#AND THE CROWN EARS????? I ALWAYS LOVE THAT

[heazueken]

In Every Timeline

*ೃ༄ summary: Jayce needs Viktor now and can’t wait for him to finish his coffee and book

warning(s): MDNI, explicit sexual content, oral sex, vaginal sex, ftm!viktor, older javik (they're like 65-66)

pairing(s): Viktor/Jayce

w/c; 6.9k words (haha)

a/n: baby's first jayvik fic! i hope u guys enjoy and please feel free to request anything!

huge thank you so much to slecnaztemnot for helping me with the translations for Viktor! Translation list: Blbečku - stupid Kurva - fuck Do prdele - shit Lásko - love Chci tě - I want you Mrdej mně do blba - fuck me til i’m stupid Ještě - more Přesně tam - right there Přidej - faster Do piči, už budu - fuck, I’m cumming Miluju tě - I love you

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Viktor had always been alluring to the eyes. 

With his soft, piercing golden eyes, his furrowed brows, and pouted lips— well, Jayce could only bask in the sunlight that was the view in front of him when he steps his way into the dining room with two cups of piping hot coffee.

He smiles down at his loved one, setting the mug down with a quiet thunk on the table so as to not disturb the reading going on by the other. Jayce turns the ceramic cup so the handle faces Viktor who almost instantly reaches out and grabs it without glancing away from the book. Jayce sits across from him.

Viktor has let his hair grow out the past two years, letting the few grey hairs fully fan out over the crown of his head. He has a bit of a stubble that’s completely grey by the looks of it (he’s always shaving it before Jayce can get a real good look) and he scratches at it gently while he takes a sip of his coffee. His eyes stay glued to the book on the table before him, some old book he had borrowed from Heimerdinger and kept forgetting to give back to him. 

Jayce watches the way Viktor’s eyelashes fan over his upper cheeks and the way his eyes follow the lines of words meticulously. His loving partner stares back at him much like the way he’s currently reading, eyes following the creases on the corners of his eyes that were so much more prominent now they’re in their sixties, his stare following down the bridge of his nose, then to his lips that he can see are faintly mouthing the words. Jayce has grown accustomed to being able to read his lips at this point and he makes out a few. Reading a book on birds. He smiles and finally takes a sip of his own coffee.

“How’s the book?” Viktor almost looks shocked when he tears his eyes away from the pages and sees Jayce sitting across from him. He lets out a small hum, comfort filling his chest and warmth spreading across it when he takes another sip of his beverage. He sets his cup down and faces his palm upwards towards the ceiling across the table. Jayce places his own hand in his without even a second glance.

“You startled me,” Viktor says like a confession and with a small chuckle. “I’m determined to finish it so I can finally give it back to Heimerdinger.”

There’s a scoff, “V, you’ve had that book for almost ten years. I think he’s forgotten about it.” His partner tightens his hold and pouts. Jayce practically melts and his heart flutters in his chest when his partner brushes his thumb across his strong knuckles. They’re silent for a moment as Viktor lets himself back into the wonderful science of birds.

His thumb mindlessly draws circles over the honey skin in his palm and Jayce struggles to remain cool. He takes another sip of his coffee which doesn’t help the beating drum of his heart and he tries to avoid looking at the gorgeous man in front of him because he feels his breath get stolen away with every glimpse. He watches the way his hair falls from where it was tucked behind his ear and sways down in front of his face, instead of removing his hand from Jayce’s hold he simply releases his hand resting on the book and reaches diagonally to tuck it back again. His nimble fingers flatten the book back down and his index finger easily slides to find the last line  he read. Jayce watches closely, his fingertip sliding across the ink on the pages, he feels a shiver at the memory of the way Viktor had been touching him just the previous night.

You see, Jayce and Viktor had a healthy sex life. They regularly engaged in nefarious acts, mostly in the bedroom. Viktor, with his “old age” complained about his leg more often now and their places to have sex had been…limited— to say the least. That was fine with Jayce, really! He always enjoyed the lazy make out session that turned into Viktor palming him over his pants which led to him being hoisted up and carried to the bedroom so he could adjust his leg easier and could lay comfortably underneath his love.

The problem was Jayce was a horny bastard, like, all the time. And despite his touching and feeling, Viktor had been blue-balling his poor man for a week now. Had he realized he was? Knowing Viktor he probably would but at this point Jayce was beginning to think he wasn’t aware at all what he was doing.

It wasn’t fair that the more time passed, the more handsome Viktor became. 

Viktor would say the same about Jayce.

Ever since Jayce had let his stubble grow into a full beard, he hadn’t been able to control himself much. When the first salt in his pepper beard started to peek out from his chin, Viktor hopped on the chance to feel the hair between his legs. He missed being about to sit on his lover's face like he used to, but he could settle with having large hands enveloping his inner thighs and pushing them apart so he could thrust against the coarse hair and wet, warm tongue. That was years ago and now the majority of his beard is grey and his hair brushes past his eyebrows, it drives him utterly insane. 

He has to sit here and act like this book is interesting when the man across from him begins to play footsy— of all things— with him. He doesn’t look up but instead slides his tongue across the inside of his cheek. Viktor lets it slide, trying to focus on the next paragraph but when Jayce’s foot pokes at him again and evidently slides up his ankle and to his shin just a little, he dares to look up and see a pair of puppy eyes staring back at him.

It wasn’t helping that his hair was tousled with sleep, brown and grey hair strand sticking this where and that and to top it all off, the absolute worst thing Jayce could do to him;

He sits there fucking shirtless. Bare chest dusted with hair and pretty skin that he could easily reach over and touch to feel the warmth. Jayce always tended to run hotter than Viktor and it was a godsend during the wintertime considering the larger man loved to sleep naked and curl himself around his partner like he was a teddy bear.

He’s gotten distracted by his eyes, he sighs, accepting defeat to the needy man in front of him and gently shuts his book.

“What do you want?”

Jayce looks at him with a puzzled expression but then turns into a silly smile, his tooth gap prominent.

“What do you mean?” 

They’ve known each other for 40 years at this point, he can’t play dumb anymore and he knows it.

“You want something. Clearly. Why else would you be rubbing your grubby toes on me?” Jayce rubs his toe against the hem of Viktor’s sweatpants and peeks under the fabric to feel his cold skin and he snickers, blush covering his cheeks.

“I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” His eyes roam around Viktor’s face, lingering on his lips and falling down to the little path of moles that venture past the collar of his pajama shirt. Jayce instinctively lets his mouth gape and runs his tongue across his bottom lip as he imagines the taste of his loved one’s skin and how soft it is, how Viktor would moan when he sinks a canine down against the juncture of his neck and creates a mark in its place.

“Dear lord,” Viktor chuckles, now joining him in his game under the table. “You look like you’re ready to jump over the table and devour me.” His good knee bends so his foot can easily slide up the length of Jayce’s naked legs. The fool came out in just his boxers, he wasn’t thinking very well because now Viktor has the upper hand.

The balls of his feet reach Jayce’s upper thigh and Viktor watches his expression fall from its teasing gaze and his eyes widen. He presses into his groin then, barely hard but getting there already.

“I think I figured out what you’ve been wanting.” 

Jayce’s hand shoots for Viktor’s ankle and knocks the table with his knuckles so harshly that the mugs clatter back and forth but neither one seems to worry if they’ll topple over because there’s a twitch inside his underwear and Viktor’s foot strokes side to side against the ever growing erection. The tight grip Jayce laces around his slender ankle has the smaller man gasping and he can feel his own wetness gather between his legs. 

“Viktor— for god’s sake—ah!” The bottom of his foot slides right down the growing length and pushes the head of his dick against his thigh harshly. Jayce always liked it a little rougher. “Wait— hold on j-just a minute, will you?!” He gasps, holding tightly to him and yet not making any effort to actually move the sensation off of him. Viktor scoffs.

“You bring me a nice cup of coffee just the way I like, you interrupt my book, you give me those needy puppy eyes and now you want me to hold on?” Viktor shifts in his seat so his socked toes can shimmy their way back and forth to attempt to jerk him off. It shouldn't be so effective but Jayce had been the neediest he’s been in a long time.

“Agh…I can’t just…admire you?” He says through gritted teeth. He lazily thrusts his hips, his other hand grips the table for support.

Viktor stares down at him. “And then you play footsy with me under the table. Further distracting me from my free time. Now I’m giving you what you want and you want it to stop.”

The bigger one almost glares at him, biting back. 

“You’re the one who's been teasing me for—“ His dick is fully erect now and strains between the confines of his underwear and the skin of his thigh. He feels his tip leak and he lets out a small groan. “Three months.”

There’s a raise of Viktor’s eyebrow and he slowly stills the motion between his partners thighs. “That is true…” He ponders for a moment, watching Jayce struggle to catch his breath. 

Viktor was never one to hold off on sex for so long, it wasn’t his fault his leg was too fucked up for him to feel comfortable in any position other than missionary. He missed it, the way Jayce would take him anywhere around the house. When he was able to actually be on his knees and take his cock down his throat so far that his nose would press right into the trimmed coarse hair in his pubic region. Or when he’d be able to be the one to top and mercilessly thrust into Jayce that they were sure the neighbors had to have heard them. 

Viktor had glanced down at his cup of coffee in thought. He was horny enough, what the hell?

“Blbečku…” He says while letting his chin fall into his chest, giving in.

Jayce smiles awkwardly, grip still tight on his ankle and his foot still very much pressing against his hardon.

“Me?” He asks. He picked up on Viktor’s Czech after years of knowing him, and he’s grown accustomed to being called stupid by the man many times now. He figures this was another time, maybe he was being foolish assuming Viktor would be up for sex.

“No. Me,” He places his palm over his chest. “I’ve neglected your needs, haven’t I?” Viktor looks at Jayce past his eyelashes and blinks a few times. He slowly slides his foot away from his crotch, releasing him from the hold and Jayce lets go of his leg then. He doesn’t answer him back but stares at him like a hurt puppy. Jayce was always too much of a softy and he wounded easily.

“I don’t want to force you to—“

“Where do you want me, hm?” 

Okay, that caught him off guard.

Jayce could barely think under the pressure and he jostled his head to find some spot to lay Viktor down and get his needs met. His hand still on the table catches his eye and he scoots his mug away along with stray papers of scribbles of equations and sketches of designs, they truly didn’t matter now and he could barely care when droplets of his coffee spilled on the paper and wood. He makes room and pats the spot.

“Here. Sit here.”

They hadn’t gone at it on the table since their 35th anniversary when they went out drinking and had to get home quickly because Viktor had gotten incredibly drunk and was ready to fuck Jayce in front of the whole bar. He pushed him so harshly on the table, Jayce for sure thought it would break. It was incredible that it hadn’t when Viktor slipped onto his lap that night and rode him until the other was sobbing and begging for a break after cumming in him three times. 

Viktor is calculated with his movements. He slides his foot back down Jayce’s leg, staring straight into his eyes with that look. The one that meant he was hungry and just as needy as his partner. He rises from his chair, scooting it so it makes a screech on the floor and gently pats his way over to Jayce who also moves his own chair away from the table. He settles his palm on the wood to prepare himself to sit atop it but the younger stops him by grabbing his wrist. He looks down at Jayce, asking him with a quizzical brow.

“Let me just—“ Jayce’s large hands easily grab into either side of Viktor’s hips and there’s an ignition of flames for them both at the touch. His thumbs prod under the hem of his shirt and the warmth of his skin engulfs Viktor’s senses. Just the mere touch of them skin to skin has him sighing and pulsing between his legs. Jayce doesn’t let the feeling linger, though, he loops his thumbs into the elastic band on his sweatpants and gently, slowly pulls them down. His skin lingers on their descent down, fingers caressing the path of freckles and moles that speckle across his lover's body. He wishes he could kiss each one, he decides he’ll have time to do that later.

Viktor’s underwear is next after his pants pool on the floor and he steps out of them. Jayce is much slower this time, admiring the trail of hair and moles from his belly button down to where more coarse hair grows. He peels the fabric away, glimpsing at Viktor’s dick that pokes out from the hair, his legs tremble with anticipation and Jayce’s jaw tenses. His mouth immediately begins to water and his warm palms feel up the back of the older one’s thighs. He grabs a fistful of skin and Viktor lets out the faintest gasp of air, he loves being groped— Jayce knows this and his hands create indents of his fingerprints all over his skin. 

His skin turns red under each grip and pull, Jayce’s hands make a seething path back up to his hips and grips so hard that Viktor releases a strangled cry, his thumb bruises the skin there and he sighs, dropping his forehead forward to lean on his stomach. Puffs of breath tickle Viktor’s tummy and he lets his head fall back slightly when a kiss is planted over a freckle on his ribcage. Jayce makes it a point every single time during any intimate moment to kiss every single mole he sees, it’s become a habit, one that Viktor to this day still can’t seem to get used to.

“You’re so warm,” Jayce brushes his lips across soft skin and Viktor sighs, dropping a hand to rest in the touseles of hair. He runs his fingers across his scalp to encourage the cluster of kisses being planted on him. He can’t seem to find words, praises flood his mind but he can only let out bellowing sighs and groaning. He revels in the feeling of having Jayce’s lips anywhere but his own lips and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His beard pokes and scratches his skin deliciously, he could never get used to the tickle of it but it increased his need ten fold when the stubble on his partner's chin joined the messy hair gathered between his thighs.

“Up—“ Jayce demands in a low growl. Viktor’s cheeks blush and immediately listens, hoisting himself on the table and letting his bare ass feel the cold wood.

Hands immediately cup the insides of his thighs and parts them, Jayce’s eyes bear into Viktor’s and they stare for a moment in awe of one another before the one on the chair lets his eyes follow down and down to where he’s been craving to look at the most.

Viktor’s wet. Incredibly wet. In fact, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen him this soaked. They hadn’t even had their good morning kiss yet, he had barely even given himself time to fully admire Viktor’s pale skin and feel it give under his hands. He knows then that Viktor needed this just as much as he did. 

And his clit, plump and red, staring right back at him. He spreads him further apart, soothing a hand over his bad thigh in case it begins to hurt but Viktor makes no movements to indicate otherwise. He watches the way his leaking hole seems to pulse around nothing, clear liquid dripping out and stick to parts of hair. Jayce licks his lips.

His tongue lays flat over the underworking of Viktor’s enlarged clit, laying it there for a moment before sliding it left and right. The head sitting perfectly atop the wet muscle and it jolts under the sensation. Viktor’s hand immediately goes back to Jayce’s hair and grapples tufts of hair into his fist, he doesn’t mean to yank but doing so has the younger stuffing his face further into his lover’s mound. He hums, taking his clit fully into his mouth and wrapping his lips around it expertly. Viktor’s whole body quivers and he releases a drawn out moan.

“Sakra—!” He swears in his native tongue. His head hangs back and his hair falls off his shoulders and sways as his hips already begin to rock against the wetness of Jayce’s tongue. 

The taste has Jayce’s eyes rolling into the back of his head, the smell of his musk engulfs his senses and he’s already getting drunk on the cream dripping against his tongue. He prodes the tip of it at his hole, slipping it in just barely to hear those wonderful cries escape the man before him. Viktor calls out his name, his thighs raising to squeeze around his head, his hips buck involuntarily and Jayce’s tongue slides back up his slit just to suck on his dick again, letting his tongue flick across the head and curl around the thickness of it. It’s all too much and it’s been too long, Viktor’s already on the edge and he doesn’t want to be. He’s too good with his mouth, too good with his tongue and lips, and when he laps up and down across his dick he can’t help but cry out.

“Jayce—wait—! H-hold on!”  He doesn’t relent, too caught up in the dripping wetness on his beard to even consider prying himself from the goldmine before him. Viktor wants this, he needs this and that’s why he can’t bring himself to stop Jayce. He convulses, his leg cramping but he doesn’t care at all because the pleasure outweighs the pain. He’s close, so, so close and his back begins to arch off the table. His clit jerks inside Jayce’s mouth and that tightening in his lower stomach increases with a rate he was unfamiliar with. 

It had been much too long since they’ve done this.

Jayce mumbles into Viktor’s cunt, his lips slick and sweet with his wetness and he gasps for a breath of air for a moment.

“You’re so beautiful, V.” He slips his hand in between his face and Viktor’s crotch, sliding a finger in so easily. 

There’s a moan, and Viktor grits his teeth.

“Kurva!” He exclaims, “Do prdele, Jayce…” Another finger is immediately added to encourage the sweet sound of his whimpering to escape him and Viktor’s toes begin to curl.

Jayce knew that Viktor was never one to be able to get off on just penetration. He knew the map of his body and its inner workings so well after years and years of exploring it and finding little things that drove him crazy. He raises his head to reach a free hand over and weave their fingers together as his other hand thrusts into him. His fingers are large and long, curling inside Viktor and making quick motions to thrust up into his G-spot. There’s a high pitched whimper and a few more swears in his native language before Viktor is sitting up and drawing his knees closed in an attempt to slow the uninterrupted attack inside him. They both look down between his legs to see Jayce’s fingers coming out soaking wet and going back in with a filthy drenching sound. It’s all too much and Viktor’s vision becomes blurry with pleasure.

“Jayce—lásko—“ His voice breaks with rapture. “Please…I can’t…Just—“

“Yeah?” Jayce huffs, “What? What is it, huh?” His voice shakes with the ferocity of his hand still thrusting. If he’s being honest— he’s growing tired and his arm is beginning to ache, but seeing Viktor in such bliss gives him such satisfaction that he swears he could cum untouched.

His lover lets his back fall onto the table again and his hair creates a halo of grey and chestnut around his head. He’s so beautiful like this. 

“Chci tě…Please…”

“I want you too,” He breathes, ducking his head to give a gentle kiss to the inside of Viktor’s thigh that found its purchase on his shoulders. His motions begin to slow down, he can’t finish him off like this, he has to be inside him. Viktor sits up fully, his shirt riding back down to its original place and he grips Jayce’s shoulder and digs his nail into his skin to pull him close. He kisses him, their mouths hot and the older one tastes himself on the others lips, his tongue swipes across his teeth messily and they moan together in a harmony. He pulls away, a bridge of spit breaking between their lips.

“Mrdej mně do blba.” Now that, Jayce didn’t understand but judging by the look in Viktor’s eyes he knew the implication.

“Move me to the bed. My leg’s starting to cramp.” He demands and Jayce wastes no time.

It doesn’t take a lot of effort for Jayce to suddenly stand from his chair and lift Viktor from off the table. He hooks an arm under his thighs and one around his back and lifts him with ease. Arms sling around his neck like they belong there and Jayce carries him from the dining room over to the living room. Once there he steps into the hallway just to the left and enters the first open door on the right.

Their bed is messy and hasn’t been made in a week, both of them too lazy to do it but Viktor’s large pile of pillows sits just the way he likes on his side of the bed. Jayce places him down and the lights are off all except for a warmly lit lamp that Viktor decides sets the perfect mood.

He strips his shirt off then, his chest blushing red and it travels up his neck and to his face. He stares back at Jayce who's already grabbing a bottle of lube and tossing it onto the bed just in case they need it.

He crawls onto the bed, his hand enveloping Viktor’s bad leg, his fingers press into the muscle of it and he seethes, his teeth grit at the pain but slowly it turns into relaxation as Jayce works on a knot in his muscle.

“You know,” He starts, “It would help if you actually wore your brace, right?” 

Viktor sighs, defeated. “It leaves bruises on me after a while.” Jayce suddenly looks up at him with a sad expression, his eyebrows turned upwards and his frown prominent.

“What? I thought what I made was helping…” Oh, Viktor’s hurt his pride and his feelings, he’s clearly the worst. He never meant for Jayce to find that out. He quickly cups a hand over his cheek and scratches lightly at his beard like he’s a dog.

“Oh, lásko, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll make you a better one,” The younger exclaims a little too loudly. They’re getting off track, as much as he would love to have a new brace, he needs to get fucked right now. So Viktor places his palms over Jayce’s chest and kisses him gently on the corner of the mouth.

“That sounds nice, but right now I need you. How about we talk about that after?” Jayce can’t argue with that.

He’s still hard and the view in front of him only increases his aroused state. Viktor’s leaning against three pillows, his legs open far enough so Jayce can sit between them and see how wet he still is. 

Viktor is admiring his view just as much as the other. His tanned chest rising and falling with each breath, his large and thick thighs brush against his legs and his hands slowly land on his waist. His eyes almost flutter shut when his calloused hands slide up his torso and traces the faint lines of his scars that sit where his pecs begin. It’s been many years now and Viktor finally has full feeling of his nipples again and Jayce takes much more pleasure in that fact.

His fingers circle around his scarred areolas, feather-like and soft and it has Viktor keening from the sensation. He’s memorized everywhere on his body at this point and yet he explores it every time like it’s the very first time he’s seeing it. His hands roam and admire every mole, every scar and birthmark like he’s opening him up and reading the inner workings of his soul. He travels further and further, following that happy trail again and lightly brushing his thumb over his clit. Viktor gasps, eyes meeting where Jayce’s hand is connected to him.

“I need to be inside you,” Jayce sighs, finally hooking his fingers into the elastic band of his underwear and pulling them down. Viktor never gets tired of the way his partner looks naked and he doesn’t think he ever will.

Jayce is awkward with his movements and his underwear gets stuck on his foot making them both break into a fit of giggles before it’s finally tossed at the end of the bed. Viktor propers himself on his elbows and motions for him to come closer. Jayce does just that and crawls towards him with a mischievous smile.

Once he’s got Viktor beneath his shadow, the man underneath him is following the same path he did on his torso just moments ago. Jayce is sensitive on almost every part of his body, but his nipples and neck had been the prime target for getting him worked up. Those moments in their study where Viktor would nibble at his earlobes and lick stripes across the juncture of his throat reminisces through his mind and he smiles at the memory. 

“What’s so funny, hm?” Jayce prods.

Viktor’s finger circles one of Jayce’s nipples, chest hair soft against the pad of his finger and the younger shudders under the touch.

“Thinking about how sensitive you are.” Jayce’s head  falls with embarrassment, too shy to stare at him. But it gives Viktor perfect leverage to push his lips against Jayce’s ear and whispers lowly, “Me just whispering like this easily gets you off…Remember that time I made you cum just by talking you through it?”

There’s a slight whimper and Jayce is stuffing his face into Viktor’s neck to hide further from him. He chuckles under him and the feel of his beard scratching against his neck ignites his need further. One of his hands ventures down to where Jayce is finally free from the confines of fabric and his fingertips brush against his tip. He’s leaking onto the bed, alright.

“See? You’re already dripping. Bet I could do it again.”

“Viktor—please.” Slim fingers wrap loosely around the head of his dick and Jayce’s hips thrust slowly into his palm. His lips latch onto part of his neck and Viktor moans at the sensation.

“Let me feel you. Let me fuck you.” He whines into skin, lips and teeth brushing a delicate muscle. “Please. I need it.”

It really has been a long time and Viktor’s hole clenches, weeping at the fact that there’s nothing inside him. 

He guides him, shoving Jayce into a seating position so they both can see what they’re doing. Viktor’s hair falls into his face but he doesn’t care when he guides the others tip at the very entrance of his soaking core. He sticks him in just a little before sliding the head upward and circling him around on his clit. Viktor spreads his wetness easily, soaking Jayce so he shines under the dim light and they look at each other for a moment.

“Still think we need lube?” He asks with a playful tone.

Jayce smiles back. “I just like being prepared…”

Viktor slides his shaft back down and angles his hips a certain way so the head catches at his entrance and he slowly lets go. He draws his hands away and against the bed, watching the way Jayce now braces himself on his palms on the bed and barely, just barely moves forward to dip himself further into his warmth. 

He sucks him in easily, shaped perfectly to fit Jayce for the rest of his life. No one could ever compare to the way Viktor feels wrapped around him. No one was as soft, as warm, or as perfect as him. 

Jayce is slow and precise, rubbing a hand against Viktor’s bad leg once again to ease the pain as he bends it slowly to get a better angle. Viktor feels the slight pain, but then the feeling of Jayce’s tip hitting deep inside him has him not paying attention to the pain.

“Kurva—” He moves his hips closer to Viktor’s until he’s bottoming out and letting out a sigh of relief when he feels him squeeze around him. He lets them bask in the feeling for a moment before Viktor is wrapping his hands around Jayce’s biceps and tries to grind against him and feeling his tip kiss his cervix.

“Ještě, ještě—!” He mewls, his accent growing thicker the more his arousal increases. Jayce has no choice but to listen.

He pulls away until he feels his head barely begin to slide out, and he’s thrusting back in with more force. Viktor cries out at the intensity of the thrust, his entire body moves with his and Jayce begins to set a steady rhythm. His chest heaves, his body growing warmer and warmer, he’s already beginning to sweat. Goddamn his aging body, his stamina wasn’t the same but that wasn’t going to make him give up.

Jayce lets out a grunt when he sets a particularly harsh thrust into Viktor and his lover calls out his name, hands shooting to grapple onto his shoulder. He frees one of his hands to grab at Viktor’s waist and lifts him slightly off the bed.

“Fuck, V—so—haah— so good. You feel so good.” His head ducks to see the way they’re connected and how much of a mess Viktor’s leaving on his cock. He thrusts harder and faster, groaning his name and praises.

Viktor grips a pillow by his head to support himself and feels the bruising forming on his skin where Jayce is gripping tightly.

“There—! Přesně tam, přidej!” 

Jayce can’t last long, he feels that coil in his lower region, he could pull out and get Viktor off before ultimately fucking him and filling him up but he wants to cum with Viktor together.

“Vik—Viktor,” He groans, releasing his hold on his waist and instead splaying his hand flat against his stomach and reaching his thumb above where they’re connected to rub his clit. “C’mon, V…” Jayce’s voice lowers and becomes more gruff, an indicator that he was close. The sound of the gravel and the harshness of his unrelenting finger quickly begins to send Viktor over the edge. He raises his other leg—his good one and lays his calf over Jayce’s shoulders.

Jayce’s hips begin to snap against the back of his thighs, his cock bruising the inner walls of Viktor and there’s an obscene sound of skin slapping skin and their moans colliding together. He lowers his head, bending down and presses his nose into Viktor’s and half hazardly meets their lips in an intense kiss. They hum in unison at the satisfaction of their mouths joining and Jayce thrusts his tongue inside of his partners to swipe them together in a messy show of passion. Their breath mixes together and Viktor feels his mind going foggy at the intensity of his fingers, his dick, his mouth, the way he smells, the way his hips snap into place and he rubs his lower stomach against his pulsating clit, everything. 

It’s not that Jayce let himself go by any means, even if he had Viktor really couldn’t give less of a shit. The fat that grew on Jayce’s body only made him more appealing to the eye and Viktor was able to grip more and find new things that sent him over the edge. It wasn’t the first time he took advantage of being deep inside Viktor and his belly protruding just a little was able to rub deliciously against his clit and he would grind into it until they were both cumming. 

Oh, how Viktor missed this.

Jayce becomes sloppy. His arms holding himself up begin trembling and Viktor has taken to wrapping his legs around his waist now, hands still on his chest and rubbing tight circles into his nipples. He’s close, Viktor’s sure of that— so is he.

“You gonna fill me up? Make me yours?” He says tenderly, a few more swears escaping his lips when Jayce’s tempo rises again and the wet slapping fills the quiet room again.

“You’re already mine,” He growls, almost irritated at the notion that he didn’t belong to Jayce in the first place. Viktor says something like prove it, Jayce barely hears it because the blood rushes to his ears as his cock pulses and his thrust grow more sloppy and less precise. But it’s okay because Viktor is just as close as him, reaching between each other to jerk himself off with his thumb and two forefingers that Jayce left abandoned just minutes ago.

“Give it to me, Jayce. Přesně tam— Don’t stop—! Ah—!”

He’s coming undone, Viktor’s muscles have a mind of their own while he convulses and lets the pleasure of his intense orgasm dictate what his body does. His head digs into the pillows, hair splayed around him, hand digging nails into Jayce’s skin.

“Jayce—mmfh!Do piči, už budu!” 

Jayce joins him. His orgasm hitting him faster than he could imagine, but the squeeze and fluttering Viktor began to do around him was enough to finally make him see stars. His hips still inside him while he pumps white into him, his dick tensing and releasing with each rope of cum that buries itself inside his loved one.

No matter how much time passes, whether they’ve done it almost everyday or only every few months, their orgasm hits like a cosmic explosion. Taking over their bodies and ascending them together on a plane higher than cloud nine. Their kisses felt like fire and it felt right. Viktor never understood it, and unlike his many scientific studies— he never questioned why he and Jayce fit together so well. Everything just felt right when he was with him, and nothing would come between that feeling.

Jayce is slow to pull out of Viktor. The two of them catching their breaths, they truly went harder than they have in months. Their passion had never ceased and their older bodies tried to protest the motions, yet that didn’t stop them, clearly.

Viktor watches Jayce flop over next to him, laying a heavy arm across his chest and shutting his eyes. As he lays there, staring at every detail of the man who just gave him the proper dicking of a lifetime, he feels his chest fill up with warmth. He could never explain the feeling and he could only describe it as the feeling of falling in love with him over and over again, making him dizzy and nauseated. No one else can make him feel this way.

Jayce begins to soften, his breathing slowly and plants a lazy kiss to Viktor’s naked shoulder. He feels fingers card through his beard, finger pads pass through the hair and up his sideburns, following the cartilage of his ear and then up to his hairline to push the grey off his forehead. 

“Miluju tě.” Viktor ghosts over his forehead and plants a kiss there. Jayce smiles and squeezes his arm around the smaller man.

“I love you too.” 

Time passes, Viktor feels Jayce’s cum ooze out of him and when he bends his knee— preparing himself to get up— he already feels the ache of his muscles. Fuck, they went a little too hard. But the feeling of his passion sliding out of him has him holding back a moan. His bad leg cramps bad and he lets out a quiet yell, hoping he won’t wake up his partner. But it’s too late.

“Viktor—!” He’s up immediately, gasping and staring at him with glossy eyes. “You okay?” His warm hand soothes over his arm and Viktor shakes his head.

“Leg…and I’m kind of making a mess on the bed.”

Jayce doesn’t even hear the second part of that sentence, focusing more on the pain he’s in rather than whatever mess on the sheets they have to clean later. 

“I can pick you up if you need,” He suggests. He knows Viktor can be stubborn about being carried, as much as he enjoyed to do so it was important for the other to know he’s capable of being able to walk to the fucking bathroom. 

This was not one of those times though.

“Can you? I’m too achey…” He’s being picked up before he can get another word out and their sweaty skin sticks together. He attempts to hold in Jayce’s act of passion but he lets a little slip past and he has to hide his face in his hands. 

Their shower is quick, Jayce is attentive to Viktor’s bruising in his hips and massaging the band of muscle that travels down his leg. It feels good and Viktor braces a hand in the shower wall while Jayce draws the handheld shower across his body, a sudsy hand scrubbing gently. There’s that feeling in his chest again, he wobbles with nausea but catches himself and laughs at himself.

“Jayce…”

“Hm?” He’s preoccupied by washing away the suds and kisses the bruises he left on his body.

“Do you ever feel like we’re not the only ones out there?”

He doesn’t understand the question. He stares at Viktor, eyebrow cocked.

“What do you mean?”

“Like…that feeling we talked about when we first met. Like it wasn’t the first time we had met…do you think that— oh, I don’t know that—“

“There’s more possible universes out there where there are different versions of ourselves that have their own lives and we’re always drawn together in every timeline?” 

He nods. “Precisely.”

Jayce smiles at Viktor and leans in to kiss his lips gently.

“Don’t you know, V? We’re tied together by the red string of fate. You couldn’t get away from me even if you tried.” He wraps his arms around him and their naked bodies close the space between them and he kisses the moles on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. What do you think we’re doing in other universes?”

He stands in thought, pouting his lips.

“I’ve had dreams where…you’re this great being and…well…” He doesn’t want to ruin the mood, but he can tell Viktor anything, can’t he? 

“We have…we end up sacrificing ourselves for the greater good. I think in some timeline something went wrong with us…but we were still together in the end.”

Viktor’s face falters for a moment. He sucks in his top lip and chews on it for a moment before sighing.

“Well, I’ll be with you till the end. I hope you know that.”

Jayce smiles, love blossoming between them.

“I’d do anything to be with you for a millennia.”

[joffyworld]

A NEW ARTIST TO STARE AT AND ADMIRE???? DON'T MIND IF I DO!!!!

lamb in bunny suit???? yes please

[doctorwhoisadhd]

also another reason i play picc despite it causing my migraines is because i can use it to win arguments. Like any other instrument you have no right to complain about piccolo being "too high" when i am playing it and it gives ME migraines. like. ok coward. what do u even have to complain about

[screampied]

you don’t really realize you’re growing old with satoru until you spot a grey tress inside the roots of your hair as you’re looking in the mirror. the thing about marriage and life itself was that time really doesn’t stop—for no one. as you entrap the lock between your fingers, you murmur out to satoru with a cheeky grin. “satoru baby, c’mere.”and as he’s lying in bed with a wrinkled nose, he reads some book titled ‘three men in a boat.’ as he flips a thick page, his cerulean blue reading glasses crook down the bridge of his nose before he turns his attention toward you.

“yesss, honey?” he rubs his eyes, bringing a palm up to his growing stubble. as he got older, you noticed how he moved a bit slower. satoru was still fit as he aged, but he’d have a bit of a waddle whenever he walked. it was cute—how his limbs were getting more and more fragile, but he was still labeled as the strongest despite his inevitable aging.

he makes his way behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. the two of you make eye contact through the mirror that reflects you both, a happy married couple. “look, we’re finally matching now,” and his face softens once you bring the silvery colored strand up to his view. ‘matching,’ because his hair was naturally a snowy white . . almost similar to the strand of hair you just showed him.

although as the years progressed, satoru was growing ashen grey streaks too.

“i guess we are,” he replied in a gentle tone, his hands remaining on your hips. satoru’s touch was always gentle and ginger. he presses his lips near the back of your nape before letting off a soft sigh. “you’d look pretty with white hair, actually.”

“prettier than you?” you hum, glancing at him through the mirror. satoru towers over you as he holds you, the band of his wedding ring grazing against your hip.

again, you watch as the corners of his lips crease into a smile. a toothy genuine one where his dimples show.

“haha, veeeery funny,” and as he buries his face into your neck, he deeply ponders to himself for a moment.

to think . . how much time has passed, out of all the countless tiresome battles he’s had to face—

all those years at trying to keep the world safe and now, he could finally relax. having his arms around you gave him a peace of mind, and in the end it was all worth it because at the end of the day, satoru gojo—the strongest, came back to you. you were his personal safe haven and he was yours.

“but honeyyy,” he yawns with rosy pouty lips, shifting his chin up to rest against your left shoulder. satoru starts leading you toward your side of the bed. “ ‘s pretty late, let’s getcha back to bed, hm?”

“okay,” you mumble, already feeling your eyes starting to get heavy again. satoru’s still got his burly arms wrapped around your waist as he leisurely guides you back to bed. he was clingy, and that never changed. satoru gojo’s always been clingy ever since the two of you met. as he pulls down the cover for you to enter, you crawl back in and he gets beside you.

satoru slings an arm around you, pulling you close as his hooded eyes starts a staring contest with the swaying wooden ceiling fan.

it’s moving slow. . just like time was.

whenever he was with you, it felt as if time stood still. and as the both of you cuddled against each other with your head resting against his beating heart, he sighs. it’s a content happy sigh, and satoru’s hands find their way near the top of your head. his thin fingers maze it’s way near your soft grey growing strand before he leans in, giving the crown of your head a goodnight kiss. “mwah,” and he watches as your eyes briefly widen before glancing away, growing sheepish. “get some rest, my love. i’ll be here when you wake up. promise.”

you nod, too drowsy to reply and he pulls you closer. satoru’s heartbeat was steady and slow, and each pulse that bested against your ear made you felt more and more protected. as he holds you firm and close, a hand of his softly caresses your forehead—brushing against the soft hairs that cling onto your skin.

as your breathing starts to relax and your eyelids finally close, he realizes you finally drifted off to sleep. satoru exhales lowly, almost forgetting to take off his reading glasses. as he places them near the nightstand, he lies back down, giving your sleeping state once last glance.

“i love you,” he whispers against your ear before reaching for the pearled lamp switch. “so much.”your head nuzzles against his chest and he assumes that was your non-verbal way of saying it back, even in your sleep. cute.

the only sounds that could be heard were the faint tick tocking of the grandfather clock that stood near the hallway and your soft breathing as you deeply slept. satoru feels a smile tugging against his glossed lips yet again, but this time it’s different . .

it’s not the same smile from when you showed him that you were graying, it was a more genuine smile that was satisfied at everything—primarily at life. satoru’s long crystalline lashes gradually flap shut as he smiles to himself, a thumb brushing against your forehead. all those battles was worth it in the end, because right now, he’s at the only place he wanted to be . . with you.

life wasn’t a competition, but satoru finally felt at peace, true peace—and that peace was being in your presence. he wasn’t one for believing in good endings, but maybe this particular one wasn’t so bad.

“i . . won.”

[shotmrmiller]

retired pornstar!Ghost who can't seem to ever keep his hands to himself whenever you're around, even when about to film.

f!reader, 18+ smut. unedited.

If you're standing at a table making coffee, he'll sneak up from behind and wrap his arms around you, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

Hi, Ghost.

G'mornin', love.

If you're walking out of Price's office with a script in hand, he's by your side in mere moments, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"New script?"

"You should know, you're my co-star. Again."

"Lucky me, pet."

He's leading you toward his office, perches you on his desk and cups his hand over your core.

"Gonna let me eat this pretty pussy?"

"I dunno, Ghost. Gonna fuck me here too?" you smirk at him.

"Whatever you want from me," he breathes.

You stumble out hours later with swollen lips, love bites mottled over your neck and collarbone, and his warm spend trickling down your legs because Ghost pocketed your knickers.

The day of, he's texting you if you'd like a ride to the studio.

Sure thing. Get me in 15.

Yes ma'am.

He doesn't ask for your address, and you don't question why he knows where you live either. Ghost, forever the gentleman, opens the passenger door for you, and gently helps you get in. The entire drive over, his hand rested on your bare thigh, his small finger occasionally grazing your clothed cunt. By the time you arrive, your knickers are damp with your arousal.

"Somethin' wrong, love?"

You snort at his feigned innocence. "Cute. Is mercilessly teasing me fun to you?"

"Sorry 'bout tha.'" Ghost doesn't sound all that apologetic.

He brings you in tight, wrapping his arm around you firmly.

"Lemme make it up t'you in my dressin' room", he purrs.

You click your tongue. "Price'll have your head if he catches me in there, especially when we're about to make a vid."

"Be sure to keep quiet, then. Would absolutely hate to get caught."

With his smart fingers and expert tongue, you're brought to peak 3 times.

Price rolls his eyes when he spots you both walking in at the same time 15 minutes before the shoot.

"Always cheek by jowl, eh Simon?"

His piercing eyes cut to Price's. "Not a crime, last I checked."

Price lifts his hands up, palms outward in mock surrender. "Easy, Ghost. Only teasin'." He turns away, gesturing the crew to get in their places.

Ghost taps your chin with his pointer finger, drawing your attention. "Showtime, baby."

The wolfish grin on your face mirrors his.

"Showtime," you echo.

Ghost turns sex into art. He moves with discipline; every languid roll of his hips deliberate. Like a skilled painter, he transformed you into a living masterpiece, using each drag of his cock as a brush stroke on the canvas of your very being.

It's otherworldly.

He watches your face intently as he changes the angle, bites his bottom lip when he changes the pace, grunting into your ear as your walls begin to flutter— the telltale sign of 'his favorite part', as he loves to say.

"Gonna come f'me? Lemme hear that sweet, little voice of yours, pet." Almost as if following his command, you're digging your nails into his biceps, and closing your eyes in bliss as you climax. A loud, drawn-out moan escapes your lips as your cunt rhythmically pulses around Ghost's heavy length. Your soft thighs quiver around his broad waist as he works you through the aftershocks with slow, firm thrusts.

"Look at tha'. Came when I told ya to, like a good girl." Your mind is blank from your orgasm, tongue too heavy and thick in your mouth for you to even try to articulate a response.

"Creamed all over my cock, can ya hear it?" Hard not to when the wet sounds of your pussy squelching every time he bottoms out fills the room.

"You're so fuckin' tight. Cunt's squeezin' me like it doesn't want me to pull out."

His filthy words send a jolt straight to your throbbing core. "Felt tha'. What, you got a breedin' kink?"

Another jolt, so sharp it almost hurts.

"Want me to fill ya with my come? Is tha' it?" His husky voice dripping with desire. With want.

yes. yesyesyessss—

"Tell me you want me. Fuck, tell me you want me to come in you." The words fall from your spit-slick lips like a faucet.

"Come in me, oh my god, come in me. Fill my pussy up."

His thrusts lose some of their rhythm, but still not sloppy enough like when he's on the very brink.

Ghost's jaw in clenched, as if digging his heels in to hold off his climax. Well, that's simply unacceptable.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, giving him a slight tug to have his lips hover over yours.

"I want you come in me, Simon."

The change is instantaneous. His eyes widen a fraction before stealing your very breath with a searing kiss and fucks you. He puts his weight behind each snap of his hips. The tip of his cock pressing into the plug of your womb, making your eyes prickle with tears.

It's too much, he's too much, you think you've gone and bitten off more than you can chew with him when he mercifully stills with a groan you swallow— cock twitching as it pains your insides white.

He breaks away, gasping for air, sweat that beaded on his forehead dripping onto your heated skin.

Cut.

DaVinci and his muse.

Later, when he threads his fingers into your damp hair, you ask him why he doesn't record with others.

"'Cause I don't want to."

Oh?

"Besides, you and I have fantastic chemistry, dont'cha think?" He tugs on a lock of hair. "The fans love seeing us together, just as much as I love seeing my cock disappear into your sweet pussy."

He chuckles when he takes in your flustered expression. "Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear, then."

[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!”

[marvelsswansong]

melting snow

summary: the subtle, obvious, sweet, and at times - dangerous - ways Coriolanus shows his love for you.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, possessive and lovesick!Snow, mostly fluff with light allusions to smut, significantly off-canon from movie (no lucy gray and no sejanus betrayal), CW possessive/dark behavior, graphic descriptions of murder, violence (it's only the last bit of this fic that's quite dark/violent, so feel free to read up until then. Please take care of yourself!!!)

☆ word count: 4.6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

one: subtle praise

At the beginning, he would mask his true feelings and physical urges towards you with a tight lipped grin and a reserved compliment. Something that acknowledges something you've done objectively well, with a genuine softness that didn't apply to any of his other classmates, but seemingly delivered in a nonchalant matter to feign indifference.

"Great dodge." he'd say to you, both of your chests heaving from adrenaline during fencing class. You'd nod gently, a shy "thank you" leaving your lips.

But when Clemensia wins the next round against him, Coriolanus doesn't go above simply shake her left hand in courtesy before leaving the arena briskly.

"Well played." he'd joke, when it was revealed during the final student appraisal that you'd beaten Coriolanus' marks by a few points. Despite Archane and Felix throwing subtle jabs at his way for "losing" the star student title, you'd just shrug off the compliment profusely, praising him endlessly.

"A mere fluke, really. You're the brilliant student. I reckon I just study hard and get lucky." you'd reply, straightening the cuffs of your jacket nervously. The blonde always found it so endearing how bad you were at taking compliments.

So different from the rest of the scum in Capitol, he thought.

Eventually, he'd start to turn his verbal compliments towards things unrelated to your capabilities and work. And more towards things that were of a personal nature, like your looks and dress.

"Your hair looks very nice today." he comments one afternoon late after school, his shoulders brushing against yours as you both await your rides home. Your hands fly up to your hair, to the small crown of daisies adorning your head, as if you've almost forgotten what you were wearing.

"You think so?" you shyly ask, looking up at him nervously. "I wouldn't have worn it to the academy if we hadn't been called down on immediate notice. It's just that the family I babysit for on the weekends, their daughter just turned six and... well, she was very insistent on making me a flower crown."

He finds your embarrassment awfully cute.

"But I swear, when Dr Gaul turned to look at me today, I thought she was going to kill me."

Coriolanus only rolls his eyes playfully at that, knocking his shoulders against yours.

"And what would she know about first rate fashion? You look amazing."

It's the nicest compliment you've gotten over a silly crown of flowers, your heart warming and your breath stuttering at his words. It's what motivates you to lightly squeeze his right arm before you get into the car, your touch lingering in his mind long after you depart.

A month later, Coriolanus runs into you at the farmer's market on a Sunday. His instructions by Tigris to "buy some bread and oranges for tomorrow" are almost forgotten in one fell swoop when he sees you. Free from your usual academic attire, you're wearing a flowy lilac dress which sits right below your knees, the silky fabric glowing in the yellow sunlight.

"This color really suits you." he decides to whisper in your ear after discreetly sliding into the space next to you, the action so sudden that it causes you to jump. Your shoulders soften when you recognize his striking blue irises, and then you pout, punching him right in the chest.

"You scared me, Snow." you jokingly scold him. "And where are your manners? You should always introduce yourself first to a lady."

He pretends to be wounded by that, hand on heart whilst leaning backwards.

"My deepest apologies. Would this help?" he asks, effortlessly pulling a white rose from his back pocket. He revels in how your gaze lightens up in awe and amusement at the gesture.

"Perhaps so." you reply back, fingertips brushing against his.

The blonde takes it as a sign to slide it behind your ear, the memory of your etheral form with his flower tucked behind your right ear etched into his mind before you're called away by your friends.

------------------------------

two: soft touches

Once he's sure that his feelings are reciprocated, Coriolanus would start to step the line over into something more serious. He's not willing to open up immediately nor is he necessarily a man of romantic prose. A large part of him is scared, even, of the way you make him feel.

After all, what is love if not vulnerability?

And how he could be vulnerable with you, a woman so far out of his league, widely adored and your family amongst the wealthiest in Panem?

So it would start off when the class seating arrangements are changed and you're seated next to Coriolanus for the remainder of the year.

He'd start to purposefully spread his legs a little bit wider than usual, his knees always brushing against yours.

He'd take every chance he could to lean over to explain something to you, his face a few inches away from yours, if you ever seemed stuck on a question.

He'd open the classroom door for you in the mornings and offer to carry your heavy textbooks back to your family's car after school, insisting that it was because he wouldn't want you to trip on your heels. And if you'd ever insist on carrying the books on your own, he'd keep a gentle hand on your upper back to keep you upright "in balance."

Once, whilst presenting a speech at your father's fundraising dinner that you'd stayed up all night preparing for, you accidentally lose track of your speech. You stumble on your words, voice cracking in panic as you start to scan the page of thick text, all of which suddenly seem jumbled up and nonsensical.

Sensing distress, Coriolanus' hand quickly moves under the table to squeeze your left hand (hanging by your side) in a reassuring manner.

It's only then, somehow, that you find yourself able to re-focus on the printed text and continue your speech. Afterwards, you squeeze his hand back and whisper your gratitude.

"I owe you, Coriolanus."

Another time, it's a formal ball being hosted by the academy to mark the holiday season. After a few drinks, you're tipsy and manage to drag your friends up towards the balcony, despite it snowing outside and being below zero degrees.

Cautiously watching your every movement by where he's leaning by the bar, Coriolanus quickly makes an excuse to exit the conversation he found himself trapped in, before walking outside towards your shivering figure.

Your dress certainly isn't helping your situation, it being a satin slip dress with sleeves and a conservative cut out by your shoulders. It exposes your chilled skin as you rub the naked space with your arms, your staggered breaths coming out in white puffs of smoke.

"Corio! What're you doing he-" you start to walk towards him but nearly trip, his arms coming to supporting your body last second to save you from falling completely on your face.

"You shouldn't be outside in this weather." he comments, amused, as he helps you find your balance once more. But you refuse to re-enter the ballroom, choosing to instead excitedly ramble about how wonderful winter in the Capitol is and how you can't remember where you've placed your bag.

Listening earnestly to your ramblings with a smile on his face, he quickly shakes off his blazer.

"May I?" he asks. You blink slowly, heart fluttering at the gesture.

"O-okay."

The boy then carefully drapes his blazer over your shoulders, the act immediately enveloping your senses in his signature smells - oakwood and rose. Your fingers clutch the lapels of the jacket, your nose burrowing in to the softness of the fabric.

"Are you sure you won't be cold?"

He's freezing, of course, but he keeps his posture straight and tuck his hands into his pockets.

"I'm just fine. Don't you worry about me."

-------------------------------

three: nicknames

Once you two become an item, Coriolanus moves on to calling you affectionate names.

Of course, he'll prefer to call you by your name in professional settings - like during a presentation, in front of the Academy staff, at formal galas and dinners - but when it's just the two of you, or around people you both trust, or when he's jealous -

He almost never calls you by your name.

Darling is the classic, lovestruck expression he uses when he's being his most vulnerable. It's what he whispers into the gap underneath your neck when he's waking you up in the morning, landing kisses across your collarbone during sunrise. It's his greeting when he surprises you with a bouquet of flowers on your birthday, right before he whisks you away to a trip to district 1. It's what he cries into your hairline when you are hospitalized following a rogue rebel explosion on your trip home.

"Darling... darling, can you hear me?"

Coriolanus' voice is foggy, your head still ringing from the loud explosion earlier, but your heart still races at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand on yours. Throat croaking, you try to respond with an affirmative "yes", to which your boyfriend responds by quickly grabbing a near by cup of water.

Gently guiding the glass to your lips, he treats you as if you're a fragile porcelain doll: smoothing down your hair gently and fluffing up your pillows to lay you back down. It's only then that you get a good look at him under the flickering lights - the bags under his eyes look heavy, his usually neat hair a complete mess, his blue irises blood shot.

"Have you been sleeping, Corio?" you ask, worried, your thumb rubbing circles onto his palm. He chokes up at that, shaking his head sideways with a sad smile.

"How... how could you ask me that, darling? You've been in the hospital for days."

"I hope that doesn't mean you haven't been sleeping for days." you quip back, raising your eyebrows. Your boyfriend opens his mouth to lie, but the twitch of his lips gives him away. So you instead shift towards the left of your bed, making space for him on the mattress.

"Come on you silly man."

He smiles a guilty grin before snuggling up next to you, letting out a heavy sigh of content at your warm body against his.

Petal is his sweet, infatuated name for you when he's referring to you in conversation or calling out for you in front of friends and family. Tigris never fails to tease Coriolanus for the name, but he doesn't mind it - you're his flower, his precious petal.

"I can't believe you think this is ugly." Tigris sighs at the dinner table one night, shuffling through the myriad of designs on the desk. "This was going to be the design I send off to the boutique tomorrow."

"I didn't say it was ugly, I just think this design is far nicer." Coriolanus responds, pushing forward the blue design in front of him. His cousin pouts at that, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.

"Petal-" Coriolanus calls out for you, where you're cooking with grandma'am in the kitchen. "Could you come in for a moment?"

When your confused face pops into the room, Tigris quickly calls you over, dramatically stretching out her arms to grab you.

"Mr Snow seems to think this design - the gold sweetheart dress with lace trimmings - is uglier than this blue version. What do you think, (Y/n)?" she earnestly asks, pushing over the two designs to your direction. You shuffle through the papers intently, studying each drawing up close, before ultimately taking Tigris' side.

"I'd say your eye for design is impeccable, Tigris. And that Coriolanus should perhaps stick to things other than fashion."

That makes both grandma'am (who is listening in from the kitchen) and Tigris, burst out in laughter, with the latter throwing her arms around your waist in a sideways hug.

"Ah, I knew you were my favorite for a reason." she jokes.

"Petal, you wound me." your boyfriend jokes, a small scowl on his face for show. Though, when you lean down to kiss him, the scowl easily melts away.

My doll is what he calls you when he's driven sick by jealousy and possession. As, much to Coriolanus' distate, you have many admirers - due to you coming from a wealthy family and being a well known socialite in your own right.

Coriolanus has never liked Felix Ravinstill, but he swears his hatred for the president's son only tripled after you and Coriolanus became an item. Felix was never shy about his attraction to you - the forward compliments, the invitations to his house after school, the rush to sit next to you during lunch periods. But now, the blonde thinks, it's getting full on desperate.

As you sit reading a book in the hallways of tha academy, waiting for Coriolanus to finish his talk with Dr Gaul, the dark haired boy decides to chat with you. When your boyfriend opens the door discreetly, upon hearing your voice mingle with someone else's outside, his vision nearly turns red at how close the other man is to you.

You're pointing out something in your book to Felix, your innocent eyes fixated purely on the black and white text and thus completely missing how shamelessly the man next to you is eyeing you up and down. It takes Dr Gaul's shout - "actually, Ms (Y/n), could we have a word regarding your last proposal" - for Coriolanus' rage to slowly fade.

Instead, he starts to feel cold, hardened logic putting a plan into motion.

And once you're inside the classroom, Coriolanus doesn't hesitate to slam Felix up against the wall, making sure to angle the boy's head to hit directly against a marble statute. The impact isn't hard enough to crack the man's skull, the last minute measurement in Coriolanus' head ensuring that he wouldn't be punished for injuring the president's son.

But he makes sure that the impact hurts enough to leave a mark.

It makes Coriolanus' heart twist in pleasure.

"You better leave my doll alone, Ravinstill. She's not interested in you. She's never been interested in you." he spits, snarling like a ravenous dog.

"You're delusional, Snow, if you think she'd ever want to stay with you." Felix manages to spit out, trying to wiggle his way out of the taller man's hold, but Coriolanus is too strong.

"You're the only delusional one here. It's pathetic, really. All that money and social connections in the world, and it'll never be good enough for my doll."

Coriolanus can tell that hit a nerve with Felix, so he lets go of the shorter boy, nearly throwing him away to the side in the process. Pride and ego surges through his veins when you appear and call out for Coriolanus, so the blonde makes a concerted effort to kiss you fiercely for show.

His arm snaking around your shoulder to pull you right up against him, a devious smile on his lips.

-----------------------

four: lavish gifts and deep marks

Things only escalate once Coriolanus' tribute ends up winning the hunger games and he's crowned the winner of the Plinth Prize. Now saddled with money, reputation and a full ride scholarship to the university funneled by the Plinth family - he finally finds himself able to spoil you in all the ways possible.

Fresh flowers adorn your windowsill every morning. The finest jewellery and newest luxury bags are delivered to your doorstep at random. Perhaps most impressive of all, he buys a two bedroom apartment near the center of the Capitol for you two to move into.

"How'd you..." you can't even finish your sentence when you first see the place: the prime location, the high arched ceilings, the stainless marble... He hadn't even allowed you to pitch in any of your own - or your family's - money to buy the place, insisting that it was to be a complete surprise.

His arms come around your shoulder to hug you close, swaying you from side to side.

"Generosity of the Plinth family and the spoils of being the victor, darling." he drawls in your ear.

You're still in awe, hands tracing the intricate patterns of the roman columns supporting the ceiling, when he starts to tug you up the stairs.

"Would you like to see the view from our bedroom? It's magnificent."

Of course, Coriolanus' new elevated status and recent memory of acting as a mentor in the hunger games - planning, guiding, and having a role in the extended play of human lives - it all makes him quite obsessive and possessive of you. Given that you're one of the few people in his life who has known him for years now, before he was a mentor and before had all this money and status...

He has to make sure to keep you in his life. He's made a lot of enemies, after all, many of whom would like to harm him. And with his undying love for you, hurting you becomes an attractive option for his enemies.

So Coriolanus gets more possessive by becoming more shameless in public. He'll gladly call you his love in front of crowds of hundreds. He'll kiss you breathless and squeeze your lower back if he thinks a man is staring a bit too long at you. And when he knows you two will be separated for a few days - usually due to him having to travel out of the Capitol on business matters - he'll leave bite marks on your neck.

You didn't even think about how noticeable the marks might be when you rush out of bed one morning, having promised to attend an engagement dinner of a fellow classmate, Clemensia's. Your rude awakening comes when, mid-way through the rehearsal, Sejanus leans over to quietly ask if you've brought your foundation with you.

You scrunch your face at the odd question.

"Uh, yes... I have a powder compact in my bag, why?"

Your friend smiles at you apologetically, before motioning to your neck.

"Because, (Y/n), it looks like a vampire has bit you."

And when you look at your reflection in your wine glass, it's clear that you have odd, dark, bite shaped marks littering your collarbone and neck.

Later in the week, when Coriolanus has finally returned from his business trip, you try and scold him for it.

"I nearly died of shame, Corio. Seriously, you should've seen how Arachne was looking at me the whole night." you sigh, just as he laughs.

"You're over thinking it, darling. Besides, you weren't complaining when I was leaving those marks on you on Tuesday."

You open his mouth to scold him again, but find yourself unable to mutter a smart response, your thoughts flying away when he's back to attacking your skin with his mouth.

After all, you're like a drug to him - he can never get enough.

---------------------------------------

five: killing for you

Once Coriolanus is sure that you're not going to leave him, he finds it appropriate to take it to the next level: marriage. He drops a few thousand dollars on a large diamond ring, a ring which he makes sure you never take off (except in the shower).

At this point, the thought of losing you nearly equals his fears of losing everything he's built so far: becoming wealthy, powerful and well known amongst the Capitol's elite. He's terrified of living in a world without you and so he considers anyone who is deemed a threat must be dealt with in a secure, efficient manner.

No mercy, no hesitation.

After all, Coriolanus thinks one night, whilst sharpening a spare knife in the kitchen: if you give a rebel an inch, they'll run a mile.

The first person he kills is a security guard who fails to do their job correctly in protecting you.

He'd been hired by Coriolanus to protect you in your daily transport from the mansion to anywhere outside the Capitol (most often, to districts 1-3 to support your family's business dealings). But the bodyguard had failed to protect you one fateful winter day, leaving you to stumble back home with a twisted ankle and a busted lip as your bodyguard was only able to neutralize the threat after a few minutes of tussling with the gang's leader in the snow.

Your fiancee was fuming, sending you off to a near by hospital with grandma'am, before he motioned for your bodyguard to come downstairs to the empty garden.

The blonde didn't even feel an ounce of sorrow as he pulled the trigger, simply ordering the next bodyguard he'd hired to do the messy job of disposing of the body.

The second person he kills is a rebel who attempted to sneak a bomb underneath the car transporting you to the Capitol, following Coriolanus' announcement as candidate for the presidency.

The rebel was apprehended by the security detail team pretty quickly, so fast in fact that you weren't even made aware of the threat on your life. All you're told that day by Coriolanus' subordinates is that "there had been a change of plans" and you were to go to a fundraising dinner at an art museum instead to raise funds for the campaign.

And whilst you're off at the dinner, making a passionate speech for his presidency, Coriolanus makes an order for the rebel to be dragged out into the fields.

"You dare threaten the love of my life?" he sneers into the rebel's face, which is already bloodied and broken beyond recognition. The animalistic rage pumping through Coriolanus' veins is unlike anything he's ever felt before, and the gun in his hands suddenly feels like too much of a merciful ending for the rebel's crime.

"Just kill me." the rebel spits, but that only makes Coriolanus let out a sinister chuckle.

"Don't worry, I will. But I think a gun shot will be far too quick."

Instead, Coriolanus orders the man to be placed into a cage - a prototype that was being designed as a trap for the next year's games - and for a tub of venomous snakes to be released.

Whilst the other workers in his campaign look away from the horrific sight, Coriolanus just stares in great interest and pride. Once the screaming dies down, he calmly disposes of his bloodied shirt and hails a ride to greet you at the museum entrance.

"All good?" you ask, noticing an odd expression on your lover's face. But he just kisses you lightly on the lips, chuckling.

"Of course, petal. Why wouldn't it be?"

And so on and so forth. Whether it's directly or indirectly, Coriolanus becomes ruthless in securing your safety and your love. And he's so good at hiding it, he thinks, until one day he becomes a bit sloppy.

It was supposed to be an easygoing dinner at the mansion, a wealthy donor - his top donor, his campaign manager had informed him - named Robert Hemingworth had requested a private dinner. Coriolanus intially wanted to refuse, hating the thought of inviting a stranger to his home, but both you and his campaign manager agreed that it was best to play nice given the money at stake.

"For your troubles." Robert had said on his way in, a snarky smirk on his lips. In his arms were a basket of wines and grapes worth a pretty penny, but Coriolanus couldn't help but think that there was something about the brunette's gaze that he didn't trust. But with pursed lips and a fake smile, he forced out a thank you and invited the man into the foyer.

"What a... charming little abode." the oil tycoon had drawled, his gloved hands tracing along the walls. The sly comments and odd compliments (in truth, backhanded compliments) continued through out the night, all the way from appetizer to the main course. Sipping on copious bottles of red wine in an effort to keep himself grounded, Coriolanus was managing to keep his temper down until the older man asked about your whereabouts.

"Will your charming fiancee not be joining us?"

He froze at the man's questions, the hungry look in the millionaire's eyes and the underlying threat weighing down the atmosphere. The desserts had now arrived, two maids scurrying in with small plates of bread pudding, both of whom Coriolanus quickly dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"She's out with Tigris. Dress shopping." he'd decided to leave it at that, his left hand squeezing his glass so tight the glass started to crack. Coriolanus had hoped the man would leave the discussion there, as he wasn't sure what he was capable of doing if the older man didn't.

But the man continued. A disgusting moan escaping his lips in satisfaction after biting into the pudding, a devious smirk on his lips to match.

"Ah. Well, what a shame. I was hoping she would be part of the dessert."

No sooner than those words leave the millionaire's mouth, Coriolanus' left hand grabbed the knife laying on the board in front of him, where moments ago the maids were cutting cheese and ham. He then brings the blade to swiftly meet the older man's stomach, white dress shirt staining crimson red, all the while Coriolanus refuses to break the man's gaze.

"You fucking disgust me. Everyone in the Capitol fucking disgusts me one way or another, but you? You dare invite yourself to my home?" he retracts the knife, before stabbing it back into the suited man's flesh, each pause accentuated by another driving force.

"You dare speak about my love in such a vulgar manner?"

"You dare insinuate such sinful acts with my beloved?"

"You dare try and buy your way into her body?"

The marble floors are now flooded in a sea of red, the man's dying chokes and Coriolanus' heavy breaths overwhelming the room. The room stings of the smell of copper when you enter the space, quietly closing the door behind you, as you were only able to see the man on the floor and your boyfriend standing on top of him from the entrance.

"Corio? Love?"

The blonde turns around at the sound of your voice, face etched with annoyance.

Annoyed that you'd have to be subject to a vulgar sight like this. Annoyed that he'd stained your new kitchen set with an unworthy man's blood... And most of all, annoyed that he can't tell what you're thinking: your face kept completely neutral as you slowly approach him.

"You're back early." is all he decides to say, testing the waters.

You look down at his hands, soaked in hot blood, then down at the man who is writhing on the floor.

"Found what we wanted quickly, I suppose." you reply, stopping next to Coirolanus before leaning down to get a better look at the dying man. "Right, what was his deal?"

"Hm?"

It's only then that your plain expression breaks, your usually light eyes swimming with sinister charm, a coy smile breaking out on your face.

"Come on, Corio. You don't seriously think I didn't notice the amount of odd stains on your cufflinks? Or the terrified looks the house servants give you since the beginning of our engagement?"

He blinks, surprised. Coriolanus had always assumed he was covering his tracks well. Or that, at the very least, you'd have something to say about it all.

"He was making rather vulgar comments about you, darling. The bastard seems to have been making donations in an effort to get closer to you." he slowly explains as you stand back up, nodding slowly.

"Hm... Yes, that is rather concerning. And I suppose you've gone too far ahead for us to save him, always the temperamental lover you are." you tease.

Your humorous response and your unwillingness to run away from the darkness of the situation, it awakens something fierce in Coriolanus that he hasn't felt for you before.

"I suppose."

The euphoria he feels when your delicate fingers lace his to grab the knife instead, before you finally drive the blade down and end the man's life, is indescribable.

"I think you owe me a new dress." you say quietly, dropping the knife onto the floor.

The blonde wastes no time gathering you up in his arms, kissing you so fiercely that it almost hurts your neck.

"I think I owe you more than that, darling. How about the entirety of Panem?"

He'd do anything for you. The entirety of Panem be damned.

a/n: omg this has got to be the darkest piece of writing + fucked up ending I've ever written in like years of writing on tumblr 😅😭 but idk I'm obsessed with an idea of Corio's partner being someone who embraces him wholeheartedly and surprises him by being darker than she seems on the surface.

please leave a like/comment/reblog/ask if you've enjoyed, your support is what motivates me to write!

ALSO I've just re-opened my requests bc I would love to receive some corio fic ideas, so please send in your corio thoughts if you have any 🥺🥺🥺

[bedcchem]

knight!iwaizumi who knows it’s so wrong to be feeling this way, to be doing this right now…

but he just can’t bring himself to stop.

“oh, god, princess,” he groans in your ear at the drag of his thick cock in and out of your tight, sopping pussy. his hands grip your plush thighs, his lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your neck, careful to not leave any marks on your skin.

you gasp, chills running down your spine as his hips roll into yours at a slow, deep pace. “oh, hajime—” you whisper in his ear, your voice soft and saccharine as your lips brush against his lobe.

everything about this is so wrong. you are to marry another man—a wealthy duke—in a week’s time to fulfill your role as the nation’s princess and future queen.

and yet… your heart belongs to another.

“i love you,” you softly whine, your eyes glazed with both pained and pleasured tears.

iwaizumi’s eyes squeeze closed as he feels so damn close… “fuck, princess, i love you too—” he chokes out, “more than anything in this world…”

it seems as if the world is getting smaller, where nothing else matters besides the two of you, pretending that you are not a princess and he is not your guardsman. pretending that this illicit affair couldn’t cost iwaizumi his position and, possibly, his life. pretending that this forbidden love will not taint you—where every other experience you’ll have will just pale in comparison to the way iwaizumi makes you feel…

“hajime—!” you softly cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as everything became so damn tight. and as you fall into the throes of ecstasy, iwaizumi cannot hold himself back any longer, letting out a reserved, strangled groan as he paints your insides a creamy white.

your knight shall always be there. he has sworn an oath to the crown to protect you with his life, his entire being. and even if you must marry another man, you know the true gentleman who has your heart.

the one who holds it in his rough, calloused, armored hands.

a/n: knight!iwaizumi has me in a chokehold istg

enjoy my masterlist!

mdni. do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bedcchem 2024.

[joelsdagger]

walk the line || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | ao3

pairing: boston qz!joel x f!reader summary: you and joel have a deal: sex in exchange for supplies. no questions asked. so what happens when you do? or joel fucks you while you’re in a headlock. that’s pretty much it. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: boston qz era, undefined relationship, mentions of sexual favors, choking, rough unprotected p in v sex, dark!joel, mean!joel [in the sense that he doesn’t let her come oops :( ], dubcon [reader tries to loosen his grip], noncon [i’m putting this here just in case], no aftercare. think that’s it. word count: 1.2k

a/n: just….don’t ask. i don’t know what this is. thank you to @papurgaatika for holding a gun to my head so i would post this looking this over, love you schmooks <3 

please heed the tags. protect your peace if this isn’t for you.

He’s being rough. Rougher than the countless times he’s fucked you before. 

In the time since you and Joel started this whole arrangement, you never needed to tell him to fuck you at a blistering pace. He just did it. 

Because you and him are the same. He told you that once. He said that you and him are two sides of the same coin. Both of you are always keeping your walls up and people out. Always keeping everyone at arm’s length. It made this arrangement easy, simple. 

There was just one rule: Nothing personal. A rule you happily got on board with. Getting personal is not really your thing. You learned that it was easier to survive at the end of the world without having someone to care about. Staying detached worked for you. You didn’t care enough about Joel Miller to even bother giving him a second thought. 

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe. 

A few minutes ago, you made the mistake of doing just that. 

You got personal. Flicked open the glass casing and pushed the big red button. Nobody gets personal with Joel Miller. Most importantly, you don’t. No. Never you. And now he’s punishing you. Maybe he’s punishing himself too, because he didn’t stop you. Didn’t stop this.

He’s being brutal, intense, and mean. And usually you could handle it because, like plenty of times before, you wanted him to.

But this time, you didn’t.

Your cunt is sensitive, and it hurts; it burns more and more with every rough snap of his hips; warm liquid pricks at your eyes in discontent. Your swollen cunt betrays you, squeezes around his wide girth, and he grunts against the shell of your ear in response. You’re sure he thinks you're begging him for more. To him, the swift flutter of your cunt is a silent tell to pick up the pace. 

And he does. Relentlessly. 

With every unforgiving thrust of his hips, knocking the wind out of your lungs, and the firm hold of his forearm against your neck, compressing your throat, you were barely hanging on. Black spots spatter across your vision, and your eyes slip closed; tears of anguish streak down your cheeks.

It’s too much. You choke on a sob, and your hand comes up to his left arm, weakly tugging at it, attempting to make space between the crook of his elbow and your neck to suck in an ephemeral breath of air. 

Instead, he tightens his grip on you; his left arm pulls you into his chest, and his right hand moves heavily to the top of your head as he brutally fucks up into your throbbing hole. Your head dips back beneath his chin, and the crown of your skull stings as the plastic clip hanging out at the bottom of the valve of his gas mask digs into your scalp.

Your failure to follow his rule — his only rule — had pissed him off so immensely that he didn’t even waste a second to remove his mask.

His muffled voice cuts through the thick haze that took over your mind. “Stay,” he orders through gritted teeth, and you obey.

Because he’s teaching you a lesson.

With him, you mind your tongue.

With him, you do as you're told. 

With him, you don’t ask questions.

With him, you don’t get fucking personal. 

And with your head locked between both of his strong arms and his fat cock hammering your cunt, punching at your cervix — forcing himself in — he makes certain of that. Makes your mind go fucking blank. Because when your sloppy cunt is stuffed full of his cock, your mind goes fuzzy, and your body goes limp in his hold, you are in no position to question him. To pry. To challenge him. To fight him. A brutal, shattering reminder that Joel Miller calls the shots.

And Joel doesn’t say a word. Not this time. Not when he’s using your body as a way to cope with his anger — to get himself off. It’s all breathless groans and grunts that tell you your holes are enough to satisfy him. And for a moment, you can’t help but wonder if this is how he always saw you — a means to an end.

Maybe you felt the same way about him.

You don’t have time to dwell on it because then you feel it — he twitches inside your aching cunt, signaling his rapid release. He hisses as he pulls out of your wasted hole, his length bobs against the crease beneath your ass, smearing your sweaty skin with your mixed wet. His cock throbs against you as his seed spills onto your quivering legs, coating your inner thighs, and leaking onto the tattered, moth-eaten mattress. 

You whimper pathetically as his arms release you, and your shuddering form falls forward, crashing into the dusty mattress beneath you. Your chest heaves as your hand comes up to the column of your neck, your weak fingers pressing at the sharp, searing pang there. You don’t doubt your skin has already begun to smart. You cough profusely as your lungs fill with air, a humiliating attempt at catching your breath. 

Joel’s left hand comes down beside your head on the mattress, cushioning his fall as he hovers over you. He groans as his other hand replaces your cunt, and with every fast, wet pump of his fist, the pulsing tip bumps against your skin; his release now paints the small of your back.

A first. 

And in the back of your mind, you try telling yourself it’s his way of claiming you — that he still wants you after you stepped out of line. Your stomach lurches at the same time your cunt flutters at the thought. You’re not sure how you feel about it, but you do know you feel empty without him inside you. And other than what happened here, he typically makes you feel good. Leaves you satisfied before he chases his own release.

Today, he didn’t. He used your body as a means for punishment, and you let him. A penance. For crossing the line he told — you both agreed not to overstep. 

A few moments later, you’re pulling your distressed jeans over your cum-coated thighs while your glassy eyes watch Joel as he zips up his own, his eyes fixed on the molded wooden floor in front. “Joel,” your voice hoarse and raw. 

He peers up at you beneath his lashes, the sunlight clawing through the taped-up window catches on his eyes; the amber in his hazel irises glowering in the light. 

“It won’t happen again,” you whisper.

“No,” he leans forward, grabs his gas mask you didn’t notice he pulled off, and the orange pill bottle you were meant to deliver to him without sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, and he grunts while he moves to stand, “it won’t.” 

And only when his heavy footsteps fade down the dark hallway of the abandoned building on the outskirts of the QZ, leaving you alone to stare back at the pale, rotten wallpaper with a painful and pleading ache between your trembling legs, do you realize exactly why no one defies Joel fucking Miller.

[yuquinzel]

FORMS OF AFFECTION feat ⨾ blue lock !

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ contents ⨾ gn! reader, fluff, bllk boys as forms of affection!

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ characters ⨾ rin, sae, nagi, reo, isagi, chigiri.

ITOSHI RIN. . .

fills the gap between your fingers with his own, entwining them tightly and lovingly. he does it to keep you close in crowds— firm and protective, making sure to always keep you in his sights. he does it on mornings he wakes up before you, always following it up with dusting his lips across your knuckles. he holds onto your hand when you're watching his horror favorites, and if you ask him, it's not really intentional— he just does it subconsciously, seeking for your hand like it's only natural to be connected to you. it grounds him. it makes him remember that you're with him, and he holds on to your hand with the sincerity of never wanting to let go.

ITOSHI SAE. . .

rakes his fingers through your hair— soft and tentative, brushing back the strands of hair behind your ears. he repeats it with a rhythm, of low hums and silken touches under the night. he knows it calms you, a wave of serenity washing over your senses when you feel his fingers thread along your hair. if he's being honest, it's more of a selfish act than a serving one because you don't know that the feel of your hair in his hand is nothing but a gentle reminder of not being alone. he feels all his worry knots unwind the moment you smile at him, so really it's much more selfish than he wishes it was.

NAGI SEISHIRO. . .

bites your fingers— never too harsh but always following it up with a chaste kiss to soothe whatever little hurt it could leave in its traces. it's laced with a childish mischief, but something intimate. the cuts of his teeth brushing lightly against the tip of your finger before you feel the softness of his lips. its a habit leftover from way before you started dating, something that makes your heart skip millions of beat in one second. he does it to get your attention, and then to keep it, and it's something that always works.

REO MIKAGE. . .

kisses your wrists, fingers loosely wrapped around it under the cold pooling your sheets. he's sweet and shy, his laugh nothing but a vibrato of sound spilling against your skin as much as the moonlight. it's a foreign feeling that you're growing accustomed to, and he holds your hand till his fingers slip to your wrist. then, he brings his lips to meet the warmth of your skin. his lips linger with the ache of home, time melts before you pull your next breath and he smiles against your skin, again.

ISAGI YOICHI. . .

greets you with the press of his lips to your forehead— never lasting more than a few heartbeats. his lips are warm unlike his hands, and he can never resist the smile tugging at his lips when you dip your head forward just seconds before he kisses you. it's how he greets and it's how he bids a farewell, a muffled love you, i'll see you later escapes his lips and it feels as though times melts into infinity before he can kiss you again.

CHIGIRI HYOMA. . .

ruffles your hair, it's always followed up by a i promise i'll see you later because he's leaving and you're pouting and he thinks you look so cute. his laugh sputters through the air like scattered breaths and echoes till it leaves reminders of him. he rests his hand on the crown of your head, giving it a few pats before ruffling your hair. and he'll do the same when he sees you again, maybe less for the act itself and more for your reaction— the pink dusting your cheeks. he thinks he'll definitely see you again.

© yuquinzel2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights! ]

[ambrosiaaddiction]

141 men seeing how frustrated you are with the sweltering summer heat, and they find a solution to help their precious lady love cool down.

Ghost will pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, and march into your bedroom. Of course, there would be plenty of protests on your end until he cuts you off with a very passionate kiss. After you’ve calmed down, you find yourself wrapped up in his arms, a cooling blanket covering you up to your chin, and his big hands rubbing circles on your back. He knows you’re satisfied the moment you melt against him, and he murmurs the softest “I love you” before drifting off into a peaceful afternoon nap.

Soap somehow convinces you to leave the house, your safe haven in this unforgiving summer. He promises you that the trip is “worth the drive, bonnie”. You can’t find it in yourself to stay mad at him. Ten minutes later, you’re staring at the long line outside of the ice cream parlor. Being the sweetheart he is, he tells you to stay in the air-conditioned car while he waits in line. He comes back with two huge ice cream cones and a huge toothy grin plastered on his face.

Gaz doesn’t need to convince you for very long about going to the beach. You’ll never understand how your worries melt away when he gives you a soft kiss on the crown of your head. Once you’re all packed and you’ve changed into your favorite bathing suit, he has to take a step back to admire you. He whistles lowly, unabashedly committing every single detail about you to memory. You swear you hear him say, “all mine” under his breath. Your stay at the beach was lovely, and you even captured some pictures of him basking in the warm sunlight.

Price would smile fondly, crinkles in the corners of his eyes while you press a cold can of soda against your cheek. He’ll brush your hair to the side, asking that you go lie down on the bed, but doesn’t tell you what he has planned. A few minutes later, he comes back and kneels beside you, pressing soft kisses on your neck. He’ll softly coo at your gasp, and your shirt was lifted high enough for him to gently place a singular ice cube on your skin. “Always so good f’me” he praises you as his breath fans across the shell of your ear. Well, let’s just say you didn’t care about the heat anymore.

[rowarn]

afab!reader, keegan fucking up into you, creampie <3

for the anon who wanted keegan content after PLM 🫡 i didn't forget about u

there was something you absolutely loved about being pressed against keegan. When he was laid back against the bed, you in his lap, his strong arms wrapped around you and pinning your chest against his. 

you were already drooling against his bare shoulder from the way he was slowly rutting his hips up, his feet braced against the bed so he could get the most leverage. his blunt nails bite into your skin but you hardly even notice the burning sensation. 

“fuck,” he finally speaks, that deep, raspy voice sending heat straight to your core, “needed this. needed you all fuckin’ day.”

“kee…” you can’t help but whimper, lashes fluttering when the tip of his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot inside. 

you don’t have the room or movement freedom to look between your bodies to see the mess you’re making all over him but you can feel it. you can feel the slick slide of your thighs against his hips and you can hear the gooey, sticky noises that your pussy makes when he slides inside you. 

your clit rubbed against the firm plane of his stomach every time his hips met your ass. you were jostled, easily rocked to his rhythm and you loved every second of it. 

“so sweet,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “bein’ so good for me.”

you keen under his praise, heat flushing to your cheeks when you involuntarily clench down around him. you know he feels it too, in the way he grunts and chuckles under his breath.

he adjusts his grip on you and you barely even have time to prepare yourself before he fucks up into you hard. 

you yelp when the tip of his cock knocks against your cervix. it hurts but it’s not anything new – keegan’s got a nice, long cock and you’ve come to enjoy that sweet pang of pain. 

he shushes you softly when you cry out but he doesn’t hold back. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room and underneath your cries of pleasure you can hear the wet sound of your cunt swallowing every inch of his cock. 

the sounds he makes are quiet, easily missed under the volume of your own cries but you hear them nonetheless. and they’re lovely. keegan isn’t very vocal so you soak up any little sounds he supplies you. you’ve dreamt of pinning him down and riding him until he has no choice but tho cry out and moan for you. but you know that’s just a pipe dream because keegan is always in charge and has more self control than you think one could ever have. 

it just made the sounds he gave you all the more precious.

another thing about keegan was his unbelievable stamina. even supporting your weight, doing all the work to fuck his pretty cock up into your sweet little cunt, he wasn’t even out of breath. you were a mess – panting, moaning, drooling, and crying from how well he fucked you. every thrust was well-aimed to that gooey little spot deep inside you that only keegan was able to reach. 

pleasure fogged your brain, with your pussy stuffed nice and full, getting fucked just right and your clit grinding against him with every movement, you couldn’t even think properly beyond him. his name fell from your lips like a mantra, music to his ears. 

“g-gonna cum,” you manage to babble out between pleasured huffs. 

“i know,” he grunts, hand cupping the back of your neck in a firm grip, to keep you pinned against him. he loved the feeling of you drooling all over him, fucked nice and dumb all for him. he knew your body like the back of his hand, recognized the sweet breaks in your voice, the tight, wet clutching of your cunt, and the way your pretty body trembled and twitched in his hold. 

“keegan!” you cry, raking your nails down his skin as your feet kick up and slam back down to the bed, the stimulation becoming too much the higher you’re pushed to your orgasm. 

“yeah, baby,” he grunts from effort as he fucks you deeper and harder, working to get you over that edge, “i’m right here, babydoll. go ahead and cum for me, fuck.”

and you do. 

clutching at him and crying out in pure pleasure as you cream a sweet little mess around his cock. he imagines pulling out and seeing your cum covering his cock, imagines making you get on your knees and clean him up as thank you for fucking you so well. the image makes him moan, his own eyes rolling back in his head. his cock twitches and throbs in the heat of your twitching pussy and before you even come down, he’s filling you with his load. 

getting to creampie you is a  nice little reward for working hard all day and coming home to you <3

[enhard]

park sunghoon — “birthday sex”

pairing: best friend!p. sh x fem!reader

: you celebrate your birthday with your friends. who knew that your best friend had a special present to offer?

cw: SMUT, everything is consensual, implied first time, car sex, alcohol usage, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both receiving), squirting on face, making out, spitting, somewhat pussy drunk sunghoon, fluff (if you squint)

this is so long for no reason ejrisjsjssk

not proofread, specially made this for my wife 🩷 happy birthday love !

————————⁺˚⋆｡°✩🎂✩°｡⋆˚⁺————————

“WAKE UPP!!” is all you hear in your ears while being half asleep. you jump out of bed terrified, then sigh when you see that it’s just heeseung. you refuse to make eye contact being mad pissed that he woke you up like this.

“well… happy birthday grumpy!! you have so much to do today. come in the kitchen, jay made breakfast.” he adds, smiling at you while you’re fuming trying not to curse him out.

“k..” is all leaves your mouth, pairing it with a death glare, giving heeseung the sign to leave. he luckily gets it before you jump him so you start getting ready. you spent the night before in their dorm, in their spare room. you decide to look through the dresser to see if you can find any clothes to wear for the day since you didn’t bring any..

you find a grey hoodie, you can tell it’s one of theirs but you just shrug your shoulders to yourself and wear it. you take off your shirt, with your bare back at the door since you didn’t wear a bra to sleep.

right as you were almost putting your hoodie on, sunghoon comes in through the door. he freezes seeing your bare back like that, and he does stare. but he quickly apologises and closes the door when you scold him to get out.

it wasn’t alot and.. he did see you in a swimsuit before, this couldn’t be any worse right? why is he feeling different about this? well he just bites his lip, gives himself a slap over the head and sits down with the others.

you’re mad embarrassed, in shock even. but you quickly put the hoodie on and do your hair a bit. you go brush your teeth and awkwardly sit down at the dining table.

all members are smiling at you, about to say happy birthday. you slowly look up at them except sunghoon, giving them a smile.

jake breaks the silence by clearing his throat. “happy birthday y/n!! sooo… what plans do you have today?” you shrug your shoulders at him. “i’m not sure.. i was thinking about spending my day with you guys.. if that’s okay.”

sunghoon suddenly chokes on his ramen, looking at you with wide eyes. you glare back at him giving him a “what?”. he shakes his head, trying to swallow his food. his adam’s apple bobbing up and down with his swallowing. “nno im fine.. nothing”. you sigh at him and look back at jake.

sunoo furrows his eyebrows at the hoodie you’re wearing. he points at it while pouting his lips. “isn’t that sunghoon’s hoodie?” your eyes widen again. “..huh?” . sunghoon looks a bit embarrassed remembering what happened before. “you can keep it..” he says, looking down. —

you all finish eating what jay made, and start getting ready to attend a bar for your birthday. the led lights from the dark room are shining in your eyes, seeing so many people there. you notice jungwon and go up to him. he made you a flower crown, softly putting it on your head. you smile at him widely. “thank you won, seriously it’s so pretty!” he smiles back, “anything for our queen afterall.”

you notice sunghoon staring at both of you, then looking away when you make eye contact. “the fuck??” you think. what is wrong with sunghoon today? he’s always so nice, why is he avoiding you now? well still. you brush it off to hang out with the others.

your girl friends are there too, dancing to certain songs with sunoo and riki. you laugh at them by how not in sync they are it’s actually hilarious. then you notice heeseung and jay playing a game involving shots at the bar. you go up to them, trying to lift up your mood a bit. “heyyy guys, what are you doing?” “oh! y/n ‘sup! wanna join us?” heeseung says. “you know what, sure. give me that.” you down 2 shots before thinking its enough for now.. you don’t want to get too drunk.

you start dancing along with the others, enjoying yourself and smiling.. until someone grabs your hand. it’s jake. “hey y/n .. let’s go outside, the others are waiting. we got a surprise for you.” you get a bit confused but you hold jake’s hand tighter, letting him guide you outside. you see the others sitting on a big blanket under a tree very close to where you are. you walk with jake up to them, seeing a lit up cake in the middle. you smile, appreciating their gesture. sunoo picks the cake up to hand it to you while they start singing you happy birthday.

“happy birthday to you,

happy birthday to you,

happy birthday dear y/n,

happy birthday to you!”

they all sing at the same time with big smiles on their faces. the sun is out already, yet your face lights up with the light from the candles. after they finish singing, you make a wish and blow the candles. they clap and sunoo screams out of excitement. you put the cake in a box to bring home. “now.. the presents!” sunoo says. you get pretty shocked that they even got you presents but you sit down in between sunoo and jake, smiling at them. “guys.. you didn’t have to..”

“nonsenseee!! of course we had to! you’re the best.” sunoo smiles at you.

they all take turns giving you a symbolic present or the stupidest but cutest present you’ve ever seen. no in between. you notice that sunghoon didn’t give you anything but.. you don’t pay much attention to him, being busy thanking them all and giving them hugs. “thank you.. guys seriously you’re the sweetest.” they all smile at you, standing up finally. “well, what are we waiting for? let’s go party now.” riki says. they all nod, running back to the building. you’re the last one to stand up so you’re a bit behind.

then..

you feel sunghoon’s hand grabbing yours, forbidding you from leaving. “wait.” he says in a low voice. before you can reply, he pulls you into an embrace. your bodies so close to each other, holding eye contact.. you were freaking out a bit. “hoon..what are you-“ but before you can finish your sentence, he pulls you into a kiss. you two never kissed before, yet you loved it so much. you push your lips onto his even harder, beginning to make out right there.

you slowly wrap your arms around his neck, forcing him to take steps back. you break the kiss to look into his eyes then back to his lips. “hoon.. should we really be doing this?” “what, you don’t want to?” “i do… i really do.” sunghoon smiles, grabbing your hand again. “alright then, let me show you my birthday present.” he walks with you to their shared car, making you get in the backseat. you lay down, waiting for him to get on top. as soon as he does, you start kissing him again, craving his lips endlessly.

“take my shirt off.” he says. your eyes widen a bit but you do exactly as he says. you lift his shirt above his head, revealing that abdomen you missed seeing each winter. only then you realised how badly you needed him, and how badly he needed you.

you move your hands down to caress his body, stopping your hand at his pants. you get this sudden urge to please him. you want to see all his reactions.

you manage to flip both of you over, now you being on top of him, looking down to focus on his bulge. you quickly unzip his pants and take his boxers off. sunghoon was surprised how fast you were too but, he does not mind a bit. you stare at his cock, already leaking precum, looking so pretty, so untouched. you grab it to start stroking him, but sunghoon grabs your wrist, making you stop. “spit on it first.” and you do. that lubes it up pretty good so you keep going.

you stroke him a few times but then you decide to just get over your fears. you move your body downwards, now facing his cock. “let me suck it, please?” i mean, how could he refuse. he nods once, sitting up to grab onto your hair. you start licking at his tip, slowly pushing him in your mouth. you start choking a bit but he encourages you to keep going. so you start bobbing your head up and down, making sure to get his whole length in. he lets out small moans, assuring you that you’re doing well.

you never thought you would do this with your best friend but you don’t regret it. in fact your subconscious has been waiting for this moment.

since he sat up, you can’t look at him anymore, so you push him back down so you can make eye contact again. the way you pushed him caused him to pull at your hair, you don’t mind but he really thought he hurt you so he caresses your head a bit to ease the pain.

this keeps going for a pretty long time, drooling all over his cock getting so messy all of a sudden, he’s even getting closer to cum and you can feel that. you try sucking him as fast as you can, the lewd wet sounds overpowering the silence from the car.

when he’s right about to cum, you pull your head away still drooling a bit. you pump him a few more times with your fist but he actually pushes YOU down now. he needs to taste you right now, and he’s going to show you what he can do. he looks up at you for reassurance before taking off your clothes, one by one.. leaving you in your underwear. he slides your panties off, revealing that pussy he’s been dreaming about.

“fuck.. baby you’re perfect.” he bites his lip, getting ready to go down on you. he starts with licking your folds, moving up to your clit.. sucking and licking that bud so roughly. it caught you off guard but you don’t want him to stop.. you grab onto his hair tightly, throwing your head back. after he moves back down to your folds, to insert his tongue inside you. he whines a bit as he’s eating you out and those vibrations made you squeeze his head between your thighs. you’re moaning constantly like your mouth is chatterbox. he uses his hands to part your thighs again, keeping them there. you can barely hold on anymore, getting close to your release. “cum on me love..” he says between licks. his words giving you goosebumps, you squirt all over his face.

he gives your pussy a little kiss before standing up, now you can barely look at him.. he’s drenched. you try to wipe it off how you can but his face is still glistening from your wetness. he smiles at you to reassure you again that he enjoyed it. a bit too much.

“please fuck me hoon.. fuck me already i need it please..” you’re becoming so desperate for his cock like you’re about to explode. he doesn’t keep you waiting though, he gets into position, stroking himself a few times before shoving his cock inside you. you’re gonna drive him crazy with how good you feel around him. you’re so wet it’s making his head spin.

he wants to fuck you dumb right now. but he needs to be patient for you. he lets you adjust to him and when you give him the signal, he thrusts into you like there’s no tomorrow. he makes sure not to hurt you but at the same time he’s bending your legs into a mating press just to get deeper inside you. he’s fucking you so rough the whole car is shaking with both of you worried that someone will catch you.

you’re both letting out such loud noises, moans snd curses that you swear someone from the bar could hear. he grabs your legs to place on his shoulders, just to fuck you until you can’t anymore.

after a bit of that, he finally grabs onto your thighs, as he’s about to cum. you clench around him out of pleasure, making it impossible for him to continue.

“fill me up..please fuck fuckfuck”

he fulfills your birthday wish. he cums deep inside you, still leaving small thrusts after he was done pumping.

he slowly pulls out, all that cum oozing out onto the seats.. heeseung won’t be very happy about this that’s for sure. but atleast you had an amazing time.

you pull him into a hug, kissing his neck a few times. you both catch up your breaths not actually believing what just happened .

you both help each other clean up but there’s no way you’re returning to that bar. you might as well go home.. but there’s one thing sunghoon forgot to say.

“happy birthday, pretty girl.”

[screampied]

‘ HIT OR MISS ?! ’

𝜗℘ feat. toji, sukuna, choso, nanami, gojo. letting them hit ‘n rating their pull out games.

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, weak pull out games, doggy, mıssionary, mating prēss, cowgirl, brēeding mentions, praise, dirty talk, impact play, size kinks, pússy whipped men, premature ejac, dumbificafion, size differences, spıt.

GOJO ☆

he doesn’t last a single second. gojo has the weakest pull out game—there’s no debate.

he’s got a glowering pout forming on his glossed quivering lips as he holds your hips in place. “fuuuck,” he chews the inside of his cheek, gazing at the way your cunt easily swallows him. gojo’s angered red tip thoroughly swivels around inside before stretching you out, wearing you thin. just minutes ago, he was talking your ear off on how he was gonna be the best you’ve ever had, how you were gonna moan his name until your voice gave out, and yet - he folded. with snowy brows curling toward each other to form a furrow, gojo moans at the incoming pangs of waves surging through his body. “babyyy, ‘s so fuckin’ good. don’t think ‘m gonna last.”

“i told you, ‘toru,” you huff out a single breath at him, feeling his brief pounds of weight stick against your skin like it was adhesive. you’re holding back moans by sinking the keen edges of your teeth into the skin of your lips. “ ‘s okay, touch me more though,” and his face flushes at your sudden arms slinging over his stiff shoulders. as he’s thrusting in and out, sloppy wet hits of sounds ring through one ear and out the other. your voice was so sweet to him, any word you spoke had him even more whipped than he already was. “don’t be shy.”

“ngh, god you’re so hot,” he whimpers into your neck, his haughty persona immediately fading. gojo shivers a bit, grinding his body up against yours until the bed underneath you starts to creak. shaky shivering breaths ghost down against your skin before his pace grows weak, humping into you with his mouth prying open. “fuck, fuck. ‘m gonna make a mess,” and a gasp wretches from his throat as he locks eyes with you. “c- can i make a mess on you? p- please.”

“go ‘head,” you coo, cupping both warm sides of his face. you’re met with crystalline blue eyes that forevermore got lost with yours.

he’s so feral, feeling himself stick against you each time he moves. both bodies were one as they collide together in bliss. his pace grows more and more frantic before he’s biting into your neck to conceal his candied sweet whimpers. “you’re such a baby,” you tease, running a few fingers down his faded undercut. oh, he always loved whenever you did that. gojo shudders, weighty cock expanding through your walls as your digits roamed. “make a mess, ‘toru. ‘s okay, promise.”

“i- i’m not a baby,” he tries to chastise, yet he’s the one pouting and whimpering into your ear the moment he finishes abruptly. gojo’s knees give out almost right away. it’s cute how he tries to keep up with his smug façade, but now, he’s a mess. all you had to do was run a few fingers down his undercut as he’s finishing inside of you and he was finish. gojo whines, growing hard as his bright blue eyes takes in your beauty — you’re so pretty being underneath him like this. the melting crown of his cock smacks up against your g-spot over and over until you’re seeing nothing but pure white. “ngh, fuck. squeeze me s- so tight. sloppy fuckin’ cunt,” he sucks his teeth, feeling himself not only shoot blanks but shoot ropes of hot cum deep into your womb.

he reached a potent state and you moan right along with him, gently seeping your teeth into the soft edges of his neck. white lashes stick shut against his eyes—glossy and murky. he can barely look at you because he’s embarrassed. gojo groans, realizing he came quicker than he intended. it’s warm, your pussy constricts around his length even still while he’s stuffing you full of his seed.

“toru, baby,” you hum, trying to get his attention, cupping his face once more. you then bring a quick kiss toward his lips. he moans at the taste of you, briefly closing his eyes as your hips steady itself. a raw whimper dies from the back of his throat as he allows you to take control, breathy lungs preparing to collapse as he’s just dumping such mass amounts of cum into your greedy cunt. “good boy, thaaat’s it,” you purr to him, feeling his head shift and lean into your touch. he was so weak for you—even if he never admitted it. gojo’s lip quivers whenever you praise him. he’s a wreck, sweat coats near the bridge of his nose as he whines, a sudden salty taste lingering on the back of his tongue. his cock remains still, swollen tip red and flushed by the crown. as he’s sat upright, hovering over you, his body twitches and your eyes glance down toward his exposed perky nipples.

“heh, w- what’s with that look, angel?” he sheepishly pants, flaccid cock plugging you full even still after he finished just seconds ago.

your stare—you looked hungry for more. gojo nervously laughs until he stares at his pecs too. his nipples were pink and swollen. “mhh,” you leisurely lean into him, latching your plump lips onto one of his pecs. he moans, still feeling sensitive from his recent release but your lips—he was even more sensitive. your tongue rolls around his nipple before you suck hard, closing your eyes and sliding your free hand down his chest.

“god, you’re kinda kinky today,” he tries to joke. but there was no joke—because gojo whines the second he feels himself grow hard again. and that’s right when he knew, he was about to cum yet again. “o- oh fuck.”

TOJI ☆

“bend over f’me,” he gruffs and your ass is met with a rude spank once he flips you over on your chest. the second your left ass cheek gets met with the front of toji’s bare open palm, you moan. “mhm, don’t get shy. let’s see that arch again,” and your face gets smushed right in between the crimson colored silk sheets. on command, your hips raise up and you lean into his roughly smooth touch. “atta girl, let’s see my favorite wet pussy.”

“t- tojiiii,” you drag out his name, sucking in an incoming breath. it was almost embarrassing how much he made you clench, how much he made you pulse. he rubs a palm against the stinging part of your ass before aligning his leaky tip. your cunt was soaked, profusely sweltering hot with your own slippery slick. he licks his lips at the sight, tip of his tongue swiping against his scar as he smacks his fat cock against your puffed folds. “don’t tease me, p- please.”

a dark throaty cackle leaves from his lips as he leans down, staring at your drooling cunt before spitting right down between your slit. “quiet, baby girl. i’ll fuckin’ tease ya if i want,” and you moan, feeling the fat pad of his thumb smear the lustrous trail of saliva near your hole and back down towards your clit. you whimper, feeling your thighs jitter in pleasure at just how nasty he really was. “my my, look at this pretty girl down here cryin’ for more of me,” he rasps, gathering another wad of saliva before spitting straight onto your sopping cunt. he snickers, rubbing the head of his mushroom tip around your opening before finally inserting himself inside. “don’t know who’s fuckin’ whinier. you or this crybaby of a pussy, heh.”

toji’s so big, so fucking big. without a doubt he’s a packer, stretching your cunt open in all the right ways and angles. within minutes, your jaw’s already dangling open - it’s stupid, you’re stupid.

with every milliseconds that passes—his cockhead continues to repeat itself, thrashing and french kissing up near the throbbing bulb of your sensitive clit. your jaw tightens as he’s mercilessly rutting into you, sharp hips giving you crazed whiplash. “fuck, fuck,” you whimper, gasping once he grabs one of your wrists, restraining it around your back. your limbs grew knobbly as the heavy base of his cock smacks against your ass. you’re dizzy, insanely so—you whine, trying to fit the bawled fist of your hand into your mouth. but alas, it’s to no avail because you’re left drooling, feeling your eyes roll back and only hearing the squelching sounds of your needy gripping cunt. “fuck me, toji. right there, ‘s fuckin’ big.”

“yeah, yeah. perfect fit just for you, baby,” he groans, his palm swatting against the fat of your ass again. this time, it’s not so rough. the tender feeling of the hit makes you whine. arching your back out a bit more, he feels your pussy squeeze around him and his ravened brows curl up together. “shit, y’er already pretty but you’d look even prettier with my cum drippin’ out of you,” another grunt scratches at his throat. toji’s sharp hips were so unapologetically mean, each snap of his body makes you jerk forward and back into him. it’s so quick, just a few solid deep thrusts and he was so close to pumping you full. you don’t know why, but the thought of toji pouring such deep sultry amounts of cum into you makes your mouth water.

he’s got a horrible pull out game and he knows it too—but he could really care less. toji’s got the stamina equivalent to a horse, he’s drilling you in your own bed at full speed, watching as you fill the room up with your desperate sweet moans. as he’s ravaging your swollen walls, he reels you back into his sculpted pelvis once he sees and feels you trying to crawl away. “nuh uh,” and you gasp once he grabs you by the throat — gingerly, a few thick fingers wrap around your neck as he pulls you back. “c’monnn, big girls don’t chicken out. get the fuck back here, princess.”

“hngh, toji,” you whimper, suddenly feeling his hips slow down. his rhythm loses its haste for a moment before he groans. with his head tossing itself back, his clashing rutting hips slam right into you one last time. it takes you a moment to realize he’d just came inside—creamy gooey loads dribble into you almost immediately and you’ve never felt more full. he hisses, openly staring at your dehydrated cunt as it slurps him full. the noises, it’s so wet and saturated—you didn’t believe that was you at first. your eyes were drooping downward as you’re idly slumped forward with your ass still raised in the air. “fuck,” you whine, hearing him all of a sudden grow quiet. toji’s warm hot wads of cum fill you up so good that it starts to spill out all down the undersides of your thighs. it’s a mess—and he can’t take his eyes off you. his angry reddened tip continues to jolt itself in and out before only seconds later, he pulls out.

so much was stuffed into you that it’s spilling right back out. gooey ropes that plug inside ooze out of your hole and he snickers. toji huskily groans, using a plump circled thumb to rub the excess amounts of his seed against the outer part of your pussy. “damn,” he huffs, imagining what you’d taste like along with the mixture of his cum that’s trickling down your clit. you even had the nerve to wriggle your ass in front of him. toji hums, squeezing your ass before admiring at how good he’s stuffed you. toji releases his grip leaning down, giving the right cheek of your ass a kiss. “heh, so. you are on the pill right, baby?”

“w- what pill?”

“………”

CHOSO ☆

you tell him he can go inside and his face lights up almost right away.

choso wants to do his very best. he takes pleasing you very seriously. and of course, once the time comes—he practically begs for you to ride him. he just had to see your face while you’re on top, straddling him.

“tell me if it hurts, ‘kay?” he mutters, soft yet rough hands maneuvering circles against your back. choso’s touch was always gentle—he treated you like porcelain, like glass. docile dark irises meet yours as you’re hovering over his sheeny tip that’s glistening with pre-cum. rutting back and forth against his swollen peeling cockhead, you watch as choso bites his lip. “fuuuck,” he peers down, staring at the way your slobbering cunt was just eager to take him inside. “i- i wanna make sure you feel good, baby. don’t care if i don’t finish.”

your heart flutters at his words — oh, he was always so considerate. to choso, your pleasure was his pleasure.

as you gently brush up your hips against him, his cock slowly buries its way inside. immediately, he’s smothered with your warmth that’s welcoming him and it makes him whine. “i’ll tell you if it hurts. promise,” you whisper against the soft shell of his ear. a rippling wave of goosebumps ran down his body at your voice. the sloppy grip of your cunt makes him moan, grabbing onto your hip. wasting no time, you bite your lip—preparing to take him fully. he sinks all the way in until it’s a brief ‘pop’ sound that occurs the moment you’re sat right on his thickset base. “i’ll go nice ‘n slow, choso,” you murmur to him, holding his flushed cheeks. his hair was unkempt and messy, long darkened strands outgrown and running down his eyes. he’s so pretty, especially up close.

choso moans once your sweet lips press against the bridge of his nose—near his mark. he loves your kisses.

he could drown in them, just like he could drown in your wet cunt. it doesn’t even have to take him that long, because within a snap—choso’s already pussy drunk. just a few seconds inside and it was a wrap for him. “oh, oh my god,” he leans back, his abs flexing within each yanking pull of his muscles. he was ripped and you couldn’t help but skim a few teasing fingers down his pecs. so ripped, a few veins that prod into his skin feel against your touch and he whimpers. you were so soft and warm inside that he felt the brief gape of your pussy trying to swallow him whole and it felt so good. too good. “baby, ‘m sorry. ‘m sorry, fuck.”

throwing your arms over his broad tense shoulders, you giggle with a head tilt. “for what?” and already, there’s a nice sheet of sweat racing down the sides of his face. choso’s hair that’s usually in two ponytails was loosely down. he looked pretty, long hair flows down his back and dances in the wind at every unsteady movement. your hips were his weakness—you rode him so good every time that it left him almost speechless.

choso hiccups. “s- sorry for,” and he forgot why he was even apologizing—your cunt was just that good. its enticing grip had him whipped and strained inhales continue to rip out of his lungs by force. dark lengthy lashes glue shut as he holds onto your hips, feeling his mouth pry itself open. “i love you, i love you b- baby, don’t stop fuckin’ me please. w- what was i saying?”

“you’re so cute. i love you too,” you pepper kisses all over his face, quickening your hips just a bit more. he moans, feeling his face grow flushed. oh, he was embarrassed. even more embarrassed as he was earlier. as his fat swollen cock continues to run through your insides, choso tries to cover his face with his hands. once his palms feels against his face, they feel so hot. his own heat radiates from him and he whimpers. “aw, don’t hide from me, ‘cho. it’s okay,” you reassure him, pulling his hands away. with a bashful expression, he wraps his arms around your waist again. he’s so clingy, holding you tight and pulling you into his chest. your bouncing against his lap makes him dizzy. his whimpers against your earlobe grow louder until the time comes where he’s finally stuffing you full.

whenever choso came, it was a lot.

the curse whines into your neck as he’s pouring such gluey amounts into you. his ears continuously ring at the sounds of him spurting right into you, not missing at all. with ease, he’s plunging such amounts of sticky seed into you until he can’t anymore. it makes his head spin and his heart race, you were dangerous—at least, in this case, your cunt was.

he’s got quite the weak pull out game, and of course—whenever you said he can finish inside, he’d never ever miss. choso’s jaw tightens before his eyes grow insignificantly droopy that they hang low. such filthy thoughts foil at his brain as his blushing tip remains buried into your now filled up pussy. he wants to stay like this forever, the thought of pulling out makes him cutely scowl. “baby,” he inhales, still having a secure arm around your torso. choso held you close to him, still shaking as he’s still pouring thick satiny ropes into your womb. it’s an entire mess—so much that it spills down your thighs. he uses a thumb to smear it against your skin before having a pussy drunk grin. “i .. i wanna marry you, baby. please.”

SUKUNA ☆

with sukuna—there’s no such thing as a pull out game. he’s a demon, and more importantly, he’s a demon in bed too.

“i’m gonna get ya pregnant,” he groans, and each time he spills yet another hot load into you, he repeats that same sentence again. “you’d be such a pretty queen,” sukuna snarls, sharp fingertips softly raking down your exposed spine. you’re laid on your chest, having your face being shoved between two fat positioned pillows. muffled moans escape out of your throat as he’s fucking you silly. a big hand of his claws into your hair, tugging firmly at a few roots that grip into your scalp. you whimper, the slanting arch in your back deepening its height before he spanks you. “ugh, such a sloppy girl today. pretty cunt just loves sluttin’ itself out on me.”

sukuna’s voice was deep—you felt yourself pulse between your legs whenever he spoke in that rough low tone.

his thick cock was so big, so so big. and that’s just one—you didn’t wanna think what it’d be like to take two. even with prep, it took you a while to adjust to his delicious size. as he’s haphazardly pounding you into the sage-colored sheets, you whimper out sweet cries that fall on deaf ears as he’s practically splitting you open each and every single time.

“kuna, sukuna, fuck,” you babble out, your eyes widening to the size of saucers once his lengthy dick thrashes up against that spot. he’s a lot bigger than you, his frame ultimately towers over you and you even get wet from his shadowing silhouette. your mouth opens and more spews of whines leave you as he accelerates his hips ever further. the bed screams, each creak sounds like it’s gonna be its last and you were almost positive it was preparing to break. “more, more please.”

“tch. you should see yourself,” the curse grunts, a sly smile contorting against the corners of his mouth. with the way your pussy tightens around him, he pivots his hips, watching as you gasp in awe at his deep angle. “mm, right here, huh. such a sensitive girl. ‘m gonna give you another fill. you’d like that, huh,” he grouses, feeling the sting in his thighs grow. despite his muscles tensing and tightening, he pushes the feelings away, focusing on you and your sweet pussy. as he’s preparing to come to his very orgasmic end, sukuna finds himself biting his lower lip with his fangs piercing into the skin. the image of getting you pregnant—having you bare his offspring, it makes him feral. “dumb girl, i’m talkin’ to you,” sukuna snaps gruffly at your lack of response and you moan once his thrusts deepen. as he speaks, he teasingly knocks against the back of your head. “anyone in there or are ya already too stupid.”

“b- breed me, ‘kuna,” you whimper, already feeling yourself turning into a puddled mess. sukuna could never keep his hands off of you, he’s grabbing you everywhere - all hands were occupied, getting a good gripping feel of your presentable curves. “please please,” you plead, hearing the squelching sounds of your own cunt do begging of its own. there’s a white creamy ring that coats around his base already—the more you jerk against him, the more rough he becomes. by now, your pretty pink tongue’s rolled and lolled out. you’re panting like a dog in heat, gasping once he’s fucking you deeply into his royal king sized mattress. “fuuuck, want it. want more, don’t miss, ‘kuna.”

he lowly chuckles, finding your begging endearing. “hey girl. watch that fuckin’ mouth,” and the demon pops a finger past the opening of your lips. you moan, swirling your tongue around his middle finger as he’s still pounding into you with at chaotic speed. such thrusts, you’re already a mess but with the way his cock was molding your walls, you’d be even messier. sukuna grows hard, feeling you happily suck against his finger — he grunts as he’s bringing you closer toward your teetering edge. it feels hot inside, your walls were always clingy and didn’t ever dare to let go. the moistened grip of your walls was permanent and he was never one to complain. “take it then, c’mon,” he growls, snatching his finger out of your mouth to hold onto both of your jittery hips. “fuck, take it all. saved so much for you again, princess.”

he’s so big that you feel him shaping a faint tummy bulge all due to the hefty size of his thick cock. you’re such a mess—drooling all on the pillow that’s being bit on by your teeth.

“s- sukuna.” you whine, eyes of yours starting to flicker their way back once he finishes inside you again.

a pool of hot cum oozes its way inside of you until it’s pouring down both of your thighs like a waterfall. catching your breaths, you swallow your pity, savoring your own pathetic honeyed taste of saliva as he’s giving you yet another fill—it’s sticky, your thighs had already gave out and he groans. it’s so much, dumps of cum shoot into you raw and he huffs, bare buff chest glistening with slick sweat.

“look at this mess,” he snickers, bringing a palm toward his forehead to wipe his sweat away. he grunts, pulling out slowly to see his obscene creation he gave to you yet again.

you’re shaking—your ass was still propped up in the air with your knees buried into the thinly woven sheets. sukuna raises a brow as he hears your breathing come to a sudden slow. he finds your worn out state cute and he swats a hand against your ass. but this time, it’s not a spank. it’s a soft tender rub.

you moan as he’s caressing your stung cheek before he smears a thumb down your puffy full cunt, gathering a nice amount of his own filth. “how cute. ‘s still pouring out of you. looks like someone needs to be cleaned again,” and your eyes feel hooded and heavy. with a quick motion, you’re suddenly flipped over onto your back and the demon sprawls your legs apart with a single hand. you’re panting, curling your toes up in anticipation before he licks a sticky path of fresh cum that’s drooling out of your sobbing cunt. rolling out his forked tongue for you to see, he hums with a sly grin.

“spread these pathetic legs a bit more. ‘m not done with my meal just yet, little girl.”

NANAMI ☆

“oh my love,” he whispers into your ear, his low husky voice making your heart flutter - not just your heart but the pretty pulsating heat that lies between your legs flutters also.

with nanami—he’d have the best pull out game. nanami can practically smell your arousal, he doesn’t even have to do much but he can tell. with one hand, he lies you flat on your back, a thin stem of a flower he was about to give you tucks right between his teeth. “are you sure this ‘s what you want? let me hear that beautiful voice again. talk to me nice, pretty.”

always the romantic, there was lit candles everywhere and he’s got you right where he wants. nanami sprawls your legs forward the second you utter out a whiney, “y- yes,” and your eyes glance toward his blond happy trail that’s running down his perfectly sculpted body. you were already soaking wet — he barely had to do anything, just his voice alone was enough to have your panties in a twist. he places the flower aside for a moment before leaning up close. nanami then gently shoves both of your knees up toward your chest. mating press, you gulp once you see the sweet yet feral look in his eyes.

he was hungry - hungry for you. as he’s aligning himself, you hold onto him for dear life and he’s whispering all sorts of filthy coos into your ear.

in public, he was the ideal gentleman, a professional who had charm for days. yet in private with you, he didn’t mind to be just a little bit dirty.

“i’ve been thinkin’ about you all day at work today, honey,” he grunts, swollen tip thrashing between your weeping folds. you were sopping wet underneath your thighs, a thumb of his rubs against your entrance and you whimper - feeling pounds of his weight sink you further into the fat mattress. “you remember those cute voice notes i told you to send me?”

you felt your cunt go into a panic of flutters the more he spoke, he’s entering inside and you huff out, gasping—the stretch was so raw.

jogging back your memory to quite a few hours ago, you did remember. nanami told you to send him a few voice memos of yourself because he couldn’t call you while he was at work. he missed your voice, and hearing your cute sentences was just enough for him. “yeah,” you breathe, feeling the fullness of your lungs arise. once he starts to fuck you into the mattress, the abrupt snap of his hips makes you whine out. he’s so deep, calloused balmy hands of his feel all over your body, stealing a few grabs at the curvature of your ass with no shame. he’s missed touching you, he’s missed smelling you, he’s missed being inside. with both warm entangled bodies grinding into and onto each other in salacious harmony, you bite your lip. warm fawn eyes meet yours and he hums, stroking your quivering bottom lip with a soft thumb. “y- you sent me your boner afterwards.”

“i did,” he coos, softly licking a stripe near your neck.

so sweet, he could savor and taste you forever. remembering the thought makes his dick twitch and you feel the pulse almost instantly. nanami’s fucking you rigorously into chalky white sheets, raspy pants bellow out from his gruff vocal cords as he grabs onto the crying wooden headboard. you stare at his arm and his veins prod in his biceps—he’s so ripped, you felt yourself throb at just the sight of his muscles alone. focusing back toward the crying bed, it’s screeching due to nanami’s precise hits, he’s hitting you good and he’s hitting you deep. nanami’s pace was never too fast or too quick, it was just right and it had your head spinning everytime. his crazed tempo always gave you a run for your money. leaning into your neck once more, he created a trail of chaste kisses near the outline of your collarbone.

“fuck, oh— excuse my filthy tongue, sweetheart,” he jibes, guiding his damp lips toward your chest now. so pretty, with the way you were just laid back for him with your knees shoved up to your chest, it had him thinking raunchy thoughts. “but thank you, it helped me get through the day,” and you gasp again once he buries his face between the valley of your chest. humming, he kisses both of your breasts. “i missed my girls.”

blurbs of whimpers rip out of your throat as he continues to fuck you stupid—stupid until you’re utterly dumb, completely dim witted and dumbfounded all because of his cock.

nanami’s girth had you almost drooling, he wisps a few fingers to play against your soddened cunt that’s hidden between your shaky legs before feeling your sloppy grip around him tighten. your walls wrung him dry—hugging him and squeezing around him like a vice. “ken, kentooo,” you whine, deafening beats of your own heart growing so loud that you can hear them blare straight out through both ears. “ngh, cum, ‘m gonna cum.”

“i know, i know,” he purrs, gripping your chin with a single hand. his hips move with such suave speed that you could barely keep up. his weight that’s pressing into you makes you throb again for the nth time. nanami huffs, blond thin strands of hair gluing to his forehead before he moans himself. “c’mon, give it to me,” and he notices how you look away, feeling yourself about to succumb to your inevitable climax. “hey, hey lovie look at me,” and slowly, you meet his loving gaze again. nanami’s hips slow down and he’s just as close as you were—although he didn’t care about his finish as much as yours. you lean into his soft touch, feeling an open palm of his rub against your belly in circles. “there we go. just let go. make a mess on kento ‘n let me clean it, yeah?”

once you came—he came too, although he pulls out quickly, spraying viscid velvety ropes all on your tummy.

nanami’s matching the pace of your pants, chiseled chest sticking against your own before he groans. the shock your body felt was almost insane, you clench down on your jaw before squeezing your eyes shut briefly, still feeling the staticky waves of rapture surge through every vein.

“such a good girl,” he whispers, his voice mirroring just how shaky yours was. nanami leans into you, planting a single kiss on your forehead. a sheepish smile curls against his lips as he notices the damp spot you created underneath the two of you. with a soft expression, nanami spreads your legs again, grinding his body against yours whilst pulling you into a deep kiss. every few seconds, he pulls away, brushing a thumb against your lips before whispering. “but, oh—you made a little mess today, sweetheart. i’m so proud of you.”

[buckysunshine]

i got my eye on you – house of the dragon

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut (18+) ! Targcest/Targaryen Incest (Uncle/Niece), Enemies to Lovers, Denial of feelings, explosion of feelings, vaginal fingering.

Synopsis: Sixteen hours and six days were all it took for you to have everything Aemond had wanted. A dragon, a mother's unconditional love, a brother that actually cares and gives a shit. Sixteen hours and six days were all it took to hate you. 

At the return of the blacks, the princess is transformed, and the hate swirling in Aemond’s gut is replaced with something different, something new.

Word Count: 2.6K

Sixteen hours. That was how long Rhaenyra labored to bring you into this world. With blood came the heir's only daughter, a spitting image of her mother yet contrasted by the colors of the father. A princess. Another bastard. 

Six days. That's how long you stayed in the babe's cradle until the hatching of your dragon egg. Arrax.

Sixteen hours and six days were all it took for you to have everything Aemond had wanted. A dragon, a mother's unconditional love, a brother that actually cares and gives a shit. 

Sixteen hours and six days were all it took to hate you.

~

Living in a den of vipers taught you more than the books you were forced to read. You were a princess, the daughter of the realm's heir, yet they treat you as the scum of a mare's back disguised in petty smiles and hidden whispers.

Early on, you learned you only had your family to depend on. Not your uncles. They always liked to inflict the most pain. Helaena was always sweet, but the queen made sure to isolate her from you and your family. 

But your greatest tormentor came in the form of purple eyes and silver hair. Aemond Targaryen.

He was always there to plague you no matter how nice you've been or how little you were. Eyes distant and cold, and on you at all times. You could never escape it; thus, it only made sense that you were the one to take his eye on that fateful night. You – the object of his ire, the thief who stole his eye. You tell yourself it was to protect your brother, but deep down, it was also to break free of his punishing stares. 

Aemond Targaryen was not the only person who changed from that moment. The day you took his eye was the day you gained your own courage.

"Enjoy it, uncle. The next time you see me, my mother will wear the crown, and your family will be set aside to return to your little green towers." You speak brazenly atop Arrax at the hour of your departure to Dragonstone. He may have Vhagar, but the true power belongs to the heir of the Iron Throne. 

Your last words to the one-eyed second son rang in his ears for the rest of his days, fueling the bitter craving for revenge in his heart. 

~

"You'll cut yourself." The rogue prince's warning makes you jump away from the valyrian steel. "Careful."

You've sneaked a glance at dark sister. The prince consort was rarely without it, so the one chance you see it abandoned, you gather up the courage to hold it even for a second. It felt like the blade was calling to you; surely, it was the voices of the lives taken by the age-old steel. 

Daemon takes the steel in his hand, wielding it easily. You watch his every move, utterly fascinated. Daemon sees the spark of ambition in your eyes. It's the same spark that flamed within him in his early years. 

"Ever used a blade?"

"Only one time when I took an eye."

Daemon grinned, passing the steel to you. He could work with that. "Not a bad start.”

Dark Sister felt heavy in your hands, but it was also oddly familiar. It felt right to hold it. You were a Targaryen, after all, and coupled with the strong genes of your father, it was no trouble to handle a sword. You were a quick learner, and Daemon took delight in training you, gender norms be damned. 

This would have never happened in the Red Keep. The only place for you there were the quilting room and the birthing bed. Ser Criston Cole would have never allowed you to step foot in his training grounds, and you would have never had the courage to try. 

Ever since you left for Dragonstone, your courage grew day by day, and with Daemon at your side, it flamed anew.

But all that courage faltered at the news of Vaemond Velaryon's challenge to Lucery's inheritance to Driftmark. 

Vaemond did not scare you, but the thought of returning to King's Landing and meeting a purple eye did.

-

Aemond Targaryen had never waited for a day like this. 

The blacks’ return shall be met with the green's first strike. His nephew is possibly disinherited; most importantly, he gets to prove you wrong. He waits to see you again so he could inject the fear that always made you shrink in his gaze. The years had made him hard, brutish. He and Vhagar are alike in more ways than the valyrian blood that flows in them.

Aemond's eye finds you immediately. Surrounded by your family, you seemed small but grown, more mature. Your dress is filled better by newly developed curves. Your locks remained ever dark, and it gives Aemond a reminiscence of a dark-haired woman plaguing his dreams as of late. Ever since he heard the news of your return, his dreams have been nothing but hazy images of dark hair that makes him wake with a hard cock. 

He ignores it.

Your families don't have time to reunite as the unforgiving court awaits. You don't make the effort to find your uncles either, though you did send a warm smile to your aunt. You ignore them, and it makes Aemond itch. He longs to see the fire in your eyes so he could squash and spit on it.

Vaemond Velaryon speaks, and he loses his head. 

Aemond is no stranger to bloodshed, relishes in it even. An unexpected similarity between you. 

It does not miss him when you don't flinch at the brutal slash, only moving to cover your younger brother, Joffrey. You watch the blade slash clean through flesh with a fervid gaze, and it gives Aemond surprise, his interest piqued.

~

"Seems like you're wrong, princess."

You were a hard one to track alone. Always surrounded by your pesky brothers, Aemond awaited the chance to corner you. He finds it fitting to find you in the dragon pit. You endured the tense family dinner, playing oblivious to the one purple eye peering over you, and once the feasting had ended, you were gone. Not in your chambers or even the grounds of the Red Keep. You escaped to the skies, flying Arrax till late at night. You needed the reprieve, and you wished you were back there again the moment you landed with Aemond already waiting for your alighting.

"Uncle." You greeted him, shedding your riding gloves off. He is taller now, more slender, and his face matured with the scar you left him with. Shame, he could have been handsome.

You walk, and Aemond is at your tail. He starts his taunting. 

"We meet, and yet no crown on your mother's head, and our family's roots are still deep within these courts."

"I am grateful for our king's long life." You say, eyes blank, straight ahead. You're being polite. Your mother's words of peace ring in your ears, and it takes all your effort to maintain niceties. Aemond sees right through it.

"There is only us. You can speak plainly." He clasps his arms behind his back, unbothered. "The king is dying and should have died long ago."

"Must you be so cruel?”

"I only speak the truth." He is close behind, leaning down to mutter in your ear. "Last time I recall, it is not a crime to do so. Well, should not be treated as such anyway." He says slyly, laying down his bait for you to take. 

"I was a kid, Aemond. Must you torment me all my life?" You bite, stopping in your tracks and facing him completely with fire in your eyes. The years of guilt and vexing rifts at your resolve. The man always knew how to push your buttons.

Ah, there she is. Aemond flashes a condescending smile just for a second before slipping back into his usual glare. "You know what I want. Justice."

"Then so be it." You pull out your sword, the same one Daemon gifted you years ago. It was smaller than the standard fighting swords, for it was only supposed to be used in training, but you don't care. A sword is a sword. You've done worse with smaller ones.

"Here's your justice. Try to take out my eye. I'll allow your efforts. Take my eye and be done with all these bother.”

Aemond stares at you delightfully surprised before drawing his own sword out. You dare? He answers. The years in Dragonstone changed you, no more the little girl he could torment and plague back in the Red Keep. He is made clear of it. The girl standing before him is a dragon, a warrior, a Targaryen. A predator to be conquered.

"Today is a good day for justice."

He swings, and steels meet.

It was a dance between two dragons, and the sound of swords clashing against each other played the music to every spin and sway. It was a dance, and Aemond hated how you were leading. 

Honed by the rogue prince, you've learned how to put up a good fight and sniff out an opponent's weak points. You detect Aemond's obvious weakness – his blind side. You focus your attacks on his left side, taking advantage of his every crux. He underestimated you, your hits stronger than he expected. He stumbles at your strike, aim focused on his left shoulder. 

But Aemond is no fool on the battlefield. He also paid his dues in his training with Ser Criston Cole. The man might be vile, but there is no denying the knight is the most skillful swordsman alive in King's Landing. Aemond's skills are beaten into him in the most literal sense, the years of cuts and bruises shaping him into the warrior he is now. It was no match to your little lessons, no matter how fast of a learner you might be. Aemond is still stronger, faster. 

And with a swing to your leg and a precise hit to your wrist, your blade flies away from you. Unarmed, the older boy takes the chance to seize you. 

You take the hit head on, grunting at the weight of him knocking you down.

Pinned on the ground, bladeless and pregnable, Aemond's steel rests snug against your neck. The music has stopped. You've lost. 

"Beg." Steel presses further into skin. "Beg for mercy."

"No." you spat, ever so stubbornly. A dragon does not beg.

Aemond's nostrils flare at your defiance, a thousand emotions brewing in his chest. He has wanted this for so long, yet he finds himself stalling for time.

Despite your loss, you weren't giving up. Aemond always hated how stubborn you could be, so careless, yet protected and loved even as a bastard. Aemond could do everything right, yet his father would not even spare him a glance unless he found himself in some sort of trouble, and Alicent shared the family's burden with him, depriving him of the innocence of childhood. But you had your dragon the day you were born, showered with love and affection. 

Spoiled. Ungrateful. 

In his resentment, he cuts skin, drawing blood. "Don't think I won't do it. You know I would."

You refuse to wince from the pain, eyes locked in and determined. "I fought, and I lost. I'm true to my word. Take my eye now. Take your prize." You turn your head, presenting him the left side of your face. "Is that not what you want, uncle? Or do you plan to bitch and whine to me for the rest of your days?"

"I want… nothing!"

Throwing his blade away, you're finally given a chance to breathe. Still on top, he looks down on you. Aemond has you at the bottom of his feet, to do what he wants, to take what he is robbed of, yet he finds himself at pause. He wanted an eye, and now he yearns for more.

As he watched your face, cheeks turning delightfully pink, and chest heaving, the strangest thing happened. Aemond felt something squeeze suspiciously in his chest at the thought of you exposed and vulnerable to him.

He realized he wanted you. He really, really wanted you.

Only then did the feeling of hatred in his gut turn to something different. It swirled anew — to desire.

Aemond Targaryen desires for the niece under him.

Oh.

With this revelation, he starts seeing the image in his dreams clearly. His conscience is plagued by the woman of dark hair and milky skin he's been dreaming of, the cause of his seed spilling on his thighs in the morning. It was you.

With the veil of denial finally lifted, he leans down and captures your mouth, pouring every bit of frustration and newly found desire into your kiss. Your hands raise to push him off, but he pins them down easily. Warm lips lock onto yours, forcing your mouth to yield to his demand and, eventually, your own visceral need. Unrelenting, your defiance quickly faded, and your tongue started meeting his as well. Heat dances in your chest and straight down the apex of your thighs. 

You've been kissed before, kissed sweetly, softly, but never like this. This was different; this was hungry, consuming, punishing. Aemond's kiss triggers a primal craving in your flesh; it refuses your mind's reason entirely.

Shifting above you, Aemond parts your legs, planting himself between your thighs. You feel the hard ridge of him pressing against your clothed core, and you undoubtedly grind against it. 

His body – Gods. It is evil how it was pressed against yours, the heat of it seeping through your clothing, searing your very soul.

He made you shiver. He made you melt.

Aemond gropes your breast, dipping down to nip at the neck he just pressed a blade against moments ago. "I want you."

Aemond always told the truth, an ideology planted in his head by his devoted mother, but it is only now he felt the peace a person should feel when telling the truth.

Aemond’s tongue traces a map of pleasure on your skin, fueling a need you never knew. He chants your name, groaning at every repeat. His lips move frantically along your face until they find your mouth again. “I need you.” He pressed his hips hotly against yours. “Do you feel how I need you?” 

Your fingers tangle in his silver hair, making it undone from its restraints; you grip it, urging for more.

"What is it? Take what you want." He yearns to hear your voice, hear you beg for him.

He pulls away, and you whine at the loss. "Use your words, princess. Tell me what you want.”

You're faced with Aemond's face atop of yours, and unthinking, you take it in your hands. He leans in, hanging on to your next words. 

Your lips hover over each other, and with a whisper, you say, "No."

Aemond's face breaks into a grin, a deep chuckle escaping him. Your heart stutters at the image of a genuine smile on the prince's face. It was a rare thing, and you don't know what to do with it.

Distracted, his fingers find your thighs, squeezing them hard before delving further. You gasp when he presses at the burning between your legs. 

"Now is not the time for your stubbornness, sweet niece."

Aemond quickly breaks through the layers of cloth separating him from your sensitive skin. It was embarrassing how easily he found the wetness waiting for him. But Aemond relishes at the feel of them, the thought of your excitement feeding his desire. His fingers play at your folds, sliding easily. He circles at your center, noticing how your moans become louder when he touches you there. He watches your every expression, determined to pluck your pleasure from you. You looked too pretty with your lips red and puffy, but your unscarred skin calls to be dirtied by him.

He leans down to nip at the skin of your jaw, then to your neck once more. He hopes to leave a mark. "Would you do it? Bed your uncle like your mother did.”

The sting of his tongue against the wound he placed on you wakes you from your haze. Your mother. The lust is quickly replaced by guilt and shame, and you suddenly feel suffocated. Shoving away, you slap him off you. He stumbles, shocked and disoriented. 

Gathering your skirts, you stand, now looking down at him. Your throat dries, but you speak firmly. "You've had your chance to take your justice. Now let us speak of it no more.”

And you were gone, fleeing without as much as a second glance behind, and Aemond is left alone. The sting on his face and the hardness of his cock are the only reminders of your dance.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Is there a better place for a king to make an heir than on the iron throne? Aegon would be so into that 🥵🥵

I haven't posted a Aegon request in a moment! There is not enough of him on here

Warnings: 18+, smut, throne sex, p + v, dirty talk, unprotected sex

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You were sitting at your desk, responding to a message received by raven from your father when there was a knock on the door. Setting down your quill, you stood and went to the door, finding Criston Cole on the other side. 

‘’Your Grace. The King is requesting your presence in the great hall,’’ Ser Criston informed you, his new Hand of the King pin proudly displayed on the left side of his breastplate.

‘’Thank you, Ser Criston.’’ You gave him a nod of acknowledgment. 

The guards guarding the doors bowed their heads to their Queen and opened the door for you. Inside, the room was lit with a number of torches and seemed larger than usual. Mayhaps the absence of court attendees gave this illusion. Straight ahead of the doors, at the very end of the room, was the ugly heap of swords where sat the man you loved. Although, sitting wouldn’t be the word you would employ to describe the way Aegon was sitting. He was practically sprawled in the throne, his back slouched against one side, with one leg draped lazily over the armrest and the other hanging down. The Conqueror’s crown sat atop his white head, and you were surprised it had not fallen. 

You walked down the length of the hall, your footsteps echoed off the stone walls.

You paused a few steps from the throne. ‘’You’re going to cut yourself sitting like that, my darling,’’ you warned, mindful of the sharp swords used to make this throne. 

It was known to all of Westeros that whoever rested upon it must be careful not to make any sudden motions or else risked injury or even death. That very cut on King Viserys had been the trigger and downfall into his sickness. You didn’t want that to happen to your King husband.

Aegon shrugged, nonchalant as always. ‘’The throne doesn’t fear me.’’ His eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and defiance as you approached. 

‘’Just be careful,’’ you said softly. ‘’The Seven Kingdoms cannot lose their King so soon. I cannot lose you so soon.’’ 

‘’I am not as fragile as my father. I sit very comfortably here.’’ Aegon reached a hand out to you. ‘’Come.’’ 

You climbed the few stairs and he shifted, moving his feet to the ground to sit properly before pulling you down with him and sitting you down on his lap. Aegon’s hands found home on your thighs, covered by your dress, and began to run teasing circles over with his thumb. 

A few days ago, the Great Hall was filled with people as you were crowned King and Queen, but now you were all alone. 

‘’I’ve missed you at the small council meeting,’’ he said, his tone suddenly tender. ‘’Listening to everyone moaning about money, criminality in the city, and alliances for hours makes me want to take myself out. I would rather spend my morning riding Sunfyre or stay in bed with you. Speaking of bed.’’ Aegon brought his lips close to your ear and half whispered. ‘’Do you remember what I said on my coronation day?’’ 

He brushed your hair to one side so that it exposed your neck, and placed a number of kisses there, causing you to smile at his sweet touch. 

You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body through his clothes. ‘’That Rhaenyra would get burned to a crisp before sitting on your throne?’’ 

‘’Yes,’’ Aegon agreed with a soft chuckle, pressing a kiss over your shoulder. ‘’But that was not what I was meaning.’’ 

You took a moment to think, trying to remember every conversation you had on the day of his coronation. He had shared his fears as a new King as you were helping him get ready and the pressure his grandsire, Otto Hightower, was putting over him. Removing him as Hand of the King was one of the best decisions Aegon made.  

And then it hit you. A desire he had voiced to you in the secrecy of your bedchamber with nothing but his crown on his head. 

You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘’Now?’’ 

Aegon grinned, and you felt yourself getting aroused at the thought of having him in the throne room — on the Iron Throne. It was probably blasphemy to the crown, but Aegon was the one wearing the crown. If he wants to have sex on the Iron Throne, he will. 

‘’There is no better place to create an heir than the throne he will one day sit on, is there?’’ he asked, one hand going up your torso to palm your still clothed breasts. ‘’I've been thinking about this since the Conqueror’s crown was put on my head.’’ 

‘’Your wish is my desire, my King,’’ you said, shifting so you were straddling him. Your new position was causing the skirt of your dress to bunch, but you ignored it. It was a matter of seconds before Aegon would push it up and get his hands between your legs. 

His eyes sparkled with lust at your words. This was exactly why Aegon picked you for wife and not the sweet daughter of a Lord his mother wanted him to. You were just as twisted as him in your fantasies. He loved how willing and eager you were to please him, to do crazy things with him, it fueled his desire even more. 

You crashed your soft lips against Aegon’s, his hands on your body tightening as he felt desire spread through his blood. It always surprised you how quickly he could get hard. He plunged his tongue into your mouth and fiddled with the laces of your dress, blindly figuring out how to loosen them and free your breasts. Taking all of your clothes off would be too time consuming, but he couldn’t have sex without having his hands on your breasts. That was simply not a possibility. 

Aegon broke the kiss briefly to speak. ‘’I need to touch you,’’ he groaned, pulling harder at the laces of your dress. 

You reached behind your back to help him out, and pulled the bodice of your dress down your body, revealing your naked breasts to him. Aegon's eyes devoured you, his gaze flickering over every inch of your skin. His thumb brushed over one of your pebbled peaks before pinching it, making you hiss. 

Aegon's eyes flicked up to meet yours as you scolded him, but his smirk only grew wider. He did it again, harder this time, before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, tending to your sensitive bud. A soft moan slipped from your lips as your fingers threaded through Aegon's hair, tugging lightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipple. Each touch sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He growled softly as he felt your body respond to him. His free hand squeezed your other breast, kneading it roughly as his tongue flicked over your hardened peak.

You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him. ‘’Aegon,’’ you breathed, your voice a mix of need and impatience. 

His hand left your breast, trailing down your body, over the curve of your waist and hip, and finally slipping under the skirt of your dress. His fingers found your wet cunt, and he groaned against your skin. 

‘’Always ready for me,’’ he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers teased your folds, dipping inside just enough to make you gasp, but not enough to satisfy your growing need. ‘’Always so responsive.’’ 

You bucked your hips against his hand, wordlessly begging for more. It’s not been a full day since you last had sex, but your body was craving Aegon. 

Beneath you, you could feel him through his breeches, his cock hard and begging to be let out of its confine. You reached between your bodies, working on undoing the ties of his breeches, the sound of fabric shifting barely heard over the rapid beat of your heart. His cock sprung out, long and thick for you and you wasted no time directing it between your legs, needing him. 

You wrapped your hand around him, guiding his weeping tip towards your entrance. He lifted your skirts and grabbed your hips, lifting you slightly to help position himself. When his cock brushed against your entrance, and you both moaned at the contact. You sank down on him with one smooth motion, his cock stretching you and filling you up completely. The sensation was delightful. 

A sigh of pleasure left your pink lips as you lifted yourself nearly off of his cock before slamming down again. Aegon’s grip on your hips tightened, pressing you flush against his so your soft breasts were squished against his chest. He attached his mouth under your jaw, kissing and nibbling as you bounced on him.

Your movements were fervent, each rise and fall on Aegon's cock sending waves of pleasure through you both. 

‘’You like that, uh? Fucking yourself on your King’s cock,’’ he asked.

You grabbed Aegon’s shoulders for support, going faster. ‘’Yes,’’ you breathed, your breasts bouncing from your movement. 

The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin against skin, and echoing outside the halls. Being quiet was not something you had mastered yet. 

Feeling your legs starting to hurt from the pressing into the steel of the throne, Aegon reached under your dress to grab at your ass, fingers digging into your flesh, guiding you as he pounded into you. He reached deeper than you did by yourself, making you throw your head back with a cry. 

‘’Ah, yes! Oh Gods—’’ Your voice bounced off the walls, causing a flush tint to appear on the faces of the guards standing outside, hearing the echoes of your moans and groans. 

Your cunt tightened around him, Aegon’s name leaving your lips over and over again as his cock slammed into you. Your thighs trembled as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. 

‘’I'm so close,’’ you informed your lover, feeling the coil of pleasure tightening in your core. 

‘’Then come for me.’’ 

His mouth crashed on yours as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles, pushing you closer to the edge. You moaned, your walls tightening around his cock, heightening the sensation as he continued to pound into you. The combination of your moans and the feel of your body milking him drove Aegon over the edge. With a deep groan, he released inside you, his warm seed filling you completely as your walls clenched around him, drawing out both of your climaxes.

Aegon’s head dropped on your collarbones as his body stilled, his crown falling from his head and clattering on the floor beside the throne. He laughed against your skin.

‘’You think this was enough to secure an heir, or do we need to schedule another round?’’ you asked, running a hand through his hair.

—

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