#[drabbles] back up feature

[asurastro]

👥️ (for red)

Send in "👥️" to meet an alternate version of my muse.

Add "+ description" to meet a specific version of my muse!

____

♫

From Outer Space, arrived a fantastic new super robot: Arunaizer RX! The Cosmic Calculator, the Positronic Fighter, that Miraculous Machine!! Specially built as part of a small batch of interstellar peacekeepers, Arunaizer RX traveled to a curious space sector: The blue planet designated Sol-3 had a high volume of lifeforms possessed of "super power," which prompted RX's handlers to deploy him for an investigation.

... Only to discover he had proven instrumental in the defeat of dangerous kaiju, between his advanced sensors and sophisticated arsenal. As well as his signature attack. Not the Zetarium Ray as his mainverse iteration possessed, but instead the 'Nebula Gimlet!' a maneuver where he would spin rapidly like a fullbody drill. Which allowed him to confer tremendous damage onto foes, and burrow through the Earth to prevent quakes, or the use of doomsday weapons to destroy the planet from within.

"GOH!!"

[sisterdivinium]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Categories: F/F, Gen Fandom: Warrior Nun (TV) Relationships: Jillian Salvius & Michael Salvius, Jillian Salvius/Mother Superion (implied) Character: Jillian Salvius

Jillian finds that there is very little remedy she can apply to the markings her errors have left on her skin… But maybe there's something else.

[sabraeal]

Seven Swipes for Shirayuki, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki Trope Madness 2023, Semifinal #1: Bodyguard Crush

It’s not quite a scowl that scrunches the space between Ryuu’s eyebrows, but it’s a kissing cousin; frustration and fondness stirred together to make a cocktail of expression uniquely for her as he stares down at the request.

“She’s ten weeks.” His thumb idly taps the screen, thoughtful. “She’s already had one by now.”

“And she’s due to have one again at twelve, I know, but--” Shirayuki leans over his shoulder, tapping at the line that reads Hyperemesis Gravidarum: Active-- “you and I both know what this means.”

“One sac at seven weeks, one heartbeat.” A sigh saws out of him, his patience worn as thin as his sleeves at the elbow. “I know statistics too.”

“Seven week ultrasounds are notoriously inaccurate,” she scoffs, shifting her wait for the long haul. “There’s a reason half the doctors here don’t bother unless there’s complications. It’s fine enough to date a pregnancy, but even then...”

It’s impossible not to know the reputation Ryuu’s made himself in the ward-- a hardass, Obi’s so quick to remind her, proud-- but Shirayuki never really remembers it. At least, not until his shoulders set as stiff as the mattresses, expression as forbidden as any Haruka’s fixed on her. “Shirayuki--”

“You know I’m not implying technician error.” Not due to lack of skill, at least, though she doesn’t think he’d appreciate the distinction. “But pregnancy isn’t simple. There’s plenty of ways even the best tech could have missed something that early.”

He stares at her, an unmovable object. “I wouldn’t know.”

Good thing she’s got practice being an unstoppable force. “What could it hurt?”

“Nothing,” he admits, too easily. “Except that she had her last sonogram here. If I order another, I would be directly overturning the opinion of the last technician.”

“Ryuu.” Her hands hook on her hips, taking a breath to blunt her impatience. “We’re all professionals here. No one is going to take it personally if you check their work due to new information.”

He might an adult now, old enough to buy his own drinks at hospital happy hour, but his pout-- even as he tries to hide it behind the monitor-- is all teenager. “You can’t promise that. People are very erratic. The last thing I want to do is make enemies of--”

His train of thought stops dead on the track, attention fixed to a singular point on the screen.

“Never mind,” he says, opening the order. “I’ll do it.”

Shirayuki blinks. “Are you sure?”

“Sure,” he agrees, closing out the screen. “The queue’s full this morning, but I’ll see if someone can fit her in around the scheduled patients.”

“Ah, right, of course.” She grasps for something to say, something that isn’t what changed your mind, and settles on, “Thank you.”

He glances over the screen, mouth still stretched thin. “If it’s one sac, you won’t ask me again, right?”

“Er...” Shirayuki’s stared down deans and hospital board members alike, but Ryuu’s tone makes her falter, left-footed in face of his displeasure. That is, until his mouth twitches, straining against the angle of a smile.

“Right,” she says, flushed with pride. “I promise I’m not wasting your time, doctor.”

Ryuu ducks his head, making a show of crossing his t’s and dotting his i’s, but through that thick morass of curls, the tips of his ears are stained a painful pink. “Well, y-you don’t have to call me that.”

Ryuu’s hardly out of sight when Higata whistles, eyebrows hovering just under his hairline.“Well, well. Been a while since I’ve seen the Rules Lawyer handled so quick.”

Shirayuki’s not in the habit of scolding on the floor, but she clucks her tongue, disappointed. “That’s not fair. You know Ryuu just wants to be taken seriously. It’s hard to be the Attending when you’re practically the same age as the interns.”

“Of course I do.” All her worries are shunted off with a wave of his hand, someone else’s problem. “I’m just saying, he’s not going to make any friends if his back’s always up like that.”

Kazaha surfaces in her mind, unbidden. “Ah, yeah, that’s...possible.”

Higata hums at the precise pitch of mischief. “I wonder what made him change his tune, though? You know how he gets about imaging. Never likes to overturn anyone’s work.”

A dozen reasons crowd her mind: His best friend is a tech, and no one gives him any respect. He nearly mastered out of his degree entirely to join imaging so he could deal with computers instead of patients. He’s only here because Kirito told him he’d like to work under a doctor like him--

But logic turns to excuse the minute it leaves the mouth. Shirayuki knows that all too well.

“Let me just..” A few keystrokes-- and an interminable wait-- and Higata’s eyes bulge. “Oh.”

“Hm?” She leans over the station, craning her neck to get a glimpse. It’s the ultrasound, one sac and the barely-there beginnings of a baby, but more importantly:

Technician, it reads, Sisk, M.

She grimaces. “Ah.”

“Yeah, that’d do it.” A few more keystrokes, and it’s gone, Higata shooing her back patient-side. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this goes through before I’m out the door. Whoever I hand the baton off to will make sure to sit on imaging until they send someone up. Last thing we need is the CEO of this place raising a stink.”

“Oh, there’s no need to--” Shirayuki blinks, blearily watching as he goes through the motions she used to know so well. “You’re on nights.”

He hikes his brows at her, the way he always did when she’d been on shift too long; a silent, maybe you should be using the on-call room.

“Ah, right, you’ve been with me...the whole night...” she murmurs, wishing she had enough sleep for that to be an inside thought. “And if Ryuu’s here...as the day shift...then...”

“Then that means you’ll probably miss me, so long as America’s Sweetheart can keep some crackers down.” There’s no one who can wear mischief the way Obi does, like it’s a design suit tailored to fit every curve, but when Higata glances up from his station, a corner of his mouth quirked-- he comes close. “Unless she’s impressed by my dedication and debonair smile. Then maybe we might be coworkers again.”

Her own smile takes a similar slant. “That’s not a bad idea. I could use another set of hands. And I’m pretty sure that pool house could fit half the ward.”

Higata snorts, shaking his head. “Don’t let that mutt of yours hear that. He’ll be giving me grief for weeks about elbowing in on your love nest.”

She knows all it does is muddy the high ground, but Shirayuki’s been up too many consecutive hours to even try to stifle her sigh. “That isn’t what it’s like between me and--”

“It’d be nice to get back on days,” he murmurs wistfully, ignoring her. Typical. “The quiet’s nice, sure, but it’s hell on the social life.”

“Oh?” It’d never been easy to give up her daylight hours, especially when she’d lived at a latitude where she could get to her shift when the sun went down and still have night to burn twelve hours later. But socially...? “Are they?”

Higata stares at her, the way Obi does when she mentions she’s never seen a Marvel movie. “Shirayuki, are you--?” He shakes his head. “Right, of course. You probably wouldn’t have noticed with that VIP you were dating. Guys like him don’t wake up before noon.”

It’s habit to get her hackles up, to mount a high horse and ride to his defense. All her excuses marshal themselves in her mouth, ready to deploy at first breath: celebrities have a different schedule, most of their days don’t really start until after six, it’s hard to balance a nine-to-five company with a position that relies on hobnobbing after hours--

But she swallows them down, trying not to taste the bitter. That’s not her job not anymore.

And clearly, a voice that sounds far to wry to be her own hums in her ears, the left hand never really knew what the right was doing anyway, hm?

“Guess it’s good you make your own hours now, Ms. Private Practice.” Higata’s brows waggled far too suggestively. “You’ll need to be keeping the same hours as the rest of the plebs if you’re going back into the dating pool.”

There’s too much to take in there, too much that makes the static in her brain sound like screaming, and all she can do is blurt out, “Doctor.”

“Oh, forgive me,” he drawls. “Doctor Private Practice.”

Her problem is typically too many words, all of them trying to jostle out her mouth at once, but right now--

Right now, they’ve all abandoned her.

“I just...” She licks her lips; just one night of recycled air and already they dried, ready to crack. “Did I say I was going to...to be dating again? Or did someone else--?”

“Nah. You’re just a cute girl in a city with the largest amount of singles per mile. I figured you’d just jump back in the pool.” He slants her a sly look. “I mean, after the way you handled 2203 a few weeks, I figured...”

(”Good morning!” Shirayuki hums as she reaches for the chart. A the corner of the screen, the time flashes: 3:31, too early. “Technically. I’m Dr. Lyon, the OB on shift tonight. Can I just get your name and date of birth?”

“Amaryllis Elise.” The girl practically blends in with the sheets, her knuckles clenched so tight over her belly Shirayuki could use them for anatomy models. “April fifth, 1999.”

Shirayuki tries not to choke. Ninety-nine. The chart said the patient was twenty-four, but, ah, she hadn’t know they made twenty-four so young nowadays.

“Is this your first baby?” she asks, keying in her login. The monitor spikes as she types, BPM 120 flashing on the screen, poised like a breath before a scream. With practiced flick of the wrist, she mutes it before it starts. An alarm’s the last thing this girls needs going off right now. “Are you nervous?”

“It’s just-- is everything okay?” Fear makes her eyes wide and watery, flinching as Shirayuki’s fingers key in her data. “I had...there was some blood, right after they found the heartbeat, but they told me that was normal. But now it’s the third trimester, and that’s-- that’s bad right? Something’s wrong.”

The monitor spikes up to 125. Somewhere done the hall, the nurse’s station blares with it. That’s the worst part of being patient-side, really: no privacy.

“Not necessarily.” With a few short strokes, the wait list for imaging rolls across the screen. NEXT IN QUEUE: 2203, it promises. Cold comfort, when every minute without answers would be agony. “Most pregnancies that make it to third term are going to make it all the way to full.”

“But it’s so much blood.” The girl practically disappears beneath that johnny, her voice so small she can hardly hear it over the ward’s mechanical hum. “Did I do something wrong? I thought...I was being so careful. I don’t even eat deli meats...”

It’s hard to toe the line between lie and comfort; Kazaha would tell her, just say what they want to hear, it’s better then them getting hysterical on you. He’s backed up by a set of guidelines as thick as her wrist, all advising that she prioritize keeping the patient calm over keeping the patient informed, right down to suggesting it’s kinder to suggest a chemical pregnancy over a miscarriage.

Sometimes, Opa would tell her, tinkering with the old Ford in the garage, people think so much about what’s easy and safe, they forget it can be cruel.

Shirayuki pulls her hands from the keyboard, fixing her gaze right to where the girl lays huddled in the bed. “It’s always scary to see blood. And it’s even scarier because it’s taken so seriously, especially this late in the game, right?”

She nods, her hair getting even more tangled on the pillow.

“But the truth is, there’s so much that could be going on in there, and most of it just means we has to reassess our timetable for your pregnancy.” It’s Oma that Shirayuki summons up now, hoping her smile radiates even a fraction of the warmth she remembers. “I know you can’t help but worry, but I promise: it’s far more likely that you’ll both be fine.”

The girl considers that, fingers splayed over her belly. “But someone has to be unlucky, don’t they? That’s how statistics work.”

Shirayuki smothers a frown. “Did you say you has someone coming? Your--” she glances over at the screen-- “boyfriend?”

“No.” She shrinks under the sheets, looking younger by the second. “He doesn’t have enough PTO to cover something like this and still be at the birth. And my mom--” she grimaces-- “my mom would not be helpful right now.”

“Then here.” The rooms in this ward are huge, private, and thankfully full to the brim with comfy chairs. Shirayuki steps out, hooking ankle around one to catch her as she sits. “I’ll wait with you.”

The girl goes bloodless. “Oh, god. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Shiaryuki blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You want to wait with me.” A trembling hand drapes over her ashen face. “That means you think I’m going to lose the baby, right? That’s it’s something so terrible, I can’t be--”

“No! No.” A laugh escapes her, breathless. “That’s not it at all. I just...I know when I’m left waiting, I convince myself of all sorts of terrible things. When I was doing my rotation in Infectious Disease, I coughed in the shower and convinced myself I had pertussis for the whole night.”

There’s no hint the girl’s heard her, but her BPM drops, just a bit.

“That’s the worst part about being a doctor,” Shirayuki confides, leaning close. “You know all the things that can go wrong.”

Beneath her hand, there’s the faintest hint of a smile. “I just have an over-active imagination and WebMD.”

Shirayuki lets herself take a page out of Obi’s book, letting half her mouth slant into a rueful grin. “Lucky.”

The smallest, thinnest giggle spools out of the girl, there and gone before she knows it.

“But seriously,” she says, letting her smile rest at its usual angles. “There’s no secret hint that’s something wrong. I promise, I’m only here because I don’t have anything better to do, and I hate waiting alone.”)

“2203?” Shirayuki frowns, confused. “What does that have to do w-with dating?”

Higata sighs, stretching as he gets to his feet. “I’m not talking about dating. I’m talking about the other stuff. That you, you know, could have some of that in the cards for you.”

It’s not often that she experiences déjà vu, and certainly not for a phrase like, “Having a luteal cyst?”

Obi’s typically the on on the other end of Higata flattest, most unimpressed glares, but today he saves one just for her. “Let’s be real, Shirayuki. Statistics say you’ve already had one.” 

Ah, well. He does have her there.

Higata waves his hand, annoyed. “But I’m not talking about that. I meant the other thing.”

She blinks. “What other thing?”

“Oh, c’mon, Shirayuki,” he sighs. “The baby.”

(The girl nods. “Do you...do you think it’s okay? The baby, I mean.”

Shirayuki takes a deep breath. “I think you’ve done the right thing, coming here. And that’s all you can expect yourself to do.”

There’s a little more color in her now, no longer stark white but an ashen sort of tan. “Do you have kids?”

It’s hardly the first time she’s been asked, but still, it catches her left-footed. “Ah, no. Not right now. I’m not-- it hasn’t been the right time.”

Between medical school, family death, residency, and Izana, there’s barely been time to breathe, let alone think about something like-- like that, but that’s hardly something she needs to bring up with a patient. Especially when Obi could be lurking around the corner, ready to seize on any tender feeling and discuss it down to the bones.

“Oh.” Dark eyes round, pretty now that they’re not glassy with fear. “You’re so good at this, I would have guessed you had a bunch. You’re like, mom-material. You know, warm, I guess.”

Now it’s time for Shirayuki to stare, her hands limp where they lay on her lap.

“T-thank you.” It’s silly how much it means to her, being warm. That even for one minute, someone could feel about her the way she does about Oma. “I’d like to, probably. Maybe in a couple years, it’d be nice...”)

There’s no reason for that to make her flush, for her to feel like she’s stripped her naked on the maternity floor. But she does, crossing her arms over her chest as she murmurs, “I m-meant if Zen and I-- if we ever--”

She shakes herself. “I don’t need to date for that anyway! I could just adopt. Or do IVF if I could get the time off.”

Higata huffs, brows lifting straight to his hairline. “Or you could look around and see there’s a perfect sperm donor right--”

“Hey, Miss.” A paper cup slips into her hand, warm where it’s cradled between her palms. She barely has time to appreciate it before Obi slides up to the nurse station, splaying an arm across it like he owns the place. “Hello, nurse.”

Ah, there’s a flat look. “Oh, you’re still here.”

Obi presses a hand to his chest, rumpling the silk tie hung loose around his neck. Framed by his fingers like it is, it’s impossible not to notice the dubiously professional amount of tentacles on it. A gift from Suzu, if she was going to risk a guess. “As if I’d stray from Miss’s side.”

Higata’s mouth quivers. “Well I suppose if you’ve got to have a dog, it might as well be a loyal one.”

“Woof woof,” Obi agrees with a grin, and honestly, she’ll never quite understand how stand around and insult each other is the basis for a friendship, but somehow these two have made it work despite six years and three thousand miles between them. “Heading out already?”

“Turns out there is sleep for the wicked, so long as they’re unionized.” Higata leans down to close out his station, tension falling from him with a sigh. “I just have to get through shift changeover, and then I’m out. I better not see hide nor hair of either of you when I get back tonight.”

“No problem,” Obi promises. “I plan to wear out our welcome by noon.”

Higata’s barely turned the corner when Obi leans in, grinning as he tells her, “Eighteen.”

Shirayuki blinks. “What?”

“Eighteen,” he repeats giddily. “That’s the number of hours you’ve been a free agent.”

It takes her a whole minute to parse his meaning, staring into his broad teeth the entire time. Goodness, she really needs to check out the on-call. “I already told you, that was over a week ago.”

“Sure, sure.” He waves a hand, unconvinced. “Whatever you say, Miss.”

Most days, she would happily admit to enjoying her bodyguard’s company, but today-- well, if she has to go through another round of assessing how daddy anyone in her acquaintance is, today will not be one of them. “If you don’t believe me, I don’t know why--”

“I do.” He says it earnestly enough that it draws her up short. “But the timing’s not the point though.”

“It’s not?”

“No. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been.” She’s almost touched, until he yanks his phone out of his pocket, brandishing it menacingly. “It’s time for you to rebound.”

“Oh.” She squints, recognizing the logo before her eyes can parse the word. “T...inder?”

That grin of his widens, just an inch short of being Cheshire.

“Oh! You-- you kept that?”

He scoffs, one finger flicking across the page. “What, like I would delete this carefully crafted profile? Painstakingly created by yours truly, just for such an august occasion--?”

“You should have,” she squeaks, heat flooding her face. To think, he kept that all these years-- “Give that to me!”

Her hand snaps out, trying to knock it from his loose grip, but even with the element of surprise, Obi’s too quick for her. With the sort of grace only cats and former hitmen have, he slides it right out from under her fingers, hovering barely an inch away.

“Now, Miss,” he admonishes, his grin giving away that he loves the chase. “That’s not very nice.”

She leaps again, stepping so close her shoulder bumps into his sternum, but this time he lifts it, giving the phone a little wiggle above his head. “I was in a-- a relationship! What if Zen had found--?”

“Then I think the bigger question would be why bossman was--”

She jumps, fingers just brushing the bottom of the case, but it’s too high. And when she comes back down, well--

Obi’s arm clenches around her waist, holding her steady. “Careful there, Miss,” he breathes, wide-eyed. “Last thing I need to explain to His Majesty is why Doctor Humpty Dumpty can’t put his personal physician back together again.”

Braced against his chest, she can feel his heart race beneath her palm. “Fine. But you’ll delete that won’t you?”

The weight slung around her waist disappears as if it was never there in the first place. “Aw, but why? This is the perfect time to--”

“Ah.” A soft, masculine cough cuts through Obi’s theatrics. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I just, er...”

Shirayuki looks up, right into a dark pair of eyes that would be right at home on a golden retriever. An anxious one. “Oh, I’m sorry, can I help you?”

“Ah, yes, I was just wondering...” He can’t be much older than her-- the perfect first-time dad age, Obi had said once, mostly to needle her-- his hair blond and tousled the way everyone’s is out here. “My father was checked in here last night.”

“Your father?” A nurse wheels a woman behind him, belly so distended Shirayuki’s half afraid she’ll tip right out. “Here?”

“Ah, yeah, I think I wrote down the wrong room number?” His fingers tremble where they splay on the desk, like he’s trying his hardest not to drum them. “Do you think you could, um...?”

That’s, apparently, all the words he has. They just run out as he stands there, his mouth still moving but only air coming out.

With this little sleep, she has to admit, it’s kind of charming. “I’m not the nurse, but--”

“Oh!” A flush flares at the collar of his v-neck. “Oh, sorry, I just assumed, since you were here... and the scrubs...?”

She catches her laugh before it can escape containment. “No, no. I’m a doctor.”

“Oh,” he moans, mortified. “I’m sorry. That was-- I’m really-- ugh--”

“Not here though. Private.” If she were Obi she’d lean in a little, giving him a sly wink, but instead she settles on her warmest smile. “But I do know some people on the inside. Let me get someone to look that up for you.”

“Ah...” On anyone else, that toss of his hair would seem confident, but on him it’s just nervous, like a horse after a lightning strike. “That’s really...I mean, that would be great. Thank you.”

It’s an effort not to giggle, but she manages to ask, “Name?”

“Oh!” He clears his throat, blush working its way up to his ears. “It’s, um. Yuuta.”

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ match my freak !!

ᝰ.ᐟ the two of you are private not secret, but when the media starts to speculate that the two of you are no longer together, neither of you are too happy. the best way to get everyone to stop with the breakup rumors? posting something a little bit nasty to the feed to satiate everyone's curiosity. (fem!reader)

featuring tobio kageyama, atsumu miya, tetsurou kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima, tooru oikawa, rintarou suna content contains breeding kink (atsumu, wakatoshi), pregnant reader (wakatoshi), famous!reader (changes depending on scenario), creampie (tetsurou), hatefucking (not really, you + kuroo just like to antagonize each other but the attraction is there), scratches on his back (tobio), hickeys (tooru), wet n messy (rintarou), possessive!character x possessive!reader (the two of you are obsessed with each other ok), social media references lol author's notes i'm definitely doing a blue lock version, i'm just seeing if this is a popular premise lol <3 based off this original concept !! these are just silly little drabbles for me to warm up to the idea of writing again haha

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA

your fans are speculating: that you and kageyama have broken up. fans are recording footage from you on your latest tour and claim that you're "clearly disassociating" and "somewhere else mentally" when it comes to singing your iconic love songs. you and kageyama have always kept your relationship private because he's not a very open person to begin with, and you don't want to give the media more material to misconstrue. you know that kageyama hates when some random person will annotate your verses on genius lyrics and try to make the claim that your innocent metaphor is you wanting to jump ship and leave kageyama. and you hate how it's your own fans who are making wild accusations of you no longer being with the man all your love songs are about.

you posted: kageyama, with his back turned to the camera so all that fills your camera is the surprisingly broad expanse of his muscular back and shoulders. he's not even flexing, and it's obvious that he's a world-class athlete. he's facing the closet, trying to find a shirt to put on, and it would be a semi-innocent photo, the pinterest-perfect photo inspo for every private not secret relationship out there, except for the fact that there are clearly faint, red lines — scratches — running down his back. you caption the photo with a "monday morning 🤍" (your insane fans spam the comment section to exclaim how they knew you two were still a thing... and to speculate that this photo is somehow an easter egg for an upcoming song/album. well, they're right: you two will always be a thing, and tobio dicked you down so good last night that you could write him a whole album.)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"fuck," the word slips through his gritted teeth, and you can tell that your tobio is still upset about how your fans seem divided. half of them claim no one could ever make them hate tobio (you find those fans to be absolutely adorable), and the other half...

well, the other half are making slideshow posts to audios that go "some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world" and the ones that seem to go viral are always the ones that feature you and tobio.

"not hidin' you away." he mutters, never slowing down his thrusts. he admires the expression on your face as he fucks into you, his ego pleased with how receptive you are to his every movement. he has you speared on his cock, your tight little cunt full of him, your eyes getting so adorably teared-up because he's just a little bit too much for you to handle. tobio isn't good with words; he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to exist, but he can't verbalize it. so he just takes in your sweet, fucked-out face, the reaction only he's capable of drawing from you, and it all gets so overwhelming for him.

he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "why's it bad if i want to keep you all to myself?" he's practically whining, and you think this would be so cute if only you weren't currently chasing after your release. or rather, tobio's forcing you to cum, whether you want to or not. it's not like you can stop him; tobio devotes himself to always ensuring that you finish before him. he likes the satisfaction of knowing only he can take care of you, and he especially likes the way his cock looks with you creaming all over it.

when he gets like this, all you can do is cling to him, your arms wrapped around his muscular build. when he gets rough with his thrusts, when his body gets just the slightest bit sweaty from the exertion (evidence of just how much work he puts into fucking you), you have to dig your manicured nails (the set he paid for) into the skin of his toned back. otherwise, you'd lose your grip, and your hands would slip off.

tobio relishes the slight stinging pain of your nails scratching down his skin. but the scratches aren't enough. he needs to make you cum. when you get so caught up in your climax, you start clawing at him as you lose control. he loves the scratches you leave on him; it's proof that he's yours just as much as you are his.

౨ৎ ATSUMU MIYA

haters are saying: that you're just using atsumu for content. you're a gold digger. you're not genuine. you're not "wifey material." spectators are claiming that atsumu is playing worse than before because he's too "pussywhipped" for you. well, he likes to cheekily admit to you that he is addicted to your pussy, but they're wrong about everything else. obviously. however, the haters are feeling very vindicated whenever they see atsumu hasn't been posting you as much. (you're traveling for a new vlog series on your page, but no one knows.)

he posted: a mirror selfie. which isn't breaking news. atsumu miya always breaks the internet when he posts a mirror selfie because the only thing worse than a hot guy is a hot guy who knows he's hot. no one is a stranger to the sight of a post-workout, sweaty, shirtless atsumu, who flaunts his tight abs and muscular thighs with a steamy mirror selfie. but this photo? this one is going triple platinum. it's going down in history. this selfie is taken in dim lighting; the curtains in the background are drawn shut, he's got one hand gripping his phone (making the phone look tiny in his big hand), and he's got one arm wrapped around you. it's not an innocent hug, though. he's cupping your ass, and the phone in front of his face does nothing to shield his satisfied smirk. you're clad in nothing but lacy lingerie from a designer who loves to sponsor you, and you're clinging to his side, almost like you can't even stand without his support. it's clear that the two of you definitely were... appreciating the work your favorite designer put in when they created that lacy set.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"what do you think?" you're smiling at him, knowing damn well what he's thinking.

atsumu looks up at you, reflexively licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you wearing a new set of lingerie that you just got delivered. it leaves little room for imagination, and the material looks so delicate, atsumu is already thinking about how he'll have to apologize to the designer for ripping it off of you.

"i think I'm the luckiest man alive right now." atsumu is shameless in the way he's admiring you, the way the setting sun still peeks through the curtains, enveloping your body in a delicious golden glow as you inch closer and closer to him.

in a matter of seconds, he's pulling you on top of him, placing wet, sloppy kisses over any centimeter of your skin he can reach. when you make a move to slip off the panties, he protests.

"leave 'em on f'me, baby. please?"

he fucks you with you still wearing the lingerie set. your breasts are spilling out of the bra, and all he did was move your panties to the side so he could stretch you out with his cock.

"fuckin' idiots, tellin' me you're not good enough to marry. i'll show 'em what a good girl you are, right? gonna put a ring on your finger, and make you my wife." he's fucking his cock into you, making sure that your cute cunt knows who it belongs to. "gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. no one's gonna say shit about our family, huh? 'cause i won't let 'em."

your cunt clenches up so nicely with every comment he makes that atsumu knows he has to make all those pussydrunk promises come true.

౨ৎ TETSUROU KUROO

the tabloids are posting: paparazzi photos of you — the socialite daughter of the man who owns the msby black jackals, and jva's promotion division's golden boy, tetsurou kuroo. it's late at night, and the two of you are clearly leaving a party celebrating the success of another eventful volleyball season. you're wearing the iconic ysl heels with a black mini-dress that honestly should be called a micro-dress. your hair is a mess, you're walking like your knees are struggling not to wobble, and walking three steps behind you despite his longer stride is kuroo; his tie is crooked, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a grin that says something like i just fucked one of the richest bratty heiresses in japan, and i left her wanting more. the amount of blind items that are allegedly alluding to you and kuroo are being spread all over tiktok. one reads, "this sports club heiress was seen exiting a party with this semi-known marketing mastermind who works in the sports industry. apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and no one can recall seeing them together during the party; everyone only caught glimpses of them running away from the festivities together."

you posted: a photo slideshow on instagram of your absolutely iconic outfit from the party, only these photos were clearly taken before the party. your hair is done, your makeup is perfect, and your caption states don't believe everything you read. the last slide is a screenshot of an online headline speculating about your "new man" with a photo of a grinning kuroo from that night. the reason why this makes everyone go insane is because you're no stranger to a scandal — this is, however, the first time you've ever addressed a headline.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"hurry up," you hiss, your eyes darting from left to right as you make sure no one is nowhere near the secluded corridor kuroo somehow managed to find.

"y'know, i thought girls were supposed to like guys who don't blow their loads prematurely." even when he's bullying his cock into your slicked up cunt, savoring the way your sensitive walls are clenching around his dick, tetsurou has a very annoying habit of still sounding entirely in control. for someone who can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to you, he's irritatingly great at playing nonchalant.

but he's just a man, after all. he might tower over you, his large body shielding you from any prying eyes, and he might know your body so well that he can bring you to completion twice (once with his fingers curling against that special spot of yours, and another one so rudely wrung out from you when he slid his cock in your orgasm-recovering, overly sensitive pussy) in just the fifteen minutes he's been toying with you tonight, but you know that he must be feeling something. you saw him shift his pants the moment his eyes met yours from across the room, when his eyes travelled down your body and followed the way your dress emphasized the curvatures of your body.

"if you don't finish right now, i'm not going to let you cum inside." you threaten him, trying to steady your voice as you bite back a moan. it'd be a major issue if the two of you got caught, with the volleyball association's golden boy being buried balls-deep inside a sports team owner's bratty daughter.

with every sharp snap of his hips, kuroo is only forcing more slick to come gushing out of your pussy. he can't even take the time to admire the white ring you left around his cock; he's too focused on chasing after his release because he didn't get to where he's at by not being opportunistic.

"if i cum inside, you have to keep it in your panties the whole night. you wouldn't want that, would you?" he sounds a little breathless now, his pace quickening as his thrusts get sloppier. he's smiling at you, that damn annoying smile that makes you want to roll your eyes or insult him. but your body betrays you. his grin only widens when your pussy tightens up at the idea of having his cum soaking in your panties while you interact with people at this party. a dirty little secret shared only between you two.

he lets out a breathy chuckle at your body's betrayal. "okay, princess. since you want it so badly, i guess i better give it to you."

you could practically cum again the minute you feel the warmth of him finishing inside of you. you're a spoiled brat who gets what she wants, and while you refuse to admit it, you want him. all of him.

and he's going to give it to you.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

the media is going crazy over: the fact that ushijima is the type of person who doesn't clarify anything because he just assumes that everyone can read his mind. he's blunt, sure, but he's not really the type who does much explaining. after the first game of the season, an interviewer asks him if he enjoyed spending the off-season with you, his girlfriend and one of the most beloved, fan-favorite WAGs of all time. ushijima stares straight into the camera as he states in his usual deep, flat rumble of a voice, "the off-season was successful, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore. thank you." and then he just walks off, like he didn't just drop the most insane piece of information ever?

he posted: a photo of an ultrasound that was clearly taken out of his wallet since it's thrown on the table in the background. he's holding it in his left hand, and the overhead lighting is reflected from the silver wedding band he's wearing. now that he's off the court, he's able to wear it. in typical ushijima fashion, there is no caption, but a picture is worth a thousand words. you're not his girlfriend. you're his wife, and soon to be mother of his child.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"mmph — 'toshi!" you squeal out, your calves burning from the stretch as your beloved wakatoshi has your legs bent and spread for him. he's just so big that you'd never be able to handle all of him, and yet, here you are, bent into a mating press every night since the two of you have gotten married. you try to beg him to slow down, but words escape you as he buries himself into your pussy, letting out a deep, guttural groan as the warmth of your cunt coats his cock. there's no better feeling than this.

even if you could request for him to slow down, it wouldn't have mattered or made much of a difference. your husband has a one-track mind. when wakatoshi is set on a goal, it's hard to break his focus until he sees it to the end. and right now, wakatoshi's goal is to fuck a baby into you, to see you round with life because of the seeds he planted.

he's hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes. he's gonna fuck himself empty, going to keep filling your cunt with his seed 'til he's shooting blanks. his eyes glance at the ring he put on your finger before returning to admire your blissful expression and the way your body seems to have gone boneless from all the fucking he's had you endure.

"just a little bit longer." he manages to say, before forcing his cock in even deeper. "just have to make sure it takes."

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA

everyone is claiming: long distance relationships never last. when oikawa makes the shocking announcement that he is no longer a japanese citizen, everyone immediately wondered what that meant for the future of your relationship. does that mean it's over? officially? if oikawa is leaving behind his hometown, then by default, is he leaving you behind too?

he posted: a photo slideshow, only most of the images were clearly taken by you. the first one is of him driving; the two of you are in his convertible, and he's wearing a white button down with most of the buttons undone. on the stark white of the shirt are kiss marks; the imprint of your lips lined with cherry-red lipstick are all over the material of his shirt and on his freshly-tanned skin. the other photos are of what you two ate for dinner, the sunset from the beach, and a selfie of you two looking more in love than ever. fans are quick to point out the massive hickey on your neck, and tooru tags you in a reply to the top comment that points it out, and he's saying "you missed a spot babe." you reply back, "i ran out of concealer because you gave me too many to cover"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"i missed you," your boyfriend mumbles into your soft skin. tooru can get so clingy when he goes long periods without seeing you, and you indulge him because he's tooru. he's got his face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his breath is warm against your skin as he speaks.

"everyone is saying i'm abandoning you, but that's not true." he whines.

"i know, baby. i don't care." you laugh softly, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of his hair. he settles into you, and it's almost sweet, until he starts nipping at your skin.

"tooru, what are you doing?" you can't find it in yourself to chastise him too harshly, but you do have to restrain yourself from pulling back.

"jus' want to show everyone that you're still my girl." he peers up at you, licking his lips. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

tooru bites and sucks at your skin, sharp canines grazing your soft flesh. he sucks at your most sensitive areas while he works his fingers in and out of your gushing cunt. when he pulls his fingers out and holds them up, so the sunlight can shine and really highlight how much of your juices is coating his digits, he smiles. his girl gets this wet just from him marking you up?

as he sucks on his fingers, relishing in the way you taste, he can't help but be happy to know that no matter how far away the two of you are from each other (for now), you're still his girl.

౨ৎ RINTAROU SUNA

your fans are telling you: suna doesn't care about you. suna doesn't put forth any effort into your relationship. suna literally streams on twitch during the off-season yet he can't seem to ever post you?? suna doesn't deserve you. suna—

suna is a lot of things, but nothing like the deadbeat, ashamed boyfriend allegations. in fact, all your well-meaning fans are so far off on how he treats you that you and him get a good laugh from the outrageous conclusions they've jumped to.

you posted: a photo of rintarou with his head on your lap, and you've got your fingers playing with his hair. it's a sweet photo, really. except for the fact that you decided to pair it with an audio that's a snippet of a song that goes "he's so pretty when he goes down on me" and a caption that reads this song is so relatable 🤍

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

anyone who thinks rintarou is a selfish lover, a lazy lover, someone who merely tolerates you or is ashamed to be with you... they clearly don't know either of you very well.

because even when he's exhausted from practice, rintarou comes home craving you. craving your sweetness, your warmth, your love — and your pussy. he's obsessed. rintarou suna loves to eat you out, and he does it with such passion, such enthusiasm, that it's hard to refuse him, even if he's been going at it for the past hour.

your juices are leaving a stain on the bedsheets, and your slick is coating your inner thighs. it doesn't help that rintarou is messy with his technique. he needs your legs spread for him, granting him easy access for him to just dig in. he's still in his practice jersey, and when he feels your grip loosening from the strands of hair you're tugging at, he'll slow down his pace, calming down to just tiny kitten licks while he peers up at you.

your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your hips have a mind of their own as they still jut forward, as if trying to bring your cunt impossibly closer to him. no need for that, really, seeing as how he craves to bury himself in your warmth, to suck on your cute little clit and have you humming all over his tongue.

"rinnie." you whine out, still subconsciously bucking up your hips. he smiles before resuming his original ministrations, gluttonous and greedy with how sloppy and hungry he is with you. if you're still capable of talking, then you're not too fucked out to not allow him to get his fill.

[selfcarecap]

Practice [L.H]

pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Your roommate Logan lets you practise giving a blowjob on him for your date with another guy.

warnings: smut, 18+, oral sex (f&m receiving, reader’s first time), Logan is a liittle mean but just a little and he gets softer towards the end, spitting,  jerking off, Logan keeps his socks on I think it’s hot okay 😭😭, Logan calls reader bub, baby, good girl, pretty girl; Wade is mentioned but I’m imagining a younger Logan than in DP&W

word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a drabble lol idk what happened)

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Logan asks from the sofa as you walk past him in your pretty date outfit. You’ve got some time left before your date but you decided to get ready early in a bout of nervousness.

“This guy I’ve been seeing,” you tell him, trying to seem nonchalant. You haven’t yet mentioned to Logan that you’ve been on a few dates. He spends a lot of time in his room, away from you and Wade, and he just never happened to be there to hear about your dates.

Logan mutes the tv. “What guy?”

��Met him online.”

“And he’s so good to you that you get this pretty for him?”

You smile at his indirect compliment and sit down next to him.

“Yeah, he’s nice. I… I think we might go a step further today,” you feel your cheeks heating up, “I’m kind of nervous.”

You see his jaw clench slightly, “If he’s a good guy he shouldn’t make you nervous.”

“I’m not nervous because of him, it’s just that it would be my first time. And I don’t want to be bad.”

He chuckles and leans back, “You won’t be bad. Just make him go on top.”

Logan isn’t taking your hint, so you take a deep breath to gather your courage. “What if he wants me to go down on him and I don’t know how to do it? Will you…” your voice falters as his eyes meet yours.

“Will you help me?” you stutter and Logan immediately begins to smirk. Embarrassment spreads through your body.

“Help you how?” He asks, smug.

It’s too late to go back now. “Well, I don’t know. Like, explain how it works or.. you could show me?” you shrug.

“You probably know better than me how to find porn online.”

“No, I mean show me on you.” That’s all the courage you can muster for the day and you wonder if you will even have the strength to look back into Logan’s eyes. He solves that problem for you, putting a finger under your chin and pushing it up so you’re looking at him.

“You wanna suck my cock?” He sounds annoyed and you immediately want to die.

“It wouldn’t have to mean anything,” you look at his cheeks, his nose, anywhere but his eyes, “I just wanna know if I’m doing it right. It’s okay if you can’t cum, I just want to practise.”

Logan scans your face for a sign of discomfort – other than your embarrassment – but he doesn’t find any. His features soften, “You really wanna go down on me, bub?”

You nod quickly, “For practice.”

“Mhm, for practice.” He’s mocking you, but all you can do is ignore it.

A thrill shoots through your body at his next words: “C’mere then.” He spreads his legs, clothed in jeans that strain around the thickness of his delicious thighs. You can see the outline of his abs through his tank top. You can’t believe this is happening – you’ve had a crush on him since you saw him for the first time.

Logan beckons you between his legs and you move to sit on the carpet, its fluffiness stopping your bare knees from hurting. Your short skirt rides up your ass and you pull it down self-consciously despite what you’re about to do.

“You sure about this, bub?” Logan asks again from above you. You gulp when you look up at him. How does he look even better from below?

“Yeah,” you assure him, your panties already growing wet. You sit down and try to patiently wait for instruction but you end up squirming. When you look back up at Logan he’s got one of his eyebrows raised.

“You don’t know how to open a belt either?”

“Well, yeah but don’t we have to–” your mouth starts to water when the rough clink of his belt interrupts you. He’s all but ripping open his belt; he unbuttons his jeans and takes out his hard cock. You almost get goosebumps.

“Oh,” you say.

“If a guy likes you, he doesn’t need any time to get ready. Foreplay is just to get the woman nice and wet,” Logan tells you, although you’re barely listening. All you know is that you wouldn’t need the foreplay either, you’re uncomfortably wet, trying to get friction against your legs that are folded underneath you.

Logan watches you stare at his erection, “Take your top off. I like seeing your pretty face but that’ll make it an even nicer view.”

“But I’m not wearing anything underneath,” you thumb at the thin straps of your top.

He smirks, “even better.” He reaches down to pull the top up by your waist but then hesitates.

You nod but Logan rolls his eyes. “Use your words.”

“You can take it off,” you say but you nevertheless put your arms in front of your tits when he pulls your top over your head. 

Logan chuckles, “Baby, I’ve been dying to see your tits since I first met you. You really think you gotta hide?” The nickname makes you melt and your arms immediately drop to your sides. 

You sit up straighter as Logan lets out a low moan, “God, look at you. So fucking perfect.” He reaches out to grope your tits almost clumsily. His cock bobs in front of you as he leans down to touch you and you feel yourself getting addicted to him already. You just want to start.

With a last rough squeeze of your tit, Logan leans back. “Wet your lips,” he instructs. You lick your lips.

“Wetter,” he says, and your eyebrows crease in confusion as you lick your lips again.

Logan huffs, spits into his hand, and smears his spit over your mouth, “There. Don’t you look fucking pretty like this.” You just about purr against his hand and then push against it with your cheek.

You place your hands on either of his knees and lean in to kiss the tip of his cock, all swollen and ready. You immediately feel the urge to go further but your shyness takes over, so you keep pressing wet kisses to his length.

“God,” Logan groans, leaning his head back in pleasure as you keep kissing, and you start to use some more spit.

“Look at you, don’t even need me to tell you what to do,” he pulls his arms behind his head smugly, like an asshole, and you smile, getting shy again. You kiss along the underside of his cock some more, getting more desperate with every second.

“What now?” You ask. 

Logan softly smiles at you for a second, pulling his jeans and boxers further down his thighs. You pull them off completely as he pulls off his top. He’s naked in front of you now, except for his socks, and you take a second to appreciate all the broadness and his muscles. The hair from his chest all the way over his abs and down to his cock is begging for you to kiss every inch of it but you force yourself to focus.

Logan takes his cock in his hand to lift it out of the way, and slowly starts to jerk off. His eyes go to you and then to his balls, and you get what he wants you to do. Still, he gives you one word: “Lick.”

You move forward, inhaling all his manly smell, instinctively going to press another wet kiss to his cock. You let spit pool in your mouth and begin to lick all over his balls, feeling the heaviness of them on your tongue.

“Take as much as you can, baby,” he rasps, continuing to jerk off. You almost slap his hand away – you want to be the one making him feel good – but you stop yourself.

You do as he tells you, opening your mouth to cover as much of him as you can, the warmth of his balls against your tongue making you drool.

“Yeah, baby, juuust like that. That’s a good girl,” he breathes heavily.

Your pussy clenches around nothing at his words, and you have to take a deep breath to focus on anything but the wet ache between your thighs.

His balls move against your tongue from his jerking off, and you gently suck on the skin, moving around a few inches every few seconds. But the movement from his hand on his cock is becoming distracting and, without thinking, you instinctively push his hand away. 

He stills and then smiles, lifting his hand away. He lightly leans his elbows on the back of the sofa to the sides of him. 

“You can start sucking my cock now if you’re ready, baby. Been doing such a good job.”

“I don’t know if I can take all of it,” you pout. Even just imagining his dick down your throat feels too much, though not in a bad way. He’s just so fucking big. 

“Just take as much as you can. I bet you can take more of me than you think.”

His words motivate you. You go up slightly on your knees, carefully wrapping your hand around his cock. You spit on it, letting it slowly slide down the sides as you begin to spread it with your hand. 

Logan huffs out a laugh from above you, “So adorable. You don’t need to be so careful. Here, do it like this.” He wraps his much bigger hand around yours and he starts to jerk off with your hand, showing you how rough you can be as he starts to fuck your fist. 

You clear your throat, “Can I use my mouth now?”

He bites his lip, “Ready when you are, baby. Just breathe through your nose and relax.” Oh, you’re relaxed. Being between Logan’s meaty thighs is the best you’ve felt in your life. 

You press another kiss to the tip of his cock and part your lips to take him in your mouth. The first second you feel the heaviness of his cock on your tongue is like heaven. Logan lets out a low moan and you look up to find his eyes already on your face. He looks like a god from below, his muscles starting to glisten with a thin layer of sweat.

Opening your mouth wider, you take more of him. You start to jerk him off where your mouth can’t reach but you do your best to go as deep as you can, moving up and down with your wet mouth.

The feeling of Logan’s cock in your mouth is addicting, and the quiet sounds he is making even more so. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” he whispers, voice weak. You look up into his eyes as you suck his dick, spit starting to run down your hand, and a smirk spreads on Logan’s face.

“Such a pretty girl,” he leans his head back.

Your jaw is starting to strain because he’s so big but you never want to stop doing this. You swallow down the taste of his precum and can’t wait to actually make him come. He’s starting to pulse in your mouth, abs contracting with every time your tongue moves.

You’re wondering how much long–

“Y’gonna make me come, baby. Gonna come so hard,” Logan moans, and you figure he’s warning you but you want nothing more than his cum in your mouth.

You put in all the effort you can, sucking Logan’s cock further down your throat, cheeks hollowing. You start to feel him at the back of your throat, spit spilling from your lips.

Logan groans, and then he’s filling up your mouth, pumping his cum down your throat as you eagerly swallow. You look up at him through your lashes, taking in his face, his eyes shut and mouth hanging open in pleasure as a long, almost pathetic, groan comes out.

He’s coming longer than you’d expect, coming in your mouth in sticky ropes, a hand guiding the back of your head. You still pout when he’s finally drained and he slowly pulls his hips back.

Logan sighs a last breath of pleasure and holds his hand in front of your mouth. “What?” you ask.

“Spit.”

“Uh, I swallowed,” you say.

“Really?”

You stick out your tongue for Logan to see your empty mouth.

He smirks. “God,” he huffs, “so fucking perfect. C’mere.” He pulls you up to the sofa and sits you on his lap, your bare chest against his. Logan pushes his mouth against yours, kissing you like he’s filled with a new desire, as if you didn’t just make him come.

You don’t get to kiss him for very long though, because he pulls you to lie down on the sofa, turning so your legs are spread around him.

“‘m gonna show you what it’s supposed to feel like for someone to eat your pussy. Just so you know your date is doin’ it right, ‘kay?”

What date? You almost ask. You remember for a second but then, looking at him, all of your thoughts are replaced with Logan again. “Yes,” you nod hornily, “Please.”

“There you go, got you even saying please now. You want it that bad, huh?”

All you can do is nod as he pulls down your skirt and panties. He almost goes cross-eyed when he sees your pussy for the first time.

“God, baby, you coulda said something. Such an eager little thing. You got that wet from having my cock in your mouth, hm? Gonna make you come so good, yeah?”

You nod again and he bends down to press another sloppy kiss to your lips, kissing down your neck and stopping at your chest, “Can’t get enough of these,” he plays with your tits, desperately grabbing at them like a man seeing a woman naked for the first time.

He smiles up at you when he realises how much time he’s spent at your chest, pressing a last kiss to your sternum before placing one of his big hands on your tit and kissing further down. You assume he’s going to stop before he gets to your pussy, just to tease you, but he kisses all the way down from your belly button to your clit, starting to make out with your pussy.

“Logan,” you moan, your hand flying to his hand on one of your boobs.

“Feel good?” He asks, and you almost faint when you look at his head pushed between your thighs. He looks exactly right, as if this is where he was meant to be the entire time.

“Mhmm.”

He chuckles against your pussy, tongue darting out to play with your clit. The ache between your legs starts to get worse with him there, and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing.

Logan smirks and pushes your thighs further apart with a rough hand. He starts to gently rub your clit, and you’ve finally got the friction you’ve been needing this entire time. You’re already close. 

You let out an involuntary moan as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you, and you grip his hand on your tit harder, and he squeezes you there, lovingly. 

“I got you, baby,” he says into your pussy before starting to fuck you with his finger, pushing another one in as he begins to rub a sweet little spot inside that you can never reach yourself. 

He leans in to start licking your clit again, circling it with his tongue and, ever so slightly, beginning to suck. 

You’re so close, the waves of pleasure almost, just almost, flooding over you. You squirm, your knees pushing together, held open by his broad shoulders. 

Logan sucks harder, fingers fucking into you with your clit pulsing against his tongue. 

It only takes a few more seconds of Logan’s mouth on your pussy for you to come. Pleasure explodes within you and floods your entire body as you arch your back, pushing further into him and his wet mouth and thick fingers.

Logan doesn’t stop until you’re satisfied and your legs go numb around him.

He grins at you, biting his lip to stop his smile from spreading too far, and he presses a kiss to the middle of your belly, squeezing your tit gently before letting go. You feel cold without him there.

With your legs still around him, you instinctively pull him in and he lies down next to you on the sofa, gently caging you against the back of it to give you the more comfortable side as he balances on the edge.

“You wanna know how good you taste?” Logan asks, not waiting for an answer before he kisses you. You slide your hand behind his neck to pull him in, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He stops kissing you. “So.. you still going on your date?”

You feel your cheeks getting hot, “What if I told youuu…” you twirl a strand of Logan’s hair that’s hanging over his forehead, “that there never was a date. Or a guy.”

Logan breaks out in a smile, “You were too shy to ask me to fuck you so you made up an entire person?”

You hear the key turning in the lock in that moment, and even though you’ll be covered by the back of the sofa Logan shields you with his hands as best as he can, reaching for your clothes.

Wade comes in and you immediately sit up, holding Logan’s hand and forearm to your tits to cover them.

“Guess what happened?” you squeal at Wade.

Wade’s eyes go over to you and then to Logan, and he drops his bags of grocery shopping to jump up and down, “Was it my plan? I told you my plan would work!”

You grin, “It was your plan.”

Logan looks between you and Wade, rolling his eyes but he’s unable to hide a smile.

“It was a good plan, right? I told her she could just ask you out but she was too shy so I told her to make up a guy she’s dating,” Wade explains.

“Alright,” Logan laughs quietly, “Now fuck off so I can fuck my girl again.”

Wade’s eyes go wide and he says what you’re thinking, “My girl? I’d faint if he called me that. You owe me,” he points at you.

You blow a kiss at Wade and he pretends to catch it, pressing it to his lap. You roll your eyes and smile, waving at him, “You heard him, we’ve got stuff to do.”

The almost animalistic smirk Logan gives you when Wade is gone should scare you, but it only makes you want him more. He picks you up in his arms, carrying you to his room. You can’t wait for what’s to come.

-

P.S. Logan thinks good girls reblog and comment on the fics they enjoy 🩷🫣

[for-ests]

When I talked to the moon last night, I told her about you.

husband!gojo x reader drabble. he loves his wife SO much. just little romantic rituals.

∘∙∘☾𖤓∘∙∘

Shirtless, leaning against the railing of his balcony, Gojo exhaled blissfully. The curtains from inside flapped against the wind, reminding him that he hadn’t slid the doors shut. But he didn’t mind, as he was able to view your half-covered body tangled in his sheets, chest rising and falling in slow, peaceful breaths. A smile on your face despite the deep slumber he lulled you into. 

Satoru did promise that you would never fall asleep without a smile on your face if you married him. 

And he was proud to keep it. 

You were everything to him, and he found a routine to follow after making love to you—wandering out to his balcony to thank the moon, the stars, or whatever was shining down on him from above. Like he often did as a child, gazing up at the moon as if it contained all of life’s answers, as if its wisdom whispered the key to your happiness. 

Satoru found solace in the moon. And when the moon told him about the sun, he told the moon about you. The brightest, most important star in his universe. Nothing would ever outshine you in his mind. 

He was so lucky to have you, and a day never passed without him acknowledging it. 

Overcome with emotion, Satoru’s fingers tightened around the metal railing, slumping over it, as if he was afraid to keep gazing at the moon and its brilliance. The same overwhelming understanding washed over him. Gazing up at the moon was the equivalent of looking into your eyes. 

Such beauty. An indescribable force. You. His Goddess. How lucky he was to have you by his side, in his bed, in his life. 

The brightness from outside shined so perfectly into your eyes, that they flickered open. As you sat up, the first thing you saw was your husband on the balcony, deep in thought. 

The muscles of his back seemed to contort under the moonlight. Your husband was so melodramatic. 

“Is it a full moon tonight?” You whispered groggily from behind, not giving him a moment to reply before embracing him and resting your head against his back. 

He didn’t need to ask why you joined him, as the first few times he asked, you always mumbled a cute and tired, “Toru, you know I can’t sleep without you.” 

Chuckling softly, Gojo turned around to face you and pulled you into his chest. “Look for yourself, my love,” he whispered, pressing a light, gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Exhaling, your nose scrunched, a playful glint in your eyes as you glanced up at him. Every time he held you so tightly, so carefully and protectively, you felt like you were falling in love with him all over again. 

The brightness of the moon was clear, and it seemed to light up the entire sky, casting shadows along the drifting clouds, and highlighting Gojo’s features. Sometimes, it was hard to believe he was your husband. How lucky you were. 

“What is the moon saying tonight?” you teased with a lighthearted tone. 

Satoru claimed that the moon told him to marry you, after all. You are my sun, Y/N. He whispered every time he had to depart from you. 

Without the sun, the moon would know nothing but darkness. And every morning, the light and joy you greeted him with was an everlasting reminder that he found his other half. 

Glancing back to the stars dotting the sky, hardly visible from the moon’s brilliance, Gojo’s eyes twinkled. “The moon congratulated me.” 

Arms slipping around his waist, you questioned in a curious murmur. “For what?” 

His head tilted back to gain a better look at you. “Somehow convincing you to marry me.” He smiled sleepily, leaning down to capture your lips again. Kissing you would never grow tiresome, it was the action he looked forward to most every morning and every night. It was like he would die without it. 

“Well the sun knows it didn’t take much convincing.” You took both of his hands in yours and tugged him back to the door’s entrance. “But maybe I can ask it again in the morning.” 

“Just to make sure?” He smiled. 

Falling back into the king-sized bed, you sighed innocently, beckoning Gojo to follow you. Once he did, you cuddled up next to him. One hand on his cheek, you pressed your lips against his. 

“The sun makes no mistakes, my love,” you mumbled against his lips. 

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

[acid-ixx]

(12/30/24) — again &. again masterlist

by the bird and the bee

ft. platonic soft! yandere batfam! x gn! neglected reader

✮ MAIN MASTERLIST ✮

— TRIGGER WARNINGS !

- lowercase writing, emotional neglect, allusions to sexual assault, prostitution & physical abuse, kidnapping, alcohol abuse, drugging, themes of depression, dissociation, vague traumatic events, mentions of murder, amnesia, other warnings would be added soon.

— SYNOPSIS !

who would have thought that living with your rich, billionaire father and endless supply of sisters and brothers would actually end up being the worst thirteen and a half year of your life?

when your mother was taken away from you at the ripe age of five, you were forced to live at the solemn wayne manor with nobody to accompany you but the butler, alfred pennyworth.

there, you learn that giving up was better than trying to gain the attention of your ever-growing family. so you left, and never once tried to look back at the decades of neglect they left you with.

but when alfred, your kind caretaker, had started leaving clues of your sudden disappearance; that's when they all take notice and then on starts the ultimate race of chasing freedom, and escaping what once was your gilded cage.

little did you know your mother's dark past manifests itself at the worst of times.

— CHAPTERS ! ; 48k+ words

00. — oh, please leave me be.

01. — because you only notice me once i'm out the door.

02. — and you don't even remember my face?

03. — i need a drink, away from everyone.

04. — mors tua, vita mea / your death, my life.

05 : 01. — a halo in the pit of darkness.

05 : 02. — to be his child is all i want.

— DRABBLES ! ; #series: again &. again

dick grayson calling you his baby bird

why now? (yan! damian wayne)

brutus (villain au concept)

brutus: out for blood

what if you were never neglected?

just a taste (yan! conner kent - suggestive)

laughter is the best medicine (yan! dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne)

to you, my greatest passion (non-neglected au-verse)

brutus: both arms cradle you now

bruce finding your graduation picture

how to be a heartbreaker! (yandere harem)

mea culpa (mini chapter)

conflicting comfort scene with jason todd

dialogue spoilers related to above drabble

more about jason todd and hurt/comfort

dick and his baby blue eyes

time travel au concept

sharing the same features with damian

brutus: the only fucked up thing in this world is you

cause you're takin' it like a champ, sweetheart! (yan! conner kent - suggestive)

brutus: just a burning memory (yan! conner kent)

young, just us?! (yan! young justice au)

that's my type! (yan! john constantine)

— ASKS ! ; #series: again &. again

dick's spiral into yandere-ism

leaving gotham, resenting alfred, changing last names

your mysterious identity &. conner being your love interest

dick seeing you as a child & damian's need to be your favorite

damian and his cool, matching bracelets

does dick close the door on you? nah, he doesn't even know you were behind the door

wally west as your love interest

you care now?

conner as your angry, protective bf

jason trying his damn best to be a brother to you

calling bruce by his last name only

calling alfred your dad ft. jealous bruce

how are damian and jason obsessed towards you

their nicknames for you

how bruce and damian would try to bond with you

will you still go to college after being kidnapped?

will the series have a happy ending?

why does damian hurt you? and why do you justify his actions?

the family stalks you even in-game

— INCORRECT QUOTES ! ; #a&a: incorrect quotes

yan! villains kidnapping you

hostage situation

how to become a target to the wayne family

dick and you miscommunication trope in a nutshell

— FANART ! ; #a&a: fanart

happy birthday by @luffyadolover

diary by @luffyadolover

another reason they're broke &. finished art by @oh-nowo-i-got-uwu

a take on the reader's appearance by @luffyadolover

reader trying to study ft. the batfam's endless calls &. finished art by @ghostdoodlen

reader finding bruce and damian watching a movie by @luffyadolover

again &. again mv by @luffyadolover

reader and their playlist by @luffyadolover

a comic panel by @lucioleestolie

conner and reader flying through the skies by @ghostdoodlen

when all of a sudden, i hear this agitating noise by @punpunsonny

villain au reader by @lazyemmy

a&a oc: emile by @questionthegrapevine

graduation pic, conner comfort, and mirrors by @ghostdoodlen

neglected &. non-neglected reader by @lazyemmy

jason calling you his angel by @ghostdoodlen

alfred gives you a christmas gift by @luffyadolover

— TAGLIST ! ; taglist is under construction!

@.lilyalone, @.secretomelettetroops, @.earlqurl, @.simpingfor-wakasa, @.amber-content, @.ruiroku, @.okaybutfullhomo, @.trasshy-artist, @.obsessedwithromance, @.jjsmeowthie, @.fairy-lenaa, @.ilovvmyhusband, @.6uuyuuhgy, @.plsfckmedxddy, @.lavender-moony, @.sweetheart-era, @.chemicalsandghosts, @.darling006, @.starringyau, @.samanthahanes, @.rosecentury, @.jaythes1mp, @.pi1nkl0ver, @.i-thirsty-boy, @.sharks-are-cool-l, @.silverklaus, @.samanthathanes, @.traumaramacenter, @.maddimoon, @.anxrq, @.thedarknesslord, @.h0rr0r-10ver-69, @.lazy-idate, @.cupids-pretty-boy, @.alishii, @.mel-star636, @.sitepathos, @.freakyotaku059-blog, @.dirtydiavolo, @.sunbleachedantlers, @.24hrsoflanii, @.ceramic-raven, @.une-lueur-dans-la-nuit, @.tdickensstuff4, @.thickerthanthieves, @.arlandvery, @.distressed-lezbo, @.bunbunboysworld, @.bellethesleepypotato, @.naina326, @.nebuluma, @.alliwantisadonut, @.alishii, @.kusakiguzen, @.sirenetheblogger, @.emmbny, @.ryukyuin, @.solkara, @.starsdotalk

[shomatoriashi]

01/03/25; 10:00pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when they realize that you’re the true mc from behind the screen ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

notes: this is just my own take on the self aware au! i know other creators who’ve written their own self aware au’s (and have executed them amazingly well!), but i hope that you readers will give my story a chance, too ♡

you never understood the hype that surrounded the game known as love and deepspace-

however, the moment sylus was announced as the newest love interest for this game-

to say you were mildly interested would have been the greatest understatement of the century. when his trailer was revealed, you swore you felt your knees clash together while basking in his pure, masculine beauty.

and his voice- dear god did it sound like pure silk against your ears!

needless to say, you downloaded lads the moment sylus dropped as the latest love interest. when you made your mc, you did your best to model her after your own appearance to the best of your abilities-

however, it seemed impossible to do.

the mc was just too petite and perfect, something that you could never achieve in real life. yet despite it all, you tried your best to customize her to match your features before starting the game. as you struggled with the missions in the main story, you were essentially grinding until the moment you could unlock sylus's story branch-

and the moment when you accomplished it, you were truly on cloud 9, taking an ungodly amount of screenshots each time sylus was on your phone's screen. you kept interacting with him in game, raising his affinity with you to level 50 in a mere few weeks.

it was embarrassing how much you adored this gorgeous man made up entirely of pixels. you always spent quality time with him, bringing him with you when you worked or had to study for an upcoming exam. each time you would glance at your phone and see his devastatingly handsome features cleaning his gun, you would grin and press a kiss on your screen (directly over his cheek!)

were you shameless for feeling so deeply about a fictional man-

absolutely yes. but did you care?

no.

after kissing sylus for what had to be the thousandth time that day, you would go back to your responsibilities, unaware that sylus could hear you and feel the sensation of your kisses against his cheek.

at first, it was maddening for sylus to realize that everything he's been through was made up by some writers at a company. every tragedy was forced upon him for the sake of a good story-

and he hated it.

he hated how his every word was essentially a script made up by that same company and how he was forced to interact with an mc that was just the same as the rest-

yet the moment he realized he could see you settled behind that woman's avatar-

sylus was intrigued, to say the least.

despite how you looked drastically different from the mc, something about you drew him to you more than the mc ever could. for starters, you were a true, living person who had a personality.

and you just seemed so alive each time sylus saw you. the more time he had spent with you, the more his feelings of curiosity turned into something tangible and real-

making sylus yearn for the day you would recognize him noticing you. he stops cleaning his gun just then, simply keeping his crimson gaze on your form as you wrote in your notebook. the hours continue to pass, yet sylus allows the quality time feature to go on even past the 30 minute mark, not stopping until you were done.

as your eyes go back to your phone, you were ready to quit the session when sylus purposely stops you, "no kiss this time? you wound me, little dove."

he basks in your wide eyed expression and the way your mouth was wide open in a gape, chuckling as you waved your hand over the screen-

and sylus was following your every movement.

"you can see me?"

"i think we've made that abundantly clear just now, little dove." he shakes his head, feeling his world tilt slightly when you pick up your phone.

"y-you just spoke to me, and i- i'm your little dove?" a dreamy expression crosses your features as you kept your gaze on sylus. he gives you a rare, tiny smile while reaffirming his nickname for you with a nod, "of course you are. you have always been my little dove since the moment i laid eyes on you."

a cute sound escapes from your parted lips, and he felt himself being jostled around when you began to spin while holding your phone. with his eyebrows lifted in response, he calls out your name while telling you, "you don't seem to be as panicked as i imagined."

"are you kidding me? i-" you cough and give him a sheepish expression, "i actually love you so much, and despite the weirdness of this all, i'm strangely happy."

your words succeed in making sylus feel warm inside-

and he knew he had to find a way to be with you soon.

zayne has always been aware of your existence, since you were a longtime player of his game and have spent most of your time together with him.

strangely enough, he took pride in having the highest affinity with you-

yet when you obtained any of the other love interest's memories, or spent some time with them-

a wave of jealousy would course through zayne's veins. he knew that he was programmed to always feel happy with whatever man you chose-

but he couldn't bring himself to let you go. after all, zayne knew that he loved you the most out of all of them.

he was the one who held your health and wellbeing above all else (even ignoring his own desires to see you during his quality time sessions with you.)

while working on his laptop at the cafe, he was aware of how late it was and was hoping that you were already safe and sound in bed-

so imagine his surprise when he sees you logging into the game, greeting him with a tired smile on your face as you opened up the quality time menu with him.

"hey zaynie, i know it's late, but i need to get these assignments done just to stay ahead. i couldn't find the time to do them earlier, so that's why i'm here."

admittedly, zayne could feel a shiver of pleasure each time you spoke to him, allowing him to bask in the sound of your voice-

yet more so than that was how concerned he was that you wanted to do your assignments at such an ungodly hour. as you pressed on the quality time session, zayne would immediately cancel it. confusion was etched onto your features, making you try again-

only to have zayne cancel the session once more.

"what the hell is going on?"

unable to hide the fact that he could respond to you (and not wishing to ignore you any longer) zayne takes a chance and speaks to you.

"it's too late for you to be studying. you should be in bed, ready to sleep."

your eyebrows furrow in response to his words, uncertain if this was part of his script (it wasn't). unable to stop, zayne continues to lightly scold you, "humans need at least 8 hours of sleep, and i know that you've barely gotten 5 hours the past few days."

"oh my god, what?!" he watches as you pick up your phone, meeting his gaze as an incredulous expression was seen on your face. "zaynie, are you talking to me?"

zayne was conflicted now, pulling at the collar of his shirt before clearing his throat, wanting to be honest with you, "yes... i am talking to you, and if you cared for me and my feelings at all, you would go to bed and work on your assignments in the morning, once you're fully rested."

it takes you a moment to take this all in.

from zayne meeting your gaze and scolding you because he was concerned about your health-

it honestly felt like such a dream come true.

your features end up breaking out into a kind smile, and zayne could feel a blush creeping up against his cheek when you nuzzle your face closer to your phone, "okay zaynie, i'll go to sleep."

cradling the phone close to your chest, you let out a hum while slowly getting into bed. once you were settled in bed, you held up your phone to see zayne looking back at you. he smiles at you, "good girl, now close your eyes and sleep."

he watches as you purse your lips before asking him, "will you stay with me, zayne?"

smiling at your request, he gives you a nod, "of course. i'm not going anywhere." he watches you once more as you cuddle into your comforter, closing your eyes while setting your phone close to you.

and as your breathing evens out, (turning softer), zayne whispers your name, filled with longing and love for you alone.

you had to be experiencing the worst cold of your life as you were settled in bed with your phone in hand, playing love and deepspace as you did some missions with xavier, your true love interest for the game.

in the middle of your battle, you let out a particularly loud sneeze, wiping the snot away from your nose while blowing into a tissue when a tiny voice was heard saying "bless you."

after blowing your nose, you said 'thank you' in response-

only to do a double take.

who just said bless you?

you take a quick scan around your room, coughing here and there-

only to realize that there was no one in sight.

you hear the voice again, this time saying your name as you realized that it sounded familiar to you. looking back at your phone, you saw xavier had already taken out the enemy and was looking directly at you.

you swallow thickly, your voice shaky when you began to speak,

"xavier?"

"yes."

"you can hear me?"

"i was able to hear you since day 1, and you chose to stick with me." xavier was practically grinning now, appearing smug while folding his arms across his chest.

by now, you were feeling dizzy as you slowly sit up in bed, feeling almost feverish while looking into xavier's gorgeous, true blue eyes. xavier has been aware of your presence this whole time-

and that fact was enough to make a surge of warmth course through you.

"you... you have always been able to see me?" you ask xavier in a shy voice, earning an earnest nod from him, "yes, and..." he trails off while pressing a hand against your screen, "i'm sorry that i'm unable to take care of you when you're feeling so sick."

"n-no! don't worry about it... i'm just happy that you're here... with me."

a sweet smile paints xavier's expression, coupled along with a gentle chuckle. "i'm happy to be with you, too. and i'm happy that you chose me over them."

realizing what xavier meant, you gave him the best smile you could manage while wiping at your nose with a new tissue, "i will always choose you, xavi."

hearing your admission causes a surge of possessiveness to course through xavier's veins. and while you smiled back at him, the philos prince was thinking of ways to forever keep your smiles for himself.

feeling the need to clean your house and do some chores around it, you decide to spend some quality time with rafayel, the hot lemurian you fell in love with ever since you began playing love and deepspace. with his pretty, pouty face on your screen, you began cleaning, moving around your kitchen and living room while wiping down each surface you could see.

you spent a few hours cleaning, with rafayel seeming to sketch during his quality time session with you, which felt odd. usually, after 30 minutes, the game would notify you, asking if you'd like to continue the session as you confirmed it-

yet now, that didn't seem to happen.

you saw no notification-

and rafayel was still sketching on your screen.

with a shrug, you figured the game probably updated and added this new feature, where you didn't have to constantly renew the 30 minutes during your quality time with rafayel. feeling thirsty now, you pick up your phone and head into the kitchen, setting your phone on the counter as you went into the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

"hey princess! where did you go?! i can't see you!"

you nearly dropped your water bottle in response, hearing rafayel's voice coming from your phone. "come on princess, don't leave me hanging, where are you?"

was this a new script?

closing your fridge, you step closer to your phone, seeing rafayel's pout. picking it up, allowing rafayel to finally see you, he was smiling now while winking at you. "there you are, princess! are you done doing all that work?"

words were unable to form as you were left gaping at him, making the artist chuckle while shaking his head, "you look like a goldfish, which is pretty cute! oh, before i forget!"

rafayel pulls back, revealing his sketchbook to you. your heart was felt clenching slightly before racing upon realizing every sketch was about you-

not your mc in game.

the realization of it all had you reeling, with your hands gripping at your counter when you addressed rafayel. "rafe, you can see me?"

"of course i can, always have been able to, princess." he has the audacity to make your heart flutter the moment he gives you another wink. "and let me just say, i've been loving what i've been seeing so far, princess."

by now, you felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, unable to hide your grin as you cling to your phone all while basking in rafayel's flirty and playful words-

yet little did you know, somewhere along the way, rafayel had genuinely fallen head over heels for you, keeping each painting and sculpture he had made of you hidden so that you would never know-

at least, not yet.

end notes: i'm so happy to write a story like this, where all the lads men truly are so META and wish to be with YOU-

and not the mc (⺣◡⺣)♡

this is currently unedited, but i shall make any changes the moment this story is posted!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[andypantsx3]

contents: general bakugou x princess reader; fem + afab virgin reader. nsft; oral (f receiving) & missionary. semi-sequel to this drabble. 3.2k.

Your wedding day arrives far earlier than you are prepared for.

It’s a tense affair, for you at least. The country depends on it, and you feel the scheming eyes of the nobility hot on your skin as you pronounce your vows to Bakugou. They will not take kindly to your having chosen him over their sons and brothers, over their own desire to rise to power. There will be a price they will want you to pay, soon enough.

The chapel is resplendent with sumptuous decor, the court in their finest. But the room is fringed with Bakugou’s men in their military leathers, a reminder that this is not a happy day, but rather a dangerous political stunt. It keeps the noble houses docile while they are in the room with you, but you know they will return to their estates and their plans. 

Your fate is in Bakugou’s hands, now, in more ways than one.

The ceremony is dizzying, and impossible to wrap your head around. The preceptor pronounces Bakugou your prince-consort, ostensibly to remain so while you assume the throne after your father’s passing. You will continue to rule him as his sovereign. But your vows to Bakugou also promise him your obedience as his wife. 

It is a contradiction, an impossible trap, the very reason why the general is the only man you could stomach the thought of marrying. If a husband is to rule you after all, Bakugou will do so justly. 

The thought does not stifle your nerves, however, as you make your way back down the aisle, sit down to the reception, and take your meal. A disquieting, anticipatory feeling settles over you, fizzing under your skin. You barely pick at your dinner, and drink too much of the wine.

You can tell Bakugou notices, scarlet gaze ever-perceptive, though he does not say anything until you are shepherded to the bridal suite to consummate.

Various aides try to follow you in to prepare you, but Bakugou slams the door closed on them, propping it shut with one broad shoulder. He barks at them to scram.

“Lord General—that is, Your Highness,” one of them stutters through the door. “We are required to witness the consummation—to verify that it is complete.”

A bolt of shame goes through you at this, and you catch hold of one of the intricately-carved wooden bed pillars. Bakugou grunts, holding the door closed with one palm while spinning to the nearby dressing table and chair. He grabs the chair, wedging it forcefully up under the door handle.

“You’ll be sure of consummation when I’m done here,” he growls through the door. “Don’t need you little fucking perverts making eyes the whole damn time. Now beat it.”

A weird sound escapes you, something between a gasp and a laugh—at his promise, at his gruffness.

“Your Highness,” comes a plaintive entreaty through the door. Bakugou slams a fist against it, and you hear a squeal and a sound like someone’s fallen over their feet.

An absurd laugh seizes you, and Bakugou eyes you pettishly.

“The fuck’re you laughing about,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.

Your fingers twist on the bedpost, nervously tracing the lines. “You’re taking to your new post well.”

Bakugou’s features twist into something dangerously satisfied, a smirk painting his mouth. Your breath comes short.

“My post,” he echoes, raising an eyebrow. “As your husband.”

Your stomach swoops. The disquiet flames back to life under your skin, settling heavy in your gut like a stone. 

“I supposed it is a post like any other,” you say, fixing your gaze on the ground. “There are responsibilities and… marital duties.”

You hear the soft tread of Bakugou’s boot as he steps away from the door, the rustle of his doublet as he draws closer. His many medals and ceremonial sword belt clink softly. It is a fashion you know he does not prefer, always living in his shirtsleeves—the better to fight in, to train in.

A calloused hand takes your chin, tipping your face up to his.

“You nervous, Princess?” he asks. His tone is obnoxious, as usual, but his crimson gaze traces your face.

You barely suppress a shiver under his touch. Your stomach churns with a thousand emotions and you find you don’t know how to feel. Relieved that you’ve made it this far. Annoyed with Bakugou’s composure and general manner. Apprehensive about what is to come. And warm, suddenly, all over. You do not want to examine why.

“Nonsense,” you sniff. 

A feral smile curls the corner of Bakugou’s mouth like he sees right through you. “You’ve never been with a man.”

Your face burns but you force yourself to return Bakugou’s assessing stare. “I’ve never been to Musutafu, either, but I know it well enough. I should think I am… prepared.”

Something hot alights in Bakugou’s gaze, burning like a coal. It’s not unlike how he looked at you that night in the dark outside his chambers, when you’d first come to him with this wild proposal.

“And what do you think you know,” he says, flatter than a question.

Your nose grows hot. “Enough.”

A thumb slides along your jaw, settling against the pulse in your neck. “Answer the question, angel.”

Your face just might be on fire. You steel yourself, reciting dispassionately. “You will undress me and then… enter me. I shall lie still—they say you can breathe through the pain and it will go away after some time. You will… work yourself to completion. And then we shall be done.”

A snort comes from Bakugou. “Is that how you royal tightasses do it?”

You feel your eyes narrow. “That is how everyone does it.”

Your ladies in waiting had been very emphatic. All of them had spoken of the same mechanics. The initial discomfort, the pain, the way a husband moved upon his wife until he was satisfied.

“You don’t know shit, Princess,” Bakugou says.

You reach up to pull his hand from your face, but he tenses, arm growing solid and immovable. 

“Explains why all you nobles are such fucking tight-buttoned pricks if that’s how you’re doing it.”

Your reply is startled out of you when his hand finds your waist. You take a step back, and then another, startling again when your back finds the wall. Bakugou follows you, eyes hot.

“You are insufferable,” you inform him hotly. “I am sure of the matter.”

“You’re always sure of a lot of things, Princess,” he says. His hand is back at your waist, and suddenly all your skin feels too hot and tight, stifling like a velvet dress in summer.

“I am sure you are the most obnoxious man on earth,” you say. “Now be quiet and commence with it. Let’s have done with it.”

Bakugou’s face is suddenly closer than you’d remembered it being.

“I’ll have done with you alright,” he says. “But I’m not gonna do it like you little uppity prudes.”

You find you can’t think of what he means, all of your thoughts clouded with his proximity, the feeling of his hand moving to your skirts.

“I—but there is only the one way,” you manage. None of your ladies had mentioned anything else.

Bakugou’s mouth cuts into a smirk again, and you hate him for how pretty it is. 

“We’ll fuckin’ see about that,” he says.

And then his mouth is pressed to yours. 

It’s nothing like the stilted peck you’d been obliged to give him at the ceremony—one that still left your face burning, for some unknowable reason. This feels entirely different in its intensity. Bakugou’s mouth is hot and soft and tempting and eager, and your body thrills with it.

Every inch of your skin feels like it zings with lightning when he licks into your mouth, and he presses you harder into the wall. You feel his groan all the way down to your toes.

“B–akugou,” you pant when his mouth leaves yours, only to stifle a yip when he moves down to your throat. He sucks a mark there, laving over it with his tongue, and you feel like you're melting in his hands. “That’s—not my—ah!—mouth,” you manage.

The tiniest scrape of teeth has you yelping again, and you find yourself clutching his bicep for purchase.

“No shit,” he says, leaving another mark lower, mapping his way towards your chest. Calloused fingers come up to cup one of your breasts, thumb swiping over your nipple through your stays. You catch hold of his hair, yanking a fistful of that flaxen blonde, clenching your thighs together.

“What are you doing?” you hiss. 

Bakugou looks up at you, expression annoyed. “Consummating.”

“But you’re not undressing me,” you say. “And shouldn’t we—on the bed?

Bakugou raises a blonde eyebrow. “They tell you it needs to be on a bed, too?”

You blink, momentarily disarmed. It was quite literally called sharing the marriage bed—where else were you supposed to do it?

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same thing?” you eventually ask him.

Both of Bakugou’s eyebrows shoot for the moon, and he looks very suddenly like he wants to laugh. A grin yanks at his mouth, sharp and beautiful.

“I knew you’d be a fucking handful,” he says, his tone somehow both annoyed and delighted. “Don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about and you’re still trying to give me orders.”

You yank at the fistful of his hair you’re still clutching and he hisses, hand shooting out to grab yours. He works your grip off of him, pinning your wrist to the wall. The air in the room suddenly feels a hundred times thicker, like trying to breathe through honey.

“Listen closely, Princess,” he tells you, leaning in. “We're going to consummate, alright. But I’m not just gonna squeeze my eyes shut and stick it in. I’m going to do what I want first, and you’re going to be good and let me.”

Your face ignites in flame. You want to disagree reflexively. “If it’s going to be painful I’d rather just have it over with, if you don’t mind,” you say.

Bakugou stares back, scarlet gaze roving over you. “It’s not gonna be if you shut up and let me do what I want.”

You blink. You hadn’t heard that there was a way around the pain—why hadn’t anyone told you?

“I—really?” you ask.

Bakugou nods. “Really.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well then… you may proceed, I suppose.”

“You suppose,” he echoes, staring you down. The look on his face makes you want to lean forward and bite it off.

“Well get on with it,” you say, arching your eyebrows.

Bakugou looks for a moment like he wants to shake you. But he ducks his head instead, lowering his mouth to yours again.

“Gonna fuck that bossiness right out of you,” he mutters, low like he’s promising himself and not you. But then he kisses you again, muffling your gasp in his mouth.

You’ve never kissed another man, and do not have a frame of reference for what he’s doing. But Bakugou is a good kisser, you think. Every flick of his tongue feels like someone has uncorked champagne and poured it beneath your skin, and every brush of his mouth against yours sends a liquid heat racing through your veins.

You moan into his mouth when calloused fingers delve beneath the collar of your gown, dipping into your stays and pinching a nipple. He rolls it carefully, and you arch against him without any say-so from your brain. 

“Been thinking about this, Princess,” he says. “Ever since I saw you in that little nightdress. Gonna show you what it really means to be with a man.”

You’re excused from answering by his mouth back on yours. Not that you think you could, with the way his fingers feel in the cups of your stays, or the press of a strong thigh between your own.

“Bakugou,” you gasp when he peels off of you, only to sink to his knees before you.

“It’s Katsuki,” he says, busying himself with the hem of your skirts. 

“B–Katsuki,” you say. “What are you doing?”

Long fingers roll up the hemline of your dress, then yank at your underthings, exposing you to him. You gasp again, moving to cover yourself, but Bakugou pins you to the wall with an arm across your stomach, catching your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.

“Husbandly duties,” he replies, another smirk on his mouth.

And then your head thunks against the wall as that mouth moves, pressing to you.

“Katsuki!” you shout, biting off into an embarrassing moan when he laves over you. No one had told you about this part—about how a man’s mouth there would make you feel like fireworks had just been lit off in your veins. About how a man’s mouth could even go there at all.

Bakugou doesn’t reply, kissing you there as he had your lips. A delicate suck from him over the cleft of you has you arching in his hands again, and you can quite literally feel him smirking against you.

He works you thoroughly, licking and sucking for what feels like torturous hours, but must only be minutes, until you’re a writhing, panting mess, only held upright by the arm he has banded across your lower stomach. There’s a pressure rising within you, pooling in all your limbs, making you shake and shiver with it, and what feels like no way to release it.

“Katsuki—I feel strange,” you say, bucking against his mouth. “Oh—oh!”

“Just hold on, sweetheart, and let yourself feel it,” Katsuki tells you, before licking back over you. A finger presses up inside of you, foreign but strangely good in conjunction with his mouth. Then another one presses in and they curl as if seeking something, making you twist in his grip.

And then something makes you jerk—the press of Katsuki’s fingers inside you in just the right spot, while he sucks on you, feeling like he’s touching the same place inside of you from both sides.

Something inside you snaps, uncoiling, pleasure flooding down you like a mudslide. You cry out Bakugou’s name, tears in your vision, riding out your pleasure against his mouth. Bakugou licks you through it, groaning low in his throat with appreciation.

“That’s it, Princess,” he says, tone rough. “Now you’re ready for consummation.”

You hear his words as if through a haze, and it’s only once you’re moving—being picked up and carried over to the bed—that you register what he’s saying.

He frees himself from his breeches, and stretches out over you, kissing your mouth. You’re embarrassed to taste yourself on him, but the press of him to you overrides that concern. In one smooth stroke he presses in, and you are shocked to find that he slides home easily, your core slick and ready.

It feels strange, but not at all unpleasant—absolutely nothing like what they’d told you.

“You alright, Princess?” Bakugou asks.

“I—yes,” you say, voice fluttering off when he flexes his hips, moving inside of you. The slide of him inside of you is unexpectedly good, especially when he lowers a hand to your core, pressing a thumb to that bundle of nerves at the hood of you.

“Feel good?” he asks, his eyes hot on your face. You cling to him, hips lifting into him unthinkingly as his thumb pets over you again, as he presses in and out of you a few more times.

You nod, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

He grins anyway, feral and fever-bright. His pace picks up into something faster, and you’re embarrassed to hear the slap of him against you, the eager way your body welcomes him in.

The band of pressure builds up inside you again, slowly, with every sure stroke of Bakugou inside you. He’s hot and hard and heavy over you, pressing you into the mattress, and the tops of his cheeks are flush with effort—the way he looks sometimes when he’s just come in from the training pitch.

He’s beautiful—handsome and strong and hot-headed and determined. And it dawns on you that he’s yours now—not just your subject but your husband, your prince consort, and now your lover.

It makes all your skin turn molten hot again, especially when you look down and see your knees have rucked his shirt up. You can see the flex of his abs as he thrusts between your thighs, all that golden skin and dense muscle.

The slide of him inside you and the sight of him over you is suddenly too much, and you feel yourself tip right over the edge again. Bakugou catches your hand as you lift it to muffle your cry, kissing over your knuckles.

“That’s it, Princess, that’s it,” he says again, ducking his head to kiss you.

You moan into his mouth as he fucks you through it, and he groans with the clench of you.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he says against your lips, pace picking up faster. “Knew you would, sweetheart, yeah.”

Embarrassingly you feel almost like you could come apart again with the praise. Bakugou groans once more, and you can hear his grip tighten in the blanket next to your head. His hips buck and flex, wildly uncontrolled now, until he gives one final hard thrust.

His weight pins you down when he relaxes over you, his breath tickling over your shoulder. You find you like the weight of him on you, covering you, like a shield against the rest of the world.

Apt, for a general.

“Better than how you wanted to do it, wasn’t it, Princess?” he asks, smug.

You scoff, but you catch the flash of a white grin in the corner of your vision. There is really no question that he’d had the better of it, this time.

“Knew you’d see it my way,” he says.

Over him, you can hear the flutter of feet outside the door, some muffled discussion. Heat rises to your face when you realize the castle aids most definitely heard you cry out under Bakugou’s ministrations. There will be no doubt of your consummation now, regardless of whether you were observed.

“Nosy fuckin’ perverts,” Bakugou says, rolling off of you. You catch another flicker of his chest with the way his shirt gapes, and he looks doubly smug when he notices.

“Not done yet, angel?” he says.

“I am, thank you.” You flush, embarrassed at having been caught. But Bakugou stretches an arm out to yank you over him, pressing you down over his hips.

Your stomach flutters.

“Give me a couple more minutes, Princess,” Bakugou says, scarlet eyes flashing with heat once more. His hand raises to trail through your hair, catching in the wedding hairstyle they’d pinned you into. 

“Five more minutes,” your new husband promises you, with a grin like the devil. “And then we'll give them something to really listen to.”

[misswynters]

Scientific purposes

drabble

featuring. viktor x reader

warnings. suggestive, kissing in the council room

requested. @pinklunarprincess

In council chambers which were dimly lit, the last vestiges of daylight filtering through the tall, arched windows. The air carried the faint scent of ink and parchment, mingling with the lingering tension of earlier debates. You remained seated at the head of the long mahogany table, meticulously reviewing the day’s proposals when Viktor entered. He moved quietly, his mechanical brace clicking softly against the polished floor. His golden eyes lingered on you longer than necessary, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. This wasn’t his first visit today. He had come by twice already under the guise of needing your counsel. But this time, his intent seemed different, and the way he locked the door behind him sent a spark of anticipation down your spine.

“I see you’ve returned,” you remarked without looking up, your tone laced with playful exasperation. “What pressing matter is it this time, Viktor?”

He hesitated, his hands clasped behind his back. “There are… complexities in the hextech approval process. I thought it best to speak with you directly.” His voice was calm, measured, but the slight tremor betrayed him.

You tilted your head, finally meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was undeniable, and it ignited something within you. “Complexities, hmm? Are you sure this couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Not with you here,” he replied softly, his honesty catching you off guard.

Rising from your seat, you took a slow step toward him, watching as his confidence wavered under your scrutiny. “You seem rather insistent tonight,” you mused, the faintest of smirks tugging at your lips. “Tell me, are these complexities truly about hextech? Or is there something else on your mind?”

His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you. “I—” he began, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. His gaze flickered to your lips, and he took a small step back, his resolve clearly wavering. “It would be improper…”

“Improper?” you echoed, arching an eyebrow. “Since when has that stopped you from seeking what you want?”

Your words left him momentarily speechless, and you could see the war playing out behind his golden eyes. Finally, he drew in a sharp breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “You.”

You closed the remaining distance, your hands finding the lapels of his coat as you pulled him toward the chair at the center of the room. “Sit,” you commanded softly, your tone leaving no room for argument. He obeyed, his movements almost mechanical as he lowered himself into the chair.

Hovering above him, you placed one knee between his legs, your weight barely pressing against him. The intimacy of the position made him tense, his hands gripping the armrests tightly as if anchoring himself. Leaning forward, your lips ghosted over his, your breath mingling with his as you spoke. “You could’ve just said you wanted my attention, Viktor. All this talk of ‘complexities’ wasn’t necessary.”

“I…” He swallowed hard, his hands twitching as though resisting the urge to touch you. “I did not want to—overstep.”

A soft chuckle escaped you as your fingers trailed up his jaw, tilting his face to meet yours. “And yet here we are," you murmured, brushing your lips against his in the faintest of touches.

The kiss deepened quickly, his restraint crumbling as his hands finally moved to rest on your hips. The heat between you was palpable, your bodies pressing closer as the tension that had been building for weeks finally erupted. Viktor's lips were fervent against yours, his usual precision and control giving way to raw need.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your lips brushing against his ear. "You've been driving yourself mad over this, haven't you?"

"Yes," he admitted hoarsely, his voice heavy with desperation. "You... sure are intoxicating."

Your teeth grazed the shell of his ear, drawing a shiver from him as you whispered, "Then let me consume you."

His response was immediate, his hands tightening on your waist as though afraid you might disappear. You could feel his pulse racing beneath your fingertips as you cupped his face, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. There was something beautiful about seeing him like this. Unguarded, vulnerable, and utterly at your mercy.

"You're trembling," you noted, your tone soft but teasing. "Are you nervous, Viktor?"

He managed a faint chuckle, though his voice betrayed him. "You have a way of... unbalancing me."

You smiled, your lips hovering just above his. "Good."

taglist. @xxblairslairxx @diffusebread @ekkosh @ash-84321 @luneariaa @minagrayson @aliives @mammonsleftring @gxrextxgaidk @anna1-1 @bl-0-ndi-3

banner. @anitalenia

[asurastro]

It was a clash that Rex could have avoided. He needed a break after all the other violent encounters he'd been involved in with the other superbeings. He could pick up the fight later after he was back in better condition.

Unfortunately, he'd fallen in love.

♫

There was a lingering glow in his gaze, rather than tears or trying to turn his head away. Not when they told him he'd be okay-- and Rex knew the odds would have been way better if he'd stuck around to begin with. He could still give that to them, but he shouldn't have hesitated.

Better late than never.

The police blockade never stood a chance. The force of his charge forward swept their squad cars and their reinforced riot vehicles flung aside, their street-sweeper mechs clobbered into an early decommissioning. Premiere superpowered celebrities and highest-clearance government agents were scrambling to hold the line with barrages of missiles, a large set of knuckles sailing into Rex's jaw to send him skyward, and the enchanted chains of an arch-mage by the bodily extremities.

Still, Rex pulled against his bonds, and fired his laser eyes in wide arcs. Eventually getting his hands together, and spiking down an explosive energy orb volleyball style, emerging from the resultant flames to approach the gates before the stadium arena's entrance. A last stand by newfound friends seconds from erupting for the sake of life. That's how Rex perceived it.

He was seeing tonight through eyes of oblivion.

And through he went. A cluster of enemies waiting to swarm him and his two ready fists. Kicks swinging as he pushed through to the middle of the maelstrom. The glow of his seafoam green aura giving him an extra boost-- and hopefully identifying himself for his friends...

[sabersandsnipers]

Drabbles: Just One Bed

Featuring: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Lord Gortash

Inspiration courtesy of @creativepromptsforwriting

Astarion

There’s only one pillow. So you and Astarion have to share. Neither of you want the annoyance of waking up with neck pain. And after arguing for a bit, you realize neither of you is winning.

Despite trying his best to keep distance between you, it’s incredibly difficult while trying to share a pillow. His body cradles yours. His lips nearly touch the back of your neck. For a while he manages to keep his hands to himself, but as his eyes grow heavy, his arm snakes its way around your waist.

Your body feels like its on fire despite his cold skin. You’re worried the rapid beat of your heart will keep him awake.

Somehow sleep eventually finds you. In the middle of the night, you roll over to find a more comfortable position. When you wake up, you find your face buried in Astarion’s chest.

He himself hasn’t slept since you rolled into him. He’s kept his arm slung over you, though, and has listened to your steady breathing all night.

When you attempt to move away from him, his grip around you automatically tightens. You freeze, waiting for him to realize you’re awake, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t want to. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. Your body is warm and soft, and he never wants to leave this bed.

Gale

The bed is roomy, which you’re grateful for. There should be plenty of space for you two. There’s no blanket though, so Gale roots through the closet for one.

Gale clears his throat, and you turn your attention to him holding up a rather small blanket. One that definitely would not cover the whole bed.

“You have it,” he hands it to you. “I’ll be fine.”

You hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Most definitely,” he replies, already making his way to the bed.

You climb in next to him, pulling the blanket up to your chin. It’s barely big enough to cover your own person. You look to Gale, who’s turned away from you. He looks so exposed, and frankly, uncomfortable.

“Gale?” you say.

“Hm?” he turns to look at you.

“Do you want to share?” you ask. You hold up the blanket so he can slide in.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He scooches over to you, and you let the blanket drop around you two. You let out a sigh of contentment as the warmth of Gale’s body presses against you. You usually run cold, so you’re grateful he accepted your offer.

He wraps his arms around you, because there’s no other way for you two to get comfortable. In the night, he even drapes a leg over you. You don’t mind, you even find yourself nuzzling into him, seeking every bit of warmth you can.

Halsin

A rainstorm tears your tent in the night. The cold splatter of rain on your face wakes you. Your bedroll is soaked, along with most of your belongings. You groan, getting out of bed so you can seek shelter with a companion. 

Out of all the tents before you, Halsin’s calls to you. You know it’ll be the warmest. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you make your way to his tent. 

You poke your head in. “Halsin?”

He wakes, an alarmed look on his face. “What is it?”

“My tent ripped. Can I stay with you?” A shiver slinks through your body. 

He nods. “Of course.”

He opens his bed roll a bit, and you see he’s naked. Your jaw drops. You hesitate, part of you feeling like you’re crossing a line. 

But then another shiver hits you, and you practically run into his arms. You sigh as you slide into the warmth of his bedroll. 

Halsin groans. “You’re freezing.” 

  “I know.” You don’t hesitate to press up against him, soaking in all his warmth. 

  “You’ll warm up soon,” he says, rubbing your back. Then his voice hits your ear. “You’d warm sooner if you removed your clothes as well.” 

Your stomach drops. You know if you do this, your companionship is going to get a bit complicated. But the thought of his hot skin against yours is too tempting.

He helps you out of your clothes, your heart fluttering the whole time. When you’re fully naked, he pulls you into his chest. Your heart pounds, but you relax against the heat of him. 

He fully cocoons you, wrapping a thick leg around you to pull you even closer. You feel your body start to warm, and the shivers start to cease. You try to ignore how perfectly lined up you are to him. You know sleep will be impossible like this, but it’s worth it to spend the night in his warm embrace.

Gortash

You may have had one drink too many. The wine Enver provided for you was far too good to go to waste. And waste you did not.  The last thing you remember is the soft cushioning of a bed before darkness took you. 

The harsh morning light wakes you. The first sensation that hits you is that of a pounding headache. The next is that of a pair of strong arms encircling you. 

Confusion hits you. You don’t remember going to bed with anyone. You feel your underwear is on, so nothing happened with whoever is in the bed with you. 

You slowly turn your body to see who this mystery person is. You’re met with the strong face of Lord Gortash. Butterflies fill your belly. He simply invited you over for dinner, and here he is letting you sleep in his bed. 

He’s sound asleep, his soft breathing evidence of the relaxed state he’s in. He’s sleeping shirtless, and you tentatively place your palms against his strong chest. You feel the strong muscles rippling under his skin. 

He stirs slightly and you quickly hide your face against his chest. He shifts, his chest hairs tickling your skin. His powerful arms hold you so gently.

With your headache forgotten, and Enver’s body sending waves of warmth through you, sleep finds you again.

[lovscb97]

tags: nerd!bang chan x cheerleader!fem!reader, inexperienced chan, experienced reader, kissing, slight corruption kink, kinda toxic relationship, oral sex (f. receiving), face-sitting, exhibitionism lowkey (they’re in a locker room), nicknames (channie, baby, pretty boy), angst kinda?, porn with some plot, etc

wc: 2.06k

add. notes: these previews kilt me. they Kilt Me. therefore i present to u face-sitting with nerd chan. it's not entirely pwp but enjoy anyways :3

nerd!chan pt. 2 / nerd!chan headcannons / drabble #1

. . . 

you’re not quite sure how you got here, honestly. one moment, you’re out at cheer practice with your girls, doing complicated stunts and diligently rehearsing the rigorous routines outlined for the upcoming game, all with your coach blowing her whistle every other minute of course. but the next? 

you’re in a stuffy locker room making out with the captain of the mathletes team as he pants against your mouth, begging you for more.

it started off with a simple favour— you needed somebody to help you get your grades up after missing one too many classes, and chan was the best in the year; naturally, you asked for his assistance. he’d gone wide in the eyes and red in the face when you’d walked up to him after your shared lecture, leaving you biting back a laugh at the way he stuttered over his words over the prospect of teaching you, even refusing at first. to your fortunate pleasure however, you convinced him to agree in the end, which is how you ended up at your first session in his house, crammed together on his childhood bed and eyeing the walls of his room littered with spelling bee awards and academic medals from various competitions. 

somehow down the line of those little sessions, you and chan grew closer, bonding over your shared love for movies and hidden local diners in your city, and the first time you hung out with him outside of the guise of studying at those very local diners, you found yourselves grinding against each other in the backseat of his beatdown car. you still remember the way he fumbled over himself, red ears burning and big doe eyes blinking up at you as you kissed him, albeit awkward with his lack of expertise but still sweet in the way he held you close to him. you suppose that’s where your little ‘sessions’ turned into a special type of studying, and where this charade began to unfold as your dirty secret.

which brings you back to now. 

“need.. need you.” chan huffs, pulling away momentarily from messily locking his lips with yours as you breathe heavily against him. you blink for a moment as if processing his words, and a cheeky smile spreads across your face slowly as you take in his disheveled hair and blown out features. “yeah? what do you need, pretty boy?” you tease, trailing a single finger across his pale skin to trace the outline of his collarbone, feeling him shiver under your touch as a low whine escapes his mouth. 

“need to taste you.” he mumbles shyly, and you coo at the way he hangs his head low as if he’s embarrassed to admit it, hooking a finger under his chin to get a look at his slightly teary eyes. when they finally make contact with yours, you can’t help but smile softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips that has your insides positively melting. 

sometimes you realise that despite his enthusiasm in engaging with you, chan is just a soft-spoken boy. he’s so untouched and pure that it makes you want to absolutely break him, to taint that perfect image he’s put on and quite literally corrupt him to become your toy. amidst that realisation, it also dawns on you that one day he’ll come to terms with the fact that this isn’t what he deserves, that this isn’t how he should be enjoying his firsts with someone who doesn’t even have the nerve to commit to him and how he’ll move on sooner or later to find somebody better that can give him what he wants without needing to hide it. the mere thought of it always leaves your stomach swirling in bitterness and disgust, but you swallow the lump it creates at the back of your throat because those are feelings you’re yet not ready to confront, and for now, if this is what you can have, then this is what you’ll take.

“and how do you want me?” you ask lowly, taking chan’s hand in yours and placing it on your waist, feeling the way he bunches up the fabric of your cheer outfit in his palm. “tell me.” you murmur. “tell me and i’ll give it all to you.”

“want you to sit my face.” he gasps out, hooded eyes staring at you as the words leave his mouth, and suddenly all your self restraint is snapping in half. before you know it, you’re yanking him by the collar of his brown jacket, smashing your lips together once more and swallowing the squeak of surprise that leaves him. the kiss is desperate, and wet, and sloppy, but neither of you care about it or the fact that anyone could walk in and see you both, far too lost in each other to give much of a damn. 

“get on the bench.” you demand once you’ve retracted yourself from him, chan’s wide pupils searching yours to see if you’re serious. when you don’t say anything or move, he’s immediately scrambling for his balance and toppling back onto the wooden structure, drawing a small giggle from you that has his insides tightening and jeans straining. 

“wait!” he blurts out as you move to hook your fingers into your skirt, swallowing when you raise an eyebrow at him. “keep it on.” he whispers, and you swear your heart stops beating right then and there. you nod slowly after a while in understanding, because that’s all you fear you can manage without actually jumping his bones in that moment. 

“lay on your back.” you quietly instruct, and chan eagerly follows like a puppy taking orders from its owner. he yelps when his snapback falls off his head at the angle he’s at, but you’re quick to catch it, pushing it back onto his curls with a wink as you straddle his face. “keep it on.” you mimic his words from earlier, chuckling at the way his cheeks flush pink at your response because by god, he was far too cute for his own good. 

“wait a minute,” chan’s eyes widen when he at last focuses his attention on you and gets a glimpse of your drenched core. “were you.. were you not wearing anything under your skirt?” he questions cautiously, nearly choking when you merely shrug. “i like easy access.” a devious smirk journeys across your face when you answer him, and chan has to bite back a moan at the idea of you parading around commando all day. his imagination doesn’t get the chance to run too wild, because by the time he can even register what’s happening, you’re already lowering yourself onto his awaiting mouth, groans leaving the two of you at the fact that you’re both finally, finally getting what you’ve been waiting for all day.

“fuck,” chan curses into you, and you hiss at the way his words rumble deep in his chest and travel through your core. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” he breathes out once more, swiping through your folds hysterically as your taste invades his senses. you’re everywhere, in his mind, his mouth, even his soul, especially from the way you begin to slowly rock yourself back and forth on his wet muscle. he swears he might die a happy man today when he feels your thighs smothering him on each side, hands moving up to grip the plush of them before he’s sticking his tongue out and letting you ride it.

“how are you so good at this?” you laugh to yourself in disbelief, biting your lip at the way his nose bumps against your clit perfectly each time he lets you move yourself against him. chan merely grunts in response, too engrossed in eating you out to even answer, and when he pulls you down to suck on your swollen bundle of nerves, you swear you see stars. the only thing heard in the isolated locker room you’re currently going at it in by now are the lewd slurps coming from his mouth along with your whimpers, which only get higher in pitch the more he continues to eat at you.

“so damn good.” chan keens. “so fucking wet, and sweet too.” his words only spur you on further, and before you know it, the telltale signs of your orgasm are creeping up on you. chan shows no signs of stopping though, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises and pulling you impossibly further down on his mouth to the point you feel like you actually might suffocate him. he doesn’t care, of course, he’d die a happy man to be smothered by your perfect cunt.

“channie, baby, wait.” you cry out softly when he envelops your engorged nub in his mouth and laves his tongue over it repeatedly, moaning obscenely against your pussy. “‘m gonna cum if you do that, wait, wait.” chan in fact does not wait, only speeding up his movements and continuing to lick at you until you’re shaking through the familiar waves of pleasure, a silent scream falling from your lips as you spray warm and wet on his tongue. it drips down his chin and your inner thighs, but neither of you care with you buzzing in overstimulation from the way chan continues to suck at you through the shocks, and him with you cumming on his tongue so pretty. 

by the time you’re done, he’s still going at it, and it takes you gripping his hair and weakly standing up from his mouth to get chan to finally stop. when you look down at him from your awkward position, the lower half of his face glistens back at you, his plump lips and pretty features wet with your arousal and juices, prompting you to bite back a moan. you swing your leg over and shakily stand, petting your skirt down to get rid of the creases as chan sits up, still looking like he ascended to another dimensional plane. he’s rock hard in his boxers by now, cock painfully straining against his jeans, but he can’t find it in himself to get you to help him out.

“well,” you clear your throat after a moment of silence. “i should get going.” chan’s heart sinks in his chest at your words, and it must show in his expression too because you can’t seem to meet his eyes with the way your gaze stays locked on your twiddling fingers. “they’re probably wondering where i’ve been, so..” you trail off, trying to find a way to excuse yourself despite your mind screaming at you to do otherwise.

“yeah.” chan curses internally at the way his voice cracks. “yeah, you should go.” the sentence comes out more bitter than he intends it to, but he can’t help it. a part of him wants you to feel guilty for just up and leaving without even delving into what this is, what it could mean and become if you just allowed yourself to let it do so, but he’s come to learn that he just can’t expect that from you at this point. so, he doesn’t, instead choosing to wave bye as you sheepishly make your way outside the locker room to the field. once you’re out of sight, he sighs heavily, covering his face with his hands before flopping back down on the bench, his mind racing with thoughts. 

because the simple fact is that chan knows. he knows you’re oh so out of his league, and you would’ve been miles away from his reach either way had it not been for the fact that you stopped him one random thursday afternoon to ask if he could help you out in economics 101. and yet, a part of him still longs for you, longs for your presence and the way you bat your eyelashes at him when he scolds you for getting a question wrong. he longs for the way your perfume wafts in his direction when you pass him in the hallways, ignoring his existence like you both weren’t tangled up in each other’s embrace the night before. even though his heart hurts so painfully, even though his friends all say you’re bad for him, even though he knows himself how bad you are for him, he doesn’t care. 

for him, it’s always going to be you.

. . . 

comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[toorusluvr]

just thinking about sylus… being lovey dovey with mc

CHARACTERS: sylus x f!reader (reader is the mc!)

CONTENT WARNINGS: unprotected sex + penetration sex + p in v + sylus calling the reader 'princess' 'baby' 'good girl' like once

NOTES FROM NIS: hi!! it's me again this time with another drabble written for sylus!! pls enjoy my thirst drabble for him sigh he's such a good husband material... reblogs, likes are very much appreciated!! anyway, if you're interested, please check out my haikyuu fic featuring iwaizumi hajime <333 u can check the fic out in my pinned post (for some reason, i can't paste the url here good lord why!!)

his larger frame hovering above you. both of you panting and moaning in sync, your lewd noises, mixed with the sound of his heavy balls slamming against your flesh filling the four walls of his spacious and luxurious bedroom.

sylus’s much larger hands pining your hands above of your hand, binding them with a tight grip. his expression showed that he was on edge of coming, not with your cunt squeezing his cock like a vice grip. fuck your pussy is driving him insane.

the 6’5 foot man inhaled the sight in front of him. your naked body on display, tits bouncing to each thrust he was giving you. your eyes shut closed, cute moans and whimpers spilling out of your lips every second of his cock fucking your insides. “what a fucking treat, sylus murmured under his breath. “such a beautiful girl for me, princess.”

slowly, he leaned down, minty breath fanning over your luscious lips. “open your eyes, princess. look at how tight your pussy is squeezing my cock, hm?” he removed one of his hands from binding your hand and down to squeeze your cheeks using his hand.

when you didn’t comply the first time, sylus again squeezed your cheeks harder this time. you knew better than to ignore him and his commands. slowly, you opened your eyes and saw his crazy gorgeous and sculpted face — a pair of crimson red eyes staring straight into your eyes. in a flicker of second, you saw his gaze softened when both of you locked eyes.

sylus’s grunt broke the momentary silence. the butterflies swirled in your tummy every time you have heard his sexy grunts. “fuck. you’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he whispered against your lips before he inched closer to kiss you on the lips.

your back arched when his cock nudged into your sensitive spot, and you accidentally moaned into his mouth. the current position — your tits pressed against his front, his cock nestled deeper into your pussy, seemed so intimate. sylus wanted to be as close as he could to you.

“mhm, sylus, keep going, please,” you whined when he slowed down his pace as he whispered sweet nothings into your ears.

sylus groaned into your mouth, leaving one more deep kiss before he got up. the warmth of having his chest pressed close to you dissipated.

spreading your legs using his knees wider, sylus rammed his cock inside you. this time, faster and harder. your breath couldn’t keep up anymore so screams started taking over your moans.

sylus is such an attentive lover he would never say no to you. only if under some circumstances. other than that, he’s obliging whatever your request is.

his groans lulled your ears each time his cock hit your g-spot. you exchanged looks with him before glancing over where your bodies were connected. creamy white liquid coating his cock and onto your pussy. shit. you were so close to an overwhelming orgasm.

“fuck, sylus make me come please!” your voice a pitch higher before a cry followed afterwards.

sylus again leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, biting on it before swirling it as if he was savouring the sweet taste. his cock still mercilessly ramming into you. his eyebrows twitched as your pussy squeezed him tighter. he was so close and so did you.

you felt that one tight knot swirling inside you, each second closer to an orgasm. it crashed hard and fast, just like how sylus was giving it to you. your breath stuttered, and you got instant chills from how hard and shattering the orgasm was.

sylus’s cum filling your insides, some of it seeping out. he was breathing heavily as he stared at you. “fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful that it hurts,” he whispered again before kissing you sweetly. his fingers caressing your face lovingly. you whined when his skin lightly brushed against your clit. it was so fucking sensitive.

“and you are so fucking handsome that it kills me to get jealous every time girls stare at you,” you muttered while giggling against his lips.

“i only have my eyes on you, sweetheart. no one else,” sylus’s loving gaze locked with yours as he made this promise with you for the nth time. he then placed your palm against his chest, squeezing it with his fingers.

you smiled lovingly and sylus fell in love with you all over again. he’s smitten and crazy in love with you but he doesn’t give a flying fuck over how cringe he sounds. he’s in love with you and he fucking loves you. he’d do everything for you and you only.

[adragonprinceswhore]

One Whore Is As Good As Another

Aemond x Brothel worker x (drunk) Aegon

Summary: Desperate to prove he's no mere boy, Prince Aemond leaves his taunting brother and seeks out another conquest. Momentarily, he feels back in control, until his brother reappears.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, reader is a brothel worker and has Valyrian features, targcest, rough sex, oral (m. receiving), face fuccin', P in V, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, titty slapping, humiliation, degradation, dysfunctional brothers

Word Count: 2000

A/N: I had this idea when I read the leaks for episode 3, and let's just say Aegon's awfulness worked great as inspiration. Filthy drabble ahead!

You've seen Prince Aemond's long, silver hair flash by in the corner of your eye countless times in the past weeks.

You never get the chance to observe the prince up close. He only appears fleetingly, confidently striding through the Blue Pearl towards the room where Madame Sylvie awaits him.

She seems to be his favourite; the only one allowed to touch the imposing young man. Sometimes he spends hours with her, though you are not privy to the details. All you know is that most men entering your place of employment conduct much shorter visits.

You do not envy your madame. Entertaining a Targaryen prince is no easy feat, from what you've heard.

Still, you do wonder what it would be like to catch his eye. For him to choose you, like he had chosen the madame.

Had he ever caught sight of you, like you did him? Had he ever seen the shimmer of your silver hair reflect in the corner of his eye?

Does you Valyrian heritage look as alluring as that of the statuesque prince, despite being born a bastard?

These thoughts had merely been fugitive, indulgent fantasies.

Until tonight.

Prince Aemond stands naked in the middle of the vast space in the heart of the Blue Pearl, seeing eye gazing out over the intertwined bodies moving in differing rhythms.

No one had asked for your services as of yet, and you'd therefore been tasked with refilling chalices and plates for the patrons.

The prince's gaze settles on you as you pour wine into a few cups scattered around, ensuring no one chases pleasure parched.

He walks towards you in slow, confident steps, seemingly uncaring that he is fully nude.

'Tis a brothel after all.

Placing the decanter back on the table, you curtsey as he draws near; trembling fingers fumbling with the thin material of your gown,

"Wine, your grace?"

"Do you work here?"

'Tis not the wine that caught his attention.

"Yes. How may I be of service?"

His eye scans the place, searching for a more secluded spot. He gestures towards a plush settee tucked away in a corner with a nod, prompting you to follow him there.

Walking next to the prince, you can truly admire the sharp features of his face. His hair is as fetching up close, and his skin resembles milk; so clear and smooth.

Clean.

Not fit for the filthy surroundings you'd been brought up in.

"Are you my uncle's bastard?"

His query catches you off guard,

"I-, I do not know, your grace. Mayhaps"

You could be his cousin.

Or his sister.

It matters little here; the gods had decided both of your fates when they ruled it fair he be born a prince and you a bastard to a whore in Flea Bottom.

Despite the evident uncertainty, your answer seems to please him.

Prince Aemond's hums, seeing eye narrowing and the right corner of his mouth twitching briefly, perhaps nearly breaking into a smile.

The possibility of you being his uncle's daughter excites him.

"Lay down"

You do as told, reclining on the settee. The corner the two of you occupy is fairly out of sight, yet there is no curtain hindering wandering eyes from seeing your act. It surprises you that the otherwise secretive prince would chose such an exposed place for your coupling, yet you say nothing.

The choice is his.

He inspects your form as you lie down; gaze traveling from the round softness of your breasts to the smooth skin of your inner thighs. The gown you wear leaves little hidden, and the prince's searing stare causes your heart to drum quicker in your chest.

The unpredictability of what he'll do next; of what he wants from you, causes as much unease within you as the determined look in his eye elicits.

He hums, head nodding faintly to himself, before he moves towards you, lifting one long, lean leg so he may straddle your chest.

His cock is right by your mouth, already growing larger as he gazes down at your face underneath him.

Perhaps 'tis the gaining of control that arouses the prince so; seeing you laid out for him with nothing but obedience to offer.

He feeds you his half-hard cock; not too brutish to force it all in your mouth at once. A prince still keeps his manners, you suppose.

Taking him in, you feel the skin of his member; hot and with a taste like salt. It's heavy in your mouth, and the awkward position the prince has you in does not allow you much movement.

He looks down at you; one eye stoney and unmoving, with shadows and light dancing in it. The other expressive and fierce.

Hungry.

Both his hands grab the back of the seat as he leans forward, forcing more of his cock down your throat. It prevents you from breathing, yet you do your best to appease him, sucking and swallowing him to the best of your ability.

You feel his balls slap your chin as he rocks into your mouth, pleased grunts escaping his lips.

A few more thrusts and you start to feel dizzy, not receiving enough air with the prince's manhood in your mouth and his lower belly pressed up against your nose.

You gently tap his leg and he abruptly pulls away from you, hurriedly moving off of you to stand next to the settee.

You cough as you inhale air once again, looking up at him with glassy eyes and wet lips, shining with spit.

His face is still harsh and demanding, and your gaze flickers down to his cock.

Decorated in your spit, it has grown double in size and is now red; like vexed skin after a beating.

You lay still, breathing rapidly to regain your senses. After giving you a moment to calm, Prince Aemond gestures for you to stand, and sits down on the settee.

He grabs your hips, dragging you towards his lap, and so 'tis your time to straddle him, take his cock in hand and sink down on it.

You know how to play these games. You know how to appease the men seeking your touch. Still, the moan you emit as you take in the prince is not solely performative; the stretch of his member fills you to the point of pain.

You bite your lip in a vain effort to concentrate, set on pleasing and serving your prince. Moving up and down in a slow pace, you grow wetter and more accustomed to his intrusion, and soon, your own pleasure follows.

"A-, ah, Prince Aemond", you call out, hoping the flattery will make him favour you even more. Mayhaps as much as he favours your madame.

He grunts and places his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him so he may rest his face against your scarcely clad bosom. He's enjoying you; reveling in your cunt, and it feels like the highest of praise.

You continue to call his title, his name, moving faster and harsher up and down his length, until,

"Brother!"

You catch the flash of a figure stumbling towards you in the corner of your eye, certain you know who it is before looking up;

King Aegon.

His lips are curved into a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded and hair tousled,

"I knew you had it in ya!"

The king ends his exclamation with a slur, clearly far too drunk to be staggering around Flea Bottom unattended.

You'd never been eye to eye with the king before; word around the street was that he found the Blue Pearl far too dull. He requires more to quench his thirst for depravity.

And yet, seeing you ride his brother's cock seems to be to his liking,

"Come on, girl, ride the dragon!", King Aegon shouts before falling into a fit of laughter. His hand smacks your arse as if you were a mare, urging you to go faster.

You search the prince's face for approval, but he's not looking at you anymore. His dark gaze is trained on his brother; still harsh and determined. You take his silence for compliance and move faster; quick breaths of exhaustion and moans of pleasure slipping out from your still wet lips.

"Making her do all the work-",

Aegon's still laughing between the words he slurs out. Standing behind you, one of his hands move to cup your left breast, and he squeezes it roughly; too drunk to appreciate tenderness,

"-I can see why"

Prince Aemond is still silent; still staring at his amused brother.

"No, no, no, this won't do", the king mumbles as he releases the harsh grip he'd had on your breast,

"Remove your gown, bastard"

Again, you seek Prince Aemond's eye for instruction, but he does not grant it. So, you grab the hem of your thin attire and pull it off over your head, exposing yourself to the Targaryen brothers.

'Tis not like you've never been naked before; you entertain most guests nude. Still, there's something about the royals' presence, their ongoing, silent battle, that leaves you feeling more exposed than ever before.

King Aegon hums in appreciation at the sight of your bare teats, the same rough hand coming up to slap the side of one of them, chuckling as they knock together.

You pick up the pace to ride your prince again, yet the king does not leave you be. His voice is still amused, though tinted with something darker, as he commands his brother,

"I want to see you fuck her like a hound, Aemond"

The prince does not reply, and your pace does not falter. You were tasked with pleasuring the prince, and if he did not reply to his brother's orders, neither would you.

Though he is your king.

"Fuck her like a hound! Come on!"

King Aegon sounds more agitated now; impatient. He does not like that his brother does not obey him instantaneously; that he would refuse an order.

The prince is as stubborn as his elder, and in between the brothers, is you;

Caught between two dragons waging a war of wills.

"Get up", Prince Aemond grits through clenched teeth.

You comply, standing swiftly only to be turned and roughly placed back on the settee on your knees.

The prince places a hand on your lower back, pushing you to arch, and enters you in one stroke, reaching far deeper than your previous position had allowed.

He quickly sets a brutal pace; fucking your squelching cunt harsh and quick.

You desperately hold on to the back of the seat, vainly searching for some control as the prince takes his pleasure from you.

Behind you, you hear his laboured breaths and grunts, and the entertained cackle of the king,

"That's more like it!"

He walks around the settee to face you; watching your body as it sways back and forward with the prince's rough thrusts.

Leaning in closely, so closely that his wine-soaked breath is right by your cheek, King Aegon inquires, "How does royal cock feel?"

You know how to play these games.

"Heavenly, your grace"

He hums and touches a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger, "Is that what your mother thought as well?"

He does not bother with waiting for an answer from you; truly, he's not interested in knowing. Instead, he circles the settee yet again to stand next to his brother, mesmerised by the sight of his cock driving in and out of you,

"Where on her will you spill?"

Prince Aemond stays silent, pace never faltering.

“Face, teats or arse?”, his brother asks, but before his stoic sibling answers, he decides for him,

"Spill on her face. You got to appreciate those, uh, familiar features"

A few more rough strokes and the prince pulls out, grabs your waist, and turns you around so that you face them both. He pushes on your shoulder in a silent order for you to get on the floor, once again with his member in your face.

With a quick hand he strokes his slick cock, seed shooting out like arrows, landing on your cheeks, in your hair, on your lips.

He's breathing heavily, yet does not say anything, nor does he moan or grunt. He simply decorates your face in pearly luminescence, matching your silver hair and lilac eyes.

When he's done, he turns, and you see his older brother lay a comradery hand on his shoulder, commending him for "a good fuck".

As the brothers walk away together, you see the tension in Prince Aemond's shoulders ease ever so slightly.

The burdens of being a royal.

A/N: If the HotD writers want Aemond to be obsessed with his uncle, I'll comply! I like to write these little drabbles as a fun way to practice writing without much pressure, so please be kind, it's all just for fun!