets the finest healers, finest herbs for you, learns ways to help you from healers

Anything you need you get, Legolas is a Prince, and he will not rest while you ache

Likes taking small strolls through the Greenwood with you

Picks flowers, has picnics, even reads to you out in the light

Is basically at your command, whatever you need him to do, he’ll gladly do it

“Meleth nîn, how can I help you today?”

Gimli

The dwarf can be gentle when he needs to be

He too brings healers

But Gimli is more adept to make the mountains more accessible to you

Ramps, hand rails, even a makeshift wheelchair when you need it

Gimli is here to help you live your life and his craftsmanship is primarily focused on you

But in helping you, he helps many that live in the mountain

On your bad days he’ll sit with you, with precious gems and he’ll tell you the tales on how he found them deep in the mines

His heart is with you

“You’re resilient, laddie, you’ll pull through”

Frodo

Frodo will try so hard to help, but the Shire is very limited in medicinal skills

He loves taking you to the most relaxing spots to read in the shade of a tree or to dip your feet in the Brandywine 

Bilbo will also be helping out of course, you’re family at this point

The two of you help him with his writing and even start writing your own

Frodo would love to go on an adventure, and while you may not be up to going on one with him, the two of you can pretend

So many nights are spent by the fire, the two of you huddled close together on an old armchair, book and mugs of tea abandoned as the two of you drift off

Frodo may not fully be able to help you, but the spirit is always there

“Sweetheart, we’ll go to my favorite reading spot today if you’re up for it,”

Sam

Sam is just the sweetest hobbit

He’s so very unsure about how to help, but his heart is so big and so full of love at all times

Constantly asks you how he can help

Picks flowers for you every day when he comes back from work

The two of you absolutely have a garden together 

Has a walking stick/other mobility helpers made for you custom 

Is very much by your side whenever he’s able to be, unless that feels too much/suffocating for you, then he will back off a bit

Sam just wants to make sure you’re ok

“Come here, dearest, tell me how I can help,”

Pippin

Pippin is basically still in his tweens so he doesn’t quite understand that you can’t go for a run though Farmer Maggot’s fields or climb the tallest trees in the Shire

But he’s there for you nonetheless

Will always entertain you with stories and gossip from around the Shire

Pippin loves resting with you, just lounging in the grass or in bed and just talking, or cloud gazing 

Honestly he just loves being close to you

“I’d do anything for you petal, though I think asking me to stop rummaging through Farmer Maggot’s may be asking too much,”

Merry

Merry will absolutely bring you on boat rides, mostly with a few books

It’s actually pretty romantic

Tries to help you the best he can, but Shire medicine isn’t the best 

Though if dwarves or men happen to cut through the Shire, he’ll ask them for advice 

Always asks you how you’re feeling and how he can help you feel better 

“And just how is the best hobbit feeling today?”

•

#lotr #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #lord of the rings x reader #boromir #gandalf #gandalf the grey #boromir x reader #the fellowship #the fellowship x reader #aragorn x reader #legolas x reader #pippin x reader #merry x reader #samwise x reader #frodo x reader

[contentloadingandstuff]

How do you think yae and ei would react to their kids starting to date? Or them finding the others kid on a date that no one knew about?

Parenting headcanons: Ei & Miko and their views on dating

A/N: Hi Anon. Hope you enjoy!

CW: None.

Ei

An eternity of solitude is the last thing Ei wants for her child, be they male or female. She had to experience that herself, and the shogun wouldn't wish it upon anyone. 

As such, Ei's not going to be keeping them away from romance, unless it's with a mortal being. She will be very, very hard pressed to convince her child to let them go, in fear of what mental havoc their unavoidable death will wreak upon their mind. She knows just how destructive grief is. If the love would be especially strong, however, she will let up. She loves her child too much to harm them this badly. 

Ei is very tolerant when it comes to her child's selections of partners. Just not if they're much older gods, especially ones she met during the Archon War, or the conflicts that followed. She's going to be very, very unsympathetic towards gods more loyal to Celestia than the others. She will always be wary of them, looking out for both humanity and her son/daughter. 

She would be so happy to be a grandmother, so if they turn out to swing a different way, well… she'll be very sad, to put it lightly, but will get over it eventually. At least her kid's happy, right? 

How did she find out her child is dating? She was told by them. Ei doesn't do a whole lot of digging in her kid's personal life. Unless it's  blatantly obvious that they have a crush, she'll remain in the dark. 

The first meeting won't be anything special - just a formal dinner in the palace. She's going to ask about their work, interests and some soft opinions about less controversial topics. If that were the old Ei, she would have certainly scared the S/O away with her uncomfortable, awkward questions. But she's luckily not that oblivious anymore. There still will be rough patches, but it'll be okay. 

Ei sips her tea. Across the table sits her son, Takeshi, dressed in decorative armor picked out specifically for this occasion. He's also drinking the brew, looking up at her and the girl next to him. 

She is quite smaller than Takeshi. Her hands, the only part of her not covered by her white kimono, give off a soft glow, similar to that of fish scales viewed in sunlight. The woman surely noticed Ei's (unintentionally) intense gaze, and is visibly uncomfortable with it. She keeps staring at her tea, too shy to look up or start a conversation. Ei draws an easy, forgiving smile. 

"What do you reign over, dear?" She asks. 

The girl shifts around, and looks up carefully. 

"I-I…um… I'm the princess of small sea life, your Highness." She looked back down again, her right hand traveling down to grip her clothing. She rolls it around in her hand in an attempt to calm her nerves. 

"Oh? Princess of sea life? Well, I do like General Crabs a lot, and they do have my emblem on them." She chuckles in good spirit. "Surely you're not willing to contest their loyalty?" 

"No! N-no your Highness. I-I would never h-hope to challenge you…" 

Her panicked assurances are cut off by Takeshi's hand enveloping hers. They look into each other's eyes, and Ei's heart just melts at the view. 

"Hey, don't worry. Mom was just joking, alright?" 

Ei hums in confirmation, but then she smiles. A mischievous thought passed through her mind. 

"Yes, of course. Or was I?" 

The girl squeaks, and leans towards her son. Takeshi brings her closer, and facepalms.

"Mom! You spend too much time with Miko, I swear…" 

Ei can't hold back a soft laugh. " I'm so sorry, Niko. Miko was right, though. It is fun to tease.. ."

The goddess seems to finally relax a little. 

"Oh, and please, call me Ei. Takeshi has been saying so much about you, and from what I heard, you feel for him as well. Ah, you make such a cute couple…" 

Both of them blush at her words, and Ei feels her heart melt even more. They're just too adorable!

Yae Miko

Her life motto is "live while you're alive", and she wants her kids to live that way as well. There's no way she would limit their life like that. She made the mistake of not indulging in real romance for most of her life, and she wouldn't want her litter to lack that element. 

When they more or less grow up, she will let them go on and find love no problem. Despite her mean comments and teasing, she will keep an eye out on particularly suspicious individuals, with a bit of help from the eldest kids. 

She doesn't give a thought as to their sexuality. She has ten kids, so at least one of them has to be straight, right? Miko isn't worried about having grandchildren in the slightest. 

Kitsune are territorial by nature, essentially in every aspect of their lives - food, territory and partners. Despite being more distinguished, Miko and her young keep a lot of their instincts. And the Guuji will abuse the living daylights out of that. 

Nobody is safe from teasing, not even her joys. Is that mean? Of course, it's not even a question. She will have a limit though. It doesn't mean that she won't be an absolute menace. 

Miko circles around the man. He stays still, keeping his gaze away from the priestess. She can easily feel how tense he is - even his breaths are as quiet and unassuming as possible. His ears twitch occasionally, turning towards her at all times. She looks at her daughter, Naomi, who watches her actions. Miko smirks. 

"Hm… Tall… Muscular…Handsome…Well groomed… Young, and such a strong musk.. ." 

The mother turns sharply towards her daughter, whose displeasure is clearly visible. That's what she is after. But still, she keeps her wits, and Miko just can't have that. So, she turns back to him, and looks right into his eyes. With her index finger, she tilts his face to the side, meeting no resistance. 

"You've got quite the catch on your hands, Naomi…"

Is it the mocking, semi seductive tone she spoke in, or the fact she was touching Naomi's mate? Whatever the reason, the younger fox swiftly moves between the two, and nearly growls. She parts her lips, revealing the fangs for her mother to see. Miko puts on a shocked face, and steps back a little. When she sees her daughter's anger drop and expression turn into one of genuine worry and regret, Miko immediately bursts out in laughter. 

Naomi looks down, just a little ashamed she fell for her mother's tricks once more. The fighting spirit doesn't fade, and the girl bites back. 

"You're done mom? Good. We're leaving." 

"Oh, my dear… are you getting… jealous, perhaps?" 

"I… N-no.. . Not at all." 

Miko sighs, and approaches her daughter. This time, her movements are much less intimidating and friendly. 

"Don't be silly, Naomi. I was merely teasing. No harm done, yes?" 

She exhales, a little frustrated sure, but overall glad Miko let go. Before they leave, Miko turns to the male. 

"Nice to finally meet you, Gozan. Take good care of my daughter, now. She's a good young woman. Keep her away from trouble, will you?" 

"Of course, Lady Guuji."

She crosses her arms over her chest, but her tone and expression remain friendly. 

"You can go now. You have my blessing." 

With a polite bow, Gozan leaves. He joins Naomi on the stairs, and the pair starts descending the Shrine. Miko smirks. 

She just can't wait for an actual, formal introductory dinner. Oh, she has a plan already… 

Thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #fluff #genshin impact yae miko #genshin yae miko #yae miko #yae miko fluff #genshin impact ei #genshin ei #ei #raiden ei #raiden shogun #ei fluff #raiden ei fluff #raiden shogun fluff

[mollisangelus]

Red Is My Favorite Color

Yandere! Alpha! KiriBaku x Omega! Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

A/N: Please don't be mad by the cliff hanger, IT WAS SO LONG, I had to break it up again. BUT I SWEAR THE FINALE IS NEXT. Thanks for staying tuned!!

TW: SMUT 18+ MDNI, Noncon, Dubcon, Begging, HEAVY praise kink, overstimulation if you squint. I think that's all, ENJOY

♡———♡

You woke to movement, eyes fluttering open to an arm removing itself from you. Your body felt heavy, and you knew it was super early in the morning, not just because of how dim the sunlight was, but also because it was Bakugou moving. He always woke super early in the morning. You were grateful however, waking covered in sweat and a dull ache once again. You felt fine until you moved to look at him, a hiss escaped you and vermillion eyes were scanning you over as you adjusted yourself. 

They seemed to narrow until he was looking over at Kirishima. Perfect, the redhead as still asleep. You two needed to talk. 

You looked up at him as he seemed to settle himself again, sat up, but looking at you. Before you could enjoy the peace, he interrupted it. "I'm gonna be real clear with you. I know you've been through some shit," he started, "and I'm sure you think we're just putting you through more of it. But you don't know how it can be out there, with people like you. You're a survivor, no doubt, but you're not strong. Not on your own. It's a hard fact." That stung, but you didn't say anything, letting him continue. "You need us, you just don't see it right now. We might seem crazy to you, and maybe on some level we are, but, so is the world." 

When silence filled the air again, you deemed him finished. "You guys don't know me, you don't know what I'm capable of. I don't want this, whatever this is. I'm capable of making my own decisions, I had a life before you guys." You shot back, you couldn't help the attitude that peaked through. 

It happened before you knew it, and he was in your face, arm resting above your head, bent at the elbow. "Listen here, little one, I don't mind breaking that fire just to build it back up again, don't make me. Kirishima might be all nice and sweet on you, but I don't put up with that shit." His voice seemed eerily calm despite his words, and his voice was lowered. 

Before you could retort, Kirishima shuffled beside you two, groggy eyes finding yours. "What's going on?" 

"Nothing, just talking about what a sleep head you are."

Kirishima hummed, not really buying it, but trusting his boyfriend. "Glad we're all comfortable then, that's gonna make this a whole lot easier," he mumbled tiredly, but clear enough for you both to understand. 

Your anxiety was starting to build, facing the inevitable. You knew this conversation was coming, you just didn't want to have it. You wanted to disappear, everything seemed so intense now, your heart pounding as Kirishima adjusted himself. You felt like a kid about to be lectured. You didn't like feeling small like this, it wasn't right, this wasn't fair. 

"I want to leave." Was all you said. 

Bakugou didn't reply, giving you a look that you ignored. 

"Why's that, Pumpkin?" Kirishima asked, pretending like that didn't just sting.

"This isn't right, I'm free to make my own choices." A long pause. 

"You know what I think?," Kirishima smiled sweetly, but there was a strained look in his eyes, like he was holding back his frustration, "I think you're just scared. Scared of people who finally care about you. Scared that maybe someone saw who you actually are and still love you. I think you're just a coward." 

You weren't expecting such harsh words from him, and it made you feel even smaller. You wouldn't cry in front of them, you wouldn't. You wouldn't prove them right or seem vulnerable. Yet, when the tears bubbled up and one fell down your face, Kirishima was quick to pull you close. "It's okay though, I'll help you. I won't leave, even if you push me away. You just need to learn, how to be loved. We're gonna love you so well, you won't even remember before when you were all sad." 

He was too close now, and you were too overwhelmed, and as you cried and cuddled into him, his scent did something to you. He sat you up, holding you to his chest when you heard shuffling behind you. Before you had a chance to react, you felt hands grabbing at the very thing patch on your scent glands, the clear covers almost unnoticeable. You panicked, but Kirishima only held you tighter. "Sh baby, this is the first step of letting yourself not be afraid. This is the only way your heat will settled correctly, we have to remove these, they've messed with you." He was fucking crazy, they both were. You fought as hard you could while Bakugou removed them, and when they adjusted you so they could pull off the ones on your thighs, you bit Kirishima right on the shoulder, as hard as you could. 

He hissed, but neither made a move to stop you. It was purely instinctive, out of survival, the only thing you could think of, and you had no idea why they didn't pull you away. Instead, you pulled yourself away. Bakugou was grinning at you, wide, the twisted look somehow fit his face. It didn't, however, fit Kirishima's. 

"Just couldn't resist marking me, huh? Just that excited to mate?" Kirishima started, Bakugou moving to take off your last scent blocker. Your scent was already doing things to them, and it wouldn't be long until you were a tangled mess. Your look of horror did something to Bakugou as you realized your mistake. How stupid were you? 

Kirishima pulled you more into his lap once again, facing him. Your crotch meant his, finding it hard as rock. It made you whimper as heat simmered in your core. He leaned down to your ear, kissing right below it before whispering, "Does that mean it's my turn?" 

You felt Bakugou come up behind you, his bare chest meeting your clothed back. "I think you like us more than you let on, Princess." His hot breathe fanning along your skin did things, and the heat seemed to grow from your core, to your whole torso, lighting a fire in your abdomen. An itch that needed to be scratched now residing in your most personal areas. Areas untouched. 

Their scents were starting to become overwhelming as it urged the heat to travel to the tips of your toes and your fingers. Their arousal, painfully obvious. It made you dizzy, and pliant to some degree, as they moved to a position they liked, the boxers you wore being tugged off. 

You hadn't realized it before, but as they both gasped, you looked to see what it was. Looking to the boxers you were wearing and down inbetween your legs, you saw it. You were soaked, slick coating your thighs and Kirishima's shorts underneath you. You suddenly became very embarrassed and aware, trying to close your legs as much as possible. They only squished you more between them, your legs around Kirishima's waist to keep you from closing them. 

"No no, Baby, don't hide yourself." Kirishima whispered sweetly. 

"God damn right, fucking beautiful, Princess." Bakugou followed, his hand coming around and coming dangerously close to you. 

You were definitely in your heat all the way by now, as everything in you screamed to take his touch, and more. Yet, your mind still went to fight or flight response, and you started thrashing again. It didn't do much, but you couldn't, you wouldn't. 

"Wait, no, please! It's- it's my first-!"

The hand froze, and they both went rigid. 

"What..? It's your first time-?" Kirishima asked, surprised. 

You meekly nodded, facing looking away from his intense gaze as blush covered your neck, to your ears, and across your cheeks. 

In a split second, Kirishima was engulfing your mouth with his, mumbling the words, "God, you're so perfect" against you as he did. 

Bakugou's hand seemed more eager now, as he finally touched you, making you jump. Thick digits opening up your lips and rubbing experimentally. "Just waiting for us, weren't you? Like you knew you belonged here. Perfect little omega, all ours." 

You whimpered into Kirishima's mouth at that, and the red head pulled away. "Looks like our little Honey Bun has a praise kink, huh?" He said, and you whined again, doing your best to hold in moans as Bakugou finally pushed in his fingers. It was so easy with all your slick, but you were still tight, practically sucking in his fingers. He couldn't wait to be inside you. 

"You like hearing how fucking perfect you are? How well you're doing, sucking in my fingers like that, Princess?" He growled in your ear, feeling you clamp down on his digits, which just spurred him to curl them inside of you. 

You couldn't help the embarrassing noise that tumbled out of your mouth at that, and it only made you all the more overwhelmed. "N-no. Stop, please…" You whimpered, so daintily. You partly knew it was fruitless, but you kinda hoped this was just a bad dream and they would hear you talking in your sleep and come wake you up. 

Kirishima's fingers found your peaked nipples, and rolled them in his touch, making you arch your back and hiss in pleasure. 

Bakugou chuckled, slipping in another finger. "You don't seem like you want us stop, in fact you seem like you wanna cum." 

You did, desperately, the raging fire in your gut begged for it, and so did the tightening line in your core. They seemed to know you were close, because Bakugou slowed down. 

"Nu uh, little one. What makes you think you deserve to cum? After all this?" 

You whined, and your hands found Kirishima's shoulder and Bakugou's arm, looking for stability. 

Kirishima pulled the top part of your body a little closer and kissed you again, as Bakugou pressed kisses to your neck and shoulders. "No, it's okay baby. You just gotta beg for us, and then you'll get a release. Can you do that..?" 

You shook your head no, determined to not waver. You were so close, your hips bucking to meet his digits, even though it was pointless, he'd just pull back. "Just give in, you're being stubborn."

You whined as he said that, his other hand coming around to grab your hip and pull you back down him, and it felt amazing. You couldn't help the words that tumbled out, "Please, p-please-!"

"There's my little angel, you beg so prettily, but I think you can do better, what do you think, Baby?" Kirishima finished leaning over to look at Bakugou. 

The spiky blonde only smirked in response, "I happen to very much agree." With that, he curled his fingers again and you saw stars, but it still wasn't enough. You felt hazy, dazed.

"Cum! I need to cum! Please! Please let me cum!" You gasped out, back arched and your hands squeezing harder for stability. 

Suddenly his actions became more vigorous, and Kirishima kept up with his roaming hands. "See, I knew you could be such a good girl…" 

Bakugou didn't stop with his fingers, not until you came undone another 2 times. Slick was everywhere, coating your thighs, his hand, his wrist, the things underneath you. It was then you felt his fingers pull out, rubbing along your lips and all the way back, circling your rear. Then panic set in.

Taglist: @skylan666

#yandere bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou #kiribaku #mha kirishima #kirishima x you #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x fem!reader #yandere themes #yandere #a/b/o #bnha smut #may be triggering #potentially triggering

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

Nyctophobia (fear of the dark) // e.m x gn!reader

Summary: Eddie finds out that you're scared of the dark. You have a main nightlight, back-up fairylights, you need music too and you have a room circuit which must be completed or you cannot and will not sleep. Though you hide it well, all it takes is one careless moment to take you down. Lucky for you, Eddie is incredibly understanding, easily adaptable and immediately accepting.

Soft, fluff, self-indulgent (because yes, adults with nyctophobia exist and I refuse to be ashamed of it but sometimes a bit of validation is needed). Opens with discussions of nyctophobia - the hows, the whys, etc., and comes from my own personal experiences so what's relevant to me may not be to you, and that's okay! I hope you enjoy either way.🥰💖

Word count: 4, 106.

Warnings/content features: nyctophobia, crying (reader), swearing, anxiety so intense reader feels sick (but isn't physically ill), Fear of the Dark by Iron Maiden came out in 1992 but we're gonna pretend it came out in '86 because it's perfect for this scenario and it's the song which taught me to not be ashamed of my nyctophobia, so it gets a special mention! Established relationship, fluff, comfort, reader is early/mid 20s, reader initially keeps their nyctophobia a secret from Eddie (this fic is about him finding out about it), pet names (sweetheart, love, maybe some others), alcohol (they cracked some beers open then forgot about them, I guess? I just needed some connective exposition idk), mentions of being kissed so hard you can feel teeth through skin.

Fic specific tags: @the-slasher-madame @munsonsmel0dy @dumb-gemini @akwzilla @stephanie-lkj @thruheavenandhighwater @heavnswrld @devilcherryhot @alliecheer007-88 @dreaming-of-fictional-characters @seidenbros @livslifeonline @eddiemunsonshoney @aliceraered @moonlighting87 @wroteclassicaly

General e.m tags: @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @alliecheer007-88

(SEND AN ASK TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST - I ONLY WRITE FOR EDDIE)

You had always been afraid of the dark.

Always.

There had never been a day, as far back as you could remember, during which you hadn't dreaded with every fibre of your being the inevitable descent of the night. The sunlight hours made you itchy, the knowledge that it would be dark soon hanging over you and making you feel like you couldn't relax. Making you feel like you were in danger, because in just a few hours, all those familiar corners in all those familiar rooms would be filled with shadows, and the monsters inside your head would come out to play.

You never joined in with their games, because you had multiple ways to keep the darkness at bay.

Mainly, you made sure you were never exposed to darkness.

Before the sky had a chance to bleed into darker hues of purples and blues, you already had your curtains shut and the lights turned on. It was easier for you to acclimatise to the night time if you weren't able to see it get dark. Over the course of the evening, you would swap out the overhead light for slightly dimmer fairylights, and half an hour before bed, you exchanged those for your nightlight, which was dimmer still but the perfect level for you.

Light enough to see, dark enough to sleep.

Was how you explained it to yourself, and to anyone who asked - though there were few, for you protected this secret fiercely. You weren't ashamed of it any more - you had learned better than that years ago - but you also didn't see the need to advertise it. It was just something you dealt with alone every night. You knew what worked for you, what scared you, what soothed you, and you didn't stray from those intimate pieces of knowledge about yourself. You wouldn't - couldn't. You'd been too scared for too long now and you knew that this fear wasn't going anywhere; you had tried and failed many a time over the years to 'rid' yourself of it.

You had always been afraid of the dark and you would always be afraid of the dark.

So why not accommodate it every step of the way?

That had been your mentality since you were a teenager and you were sticking to it. Life was easier when you were on your own side. You had managed to avoid Eddie finding out so far; you always went home from his place before it got dark, you never stayed the night, you never went anywhere with him late in the evening. You spent hours with Eddie during the day but the moment the sky showed signs of getting dark, you were leaving. If he managed to convince you to stay just for a while longer, then you made sure to stay where there was light, and to stay as physically close to him as you could, your every nerve alight with tension. Eddie had picked up on certain things ever since you had gotten together but he didn't have enough information to really assemble the puzzle pieces, and that was just how you had wanted it to be. It wasn't that you didn't want to tell him, it's just that it had never come up in a natural conversation, and you didn't want to make a deal out of it by mentioning it yourself.

Unfortunately for you, that decision was taken out of your own hands due to a split second of carelessness. You had gotten 'too' relaxed around Eddie, because not only had you neglected to consider the time but you had also completely forgotten that Eddie didn't know. It wasn't until he began to turn on the small lights in his room and shut his curtains that you were forced to remember where you were, what the time was, and the situation you were now in. You didn't fully grasp the circumstances until half an hour later when you had almost forgotten yourself again - Eddie had a wonderful knack for being able to pull you out of your own head with such subtlety that you didn't even realise he was reaching inside until he already had you beside him on the outside.

"Hey, uh, wanna go grab us some beers to go with Ozzy? They're ~ , " Eddie trailed off, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, "I think second shelf?" The upward lilt of his voice turned it into a question and you smiled.

"Sure, I got it."

You swung the door open, took a step, and stopped dead halfway through the doorway, your body frozen in place, your mind racing. "Oh. Oh, fuck."

There was something in your voice which caught Eddie's attention - it was breathy, not at all how you normally sounded. He had never heard you like that. He almost dropped the Black Sabbath vinyl he was cradling reverently in his hands as he snapped his head around to look at you. "Y/N?"

"Mm-mm. Nope." You shook your head fiercely, already feeling the hot sting of tears. "No, no no - " You stepped back once, twice, three times, and shrieked when your back met a solid warm wall.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, hey," Eddie's words left him in one breath, "easy, Y/N," his hands gripped your upper arms as he pulled you to stand flush against his chest. His hands slid down your arms until they wound around your waist; Eddie hugging you to him. "Didn't mean to scare you. You okay?"

You tried to nod, to lie, you did, but you had already exposed this much of yourself. What was a little more? You shook your head and turned your face away from the scariest sight of that day: pitch blackness outside of Eddie's bedroom door.

"What's wrong?" Eddie turned you in his arms, his dark brows creased.

"It's - i-it's... Eddie, I can't go out there. Won't." You were shaking your head, crying harder now, and Eddie tilted his head at you. Dark curls lightly brushed across the strong slopes of his shoulders as he examined your body language, your extreme physical response to the open door, the late hour, your general avoidance of being anywhere other than in your own bedroom once it got dark...

Oh.

Oh.

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie almost cooed, "you nyctophobic or something like that?"

All you had left in you was a nod. You looked over your shoulder, your breath caught in your throat and you jammed your eyes shut. "Don't like it." Your voice was thick with tears and you whimpered, turned away from the open door. You couldn't even bring yourself to open your eyes, your forehead growing so hot from the inside that it felt like you were going to be sick.

"All right, easy," Eddie's hands cradled your face, "keep those eyes closed, yeah? If they're shut, you can't see it's dark so you won't get scared, right?"

There was, admittedly, some logic in that idea, and it made you smile.

"Trusting you, Eddie."

A kiss was pressed to your forehead. A solemn oath.

"You're safe here, I promise," Two hands moved down your neck, down your arms, down, down, until Eddie could take your hands with his. His fingers interlocked with yours, intent on walking with you to turn on the hallway light. You held your ground, your arm yanking in its socket as Eddie was already a few paces closer to the door. When he looked back at you, he didn't force you to move by tugging or by showing impatience. He came back to your side, his thumb stroking slowly across the back of your hand, and smiled gently, "Trusting me, right?" His dark eyes roamed over your body, reading you as best as he could.

You nodded. Your breath hitched in your throat and Eddie held your eyes with his as you breathed in, out, finding safety in Eddie. He always had a way of making you feel so alive, so comfortable within yourself as he guided you into your place in the world, his hands over yours as you held the knife with which you carved it out. Beside him was where you felt most at home. "Wh-where's the light switch?"

Eddie smiled softly. "Just down the hall, Y/N. Only a couple steps. Keep those eyes closed and your hand in mine, yeah? Don't wanna take you out there," his admission was sheepish, dark eyes fixed on you, "and m'sorry but I also don't wanna leave you all alone when you're so scared."

Your lips twitched into a fond smile as the way he enunciated but made it sound as he had that day in the cafeteria as you said, "I'm following you into Mordor, Eddie." Even with the imposing darkness looming right behind him, in your direct line of vision, Eddie seemed like an angel to you. You were scared, your body trembling, heart racing, palms a little sweaty, mind racing, nausea settling over you like a cloak, but you wanted to be brave. You wanted to step out there for Eddie, because of Eddie, even though every nerve in your body screamed to shut down, to curl up in a ball on the bed and not move until morning.

"Sweetheart, I'd follow you anywhere."

You realised distantly that Eddie was distracting you with light conversation (though his words were steeped in truth), but you let him. As you both crossed the threshold, a whimper escaped you, but Eddie didn't shush you. He let you express yourself, his hand tight in yours, fingers squeezing as his other hand trailed along the wall, searching for the light. It reminded him of the Iron Maiden song Fear of the Dark, which was ironically one of your favourites. You often sung along to it when it came on the radio, though it struck Eddie then that you never listened to it after the sun went down... You really had been telling on yourself this whole time, but no one had put the pieces together.

At the threshold of the living room, Eddie found the switch. "I got it, sweetheart. Got those eyes closed still?" His thumb rubbed over the back of your hand and you shuffled forward to press your forehead to the back of Eddie's Dio vest, needing him closer than close.

"Yep. Like I said, trusting you, Munson."

Your voice vibrated against his back and something in Eddie's chest ached at all the trust, all the vulnerability, you were displaying. He wondered if you realised how loudly your actions were showing your love for him. He hoped his own were saying the same. You were both screaming it at each other. "Good," he hummed, then more dramatically as he drew out the word, "Good."

His antics made you giggle; you could almost see the tilt of his head, the smirk playing at the corner of his plush lips, his intense stare. He flicked up the light, casting a warm glow across the hallway and chasing your fears away, though some anxiety still lingered. Sometimes it took you hours to calm down.

"Oh, would you look at that," Eddie chuckled, "you're lighting up my world."

You groaned, laughing. "That was so bad, Eddie, even for you."

"But it's true." Eddie used his hold on your hand to pull you into his body, wrapping his arms tight around you. "You can open your eyes now, Y/N. I got you." Gentle sways from side to side were accompanied with humming. He switched between songs so quickly that you couldn't pin one down before the tune changed, and you revelled in the chaos that was Eddie Munson, even when all the world was still and quiet. Oh, but he was so himself that it hurt.

Now that you were back in the light, you took a few steadying breaths, feeling your heart begin to slow down, and made your way to the fridge, grabbing the two cans which were, in fact, right where Eddie had said they would be. He had more beer than food in the fridge and you resolved to fix that issue. Tomorrow. When it was light again. When it was safe again.

But tonight... how were you going to get home? It would be dark, so dark, not just out on the streets but at home, and you didn't have a torch you could use to guide your way. Eddie could drive you but there was still the question of it being pitch black at home, and what about -

"Y/N?"

You blinked, snapped out of it.

"Hey, hi," Eddie's smile was tight around the edges, "where did you go, sweetheart?"

You shook your head, focusing on Eddie. He always chased it all away. "I just... I'm worried about getting home. It's dark, Eddie, and I - I don't have a torch or a ride, I don't know what - "

The look on Eddie's face shut you up. It wasn't a stare, but it wasn't just a look, either. It was... contemplative. Putting what he knew of you against the situation at hand, mind whirring to come up with a solution you would be comfortable with. "So stay here."

"I would, but I need - "

Eddie laughed, ecstatic to be uncovering one more section of the tapestry that was you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You got a whole routine, don't you, sweetheart?" He made his way over to the sofa and sat down, patting his lap. "C'mon then, lay it on me."

You hesitated but something in Eddie's eyes was reassuring and you went to him gladly, letting his arms wrap tightly around you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, hands locked around your waist, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

"What makes you feel the safest at night?" Kisses were pressed to the side of your face, the back of your head, your neck, fingers pulled at the collar of your shirt so Eddie's lips could find purchase there, too. You could hear how sincere he was; Eddie wanted to know. Straight away, he accepted your fears, he grounded you with touch and then started a conversation to get to understand you better... no one had ever done that for you before, and it made your heart ache with love for the man beneath you.

You told Eddie everything - about your nightlight, and the fairy lights you rarely used but they were your emergency light source for if the nightlight didn't work properly. You told him about the music you preferred to fall asleep to, and the albums from those bands which you cycled through depending on that night's mood. You told him about your comfort items, and you finished up with, "but, honestly, you make me feel safest. If you hadn't been here tonight, I would've just... curled up in bed and not moved until morning. But you made me want to be brave and I feel so safe here with you and you're..." Don't say it, Y/N, let it be.

You should have remembered that Eddie was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to say something. His arms squeezed around you in encouragement and he nosed at the hollow underneath your ear; he always knew when you needed a little extra something.

"You're..." You sighed, closed your eyes, leaned back into Eddie. You knew he'd stabilise you against him. "The amount of times I've had all my comforts, but something hasn't felt right because you're missing from my space. And even your room is one of my favourite places to be, but it's not... it's not right unless you're there too." You paused, considering, and took one more plunge. Why not? "I just..." You stood up from Eddie's lap and ignored his protests as you turned around and plopped yourself down so that you were facing him. You felt like he needed to see you as you said what was on your mind. His arms were back around you so fast it was like you had never left his embrace. "You're my ultimate comfort, Eddie."

I only feel safe when I'm with you was at the core of what you were saying but you knew, you knew that Eddie would hear what you said, listen to what you didn't, and it was those things he would respond to. If anyone else had said even half the things you had tonight, Eddie would have initially assumed that they were joking or embellishing the truth. He never meant that much to anyone... except you. He took your words at face value, found himself not questioning a single word. Eddie trusted you as much as you trusted him and he tried to meet you vulnerability for vulnerability as he pressed into you until you wrapped your arms around him and squeezed.

"You always find new ways to tell me you love me, Y/N." A hushed awe in Eddie's voice as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. You pressed into the way you were sat on his lap, hugging him to you so tight that you could feel his heart pounding against your chest. "Do you want to stay the night? I don't want to make you uncomfortable but it is pretty late now and I have some small lights we can use, I've got pillows you can hug, I've got..." Eddie chuckled, "You've got me, so, uh - " he shrugged as he trailed off as if to say, 'it's not much' but he was wrong.

It - he - was everything.

"I..." Tell him about the room check. "Please, if it's no bot - "

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence, sweetheart." A dark look crossed over Eddie's eyes and you took the warning for what it was. He had done so much work with you to get you to stop apologising for every little thing - including apologising too much - and at this stage of your relationship, it should have been something you long stopped saying. It slipped through sometimes, but Eddie was always there to firmly remind you that you were wanted, loved, and certainly no bother. Not to him, not to Wayne, nor to anyone else who mattered.

"Then, yes please!"

As you and Eddie got ready for bed - with Eddie finding you a Hellfire Club shirt to sleep in (not his shirt, but a shirt which you were comfortable in) - you did your best to complete a room check without giving it away. You had omitted this part of your night time routine; you felt embarrassed doing it alone in your room every night, so with Eddie there too? No, you didn't want him to know. You kept glancing at his back as you ducked down to look under the desk, swept a hand under the bed to check for anything which shouldn't be there - demons, corporeal ghosts, your mind helpfully supplied itself. You bit down on the rising panic as you continued, checking ceiling corners for spiders or other insects, eyes examining the walls for anything which hadn't been there earlier on...

"Room safe enough, sweetheart?"

You jumped, spun around to see Eddie leaning against the closed doorway with his arms folded over his chest, dark eyes soft under the low lighting of his bedroom. You could tell by the look on his face that he knew what you were doing, and he had been stood waiting for you to finish to your satisfaction, even without having his thoughts officially confirmed. Fuck, he was so beautiful, inside and out, and for what? "I - yeah, it's - I didn't mean anything by it, Eddie, I swear, I was just - "

"Scoping it out." He nodded, smiling at you softly. "It's okay, Y/N. I want you to be comfortable and if that means doing a scare-sweep," his hands spoke for him as they usually did, "then by all means. Just know you're safe here. I promise."

You held your hand out. Eddie stepped forward to take it instantly, his fingers interlocking with yours, and the two of you got into his bed. "I know, Eddie, I know." And then, "You're safe with me, too. Wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt you."

"I know." Eddie hummed, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he pulled you into his arms. He didn't tell you that the lights outside the bedroom were switched off apart from one in the kitchen, which he happened to know was the brightest in the entire trailer. You had been more absorbed in your room circuit than Eddie knew you were aware of, and it had been quite endearing to watch you take all the steps you needed to feel safe in your environment. It meant that you felt comfortable enough to be scared, in a strange way, and to show and then soothe that fear at the same time. Eddie thought it brave of you. His brave Y/N.

Eddie the Banished and Y/N the Brave... it had a nice ring to it.

"So, uh," you and Eddie laid with your foreheads pressed together, legs tangled up under the sheets, wearing matching Hellfire Club shirts, and arms around each other, "can I ask what you're so afraid of? Like, was it a horror film which got you good, or...?" Eddie trailed off, looking at you with affection so blatant that you had to remind yourself to breathe.

"I've... never really figured out why. I just... don't like it." Eddie snorted at the understatement - it was the second time you'd said that about your phobia and Eddie wondered if he needed to speak with you about the way you always minimised your own emotions. Perhaps tomorrow. You smiled, "I never have. I used to force myself to sleep in total black, thinking I'd 'get over it'," you nodded in agreement at Eddie's frown, offended on your past self's behalf, "but it only got worse the older I got. So I figured, why not lean into it and give myself whatever comfort helps me sleep?"

"So that's why the... the lights, the music, the room sweep, the comfort pillow..." Eddie's hands announced each new item and you watched them, mesmerised.

"Exactly. I know there's no demons under the bed, but I still feel the need to check, you know?"

"There's knowing, right, and then there's knowing."

You groaned in appreciation. "Yes, Eddie. God, you get me so well."

"I should hope so." He laughed, booped your nose. "It's pretty fuckin' metal of you, to face your fears every night."

"Metal?"

"Yeah," Eddie's nod was fierce as he tried to push closer into you; close was never enough. "You know you're gonna be scared but you face it because there's no choice, right? That's so metal."

"Sounds like someone else I know... always doing things he doesn't want to, just because he knows he should... He's braver than he gives himself credit for."

Eddie had no real response to that. He only held you tighter, tipped his head back so his lips could find purchase on your forehead, feathering lightly and then so hard that you could feel the outline of his teeth through his skin. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Eddie." A pause, wondering how to say it. But then, all you had done tonight was expose yourself to Eddie, so it seemed pointless to rehearse now. "Thank you for protecting me. For letting me check out the room and for keeping on a light. For being here, for being you."

Eddie wondered what you had eaten that day to make you so talkative, so open, but he refused to question it. He longed to be close to you, in all things and in all ways, and tonight could not have gone better if he had planned it. You had opened up so beautifully and Eddie was desperate to find the opportunity to do the same with you, to show you pieces of him he had never shown to anyone. It would be a quiet thank you for tonight; you really were so brave.

Eddie kissed your forehead again, settling down to go to sleep. Your eyes drifted closed for the final time that night as Eddie said, "Anytime, sweetheart." It was another solemn oath, forged in the fires of a love that burned so hot all either of you could do was let yourselves experience it. After all, a flame shared is a flame doubled.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #nyctophobia comfort #stranger things 4 x reader #stranger things x reader

[littlegodzilla]

Nobody writes Reedus bad boy characters like you so I have an idea for you (if you're up for it) - Justin from Sunlight Jr. His character goes to the convenience store looking for Naomi Watts's character but she has quit. Instead he finds a new cashier who's really bored working the overnight shift and looking for something (someone) to do. Barely any customers come in anyway, and the backroom is right there... 😈

Hi pretty!!

I'm here with your Justin request! It's the first time that I write about him, so be gentle with me, please.

I hope you'll like it!!

Enjoy!!

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

A day on the supermarket.

Justin x Reader.

One shot. Request.

Warnings: swearing. Justin is a asshole. Smut. Rough sex. Dirty talk.

Words: 2100

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @thefemininemystiquee @green-eyedladywrites @hail-yourselves @ruinedbythehobbit @xxtinasxxblog @ravenwings73 @spenciepoo338 @b-tchymoon @minervadashwood @darylssluttt @let-love-bleeds-red @ravendixon @livingdeadblondequeen

***********

You're so bored, the night shift is the worst you can have at Sunlight Jr. It's also true that the pay is higher, but still few take it. You need to get out of that damn town as soon as possible, you need the money, so the shift is fine.

The door is then heard and you raise your head, surprised that someone is awake. To your surprise a man walks in, a little older than you, short dark blond hair, intense blue eyes, with a funny mole above his lip. He is wearing black sunglasses on his head, even though it is nighttime, a chain necklace around his neck, a black tank top and sweatpants. You watch him curiously and see him pull out his wallet.

"Pump two." He says without barely looking at you, chewing gum.

He's pumped gas, that makes sense, or so you think, he doesn't look like he's coming from work, but you're not going to judge him. You type in the amount and wait for him to give you the money. When he raises his head with the money in his hand, he frowns and stops you from taking the bills.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asks with a bark at the end of the sentence.

"And who the fuck are you?" you reply with the same tone.

"Where's Missy?" He asks again, ignoring you.

"She's not." You shrug.

"Did they change her shift?"

"No, she's gone." You don't even know if you should tell him that, but suddenly you see his gesture harden and he purses his lips into a tight line.

"She's gone? Where?"

"I don't know, are you going to pay me or not?" you growl and he seems to tense up even more.

"Tell me if she works at another shitty place like this now."

"There's no other shitty place like this, in this town, asshole and no, she's just gone." You shrug again. "Look if your girlfriend left you with hard balls it's not my problem, give me the fucking money and get the fuck out of here."

"Bitch." He growls in response throwing the money at you and storms out slamming the door.

"Asshole." You snap back taking the bills and go on with your boring shift.

**

You find out his name is Justin, your partner tells you about him, he's Melissa's ex-boyfriend, apparently it was common for Justin to show up at the Sunlight to see her, bother her or just try to win her back, which seemed pretty pathetic in your eyes. That girl deserved better than a prick like him.

"He's cute, but never trust him, he can be with you today and tomorrow with you and someone else at the same time." Your coworker comments to you, you snort in amusement.

"Like I care." You roll your eyes. "He keeps showing up on my night shift and I wanted to know if I should take the baseball bat from home." She laughs and shakes her head.

"It's okay. Good night." She waves goodbye to you and you smile.

"Good night, see you tomorrow." You say goodbye too and leave the counter to start work.

The advantage of the evening hours is that you have much more time to do tasks that in the morning, due to the high volume of people, you can't do, picking products out of place, tidying shelves, replenishing stock, cleaning bathrooms, more thoroughly, checking and updating the warehouse stock. Unfortunately it doesn't take up the whole night and you soon start to get bored again.

The door is heard then, in the time you've been working a few people have shown up to get some cigarettes, alcohol and toilet paper, even a mother looking for powdered milk for her baby, but it's been almost an hour. You sigh, leaving your notebook on the shelf in the storeroom, and go out into the store.

"Good ni..." You start to say, but fall silent when you discover who it is.

Justin is leaning against the counter, again in his tank top and fishing shorts. His eyes bore into you and you cross your arms as he fiddles with his car keys in his hand.

"What are you doing here?"

"You shouldn't leave the box alone, some thief might come and take the money." He replies cocking his head to the side.

"Is that what you intended to do? You're not very smart then." You answer him back and see him smiling half-sideways.

"You're quick..."

"Look, if you're looking for Melissa..."

"That's not why I'm here..."

"Then what do you want?" you ask again. Your shift is already boring enough to have to put up with him.

He chews his lower lip several times before walking towards you, instinctively backing away until your back hits one of the shelves. He keeps moving towards you until his chest sticks to yours. Your breathing goes a mile a minute, your hands search for something to hit him with if you feel he's going to do something stupid, you close your eyes as he leans forward and hold your breath. You hear something jiggle in your ear and you open your eyes again to find he's holding a packet of condoms in his hand.

"I have company tonight and I need backup." He says in a raspy voice and your skin crawls with goose bumps.

"Looks to me like you've got the wrong size..." You try to regain your composure, Justin looks down at the package and snaps.

"You're right." He puts them down and picks up another package a size up.

You feel your lower belly shrink as a chuckle escapes you through your teeth. You drop the shampoo you had taken as a weapon and break away from him to go back to the counter and collect the condoms.

"If you want I can stay and have some fun." He says then, you look at him sideways.

"What makes you think I would have fun with you?" you ask with derision.

"Trust me honey, you'll have fun."

"Trust me, honey." You mimic him with a quip. "You're not as irresistible as you think you are."

Justin's smile doesn't disappear though, it even gets a little wider. He takes the pack of condoms leaving the money on the counter and walks out of the supermarket without taking his eyes off you. You sigh long leaning your forehead against the glass of the counter, you still feel your body trembling a little. It's true that Justin is not your type, that you wouldn't date someone like him, but he's wild and attractive, you can't deny it, his intense stare and his punk side gives you chills. In a good way.

When you manage to pull yourself together, you head back to the warehouse to continue with your chores. You don't reach for your notebook when you feel arms around your body pushing you against the shelf. You get scared, you're not going to deny it, you try to fight, to get him to let go, you feel his hands on your waist and his nose brush against your neck.

"You're fucking unbearable." He growls and you recognize Justin's voice, your heart calms a little.

"L-let go of me, Justin, this is harassment..."

"Harassment?" he whispers against your ear. You can't suppress the moan that escapes you in time as he reaches inside your pants and squeezes your pussy over your panties. "How can it be harassment when you're completely wet?" he speaks against your ear again, his fingers move quickly over your clit and your body arches involuntarily, moaning again.

"J-Justin..." You try to keep control, you hold his wrist, but he bites down on your neck, never letting go of your touch.

"You love to tease me, always teasing me, always with those little angel eyes, like you've never done anything wrong." He keeps talking and you have to hold on to the shelf because the pleasure starts to shake your body.

"N-no... I..." You babble, but are silenced when his fingers leave your clit and move down a little further, the tip of his finger digging into your cunt. "F-fuck..." You bite your lip spreading your legs further apart.

"Are you still going to tell me you don't want this?" he asks again in your ear. A moan is all you get in response.

You sigh as he pulls away from you, you feel like you can breathe again, but he doesn't give you much time since recovering. He turns your body to unbutton and remove your pants, your panties follow shortly after, Justin pulls down his pants, just enough to pull out his cock, hard, thick, seeking attention. You swallow hard as your eyes roam over it, and you see Justin smile in amusement, shake it in his hand, and move back towards you.

"Wait, Justin, the condoms..."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to cum inside." He assures you.

He lifts you up without too much effort, leaning your body against the shelf, spits on his hand and slowly enters you.

"Fuck, so tight..." He grunts and pushes a little harder making you moan.

"God, Justin..." You hold onto his shoulders feeling his cock stretch you and touch that spot that makes you shudder.

"You like this, don't you?" he licks his lips and moves his hips very slowly. "I can feel you squeezing me, how your pussy wants me inside..." He gasps and you roll your eyes as his cock hits a perfect spot inside you.

"F-f-fuck Justin...!" You are unable to say anything more coherent.

"There it is..." He smiles and holding you tightly he starts moving at the same angle.

His thrusts are fast and deep, the curve of his cock makes him hit you accurately with his tip, that point that makes you see little sparks, your skin bristles and you become a moaning mess. Your legs dance over his arms, his hands firmly grip your ass and he keeps moving your body against his cock, the sound of your bodies being muffled by your moans and his grunts between his teeth. The steady rattling of the rack follows the rhythm of Justin's hips as he starts to go faster, seeking his own relief.

"Uhm your pussy's taking me so fucking good..." He mumbles through his teeth, his fingers digging into the tender skin of your ass.

"Justin! Justin!" You call out, grabbing onto his shoulders again.

He quickly pulls his cock out and rubs it until he cums, staining your belly and your work shirt. You lean your forehead against his, getting trapped against his body and the rack. Justin pulls your legs off his shoulders and kneels in front of you, spreads your legs apart and lifts one over his shoulder. His nose grazes your slit and his tongue runs along your folds.

"For the love of..." You arch up holding onto the furniture as your knees begin to shake.

His tongue runs along you, fucking you with intensity, his fingers torture your clit and his free hand seeks your tit, squeezing your nipple. Too many sensations at the same time, pleasure swirls in your lower belly as his lips close over your clit and he sucks hard. You can't stop trembling, your legs want to close but he holds you in place as you cum in his mouth and are about to fall to the floor.

Panting hard, you slowly regain your composure, Justin gets up from the floor, wiping his lips. Your gazes meet and he shows you your panties.

"These are mine now." He tells you and adjusting his pants, he leaves.

**

It's not the only night Justin shows up looking for you. After your first meeting, it becomes almost a regular occurrence. The first few hours are spent working, you take care of the more heavy and hard things, after a few hours, the blond appears through the door and neither of you need to say anything, you close the entrance and lose yourselves among the shelves of the warehouse. While you hold on to the shelves and he fucks you giving you some spanking, countless dirty words come out of your mouths, but when it's all over, neither of you have anything else to say, Justin gets dressed, takes a souvenir, and you go back to your work feeling more relaxed or so tired that you really don't even know what you're doing.

It's been several weeks since all that started. Justin walks in, as he does every night, through the door, chews his lip hard and frowns slightly. He walks to the counter, discovering your partner, Molly, there.

"Hi, Justin, how can I help you?"

"Where's your coworker?" He asks trying to sound neutral. "Has she changed shifts?"

"Oh, no, she left." She explains and Justin frowns harder. "She was covering the night shift because she needed the money, she's been awarded a scholarship to college and she left." She says smiling, proud of you.

"College? Do you know if...she's coming back?"

"I highly doubt it, she hated this town." She sighs and looks at him apologetically. "Sorry, Justin, maybe if you weren't such a dick, you'd meet a real nice girl."

***********

The End.

*******

I hope you liked it!!

See you in the next stories!!

#my stuff #norman reedus #normanreedus #ask me #smut #one shot #anon request #smut request #justin #sunlight jr #justin x reader #justin norman reedus #justin sunlight jr movie

[streaks-of-indigo]

In the Summertime

Josh x female reader

NSFW - 18+ ONLY!!! Minors DNI

This one has been in the drafts for a minute then Tumblr kept deciding to ban it. So fingers crossed 🤞

The summer heat suffocated the both of you as you sat in traffic after spending the day in the city. Inch by inch the car moved forward. It would be about 45 minutes until you would be walking through your front door.

The air conditioning had not fully kicked in and any bare skin was sticking to the Jeep’s leather interior. Every few seconds one of you would pull forward to remove yourselves from the heated fabric.

“I’m sorry bubs,” Josh said from the driver’s seat, “we didn’t plan this very well.”

“I know, but we had to do something on your day off. We should’ve just gone to the beach. Or better yet stayed home, tanned in the backyard, drink sangria...”

“I'm glad we got out today, although....,” Josh's voice trailed off.

Y/n heavily sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest.

Josh glanced over at her, taking in her tanned skin and toned legs. Her nipples were getting hard through her thin t-shirt as the a/c began cooling the car off.

Josh couldn’t help himself and looked up at her soft pink lips and felt a wave of immense love and want pulse through him.

Y/n felt Josh’s intense gaze and turned her head to look at him.

“What?” she asked playfully.

“Nothing, you’re just gorgeous. You drive me crazy, I can’t wait to get you home.” Josh said as a smile slowly overtook his face.

Y/n laughed and took Josh’s hand in hers.

“I have an idea…” Josh began to say taking out his phone and plugging it into the auxiliary cord. “Remember this?”

Suddenly the car was filled with y/n’s breathy moans. Josh was playing one of their many recorded sessions.

“Tell me mama, how does that feel..” Josh’s voice came through the speakers along with the sound of Josh slapping y/n’s ass echoing through the car.

“Fuck, Josh” y/n groaned, her cheeks reddening as the video continued to play. “Thought it would make this ride a little better” Josh smirked, dimples dangerously on display.

Josh and y/n sat in a thick sexual silence as the sounds of y/n moaning while Josh ate her out enveloped them.

“Fuck I remember this night” said y/n fidgeting in her seat. Josh felt her palm sweating in his hand. “I came so hard. I always do with you.”

The sounds continued. Josh switched to another video.

“This was when we snuck into that closet after Marcus’s wedding.” Josh turned the volume up even louder.

Josh whispering “Shh, we have to keep quiet.” Whispers of y/n gently swearing as Josh fingered her silently within the dark closet.

Josh noticed y/n biting her bottom lip, her eyes closed, reliving the intimate moment behind her eyelids. They were still sitting in bumper to bumper traffic, no sign of moving.

Josh decided to play a different video.

“This is when I bought you your new toy.” The car was filled with the sound of you both groaning in unison. Josh had complete control over the vibrator snugly tucked away in your underwear. It was a surprise for your anniversary. Y/n sighed as the memory came flooding back. Josh was relentlessly edging you at the table having his way with you. The heat of the moment had you both clawing at each other in the backseat before you made the drive home.

Josh leaned over lifting y/n’s shirt, softly rubbing her stomach. Goosebumps erupted all over her skin as he traced designs with his fingertips back and forth across her. Josh saw the slight twitch of y/n’s hips. Knowing she was enjoying this more than she would like to admit, Josh slid his hand down, unbuttoning her shorts.

Y/n’s eyes sprang open, her eyes trying to adjust to the harsh sunlight.

“Who the fuck cares?” Josh said sliding his fingers through her wetness.

Y/n moaned and lolled her head to the side. Josh turned the volume up louder and louder and began making up and down motions on the underside of y/n’s clit. Josh marveled at how smooth and wet she was already, truly perfect. He craved to taste her, having her juices covering his body. Josh could not believe his eyes the first time he saw her squirt. It was an amazing sight and he could always expect to be slick from her within the first half hour of their lovemaking.

Josh began thinking about all the times he had brought y/n to climax. All the times she would be riding him on top and how his stomach and lap would be shining from her release. His cock was hardening at the thought.

“Shit,” y/n sighed. Josh gently kissed her neck. Y/n began grinding her core against his hand.

“Oh my god, Josh. Don't stop this feels too good,” y/n said breathily. She was hot to the touch. Josh couldn’t wait to have her in his mouth. To have her riding his face.

He wanted her on top of him. Josh gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles turning white as he felt her squirm beneath his touch. His pants tightening as her soft whimpers began to fill the car.

Josh began moving his fingers faster as the sound of their skin slapping became louder on the recording. Josh could tell that this was when y/n had finished.

“Baby,” y/n moaned as Josh slid his two fingers inside her. “Holy fuck,” Josh whispered, y/n beginning to slowly grind into his hand. Josh could feel her tightness around his fingers. He could imagine her perfect pink lips glistening up at him.

They were both practically screaming on the recording. The clip etched into Josh’s brain as he had used it many times to make himself cum while he was away.

Her legs thrown over his shoulders, Josh kissing her calf as he continues to thrust harder into her. Holding each other’s gazes for as long as they could.

Y/n thrusted herself on Josh’s hand harder. “Cum for me. Cum for me with all of these people surrounding us. Let go, y/n!”

“Oh my god,” y/n screamed as Josh curled his fingers upwards inside her. “Baby.. I-I’m gonna cum.” Josh made sure to grind his palm into her clit. Y/n cried out Josh’s name as she came hard. Gripping onto Josh’s shirt and bracing herself against the passenger window.

Josh felt the familiar burst of euphoria seep out of her body and soak through her panties and shorts. “Fuck, baby!” She yelled as her core throbbed and spasmed, releasing the end of her orgasm.

Josh removed his hand from y/n’s shorts and casually licked her off his fingers. Y/n pressed her forehead to the cooled window, trying to catch her breath and refocus.

She reached over and squeezed Josh’s hand gently.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard when we get home..” y/n said after some time. “Just wait,”giving Josh’s jawline a few kisses.

The traffic had finally began to break, and Josh couldn’t wait for what was to come.

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #fanfic #gvf fic #gvf x reader #greta van smut #josh greta van fleet #fanfiction #josh kiszka