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evergreen-endo · 8 months ago

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SCREAM OF THE BUTTERFLY | Y. ENDO + C. TAKIISHI

cw: 18+ mdni, f! reader, blood, rough blowjob, takiishi smacks endo a couple times, reader referred to as her, bunny, + thing wc: 0.8k a/n: elaboration of this. pure filth. so.

takiishi holds you to him by your throat. he likes to feel himself fucking into you.

endo distracts you from the lack of oxygen, or he tries to at least. you know he’s well intentioned when he’s circling your clit with one tattooed hand and tweaking your nipple with the other. with his large frame wrapped around you from behind like this, he can crane his neck up to watch takiishi too, with the wet sounds of his cock gagging you in his ear. it’s like heaven to him.

endo turns his head to lick a stripe up your neck, trailing sloppy wet kisses down to the base where takiishi’s thumbs rest. the thought of taking a thumb into his mouth plagues him, and he can’t stop himself. but the second his hair tickles the sensitive skin of takiishi’s fingers, he’s glaring down at endo with murderous intent, and before either of you realize what’s happening, some of the pressure on your throat is relieved and endo is knocked back from his caging position around you.

“ahh, fuck,” he chuckles from behind you. you barely make it out as he drawls out a breathy “always in your way, ain’t I?”

paying him no mind, takiishi wordlessly turns his gaze back down to you, and without endo breathing down your neck, he can pull you further onto his cock. he delights in the glossy tears running down your cheeks, and strokes his thumb softly against your throat, though it does nothing to soothe the burn. you find yourself missing endo’s overbearing presence, and weakly stretch a hand out in his direction to find something to hold onto.

endo tsks, “such a greedy lil thing.” but his mouth feels empty, so he takes a few of your small fingers inside to keep his tongue busy, and you moan around takiishi’s cock at the contact. when he throws his head back and grunts, endo’s eyes narrow with mirth and he smirks around your fingers knowingly.

a dip in the bed behind you, and endo is taking your fingers that he very kindly slobbered on for you, and guiding your hand through your own folds. garbled noises and moans vibrate against takiishi’s cock as endo makes you pleasure yourself. gazing up at him, he sees the way his hips buck and knows he won’t last much longer. he just needs a little push. endo circles your wet fingers around your clit, his hair tickling your earlobe as he whispers, “come on bunny, make takiishi cum. I know you can do it.”

a strangled scream rips from your throat from the overwhelming pleasure endo’s giving you coupled with the oxygen that takiishi takes. as your walls clench around nothing, takiishi's hot streams of cum flood down your throat, but he pulls his hips back ever so kindly so you can taste him on your tongue, too.

endo couldn't move fast enough to clutch your jaw in his hands and press his open mouth to yours, flicking his tongue around yours and sucking it greedily. the bitter taste of cum on his lips mixes with something sharp and metallic, and he feels your mouth twitch in hesitance. he pulls back, a string of saliva and cum connecting the two of you. your eyes widen when you see smeared blood stains under his nose and upper lip. he follows your gaze, speaking lowly against your lips, "'kiishi got me good, huh?" he chuckles, "...but you'll clean me up, yeah?" before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, desperate and moaning and licking into your mouth, until he yelps and pulls away, your tired eyes fluttering open at the loss of contact.

takiishi's grabbing endo by the roots of his hair, pushing his nose into the bed like a bad dog. his harsh voice is barely audible to you, but clear in endo's ear, "look what you made her do. you wasted it." when he pulls endo back up, you notice the small wet spot on the sheets and a smear of cum against his hooked nose.

"I-I'm sorry chika, wanted to taste you so bad, I-"

a resounding smack echoes through the room, and endo's head flies into the pillow beside you. your gaze trails along his body, and he looks wrecked. his cock is straining against his sweats, his torso covered in bites and bruises, chest heaving, and his upper lip, stretched into a wide, dazed smile, is stained with drying blood and cum. takiishi's cold eyes glare down into endo's gleaming ones. the tension between them has you clenching your thighs together.

"you'll have to make it up to us," takiishi spits. endo shivers in pure delight.

you're in for a long night.

#endo x reader #chika takiishi smut #endo yamato smut #endo yamato x reader #chika takiishi x reader #takiishi x reader #endo x takiishi x reader #endo smut #takiishi smut #wind breaker smut #endo yamato #chika takiishi #tw: blood #i've been thinking about them all day #brainrot is terrible #this sounds like a dream to me #in memoriam — ♱#endo my betrothed ♱#haunts — takiishi ♱

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angel-void · 11 months ago

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Ethel Cain looks ♱ I: Mikio Sakabe Fall2024 II: Simone Rocha Spring2023*edit III: Rodarte Spring2017 IV: Olivier Theyskens Fall2019

#my fashion edit #♱#ethel cain #the second look is gibson girl / unpunishable #we all know which one ptolemaea is #preachers daughter #southern gothic #simone rocha #olivier theyskens #mikio sakabe #rodarte

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sai-int · 16 days ago

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HOW TO DISAPPEAR | Two Fingers - 3

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mlist . series mlist . ao3

SEVEN YEARS AGO

The roar of the helo blades finally faded, giving way to the raw energy of Pierpoint Ave. Snowflakes tumble lazily, clinging to your hair and disappearing in the warmth of your skin, but the night was anything but still. The sharp bite of the winter air mixed with the faint tang of motor oil and sea-foam from the docks just a few blocks away. Around you, the street is alive—a messy, vibrant blur of voices and movement.

People spill in and out of crowded bars, bundled in coats, their laughter cutting through the cold. A group of friends lean against a brick wall under a flickering neon beer sign, their chatter punctuated by the clink of bottles. Music pours out of open doorways, each beat blending with the next in a chaotic rhythm that makes the street hum. The wet pavement shimmers under the streetlights, catching the kaleidoscope of flashing signs advertising cheap shots, happy hours, and live music.

You sidestep a stumbling couple, their arms around each other as they hail a cab, and catch the smell of Halal food from a vendor, wafting through the sea breeze. This was Pierpoint after dark—a rowdy stretch of bars, neon, and noise that somehow made the February cold bearable. It’s a world away from the places you’d been, but it feels real, familiar, and grounding in its own chaotic way.

“Oi, did ye lot see th' look on tha' bastard's face when I dropped through th' skylight? Shittin' his briefs, I tell ye!” Johnny's voice rings out, his laughter loud and unabashed as he claps Kyle on the shoulder. Anybody who didn't know him might've thought he was already drunk..

You step over a broken curb as you walk alongside the group, the crunch of gravel and leftover snow from last week’s storm crackling under your boots. The air around you still carries a tang of gunpowder, mingling with the fading buzz of adrenaline.

“The bastard you nearly squashed?” Kyle shoots back, his smirk almost audible even before you turn your head. “Could’ve sworn I saw your life flash before your eyes, mate.”

“Flash o' brilliance, more like,” Johnny counters, undeterred, his grin illuminated in the passing orange glow of a neon sign.

“Flash of stupidity, more like,” Simon deadpans through the chatter from behind the group. You chuckle and glance over your shoulder, only his dark eyes visible under his hood and balaclava. They briefly catch yours before looking elsewhere.

“Aw, come off it, L.T. Ye were impressed, admit it!” Johnny’s grin stretches wider, brimming with mischief as he sluings an arm around Simon's shoulders. The reaction was immediate—a subtle stiffening in Simon's posture, like a cat bristling at a belly rub. But after a second he relents, his shoulders loosening just enough to let the Scot hang off him.

The sign emerges through the swirling snow, its weathered letters illuminated by flickering neon, painting uneven pools of red across the street. Tether and Tide. Second home of the Task Force and the de facto welcome wagon each time you all came home from an Op alive. The familiar scent of stale beer, fried food, and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke reached you. The near erotic twang of an electric guitar filtered out each time the door swung open and shut, carried by the laughter of drunken strangers coming and going.

“Oi, enough chatter,” Price speaks over his shoulder, his voice like distant thunder—low, calm, and steady. The way it carries makes you straighten unconsciously, demanding your attention even off duty. “First round’s on me—so long as I don’t hear about that damn skylight again.”

With a chuckle and a shake of your head, you step ahead of the group, your boots scuffing against the uneven pavement, and approach the door. The chill of the metal handle bites into your palm, a stark contrast to the warmth that spills out as you tug the door open. The honey-golden glow of the interior stretches toward you like a warm blanket.

Simon steps through first, his broad shoulders brushing the frame as he moves with quiet confidence. Johnny and Kyle follow close behind, their banter carrying on, though their voices dipping briefly as they disappear into the bar.

You linger at the threshold, waiting for Price to follow the others. His hand brushes lightly against your mid-back—a subtle, fleeting touch that stops you. “Go on,” he hums, his voice quieter, carrying an unexpected gentleness. He holds the door open for you, his steady gaze locking with yours for just a moment longer than appropriate. There was a calm assurance in his blue eyes, but beneath it lingers something that makes your chest tighten and your breath catch.

“Thanks, Sir,” you say, the words slip out softer than you mean, almost a whisper. A brief smile pulls at the corner of his lips, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he gazes at you. Without another word, you step through the door and he follows close behind, letting it swing shut behind him with a quiet creak.

The familiarity of Tether and Tide is accompanied by the buzz of conversation and sticky floors, a jukebox in the corner crackles a bluesy tune that sounds like it’s been playing since the place opened decades ago.

You scan the small joint, Simon, Johnny, and Kyle already claimed the usual spot—the worn booth in the back corner with its clear view of the room and an easy path to the exit. Price steps beside you and nods toward it, the faint scent of a Montecristo he'd smoked on the flight back home wafting to your nose.

You slide into the booth first, the familiar, worn leather creaks softly as you sink into the corner, the seat feeling like it was molded to you. The faint scent of cigars and leather comes from the seats, a comforting reminder of all the times you’d spent here before. Price slides in beside you, the space tight but still comfortable. His broad shoulders brush against yours, It stirs something warm in your chest, a flutter you quickly push aside. Johnny’s already brightening up the corner of the dingy bar.

“Alright, alright. Tae makeup fer my blabbin', first round’s on me. Save th' Captain some cash,” Johnny announces, puffing his chest dramatically as he shrugs off his coat, the fabric damp from the flurry outside, droplets glistening under the dim light as he drapes it over the back of the booth chair.

“Just make sure you don’t blow the tab on one of your fancy cocktails,” Kyle mumbles, brushing flakes of snow from his own jacket as he drapes it alongside Johnny’s.

Johnny turns, clutching his chest like he’s been stabbed. “Fancy?? Pint o' lager, plain an' simple. Dinnae be cheeky-”

“You? Plain and simple?” you interrupt, shooting him a teasing, pointed look. The corner of your mouth twitches in a half-smile, and the warmth of the bar begins to seep into your limbs, chasing away the chill.

Your usual waiter, Jared, came and went. Soon enough, he came back with a tray of drinks and distributed them across the table. With the first sips, the tension of the mission evaporated. Johnny was—once again—gesturing wildly as he described some escapade from his training days. In your tipsy haze, you kept egging him on, while Simon offered the occasional deadpan quip.

John was always quieter than the rest, his presence felt more than heard. His arm is draped casually behind you, fingers resting just over the back of the booth as if he’s staking his claim in the space. His beanie sits low on his head, casting his face in shadow as he sips his two-fingers of Red Label with a quiet ease, the amber liquid catching the light.

The waiter comes back, setting down rounds two and three with a practiced ease. Johnny, as usual, knocks back pints like it’s second nature. Your drink crawls down your throat with a slow burn, and by the time you finished your second, you were feeling it—a little light-headed and looser than before.

You glance over at Price, who hadn’t said much since you all sat down. But the soft smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth and the occasional laugh that slipped out at one of Simon’s jokes tells you he’s starting to settle in too. He seems lighter, like the weight of the world was a little less heavy here.

You could feel his gaze on you now and then, a subtle burn against your skin. Each time you turned to meet it, though, he’d casually look away, his expression neutral but definitely guarded

You see it in the way his jaw clenches as he takes a slow sip from his glass—the wince as the whiskey burns down his throat. You see it in the way his throat clears after the fact, the way his posture shifts, or how the grip on his glass tightens.

The others begin drifting off, the night winds down as the laughter and conversation starts to lose their momentum to inebriation. Simon was the first to take leave. With a slight nod and a quiet murmur of farewell, he stood, gave you and John a glance, and disappeared into the night without another word.

It was only another half hour before Kyle was up, rubbing his face with a groan. He slaps Johnny on the back as he yaps something incomprehensibly Scottish. Kyle throws a look in John’s direction.

“I’ll take him home,” Kyle sighs, trying to get Johnny up.

“A'm perfectly braw! straecht! nae blootert at a', see! Juist yin mair pint….” Johnny mumbles, his words slurring together in a mess of just... Scottish.

“Johnny, what the fuck did you just say?,” You squint, trying to untangle the sounds. For a moment, you think you have it, but with a huff and a drink, you give up. It might as well have been a different language.

“Ah, c'moan!” he protests, gesturing wildly with a half empty pint in hand. “A'm no’ that hard tae unnerstaun’, aye?”

“Come on, man, you’re right pissed,” Kyle says as he hooks an arm under Johnny’s shoulder to steady him. He sways dramatically, grinning like a fool, but doesn’t argue.

Kyle casts a glance back at you and Price, his expression is somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You two good here?” he questions, tilting his head toward the door.

Your eyes dart between him and Kyle, John snorts. “We’ll be fine. Get him home before he starts singing.”

You chuckle, looking at Johnny. “Too late for that.”

He hums something unintelligible, already halfway to bursting into song as Kyle hauls him out of the bar. With one last look, Kyle nods his farewell before leaving the bar, the sound of Johnny's voice fades as the door swings shut behind them.

With the last of the team gone, the table feels hollow. It’s just you and Price as the bar settles into the background. You take a measured sip of your drink, the warmth spreading through your chest, whilst Price drains the last of his whiskey in a single, practiced motion. He catches the waiter’s attention with a subtle lift of his hand, signaling for another. His movements are unhurried.

For a bit, neither of you speak. He shifts in the booth and relaxes further, but the space between you still feels unsteady, like winds ruffling sails before a storm.

“Good mission,” he says as Jared the Waiter wordlessly brings Price's second round.

You nod, toying with the rim of your glass. “Good team.”

His gaze shifts and lingers on you for a moment, “They look up to you, you know.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Captain,” you jest, shaking your head.

“John," he starts, "call me John when it's just us, love.” his eyes flicking to you over the rim of his glass. Everything about him presses against your chest like a weight. The air changed in that moment, a subtle shift that made everything feel a little sharper. He sent his glass down, leaving yet another ring of condensation. “You keep them steady.”

His gaze pins you in place. There was no humor in his eyes, no armor—just him. Pure genuinity of which you've never seen from him—not often fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of such rare praise. It hits you like a blow to the liver, breathless. You can’t handle the weight of his stare, so you deflect, turning away with a smile curling at the corner of your lips and a Gallic shrug. “That’s your job, John.”

He smirks, feeling sparks in his heart just listening to the way the syllables of his name twist and mould and fall from your lips. He tilts his head, watching you as you try to pull away. The drinks have gotten to his head, but there was no stopping John Price when he set his sights on something. “And… You make it damn easy,” he replies, his voice soft but steady, like he means it.

The easy camaraderie between boss and subordinate quickly gives way to something heavier. He shifts to face you completely, his forearm rests on the table, his posture open yet purposeful. His gaze lingers, studying you like he’s trying to decipher a code only you hold.

“You know,” he squints like he’s peeling back layers, his voice lowering with a playful edge, “you clean up nice for someone who just stormed a compound not eight hours ago.”

You turn back to him with a raised eyebrow, fighting the smile that threatens to break through. “Are you sweet-talking me?”

His lips twitch into a dopey, lopsided grin. “Is it working?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Something flickers in his eyes, soft, unguarded, like he was letting you see a part of him he usually kept hidden. Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was the way the night had slowed around you, but you caught yourself wondering what it might feel like to let his warmth draw you in, to stop pretending the line wasn’t rapidly greying.

You didn’t realize you were staring until his voice cut through the quiet, low and teasing, with a hint of unmistakable confidence that’s been catching you off-guard in record numbers.

“Careful,” he warns, his gaze steady on yours, the faintest smirk plays at the corners of his lips. “Keep looking at me like that, and I might start wondering if you’re after more than just drinks.”

You lean closer to him, deciding to toe the line. If he wants to play dirty, you’re ready to take a foul. “And if I am?”

His smile widened, the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. "Guess we’ll see."

He took a sip of his drink as you did yours, the cool, bitter liquid offering a brief reprieve from the tension. His hand inches over from where it rests on the booth to brush your shoulder. The gentle circles he traces with the pads of his fingers are light, almost absentminded, but they send a shiver down your spine. “You’re a tough one to read,” he cocks his head, “always have been. Thought a few drinks might loosen you up.”

You roll your eyes, but your tone carries the faintest hint of a smile, betraying the amusement you try to hide. “A few drinks won’t have me spilling any secrets, John.”

His fingers travel to the back of your neck like he’s just waiting for the order to pull you into him, circling and kneading. His eyes drop to your lips for a second before he adjusts, his blue eyes heavy on you. “That right?” he hums, mischief threading his tone. “Been known to keep a few myself.”

Your heart thrums in your ears. There’s an edge to his words, but you know one thing for certain: John Price had a way of weaseling into your mind and turning it into mush.

“Keeping secrets?” you repeat, a small, teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Sounds risky.”

He shrugs, his fingers grazing the edge of his glass, his smirk curls up like he knows exactly what it’s doing to you. “Everything is risky.”

It does do something to you, something you hate, but can’t fight. You feel the heat build, the temptation to close the space between you and swallow it whole. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, fighting the pull, the urge to let it happen.

“Are you always this forward?” you ask, your voice low and full of curiosity. You lean in slightly, giving into him. A part of you wonders just how far he'll push this—if he wants it as bad as you did.

John’s eyes glint. “Only with the ones who can keep up,” he says, the words thick with meaning, He treads closer, lowering his voice, as if daring you to take the bait. “I know you can, can’t you, doll?”

That was the line, wasn’t it? “I'll have to prove it, won’t I?”

John doesn’t respond at first, he just looks at you like he’s savoring the moment. You can feel the weight of it, the quiet way he lets you know that, in this space, you have him just as much as he has you.

You hesitate for just a second, the weight of the decision grips you like a vice. But then, he inches, meeting you halfway—a silent offer, an unspoken agreement. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, and you sucked in a breath, not expecting the scent of him to fill your lungs.

"I'm sure," you nodded.

And then, before you can second-guess yourself, before hesitation has a chance to creep in, his hand drifts to the nape of your neck. His fingers weave gently through the soft strands of your hair, his touch deliberate yet unhurried. A shiver courses through you, and you exhale, a quiet sigh escaping before you can stop it.

His gaze drops to your lips, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. The warmth of his breath brushes against your skin, the space between you impossibly small. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, the sound carrying a weight that makes your heart skip a beat.

John inches until his mustache tickles yours like a spark threatening to catch fire. His breath mingles with yours, hot and uneven, a tantalizing promise of more. A thing neither of you dare to admit aloud, yet it pulses there, ready to explode if you let it.

You press your lips to his, a low groan escaping him as he savored the feel of you, the taste of you, something sweet, like something he’d been craving for far too long. He immediately pulls you in, flashes of heat lasting long enough to leave you gasping, your heart thundering in your chest.

It ends too soon. He pulls away, but the rush lingers, a whirl of desire that neither of you were prepared for. He can still taste you on his tongue, and fuck, no amount of whiskey could wash that away. It clings to him, marking him, and he can't decide if that made him want more or to pull away entirely.

His lips remain just a breath away from yours, his gaze dark and knowing. His voice drops. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” he murmured, his thumb gliding over your cheek, deliberately slow. “But I know you’ve been wanting this. You think I don’t notice the way you watch me?”

Your eyes flick to his, voice sharp with need. “You think I didn't notice how you couldn't keep your eyes off me earlier?”

His lips brush against yours, just barely, and he smirks. “Don't lie 'n say you don't get off on it, dove.”

He might as well have thrown the line on top of a pinless grenade. Your hand found its way into his cropped hair, tugging him closer as he leans in, pushing you so far back in the booth that your back hits the wall with a jolt.

The kiss deepens, all teeth and tongue, spit dribbling with the taste of liquor mingling on each other's tongue. His fingers dig into you, pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough. His rough beard scrapes your cheeks, the burn of it only adding to the heat surging through you. John’s grip is brutally tight, his paws on your hips and thighs, your neck and tits—everything about him claims you.

He’s anchored on you, holding you, searing his touch into your skin and leaving you breathless, ruined for anyone else. Nothing else existed—just you and him, pressed against the wall of a worn-down booth in the corner of Tether and Tide, snowflakes fluttering against the window pane. Every inch of him is branded into you so you’ll never be able to forget the feel of him.

And you wouldn’t

#♱ angel’s writing #if it wasn't clear this is how they got all romantical #john price #captain john price #john price smut #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price #price #price call of duty #price x reader #cod john price #price cod #cod men #cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod headcanons

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aftlivs · 2 months ago

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Koraidon graphics!

Anon requested: can i rq koraidon graphics! please and thank you !!

f2u just please credit and don’t claim as your own!

#♱　　grims edits˳#♱　　graphics˳#rentry graphics #koraidon #pokemon #rentry stuff #rentry #rentry decor #editblr #All art is official #endos not for you #pro endo dni #traumagens who support endos go away

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astralnymphh · 2 months ago

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i feel like the tlou fandom is lowk dead on here🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ what do you think???

it's been dead for the past six months, but extremely dead as the new arcane s2 release has taken over the lesbian hive mind. I'm still stuck on tlou tbh I just have a little less time to write so nothing is getting out.. but i'm still here yearning for ellie williams!

#when the crummy hbo tlou show releases tlou s2 tho..#the community will probably have a major spike #idk.. but for now we all just gotta pitch in and keep it alive with our silly little fics #♱ | “asks.”

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satosktty · 4 months ago

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ive always wondered how sukuna and satoru would interact if he hadn't killed satoru and instead kept him, maybe an extreme binding vow to rid him of his six eyes ( sukuna will never beat the binding vow merchant allegations as long as he's thought of )

how would satoru interact with the world now? would his skin be sensitive from the years of keeping it concealed with infinity; would it burn in the sun if he was out for too long?

satoru would have to come to terms with being something defined outside of strength, something less god-like or weaponized, but human. i can just imagine post-sukuna take over where he's indulging all of the hobbies satoru wants like a mom who just dealt with her child going from basketball player to musician to magician in the span of an hour. regardless of it all he continues to let satoru experience everything he couldn't as the strongest

would satoru's dream change? instead of always working towards a goal that surrounded others maybe he'd have one to be something else for once—sukuna himself would say that satoru would be an exceptional physicist

just imagining sukuna starting to write like his own favorite poets; taking notes of satoru who unwilling and also unaware muse as sukuna writes about their shared days after the destruction in shinjuku. he will truly never forget satoru: rather it be the one he first met as the strongest or the man he sits close to ( when allowed ) and reads haiku's from the heian era to

I forgot to mention that during these cute moments satoru actively is trying to kill sukuna because he's never been rendered this helpless before without a comeback

#rather satorus kids are alive is up to discussion but ik satoru would posion sukuna everyday of his life if they were all dead #this just in sukuna discovering homosexuality #sukugo #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #jjk #yumismirage ♱

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sheinsidemymindvro · 5 months ago

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#⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺#all a psychic needs is a photo

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lupercals · 16 days ago

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Ok so i definitely think Ren is petty enough to get jealous of literal animals, so a pet gifted by him wouldn't last long at all, however, he does give a bunny to Florian. Florian is often lonely and bored and that leads him to not complete his tasks or to have bad mental health episodes, Fox can't exactly just let him have friends though, so he gets a pet. A little bunny, with soft white fur and cute little red eyes, Florian gets attached to it pretty fast and honestly starts to treat it like his child.

#ㅤ۪ 𝅄ㅤ ꒰ ♱ ꒱ ┈─ Florian #the bunny dies #4 months is all Florian gets before Fox rips yet another thing he loves from him

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ioaezz · 7 months ago

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HOTD ♱ TATBILB! ℒETTERS ℒEFT 𝒮EALED

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ WHILE PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK with your children, you found the old wooden box that you had hidden underneath your bed years ago. a distant longing provokes you to read the letters one last time but fortunately you have your husband ready to take care of you so you won’t revisit the past and open healed wounds.

𝒫AIRING. . . harwin strong x fem!targ!reader

𝒲ORDCOUNT. . . 2.3k

𝒢ENRE. . . romance, fluff, angst, series

𝒲ARNINGS. . . reader has white hair and purple eyes, mention of swords??, hints of smut / leads to smut but no actual smut, harwin survived au, daemon and rhaenyra survived au

ℐOAEZZ. . . first part omg. this is a lot shorter than the upcoming parts bc i’m going to try to reach about 8k-10k words for every letter part. please do keep in mind that english is not my native language and i haven’t written in a while so it might have quite a lot of errors.

𝓗ushed giggles spilled from underneath the grand bed that was placed across from the balcony. Two small boys were lying on their stomachs as they hid from you and their father.

Earlier that morning when you were all breaking your fast together your youngest son Daenyr slyly suggested that you should all play a game together as a way to bond he had said. Your husband was immediately up to the idea, willing to do anything to please his children and you nodded along. After all it had been a long time since you all had some time to spend together so the game of hide and seek ensued with you and your husband as the seekers, as usual.

You had entered your bedchamber a few moments ago after having found your youngest daughter, Anyta who still seemed to lack the total understanding of the game as she decided to hide on top of a bush in the garden. Harwin had spotted her from a window on the second floor and quickly hurried to go pick her up before joining you on your walk to find your remaining children.

The laughter in ceased as the twins realized someone had entered the room as your footsteps echoed through the otherwise silent area. As you approached the bed the two boys clasped their hands in front of their mouths in a poor attempt to quiet their breathing.

You shared an amused look with your husband before you got on your knees, leaning down to look under the bed only to discover two pairs of bright lilac eyes staring right back at you. "Muña!" The eldest of the two boys called out, already wriggling from under the furniture to reach you, while his brother pouted that they had lost for what seemed to be the hundredth time that morning.

Edmund leaped towards you with great joy, always excited to return to the safety of your loving arms while Daenyr was stuck underneath the bed. Your elder son clung onto you as you tried to convince him to let you go for just a minute so you could help his brother but you faltered when you heard a thud which was then swiftly followed by a wince.

"Are you hurt?" You worried, brows deeply furrowed as you peeked back under the bed after Edmund had let go of his iron grip on you. Utter astonishment filled your body as you noticed the familiar wooden box in Daenyr’s grasp. He smiled although slightly crookedly before you came to your senses and carefully pulled him from the entrapment. The younger boy could not help but linger in your embrace, relishing in the affection before turning to his brother with a renewed excitement.

"Look what I found under there!" He exclaimed, his brother already moving to join him on the sofa as they examined the box in curiosity. Your husband approached the three of you, placing your daughter on the couch beside her brothers who made sure to include her.

"What is it?" Anyta contested, tracing the carved pattern on the chest, almost in some kind of trance while Edmund made an effort to pry the lock open.

"I was wondering the same thing," Harwin settled behind you, his bulking arms wrapping around your waist while his face rested on your shoulder. His dark curls were pressed against your silvery-white hair which created a great contrast that you saw in your own children. As you watched the boys experiment with the box, you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. Blush arose over your cheeks as you attempted to remain as unbothered as humanly possible but your husband knew you better than you did by now.

Yet before you got the opportunity to reply, your eldest child burst into the room without any form of announcement. She appeared to be disgruntled at being left out but elated by the fact that she had ended up as the victor once more.

"Have I won?" Maelys grinned, prancing over towards her siblings who merely rolled their eyes at their eldest sister's gloating. Daenyr in particular seemed aggravated by her demeanour and discarded the box to charge at her in a playful manner.

Your heart filled with warmth at the sight of your tight-knit family together, inclining into Harwin's firm chest as he placed a gentle kiss against the side of your head. His well-groomed beard tickled your cheek which elicited a soft giggle from you, a sound that he adored more than anything. So once he detected what the motive was for your unexpected laughter, he made sure to rub his beard further against any part of your smooth skin he could reach.

"Quit it," you cracked up, moving as far as you could while remaining in his hold, but your husband only grinned widely before resolving to placing kisses all over your face instead. Your eldest three children instantly imitated a gag which made you turn towards them with a raised brow. Only Anyta didn't appear to care for the physical affection that you and her father conveyed, as she preferred to fondle the box instead.

"Father! Let go of muña!" Edmund exclaimed, which made his older sister snort while Harwin scoffed in disbelief that his own blood would betray him like that.

"Yes, father, please do spare our eyes," Maelys agreed with a teasing lilt in her tone.

"I cannot believe that I am not allowed to kiss my wife in my very own household," Harwin shook his head as his brows furrowed, pretending to be in shock but when your children were giggling amongst each other he let the love and fondness that he held for them show on his face. You chuckled, turning your head scarcely to meet his loving eyes which rarely ever left your form before piping up.

"How could we have raised such spiteful little creatures, dear husband? Perhaps we ought to send them to their grandfather Daemon. He would certainly discipline them," the lie easily slipped out of your mouth as you shrugged but the suggestion alone seemed to horrify your boys who immediately started pleading not to be sent away. Especially not to their grandfather Daemon who had once chased them with his Valyrian sword Dark Sister with the excuse of turning them into real men.

"Please muña! You can kiss father as much as you please! Just do not send us to our grandsire!" You feigned to mull over it while Harwin suppressed his laughter by concealing his face in the crook of your neck.

"I shall consider it if you will go and tend to your lessons dutifully," your sons instantly jumped up, not wasting a second as they quickly gave you a kiss on your cheek before rushing out of your bedroom to track down the knights assigned to training them whenever Harwin was unable to do so.

Maelys, who was old enough not to fall for such tricks, merely giggled before reaching down to pick up her younger sister so they could proceed to attend their own lessons as well.

"I shall miss it when they are going to be old enough to realize that you were only jesting," the eldest girl sighed wishfully. She walked over to kiss you and Harwin on the cheek, while Anyta simply waved at you two with a joyous smile. The two of you returned the sweet sentiment to your youngest child and remained standing in the same place until Maelys closed the door behind her with a mumble about having enough siblings already.

"I cannot believe we are finally alone at last," Harwin grinned once the door to your chambers closed. He looked down at you, a suggestive glint in his eyes as he seized your form but before he could reach for you, you skillfully dodged his calloused hands.

"Must you always tease me like this, my love?" He groaned, his curls falling in his face as he approached you with his shoulders broadened.

"Do not lie and say you do not enjoy it," your words came out hushed as the proximity between the two of you became slimmer by the second. He delicately cupped your face between his hands. The devoted look in his eyes made your fingers twitch at your sides as his nose grazed against yours in a loving manner.

"You know me so well," he grinned, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. Whatever little resistance was left in you seemingly vanished as you closed whatever distance there was left. Your hands instantly moved to clasp around his curls while he held your face and waist.

The kiss was disheveled as the both of you kept smiling into it, your noses repeatedly bumping into one another while breathy moans left your husband as you gently tugged his hair. The desire in the atmosphere had turned almost suffocating which you gave you some strength to foolishly attempt to pull away but alas it was futile as he held you even closer. His hands tightened around your pliable skin and while it wouldn't leave any marks, his touch would be eternally engraved into your skin and soul.

"Harw-" you managed to utter before his lips were latched onto yours once more. A giggle escaped you, which seemed to satisfy your husband as he in turn smiled. Once you were both entirely winded, he ultimately let you pull away. Your breaths mingled as you breathed each other in, his eyes which were showcasing all his adoration for you remaining locked onto yours.

"You have bewitched me," he concluded. A grin spread across your face as you placed another fleeting kiss on his lips, which left him yearning for more. You quickly slipped out of his hold before he would entrap you again and your gaze fell upon the wooden box on the sofa which was discarded by your children. Your eyes softened before you leaned down to pick it up carefully.

Harwin watched on in marvel, positioning his hand on the small of your back to guide you towards your shared bed so the both of you could sit down. The plush covers engulfed your body, but you paid no mind to it as you faintly wiped away the dust that had accumulated over the years. Your fingers gently toyed with the lock before you glanced up to your husband only to see him eyeing you closely.

As you leaned over his lap, he quickly took a hold of your waist to make sure you wouldn't plunge onto the floor. You opened the drawer that stood beside your side of the bed and scoured around for a minute before your fingers wrapped around a familiar silver key.

You huffed moderately as you sat back up properly. "What does the box contain?" Harwin questioned, his voice calm as his fingers caressed your knee comfortingly, which gave you the courage to open the box to your past.

"Letters that I once wrote," you exhaled as you unlocked it. The lock opened with a rusty click. You removed it cautiously before discarding it beside you, already long forgotten, as you looked into the box. Harwin shifted closer to see what it contained and, just like you had previously stated, it held three letters. A treacherous breath left your lips as you grasped the one that lay on the top.

It was the one you had written for Harwin.

Your husband lifted a brow at the sight of his name neatly jotted down on the yellowish paper. Blush spread across your cheeks as you recalled how you had written it in candlelight as dusk had shrouded your room at King's Landing and you dared not to look at the man sitting beside you. Harwin's lips quirked upwards into a smirk at your apparent flustered state. He inched his hand slightly higher up, which did not help you pacify in the least.

"For me?" He inquired, a teasing lilt to his tone that never failed to exhilarate you in a way no words could ever convey.

"It- it is nothing," you made an effort to dismiss it, but your husband merely chuckled before moving further onto the lavish bed, tugging you along and you couldn't find it in you to protest as the sight in front of you graced your eyes.

You relented sooner than you wished to admit as you maneuvered to lay beneath him so he could properly start lapping at your neck as he so desperately wished to. His beard tickled your delicate skin, his mouth quickly moving across the column of your neck, seemingly knowing precisely where your weak spot was. The second his lips latched onto that particular part of your skin, a moan escaped your lips as the box fell from your grasp.

Neither of you paid any mind to the clattering noise of the wood, too invested in one another to notice anything else except the sounds the other made.

The letters slid out of their container and spread out across the floor. Each was addressed to someone who had once upon a time held your heart, though only one would be the one to truly have your heart and soul in the end.

And it was exceptionally evident who it was as Harwin's tunic was carelessly tossed away, covering the heap of letters on the floor as if he mended any remaining heartache you had kept with you over the years.

#♱ 𝓣o all the boys i’ve loved before #harwin strong x reader #harwin x reader #harwin strong #Harwin strong imagines #Harwin imagines #hotd x reader #hotd series #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #♱ ℋouse of the dragon

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evergreen-endo · 5 months ago

Text

WE PLAY THE SAME KEYS AT DIFFERENT TIMES — r. kaji.

cw: 18+ mdni, f! reader, car sex, spit. wc: 0.8k a/n: unedited. thought about him on my drive home. enjoy.

You and Kaji can’t ever just listen to music in the car together.

He really never intended for it to be like this at first— but once it happened the first time, it’s all he could think of the next time he got in his car. It’s the same every time; inviting you for a ride to listen to a tune that’s stuck in his head, one he claims he can’t get rid of until he hears it again. But with him, it can never just be one song. There are too many that make him think of you these days, despite his best efforts to press skip on those in particular.

He drives around until night falls, and you’ve both shared everything you’ve had on repeat this week. As he pulls onto the highway, the low vibration of his car picking up speed thrums against your thighs, much like the guitar blaring through his speakers. The low light of the city falls on his hands as he steers with practiced motion, heel of his palm flat against the leather. Warm yellow light trails along the veins on his arms, dragging your gaze wherever it touches. It highlights the rim of his features for a split second, long enough to see the way he side eyes you.

He lets out a huff, leaning back against the headrest to hide in the dark, though it’s futile. As he whirrs past the overheads, the light guides your gaze to his thighs, spread lazily even with one foot on the gas, and up, up, up to…oh. It’s only a second that you see it before light rushes past, and you wait on the next street light to illuminate him. It takes its time, stretching slowly over the same path, fingertips to forearms to biceps. A flit of your eyes down, and the car leers onto the exit ramp, light changing its course and missing the bulge of his cock entirely.

The both of you huff for different reasons, you in disappointment, and him in relief. Not that you can hear each other over the music, anyway.

You spend the rest of the ride bopping your head along and picking up your phone to add songs you like to your own playlist. He’s grateful that there aren’t as many street lamps on the route to your place, so you miss the poorly hidden smirk that plays on his lips.

Pulling into your driveway, he thumbs at his wheel to turn the music down just as that one song comes on. The one you fucked to the first time he did this; the reason he keeps inviting you to do this. He pauses, sighing, and turns it back up again. You tense, thighs crossing as you hear the click of his seatbelt and squeak of the leather as he reaches over to click yours, too.

Kaji’s breath always comes out ragged— grits his teeth and hisses through them even as his chest heaves for more oxygen. He’s got you bouncing on his cock in his backseat, guiding you to some extent, rough grip on your hips because he really can’t find it in himself to be gentle. Not when you move so perfectly you hit every goddamn beat.

You’re the perfect melody to him— he has half a mind to lean forward and turn the music down in favor of the sound of you. Ass clapping against his thighs, wet squelching from between yours, breathy moans and gasps and keens. He wishes he could isolate every salacious layer of sound— to savor it, ingrain it into his memory to replay over and over.

The beat of the song slows, just before he knows it’ll build up again. He takes the break to wrap an arm around your waist, effectively slowing the motion of your hips. You whine as he forces you to grind your clit against him, and he hums, captivated.

Using his free hand, he twirls his fingers through your hair, wrapping the strands around to get enough hold to pull you forward, the abruptness ripping a gasp from you. Perfect. Twisting his lips up, he tilts his head forward, letting a glob of spit travel past his lips and drip down onto your awaiting tongue as he plants his feet firm on the ground. With all the leverage in the world, he bucks his hips up into you as the beat picks up again, the heavy weight of his thrusts knocking the air from your lungs.

It gets hard to move when you squeeze around him, ticks him off that you’re slowing down his rhythm. He just wants to give you what you deserve and you’re always holding him back with that fucking grip of yours. At least, he thinks, you’re giving him a chance to readjust his hips, so he can hit that spongey spot inside you until the song closes out, until all that’s left is the sound of your shared panting.

#kaji ren x reader #kaji x reader #windbreaker x reader #btw you're the tune stuck in his head. if that shit wasnt obvious #him listening to rock music in canon is sooooo yummy to me #i love fucking men who have my taste in music #anyway #if anyone is interested in the song i had in mind #i wanna firstly say that i'm kind of shocked that i wrote this for kaji and not endo #bc i have always heavily associated this song with endo #and is the song i used when i made the theme for this blog #um. so kind of betrayal and my heart hurts about it a little bit.#but anyway. bleed me an ocean by acid bath.#specifically #warning emo music lol #4:50-5:41 is reader bouncing on it with perfect rhythm #(and no they did not have sex for less than a minute im just talking bout the rhythm babyyyyy)#5:42-5:50 is the spit in reader's mouth #and then the rest is him jackhammering!!!!!!#:)#love u all.#in memoriam — ♱#haunts — kaji ♱

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