#I deserve more than a gold star

[vipier]

can we talk ? alone ?

IT HAD BEEN A RATHER IMPRESSIVE VICTORY, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, AND CERTAINLY ONE OF GENERAL PATEL’S BEST. he’s hardly what anyone would consider a top notch superior officer — passing, at best — but with the help of his inner circle, they’ve tightened the ranks, improved their strategies, and developed an incredibly positive rapport which, if he’s honest, still surprised him, especially where captain andor and the clone commanders are concerned. ( after all, it had never escaped his notice that @k4ssa had always remained stiff and formal around the troopers, which had only begun to change after the general’s brief sojourn in medical after a particularly brutal battle about two months prior. ) the camp is rowdier than usual, filled to the brim with the joyous sounds of celebration — laughter, shouts and cheers, the clinking of glasses, upbeat music somewhere off to his right.

for his part, tristan quietly holds an ale in one hand, observing as he sits off to the side in his casual garb, the comfortable and simple set of robes that dated back to his padawan days. commander specs sits beside him, similarly propped with his back against a weapons crate. it’s an easy silence between them, one of trusted comrades, a designation specs has certainly earned in his general’s eyes. privately, he has sometimes considered that specs is the sort of mentor he’d perhaps always needed in his youth, despite almost certainly not having been commissioned at that time — but it is a thought too raw not to sweep away quickly after it comes to mind. not that specs hasn’t clearly had the notion himself.

“ you did good, general, ” the commander says quietly below the din of celebration around them, warm, with a note that almost sounds like pride. the words sink in slowly through tristan’s initial silence. he draws in a deep breath, swigs from the bottle in his hand, allows no more than the slightest turn at the corner of his mouth to alter his expression. the subtle acknowledgement of his own uncertainties — his own insecurities — feels at once a relief and an unnerving danger. war has made a different man of him, has somehow softened him in its untold brutality. some days, he finds he does not quite recognize himself. perhaps he has fixed himself too readily to what feels like a dysfunctional family unit in his strange gnawing hunger to belong. for as much as he trusts his commanders, he becomes daily more aware how far he presses fate. for instance, it should bother him more, even frighten him more, he knows, that he strongly suspects that at least specs and kilo know about him and the captain. it should choke him with terror that he treats the suspicion so casually, yet here he sits, peaceful in specs’s company, knowing in his gut that cassian will fetch him any minute.

“ it’s hardly my victory, specs, ” the general finally answers with uncharacteristic modesty, swigging from the bottle again. “ I’m useful on the battlefield, but the plan belonged to you, kilo, and andor. don’t tell the men, but without the three of you, I’d be lost. ” despite his words, he doubts the information is anything but common knowledge.

he feels specs’s gaze linger thoughtfully on him for a few long moments. “ we would do anything for you. you know that, don’t you? me. kilo. andor. ” there’s something in that final name, something tris could swear sounds knowing and affectionate. something in the pit of his stomach flutters. “ anyone can learn strategy. you’ve got something that can’t be taught. you hold us together. you’re the glue. none of it would work without you. ”

tristan doesn’t look at his commander ; he can’t. the brotherhood that’s blossomed within their ranks is often too much for him to process, almost too much to stomach. he is not used to being loved, let alone in so many different ways. his commanders’ loyalty, confidence, kinship, their unfailing support and affection despite uncertain beginnings, the depth with which he’s grown to trust them. his relationship with cassian and how it evolved from stolen moments in the senate building to become as much a part of him as a limb, its roots in his heart so deep now that tristan knows he could never remove his captain if he tried. and he doesn’t wish to, not any more than his lover, who had proven far more devoted than tris ever realized in his padawan days.

the concept of rejecting attachment had already seemed silly and dubious back then. now, it seems downright ridiculous. how could he give up what he loves so dearly? and more, how could giving up what he loves in any way benefit the greater good, as the jedi order claims? none of it would work. what good could he truly do without these connections? how ineffectual would he be as a general without them? how could he possibly articulate any of this to specs in this camp, beneath these moons, with the weight of all of that love clinging to him, sweet like honey, thick like tar? how can he possibly explain that it is he that would not work without all of them? the words don’t come, can’t, as though there are none that could possibly express the depth of his gratitude, nor the strange overwhelming heartache that blossoms simply from the knowledge that he is kept in so many hearts. it washes over him like a tide, stealing his breath, overwhelming him momentarily as he opens himself to the warmth of specs’s sentiments, the true strength of those emotions, even as none of it shows in his serene expression.

“ can we talk? alone? ” captain andor’s question from over his left shoulder blessedly saves him from the inevitability of a substantive reply. tristan feels his face relax and he’s unable to keep the corner of his mouth from pulling slightly upward. after a moment, he tilts his head backward to regard cassian standing above him, and between them, they exchange a look of unyielding softness that lasts only a beat before tris glances back at his commander with an apologetic half-smile. he finishes his ale in a single swig, banishing the lump that’s grown in his throat, and sets the empty bottle up on the top of the weapon’s crate before rising quickly to his feet.

“ thanks, specs. I’ll see you tomorrow. not too bright and early. we all deserve to sleep in a little. ” the general has no doubt the camp will remain quiet throughout most of the morning, and already, he looks forward to waking with a few hours to spare, to lazing in cassian’s embrace before they must engage in the unconvincing charade of sneaking him out of tristan’s tent. specs gives them a nod in farewell — respectful, almost affectionate, knowing in a way that might have bothered tris months before. he and andor turn almost in sync to move away from the festivities and tristan gives a breath of relief as the noise begins to ease, giving way to the gentle ambient sounds of the night in the forest beyond. cassian nearly turns toward tristan’s tent when they are well away from the eyes of the battalion, but tristan keeps moving forward, toward the towering trees and the scattered flicker of natural lights in their boughs that provide visibility to the forest floor even this late at night.

they say nothing, and cass follows without question. truth be told, tristan isn’t entirely sure where he’s going — only that he feels the need to separate himself, to separate them, from the camp for a little while, to clear his head, to collect his thoughts, to be alone together. without looking, his hand finds his companion’s and he knits their fingers together as they continue their silent journey through the trees on practiced, silent feet. tristan closes his eyes, inhales, savoring the pure aroma of the woods now that they’ve separated from the soldiers, the liquor, the bonfire. the night seems to soak into his skin as they walk together, dousing him in a chilled and cleansing energy that thrills its way through his veins. it is something he sometimes so desperately wishes he could share with cassian, these sensations of interconnectivity that strike when the world is quiet and the force beats its steady, grounding drum deep within the very core of him. the effect of the force, the way tristan feels it, remains a relatively taboo topic between them for reasons tris actually understands deeply ; the intricacies of the force unnerve many, including cassian, and to push knowledge or experience upon cass would amount to a violation for which he knows he could never atone, at least not with himself.

the forest opens to a lake, reflecting the planet’s triplet moons upon its glossy ink surface. tristan’s pace picks up just slightly, tugging cassian along as he makes his way a large slab of rock that crops out to the water. he only slips his hand from cassian’s when he steps out of his shoes and moves to the edge closes to the water to sit. then, carefully, he rolls his trousers up to his knees before dipping his feet into the lake and releasing a sigh of contentment as the cool water soothes the ache that remains from weeks of patrols and a brutal day of battle. he feels cass take a seat beside him, and without a beat of hesitation, as though magnetized, tristan leans into his side, setting his head on his shoulder, draping his arms around his middle. whatever paltry resistance may remain melts away at the sensation of cassian’s lips against the crown of his head and his fingers brushing hair back behind tris’s ear. nothing has ever felt more sacred than this. no matter the teachings of the order, especially in this moment, tris cannot possibly find it in himself to believe that the thrum of connection he feels to this man, the unwitting transference of devotion that warms him like sunlight through every pore of him, could be anything less than the most pure of religious experiences.

“ sorry, ” he whispers into the night, sounding entirely too contented to actually mean such an apology. “ I needed a moment away from the noise. out here. with you. ” cassian’s grip around him tightens, almost disarming in its protectiveness, and tristan presses his face into the other man’s shirt to breathe in the scent of him, the very essence. “ it was a long day, ” is muffled into him, almost inaudible, lost into the solid face of cass’s shoulder. for a few moments, they remain that way, clutched to each other as though they haven’t held one another in days or weeks. cassian’s fingers stroke through tristan’s hair, trace a path down his spine, each touch tender and deliberate enough to leave tris a little dizzy with relief and pure, unadulterated affection. for some reason, specs’s words linger in the back of his soothed mind: you hold us together. you’re the glue. he wonders if cass would agree.

finally, he allows his head to tilt backward, gazing up at the planes of cassian’s face illuminated by the planet’s dazzling moonlight. a sight he could truly worship. “ you were magnificent. your strategy, too, naturally, but … you fought so fiercely. do you have any idea how proud it makes me? to stand beside you? fight beside you? to be— ” he trails off, leaning to press his forehead against his lover’s, lifting a hand to cup his jaw, to stroke his cheek with a gentle thumb. after a moment, he breathes half a chuckle, almost sheepish, humming low as he brushes cassian’s nose with his own. “ but you wanted to talk. what about, love? unless it was just an excuse to get me alone, and if that’s the case, we can just strip down and have a swim. ”

[norrisainz33]

Team USA || LS2

☆ summary: the 2024 Paris Olympics have started and Logan Sargeant’s partner is set to make her Olympic debut

☆ pairing: logan sargeant x olympian!reader

☆ fc: none until the very end

☆ warnings: none

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ynuser has made a post

liked by logansargeant, williamsracing, lilymhe, teamusa, and 210,002 others

ynuser: the day i’ve always dreamed of is here - i’m headed to the 2024 olympics to represent teamusa! thank you to my friends, my family, and my logan for supporting me through every up and down over the past few years. time to get the gold 🇺🇸🦅🏅

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teamusa: can’t wait to see you in Tahiti! 🇺🇸

user1: RAHHHH AMERICA 🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸

user4: ‘my logan’ i’m sleeping in the road

logansargeant: i could not be more proud of you y/n/n

ynuser: couldn’t have done it without you logie bear

user2: they’re my favorite couple on the grid

williamsracing: congratulations y/n! american or not we will be cheering you on 💙

yourbff: america’s it girl

user3: USA USA USA

Williamsracing has posted a video

liked by logansargeant, alex_albon, teamusa, ynuser, and 609,012 others

williamsracing: Ahead of the Olympics starting today, we put Albono and Sarge to the test 😂🎨

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user13: whelp they tried their best

user16: LOGIE IS SO POOKIE CODED liked by ynuser

ynuser: close enough 🇺🇸

williamsracing: our olympic queen 😫🫶🏻

ynuser: my admin 😘

user5: admin has a crush on her too it seems

user12: RAHHHHHH LOGAN 🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸

user17: resign logie bear or else!!!!!!!

logansargeant has posted a story

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user22: BIG DAY FOR AMERICA 🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸

alex_albon: let’s go y/n/n!!! 🏄‍♀️🌊

lilymhe: OUR GIRLFRIEND IS GONNA EAT

logansargeant: our?!

lilymhe: how many times do we have to talk about this logan!!! that’s my girl too!!!

logansargeant: fine but you have to share alex with me then

lilymhe: done and done

ynuser: i’ll be cheering for you from tahiti!! score some points for me baby 💙🇺🇸

logansargeant: i’ll do my best sweet girl 💙 score a perfect 10 for me 😘

ynuser: call me when you can after the race, i miss you and your face so much

logansargeant: i will!!! i miss and love you so very much

user27: you’re scoring loints this weekend i just know it

f1tv has posted a video

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user27: seeing him happy is such a good feeling

user88: no for real - he hasn’t been this happy in a post race interview in a while

user47: he needed this

user28: logan deserves the world

user29: he loves y/n so much it’s sickening

user31: boyfriend of the year award is his fr

user23: sargenation we are so up rn

user88: we used to pray for times like these

user55: both of our american beauties slayed today

user65: someone get this man a contract asap!!!

logansargeant made a post

liked by ynuser, williamsracing, teamusa, oscarpiastri, and 546,203

logansargeant: thankful for the break because it means I get to cheer on y/n in person as she represents teamusa. into the final push for gold we go🏅💙🇺🇸

view all 765 comments

user24: mr and mrs america

user25: USA USA USA RAHHHHH EAGLE GUN SHOT BOOM BOOM BOOM 🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸

oscarpiastri: i may be rooting for australia but i am still so proud of you y/n

ynuser: osco 😭 thank you

ynuser: i’m so glad you’re here logie. your support is unmatched 💙

user27: THE power couple

lilymhe: america’s sweethearts 🫶🏻

ynuser: wifey 🤭

lilymhe: mommy 😍

logansargeant: stop flirting on my own post

lilyzneimer: the most iconic girl in the world, let’s go y/n!!!

ynuser: the sweetest girl in the world 🫶🏻

logansargeant has made a post

liked by teamusa, williamsracing, ynuser, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 589,575 others

logansargeant: SHE DID IT!!!! Y/N is an olympic gold medalist!!!! To say i’m proud would be an understatement. y/n/n, i am in awe of you.. you have worked harder than anyone i’ve ever seen and i am so lucky to have been able to grow and reach for the stars by your side. You’re a gold medalist baby - you’re the best in world. soak it in 💙🇺🇸🏄‍♀️

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user2: not me crying watching y/n take the gold (im not even american)

oscarpiastri: congratulations y/n!! an impressive effort all around. looking forward to you teaching me your ways 😉

carlossainz55: vamos y/n!

lilymhe: QUEEN OF THE WORLD LETS GO

alex_albon: YESS Y/N!!!

williamsracing: our golden girl 💙

naxverstappen1: simply lovely stuff ynuser

alexandrasaintmleux: félicitations ma belle fille 🫶🏻🏅

georgerussell63: y/n yabba dabba did it!! 💪🏻🏄‍♀️

lilyzneimer: i’m so proud of y/n i can’t stop crying 😭

pierregasly: me, kika and simba are so beyond happy for you y/n

user24: stop all the drivers and wags and admin supporting her is so wholesome

user87: the outpouring of love is so beautiful wtf 😭

user25: the american dream (or whatever idk)

ynuser: logan hunter sargeant i love you more than i’ll ever have words for. your support, guidance and compassion over the years is one of the only reasons im here today. thank you for being there for me and flying half way across the world to watch my dreams come true 🤍🤍

logansargeant: there is no place else i would have rather been

user28: listen if my partner doesnt support me as much as logan supports y/n… i dont want it

user65: i just fell to my knees

user29: she is captain america 💙🦅💙🇺🇸

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☆ a/n: i love the olympics and logan just felt right for this one. thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated

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© norrisainz33: please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Stress Relief

Summary: After a recent promotion, Javi has had a lot on his plate. Thankfully, you know just what to do to help him de-stress.

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, post season 3)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (make safe choices pls), oral (m receiving), creampie, size kink (ish?), praise kink, sex as stress relief, Subby, whimpering Javi because giving him a surprise blowjob when you know he's stressed would make him crumble, this is literally porn without a plot WHOOPS

A/N: Shoutout to my job for having a system wide data outage today so I didn't have to work and got to write this instead 🤪 Poor bby cow eyes deserves all the stress relief in the world, and who am I to deny him 🤷🏼‍♀️ Also proud of myself because this is the first thing I've written without an obscene breeding kink in God knows how long, gold stars for me LMAO

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

“You’re still working?” 

“No, I just really like sitting here and going through all this fucking paperwork for fun.” Javi sighed, sarcasm oozing out of his words as he leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

As thankful as Javi was for his much more structured, low risk job at the Laredo Sheriff's Department compared to his time back in Colombia, his recent promotion had put way more on his plate than he had expected. 

Begrudgingly, Javi had been bringing work home with him most nights to make up for what he couldn’t finish in the office, leaving him in an exceptionally sour mood that he was spending his nights finishing paperwork instead of spending time with you. 

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be an asshole, Querida.” Javi huffed, upset with himself that any ounce of him was resorting to taking his frustrations out on you. “I just- I’ve just been really stressed about trying to get all this shit done.” 

“Really? I can’t tell. You don’t seem stressed at all.” You quietly teased, your sarcasm enough to at least crack a small smile out of his pouted frown. 

Pushing the office door open, you softly padded into the room, placing yourself behind Javi’s desk chair and draping your arms around his shoulders, gently resting your chin on his shoulder. His hands reached up to wrap around your arms now resting against his chest, his thumbs rubbing soft circles onto your skin as he let out a heavy sigh, your presence flooding him with at least a little bit of calm amongst the chaos.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You asked, pecking a soft kiss onto the scratchy stubble of his cheek. 

“No, it’s just some paperwork shit.” 

“You sure?” 

“No, thank you though, Hermosa. I promise I’ll be done soon, baby.” 

Javi assumed his reply and gentle pat to your arm still wrapped around him would have enough to send you back out of his office so he could finish the rest of his work, but as your lips began to slowly travel from his cheek to down his neck and back up to nibble at his ear while your hands slid down his chest, he slowly realized that your offer to help had nothing to do with the actual work he needed to finish. 

“You sure there’s nothing? It sure seems like you could use some stress relief, Javi.” The tone of your voice shifting from sweet and innocent to low and sultry, the whisper of your words dancing in Javi’s ear and fingertips raking lower across his stomach and thighs making his breath hitch in the back of his throat as he realized what kind of “help” you were planning to offer him.

You smirked as you watched the bulge in his slacks begin to stiffen, your hand just grazing along the seam of his crotch while you kissed his neck, sucking at his pulse point and nipping at his skin. You could practically feel Javi melting into his chair at your touch, hoping that your plan would provide your husband with some much needed stress relief. 

“Pobrecito (Poor thing). You’re so tense. And so hard,” You laughed quietly to yourself, hand now cupping the full blown erection in his pants, “You gonna let me help you, baby? Help you get rid of some of this stress?” 

You began to swivel his desk chair to face you, Javi’s lips already parted for his heavy breaths as his hungry gaze met yours. Slowly, you climbed into his lap, your legs straddling over his hips as your hands ran up and down his chest, toying with the buttons of his dress shirt to expose his soft and tanned skin. 

Your mouths met in a hungry clash of tongues and teeth, capturing Javi’s muffled moans as you kissed him with an electric intensity that already had him needily bucking his hips up into you, desperate to ease how painfully hard he was from the few short moments since your proposition. 

Javi could barely find it in his mind to string together a coherent sentence, frantically nodding his head in agreement to your question between sloppy kisses, letting his hands roam down your back until they were grabbing your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp. 

“Use your words, Javi. You want me to take care of you?” You cooed, grinding your hips into his lap as you watched his head tip back against the chair, jaw going slack and mind running blank as you rubbed against the straining fabric of his pants. 

“Fuck. P-Please, baby.” He moaned, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gulped, trying to use any ounce of composure he could to somehow make words travel from his brain to his mouth. 

“Good boy.” You smirked, placing one last kiss on his lips before climbing off his lap to settle yourself between his legs on the floor, letting your fingers toy with the clasp of his belt buckle until it broke free.

“Fuck me.” Javi whispered to himself under his breath, watching you free his belt to carefully unzip his slacks, lifting his hips just enough to help you pull down his boxers to reveal his aching cock, tip already red and precum weeping from his slit. 

“Maybe if you behave and let me take care of you, then yes.” You teased before letting your kisses trail up his thighs, inching closer and closer to his length, only making him groan more. His hand ran through the dark locks of his thick brown hair, trying to center himself enough to keep from busting right then and there. 

Your hands ran up and down his thighs as you scooted closer to him, kisses trailing behind the gentle graze of your fingertips up towards his length. You couldn’t help but smirk at him with a devilish grin, seeing how needy and worked up he already was without you even touching him yet. 

Letting your lips inch closer and closer to the base of his cock, your hand wrapped carefully around him, your thumb swiping over his tip and collecting the precum that had been leaking from it, sending a shiver down his spine and a low groan in his chest.

Slowly, your kisses made their way up his length, your lips replacing your hand, tenderly licking at sucking at his tip, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest. “Relax, Javi. Let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed, letting his cock tap against your tongue before licking a long strip from base to tip, the sensation making him shutter. 

“O-kay. Fuck- Yeah, okay, baby.” He managed to stammer out, looking down at you perched between his legs, beginning to sink your mouth down on his length, hollowing out your cheeks until you could feel him hitting the back of your throat, coming back off him with a pop and a satisfied smile, batting your lashes at him. 

Javi’s head hit the back of his chair as you began to repeat the motion, slowly taking the full length of his cock in and out of your mouth, letting his tip graze the back of your throat with each movement.

Letting your tongue drag up his shaft, your lips wrapped around his tip, sucking and flicking at his most sensitive spots. One hand was wrapped around his cock and working in tandem with your mouth, while the other grasped at his bare thigh, fingertips digging into his skin. 

You began to pick up your pace, shifting your hand to cup his balls so you could take him back into your throat, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils. 

You couldn’t help but let a small smirk form between your lips as you worked at his cock, seeing and hearing just how wrecked Javi was from the short time that you had gone down on him, quiet whimpers and moans escaping from his lips, followed by muffled whispers of mixed expletives in Spanish and English to himself in any attempt to keep from spilling down your throat just as soon as you had started. 

“Jesus fucking Christ… F-fuck me. You feel- mierda- you feel so good, Hermosa.” Javi managed to stammer out between gasps, looking down at you nestled between his legs with a desperate expression painted across his face, already feeling his balls beginning to tense and stomach start to swirl. 

While you knew it wouldn’t take much more to get Javi to your intended point of stress relief, you selfishly couldn’t deny the fact that you were now also in need of your own relief, feeling the arousal that had been pooling in your underwear, coating the inside of your thighs and forcing you to squeeze them together in attempts to ease your growing ache. 

Pulling off Javi’s cock and planting a soft kiss to his tip, you peered up at him with a devilish grin, phrasing your next proposition as a question, even though you undoubtedly already knew what his answer would be. 

“You wanna cum down my throat, or cum inside me? You choose, handsome.” You cooed, fingertips grazing the inside of his thighs as your kisses trailed behind, teasing Javi to the point you were half convinced he might cum just like this, considering his half coherent babbles as he tried to string together words to form any sort of thought. 

“I-inside. Fuck- Let me cum inside you, please.” He stammered, nodding his head frantically in confirmation of what you already knew would be his answer. 

Gripping your hands around his thighs to push yourself up to stand, you reached down to tug the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, quickly followed by your bra, both now crumpled in a pile on the floor. 

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at how Javi was gawking at you and your now bare chest, eyes bulging out of his skull and jaw hitting the floor as if he was a goddamn cartoon and it was the first time he had seen you topless in his entire life. 

Your bottom half slowly followed the same fate as your top, pants and underwear shuffling down your hips and legs until they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you completely naked as you began to crawl back into Javi’s lap. 

You let your legs straddle over his hips, your cunt ghosting over his cock as you placed your hands on his stomach, letting them slide up his chest until they were buried in the thick locks of his dark hair, gripping and tugging his curls while your mouth engulfed his in an electric kiss. 

A soft moan rumbled in your chest as his firm grasp found a home on your hips, his fingers digging into the meat of your stomach, holding on for dear life while he felt you hovering over his length. 

“Please, Hermosa. I need to feel you, baby.” He whispered into your ear, now all but begging for you to sink down onto his cock and let himself get lost in the mesmerizing warmth and wetness of you. 

Reaching below you, you wrapped your hand around his cock, positioning it beneath you to lower yourself down, whimpering at the sweet stretch and sting of his girth, letting his tip kiss your cervix as he filled you with every inch of himself that you could take. For as many times as you had found yourself in this position, you were convinced that you would never get over just how full you felt with Javi inside you, and how breathtakingly incredible it felt. 

Cupping Javi’s strong jaw in your hands, your forehead rested against his as you let your hips start to grind into his, long and languid circles of your lower half, rolling back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt. 

“Fuck me. Holy fuck.” Javi groaned, his hands snaking up your front to grab your breasts, kneading the soft flesh greedily in his hands. His fingers reached for your pebbled nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger, the new sensation sending a jolt of pleasure to your core. 

That, combined with the hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbing deliciously on your clit and the way Javi’s cock punched against your g-spot was already making you see stars, vision going white and brain going blank from just how good he felt buried inside you.

Instinctively, you rocked your hips faster, feeling an all too familiar tingle begin to build at the base of your spine. Almost as if Javi could sense the way your cunt was starting to clench around his length, he couldn’t help but buck his hips up into yours, his thrusts filling you in a way that had you absolutely reeling and breathless, the two of you both teetering on the brink of collapse to chase your own highs. 

“You feel, oh shit- you feel so good, Javi. Feel so good inside me. I’m close, baby.” You whimpered, burying your hands in the sweat curled hairs at the nape of his neck, lost in your own pleasure as your stomach swirled faster and faster with arousal. 

You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you and nearly incomprehensible babbles were all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone. 

“Yeah? F-fuck, I love being inside you. So fucking wet and tight, holy fuck.” 

You could feel your walls beginning to tighten around him, moaning as you buried your head in the crook of his shoulder, fingernails digging crescent moons into his skin as you braced yourself for the wave that was about to crash through you. 

 “Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop.”

“I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, Osita. Wanna feel you soak my lap before I fuck you full of me. Gonna cum so deep inside this tight little pussy.” Javi reached down so the pads of his fingers rubbed along your clit as you rolled your hips, sinking yourself deeper onto his cock with each thrust, your vision going white as you could feel yourself come undone. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckkkkkkkk!” You cried out as you felt your orgasm pulse through you, pleasure shooting through your body as you came, clamping down around Javi’s cock and gushing with your arousal, your body melting limp into his as he followed suite. 

“That’s it, baby. I’m gonna- fuck- g-gonna cum too. Fuck me, gonna fill you so full of me you’re- oh shit- gonna be dripping out of me f-for da- Oh fuckkkkkk-” With a final stutter of his hips, Javi thrust up into you, letting the warm rush of his spend coat your walls, milking himself of every last drop before carefully pulling out, letting the rhythmic breathing of your chests rising and falling sync together. 

“Holy fuck.” Javi sighed, kissing your bare shoulder before letting his plush lips peck across your neck and jawline before meeting yours. “I think it worked.” 

“Think what worked?” You asked, still trying to come to in your blissed out state, gently combing your fingers through the sweat ridden curls of Javi’s hair, giggling as he knowingly ghosted his fingers across your stomach, smiling to himself at your ticklish laughter. 

“The stress relief. God, I love you. I’ll never know what the fuck I ever did to deserve you, but I won’t question it. Thank you, baby.” Javi grinned, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, leaving his other arm to wrap around your waist and pull him closer to his chest. 

“I love you, too, Jav. Glad I could help. Hopefully this was enough motivation to get you through the rest of your work.” 

As you started to scoot yourself off Javi’s lap to clean up the mess of arousal, clothes, and a few scattered papers you had left in your wake, you were taken aback to feel his grip tighten around you, holding you in place. 

“It’s gonna be a long night, because I’m not even close to being done.” Javi smirked, his tongue darting between his lips as his eyes darkened with a hungry gaze. 

“Then you need to let me get off you, you goofball. Last time I checked, your naked wife sitting on your lap isn’t helping anyone to get paperwork done.” You teased, playfully crossing your arms over your chest, tilting your head at Javi in a mix of sass and confusion until a shriek of surprise escaped from your chest as Javi stood up to set you on top of his desk, caging his broad body over yours. 

“Oh I’m done with all of this shit,” He paused, gesturing to his desk before letting his kisses lazily trail down your body until he was on his knees with your legs draped over his shoulders, spreading them open to reveal the swollen and glistening mess still between your thighs, “but there’s not a chance in hell I’m done with you.” 

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @purpleprincess75 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫

pairing: general marcus acacius x fem!reader

summary: unsure of whether or not your husband is alive leading his army's invasion, the only method of tranquility is by reaching into your past memories as a necessary distraction.

warnings: MINORS DNI, wife!reader and husband!marcus, mentions of TW: miscarriages, (probably incorrect) roman history, mentions of TW: blood and death, making love, sweet nicknames (carissima/me - dearest, dulcissima/me - sweetest, meum cor - my heart, melculum - my little honey), marcus has a big dick, creampies, tender softness, probably ooc marcus ??

wc: 4.4k

notes: oh booyyyyyyy. so we all collectively agree that general marcus is scrum-diddly-umptious ?? all the pics, videos, and gifs dropping does not ease my obsession. so.. i turned my obsession into a work of art for all of you to read ^.^ idk squat about the roman times, but i did do my best to research !! divider from @saradika-graphics 🤍

main masterlist

follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

It seems like the days have been mixing in with each other the more time has passed. Unsure of which day started and which day ended, you lost track of time. It had been one month, maybe two at this point. The sun rose and set, the moon and stars following in tandem. It was almost like a dance. It was amusing, to say the least. It reminded you of your relationship with your husband. With the light color dress wraps and delicate gold jewelry you'd wear around your neck compared to his permanent scowl, it's clear to civilization who's the sun and who's the moon. But you both complement each other in more ways than one.

You're able to calm him down with a simple touch on his arm, causing his boisterous voice to quiet down and his heart to steady its pace. Marcus' presence looming behind you around others, everyone already knows how dangerous he can become if someone even looks at his wife the wrong way.

Now, without his presence and his voice and his touch, nothing feels real. Pacing around in the dining hall of your home, you rubbed your hands tenderly over your barely-there baby bump over your soft blue wrap dress that Marcus surprised you with the last time he had come home from a previous battle for more land. He had won, of course, because General Marcus Acacius never loses. The mere thought of him losing a battle led by him with his army in tow is one of your greatest fears as his wife.

Staying inside your home and wallowing in your fears was no good for you and your unborn child. You couldn't go through the stress of worrying after your husband and deal with another heartbreaking loss alone. The night that Marcus had come back, you had broken down in front of him, shakily telling him through your thick tears that you had lost your son.

"A son?" He had quietly asked you, his eyes wide and heartbreaking.

"The teller that settles by the river," you told him with a broken voice. "She had confirmed it with her readings."

You remember it clearly as day; the look on his face equivalent to that of a broken man. You had choked on your tears, begging for his forgiveness for not being more careful, for not being a dutiful mother that was supposed to protect their child. You had knelt down in front of him, grabbing his knees and pleading to him and the gods for forgiveness and punishment, your hands pressed together in a prayer.

"Carissima," he had whispered quietly to you, slowly getting down onto his knees to remove your tight hold on his dirtied pteruges. His hands, trembling and unsteady, tenderly hold your cheeks to look into your heartbroken eyes. "I shall never strike a hand upon you, need you deserve it or not. I shall never lay blame on something the gods have brutally stolen from us. Oh, my dearest wife." His last whisper had you gripping onto his arms and crying your heart out into his shoulder. He said nothing more, nothing else. On the ground that day, all he did was hold you, and that was more than what you needed.

Breaking out of that distressing memory, you busied yourself with around-the-house distractions. In your hands was a handmade wicker basket you had purchased at one of the markets. The owner was a sweet, older woman that knew of your reputation amongst the others. She always treated you with kindness and looked at you with excitement every time you came by and not fear. She also gifted you a handmade blanket sewn with intricate patterns of the moon and sun.

"I gift this to you as a thank you for your kindness," she had said, pushing the blanket further into your hands when you had protested. She lay a wrinkly finger against her lips and drooped her eye to a wink.

Stepping outside with the wicker basket in your arms, you traveled a short distance to a small pond with many bushes, trees, and delicate flowers all around. This was your happy place. And this was also where you and Marcus had made love for the first time so long ago. The tree, the rock, the patch of grass. All of it held a distinct memory of your first time. Thinking back to it brings a smile to your lips.

"Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to stop right now and I shall go back to where I rest and I will not pursue you any longer," Marcus had told you breathlessly against your jaw. He had you laid on the soft grass underneath the moon, the light shining against the pond in a way that makes the gentle movements look like glitter. Your dress was hiked up around your hips as he rested heavily between your trembling thighs, your hands squeezing on his strong biceps that flexed in response to your sizzling touch.

"Marcus," you sighed prettily in his ear, and it sounded like the sweetest song he has honor of ever hearing. "My need for you has not gone away. It will not go away unless you take me right here, under the moon and stars, until I'm singing for you in pleasure."

The look in his eyes was that of desperate hunger and wanton need. When he had slid himself into your cunt for the first time, all of your prayers to the gods have been finally answered. Marcus was made to be yours. And you were made to be his. Hushed moans and frantic thrusts, Marcus fucked like how others perceived himself – like a barbarian. Some women would disagree and find it appalling and dirty, but it was perfection. He wasn't scared to touch you. He touched you as though if he were to let go you would float away, for he would no longer be able to taste you on his tongue or feel your tight warmth wrapped around his thick cock.

A touch to your shoulder had you gasping and dropping the basket onto the ground. You spun around and laid a hand on your chest and one on your bump, staring at the poor maid that scared you accidentally.

"I deeply apologize for frightening you, miss," she stares at you with her hands up in defense as though she was staring at a frightening animal backed into a corner. "General Marcus has arrived and he asks for your presence in your bedroom."

"No, no, it's quite alright, dear. My head was in the clouds again," you offer her a gentle smile and a brief laugh, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder to ease her worries. "And Marcus, is he...?"

The young maid recognized your worry and shook her head as an answer to your unspoken question. You hand her the wicker basket of plucked fruits from the bushes and politely tell her to wash and ready them, and to bring them to your bedroom when the task is done. She nodded and hurried off immediately.

You carefully, but also hurriedly, made your way into your home. Nodding and giving polite smiles to the people inside, you walk up the spiral marble stairs. When you reached the top, there stood a statue of yourself sitting atop a stone with a statue of hour husband on his knees and his lips pressed to your knees. There were intricate details in the statue, like of Marcus' fingers gripping your thighs or the soft rolls of your body. Your husband preferred a large home such as this for his growing family. You preferred something quainter and more personal, but what your husband says, goes. You recognized his large, dirty footprints leading to your bedroom, another young maid already on her knees scrubbing the stains.

"Aureia, there's no need for that," you tut softly at the young girl, and she looks up at you with wide eyes. "Leave that alone for now, alright? As for this moment, will you please gather the others and bring pails of hot water for a bath?"

"Right away," she nodded and hurried off. It brings a smile to your face at how eager the young maids are to please. Unlike the other men and women that have maids in their homes, you treated yours like people. They respect you and in return, you respect them. Marcus used to disagree until he remembered how you grew up when it was just you and your widowed mother, along with the reputation of being poor. Realizing that you see yourself in these young maids, your husband made it a point to allow you to be in charge of them and do whatever you see fit. Having that much power can be overwhelming, only because of the fear of having your kind heart be taken advantage of. But those that work for and with you know to never cross you, for they'll have to deal with the consequences your husband has waiting for them.

When you entered your private bedroom, there he sat, still dressed from head to toe in his armor. He sits with his back facing the door, his sights focused on the large window that overlooks the garden which circles around the empty thermae. You slowly move around the bed and finally stand before him, essentially blocking his view of the window. Marcus doesn't look up at you just yet. So, you stay silent and let him do what he needs to, let him think what he needs to think.

His hands, still caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood, move up to your stomach. Your bump is within his line of sight. Both of his hands rest on either side, feeling the firmness and shape of the bump. You watch as his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. His face was also caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood. The ends of his hair are curled with sweat from the heat of his long journey back home to his family. Marcus says nothing when you stroke his jaw silently. Neither of you register the door opening and four maids coming in one by one to empty two pails each of hot water into the tub that sits in the corner of the room. They know better than to interrupt.

When the door shuts, Marcus moves to rest his head against your bump. His ear is pressed into your soft flesh through the dress adorning your body. He can faintly hear the thumping of your heart and that brings him back down to earth, back home to you. Your hands, warm and gentle, card through his messy, graying curls. Damp with dirt and sweat, you don't care. Feeling him right here, right now, was all that mattered.

"It's over," he finally speaks, his voice rough and low. His hands move down to find a home on your wide hips, fingers just barely digging into the shape. "The war is over. I made sure of it." And he leaves it at that.

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh of mixed relief and heartache. You couldn't imagine what your husband had to go through, as a leader, to make sure that he and his army of men make it out alive. You couldn't imagine the number of bodies that are lying out there, hundreds of miles away, torn apart and bled out, mangled flesh and bone. You couldn't imagine your husband possibly being one of them. Bending down as best as you could, you tenderly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and kissed the back of his head. You briefly sniffed his hair and pulled back.

"Let's get you inside the bath, hm?" You whispered softly, hands lovingly scratching at his scruffy jaw as you pulled his head up to look into your eyes.

When he stands, you almost forgot how imposing he was. His height was a strong factor. The bloodied armor he wears makes him look much broader and more dangerous. The exhausted look on his face makes him look much more mean – evil, even. But he's neither of those things, at least not to you. He stands as still as a tree as you begin to unclip and pull off his armor one by one. From the thick leather chest plate bound with protective metal underneath, all the way down to the thick leather arm-wear covering his forearms. Unsheathing his sword from its belt, you unclip that from around his waist as well. Having done this a million times, it's muscle memory.

He stands before you, naked, dirty, and exhausted. You reach behind your neck and slowly untie your dress wrap. It pools at your feet, your naked body now on display for him to see after months apart. Marcus' eyes take in every detail. The delicacy of your collarbones, your perky breasts, the curve of your growing belly, the soft curls of your pubic hair, those thighs that Marcus loves being in between, all the way down to the dangling anklet he gifted you.

"Come on," you whisper softly and take his hand to lead him to the filled tub. Steam sits above the water and Marcus' aching muscles scream out to it.

He enters first, hissing at first from the heat but then moaning gruffly once he sinks further into the hot water. Almost immediately, his sore muscles begin to relax. He could fall asleep right this instant. He feels a gentle push on his shoulder. He scoots forward and allows you to enter behind him.

"What are you doing, dear wife?" He doesn't hear an answer to his question. He's about to turn his body, but then he feels your hands massaging his tender scalp and washing his dirty hair. His eyes shut almost instantly, and he groans huskily with parted lips.

You wanted to laugh at his reaction but decided against it. Marcus never had time to relax and wind down. He was always on his feet, always discussing the next steps of battle, always readying his army men with hardcore training. It pained you to see him like this, especially at a distance. He never wanted you around to witness his leadership. Not wanting to induce stress onto you early on in your pregnancy, not wanting a repeat of your last pregnancy, he had given you strict instructions to let him handle everything.

"Meum cor, you do so good with taking care of your husband," Marcus quietly tells him, his entire body shuddering when your nails tenderly scrape the sensitive parts of his scalp. "I know the other men are envious of the treatment I receive from such a divine woman."

"Mm, I know, my love," softly laughing at his goading. You reached over the side of the tub to grab a small wooden bowl. Using that to pour water onto his soapy curls, you gently tipped his head back and did just that. You kissed the side of his head and gently cleaned away the dirt and grime on his beautifully tan skin. You paid extra attention by lovingly kissing the scar on his right cheek.

For the next hour, you put all your focus into washing his body. No longer was he a filthy barbarian. No, he was now your clean, fresh smelling husband. His damp hair curled elegantly behind his ears and neck. You had maneuvered onto his lap to focus on his front. There were more prominent bruises on his chest and arms, as well as some cuts that have begun its healing process. You gave him a small pout, to which he tuts and lovingly cups your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I could ride into the sun and still come back to you in one piece, meum cor," he tells you quietly, moving his face much closer and shifting you to sit comfortably on his lap. "No man, no sword, no army could ever strike me down and take me from you."

Holding onto his scruffy jaw and peering into those dark chocolate eyes of his, he looks at you with such tenderness that no stranger will ever witness. Your bump is resting against his own stomach, and he feels every breath you exhale. Heads lean closer, his aquiline nose resting on the side of yours, lips just a hair away. There's distant chatter outside in the gardens, the curtains swaying gently from the warm breeze coming through the open windows. The water in the tub is still warm and steaming, the clearness of it was now murky from the dirt you cleaned from his aching body. You have half a mind to drain the tub and call out for more pails of fresh hot water, but you're so comfortable and safe in the arms of your husband.

"Do you recall the night I took you underneath the stars?" Marcus asks you huskily, both hands gripping your hips, strong fingers digging into your plushy flesh. He forces your hips closer to his, thick thighs tensing underneath your own. "The way you begged me to keep going, even when it began to rain down upon us."

Your lips parted to elicit a soft gasp when you felt his hardness on your thigh, thickening and rising with each second that passed. You do remember that night like it was yesterday. The soft rain pattering on your naked, writhing bodies. Your nails had dug deep into his skin to keep him from moving away. You had cried out to the gods for more, more, more.

"I do believe I may have scars from those nails of yours," Marcus joked lightly against your jaw, pressing a kiss to the bone with his plush lips.

Giggling quietly in his ear, you held his head close to your chest as his kisses traveled south. "I do believe you're creating tales, carissime."

He hums disapprovingly, holding you tighter on his lap when you shift. The steam from the water made his skin feel sticky and warm. You tasted salt on your tongue when you kissed below his ear. It was intoxicating, to say the least. Tasting him, trailing your tongue all over his molten hot skin, licking over his scars and freckles. There was a quiet minute when you both looked into each other's eyes again. Marcus can see the light hasn't died. He can see the adoration you have for him in the way your pupils dilate, and breathing quicken. And you can feel the love Marcus has for you in the way his eyes get slightly wide as he takes in your features, most likely mapping out which ones he hopes your unborn child takes from the both of you.

"Take us to bed, meum cor," you beg him. No longer able to keep looking at your handsome husband and not do anything about it, you leave it all up to him.

Without another word, Marcus stands with a hoarse grunt. With one strong arm wrapped tight (but not too tight) around your waist and his other hand under your thigh to keep you up and against his body, he steps over the tub and makes his way over to the bed. Neither of you care if your wet bodies are soaking the sheets. As he lays you down and rests on top of you, nothing else matters at this moment.

"Melculum, you look like a goddess with the sunlight kissing your naked skin," he whispers to you, lowering his head to kiss at your breasts and collarbones. You gasped and arched your back, further pressing your breasts into his mouth, to which he sucks a sensitive nipple between those lips.

Marcus rests on his forearms on either side of your head with his big hands tenderly cupping the crown. Your feet teasingly trail up and down the backs of his thighs, and you feel his hardness twitch between your bodies. Whispering his name in a needy voice, he looks up at you and catches the look in your half-lidded eyes. The flush on your skin makes your skin glow. He would never disrespect his gods and goddesses, but Aphrodite does have a competition on her hands.

Feeling too eager, you take charge and yank his neck down to finally kiss him. After months of not feeling his body, hands, and lips on yours, you powered all your emotions in this kiss. It was messy and desperate and hard. Tongue, teeth, garbled whimpers and heavy breaths. Marcus suckled at your bottom lip, letting it snap back against your teeth to then suck and bite at your neck. Your hips were shifting to slot his hard cock between the silky lips of your wet cunt. Grinding up and down, the thick vein that rests on his hardness glides easily against your swelling clit.

"Marcus," you weep quietly in his ear. "Oh, my husband. I need you more than life itself. Oh, you're the bravest, strongest soldier known to man. You're so... powerful, so dangerous. You keep your family and your people safe, my love." Saying this all while you're grinding your sweet cunt up and down the length of his hardness has Marcus growing erratic by the second.

He looks down between your bodies. Your cunt lips open like the blooming petals of the sweetest flower. The soft dark curls of your pubic hair rubbing against his own. Your small belly bump that keeps your unborn child safe and sound. Marcus uses his thumb to guide himself inside your cunt, breathing shallowly when the warm tightness sucks him in, inch by inch. Your mouth falls open to let out quiet, needy moans.

"There we go, melculum," Marcus grunts lowly in your ear, lowering his hips further down into yours and his thick cock slides deeper inside your leaking hole. The heat, wetness, and tightness of your cunt has him spiraling already. The knot in the pit of his stomach further unraveling the deeper he gets. "You were made for me," he breathes deeply, the heat of his breath fanning over your sensitive neck.

When he starts fucking into you, he was mindful to not rest his entire weight on your belly. He repositioned himself in a way that had his back curving to drive his hips deeper, faster, and harder into your own. The action had you arching and gasping. Your soft breasts and feet bounced gently from the movements. Marcus lovingly strokes down your temples with his thumbs and kisses you hard once again. Your fingers curl into his hair, now drying and curling beautifully. He looks like a god. It makes you want to cry. But then, his cock starts punching against the one spot that makes you scream.

"Oh! Marcus!" You yelped, eyebrows furrowed and lifted up as your mouth fell open and moans started pouring out. "Right there! Right... there. Ri-ight the-ere!"

He slows his thrusts until he's grinding so deep and so slow. Your moans turned into whimpers. He was able to hear the sloppy noises of your cunt soaking around his hardness. He grins down at you, his dimple deepening when you twitch and writhe.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your jaw. "So ethereal underneath me, writhing and begging for my cock." Marcus sharply drives his cock into your cunt unexpectedly. You let out a long, wanton wail that has his grin widening. He does it again, and again, and again. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Your slick is most likely dripping out of your hole and onto Marcus' balls which slap against you. You can practically feel the weight of them, so heavy and full of two months' worth of cum. He drags his cock in and out of you slowly now, allowing you to feel every vein and every inch. Your thighs spread wide for him, eager for more. He answered your silent pleas and fucked you at a quicker pace again.

"Wrap your arms around me, Marcus. Oh, please, please, please!" You sobbed quietly, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He follows immediately. His strong arms wrap under your back and he rests some of his weight onto your front. Your thighs widen to accommodate his size, allowing his cock to nudge deeper in a way that steals your breath. "Just... like... that," you whimpered after each thrust Marcus gives.

He feels dizzy and overwhelmed in a good way. The smell of the homemade soap on your skin, the softness and warmth of your naked skin against his, your sweet moans like a pretty song in his ears, the slick tightness of your cunt sucking him in repeatedly. Feeling, smelling, and hearing all of these at once was enough to finally let him spill out his moans without holding back. His chest vibrates against your bare breasts with each grunt that passes his kissed-raw lips. The vibrations on your sensitive nipples tickled you erotically.

"You are intoxicating," he moans heavily against your sticky skin, his scruff scraping deliciously and his lips and teeth leaving little love bites. "Non possum satis de te." I cannot get enough of you.

With your eyes rolling back and your thighs trembling around his wide hips, you simply cannot control what your body does. Marcus catches you off guard by messily kissing you, his tongue intertwining with your own, tasting each other's saliva. The taste of him had you whining into his mouth. There was a faintness of wine on his tongue. Although you obviously couldn't drink while you bear his child, the lingering taste of it on your husband's tongue was enough to drive you wild. Your hands, originally placed on his shoulder blades, trail down to his tapered waist and finally cling onto his perky bottom. You squeeze the tender flesh and briefly dig your nails into the skin, feeling the muscles clench and unclench with every roll of his hips and cock driving into your cunt.

"Tu parum desperatus es, huh?" Marcus' voice sounded cocky and the grin on his face didn't help. You're a desperate little thing, huh?

One of the things that made your husband a respected leader was his arrogance was never wrongfully directed. He loved to gloat, about anything and everything. But when it came to you, his wife, his ego inflates to the point of popping.

That's when you felt it. The coil in the pit of your stomach gets tighter and tighter, forcing your gooey walls to twitch around Marcus' thickness. He moans lowly at the feeling of it. He hooks one of your thighs over his arm, bracing your knee into your chest to fuck you deeply. The position change had you shuddering, more slick leaking out and staining the sheets below your bodies.

"I'm... I'm... fuuuck!" With one final cry out to the gods, you scratched down Marcus' skin and braced yourself for impact.

Your orgasm washed over you like one of the strongest ocean waves known to man. Your body wouldn't stop twitching and writhing underneath his massive body. The squeezing tightness of your cunt wouldn't let your husband fuck you any longer. He drops down and lets out a final rough grunt before spilling inside of you. He has a entire body shiver as his cock twitches repeatedly, his thick cum spilling out every few seconds. It finally stopped after a whole minute; yes, you were counting. The tickle of his cum hitting you deep inside had you giggling drowsily.

"You should be thanking your husband for giving you a well-needed release, not laughing at him," he hums against your skin, the vibrations of his voice and bristles of his scruff tickling you further, causing you to laugh louder. He feels your belly jumping from your shaking body and he can't help but to smile.

Being in the arms of his wife after a long journey of war and death, there really is no place like home.

[strawberri-blonde]

Iron throne - Jacaerys Velaryon

Summary: you celebrate team black winning the war by giving the heir a much needed gift (basically giving Jace head while he sits on the iron throne)

Warning : Lots of smut

Author’s Note: I’m super proud of this one guys!!!!!

Masterlist

Laughter echoed through the dimly lit halls as you pulled your husband along the winding corridors leading to the throne room of the Red Keep. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the ancient stone walls. “Y/n, what are we going in here?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and amusement. The grand, imposing doors of the throne room loomed ahead, promising an adventure within the heart of the castle.

You nodded to the guards, who had been informed hours earlier that you’d be bringing the prince here. You might have fibbed a bit, saying the new rightful queen had given her permission (and you might’ve bribed them with a little bit of gold, perks of being the princess and wife to the future king). Queen Rhaenyra had won the war less than a month ago, and you wanted to celebrate with the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Relax, my beloved," you giggled, opening the door to the Iron Throne. The throne stood before you, a menacing structure forged from a thousand swords, with jagged edges and twisted metal that symbolized immense power. "It’s just that ever since your mother took her rightful place as ruler, we haven’t had time to truly celebrate." His beautifully sculpted face showed of curiosity.

"I’m not quite understanding, ābrazȳrys." His whisper seemed to echo in the large room, but you maintained your cunning smile, excited for what was to come or whom. wife

"That’s alright," you said, your soft hands reaching out for his. Your heart blossomed as he took your hands in his and raised them to his lips. "Oh Jacaerys, you’ve always treated me like a queen." He smirked, kissing your skin again. You pulled his hands to your lips, mimicking his act of affection. "And I know this war hasn’t been easy for you or anyone, really, but the way you’ve presented yourself..." You paused to drag him over to the Iron Throne. "Was so honorable, noble... strong." You whispered the last part, knowing that every time he heard the word, he thought of his birth father, which still left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Your war strategies were far from princely. You acted as a king in the making."

"My sweet wife," Jace whispered, his voice trembling. Even in the dark, you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, glistening like tiny stars. He gently cupped your face, his touch tender and reverent. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion as he gazed into your eyes, his love and vulnerability laid bare.

You immediately shook your head and motioned him towards the steps of the Iron Throne. “No, it is I who doesn’t deserve you,” you insisted, your voice firm yet filled with affection. As you guided him closer, the cold, unforgiving nature of the throne contrasted sharply with the warmth of your touch, emphasizing the depth of your bond.

"Impossible," he said with a playful grin. You giggled again and gave him a gentle push until he stumbled back and fell into the throne of swords, the metal clinking softly as he landed.

His eyes widened, and he immediately started to get up, but you placed a hand on his chest and pulled something up from the floor. It was a cardboard crown, meticulously crafted with painted details and shiny foil, resembling his grandfather's crown—or rather, now his mother’s.

“Y/n?” His voice was full of question as you plopped the fake crown on his head. “What are you—” Jace was cut off by your lips pressing against his. Nothing about the kiss was sweet or simple; it was full of hot need. His hands went to your cheeks while yours fisted his tunic.

"You are the queen's heir, my prince," you smirked as his eyes dropped to your lips, craving more. You happily obliged, licking his bottom lip and slipping your tongue into his mouth, moaning as he sucked on your flesh. You pulled away, hands reaching the bottom of his shirt. "You'll be my king, and as your future queen, I swear to you that there will never be a day where you aren't worshipped by me, your highness."

Jace’s eyes widened in sheer amazement as you lifted his shirt over his head. He eagerly pulled you closer, his hands cupping your face, as he guided you into a fervent, passionate kiss.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he murmured against your lips, his voice barely a whisper. Yet, he ignored his own warning, kissing the corner of your mouth before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your neck.

A sinister smirk curled your lips as you tilted your head to the side, allowing your husband to explore your neck with his eager kisses. "Don't worry," you whispered, the words drifting through the chilly, echoing chamber. "The guards have been paid off to alert me if anyone approaches, and I have a handmaiden rising extra early to tidy up any evidence of our indulgence."

Jacaerys drew back, his gaze locked onto yours. "You’re truly extraordinary," he said, his voice filled with genuine reverence.

"Only for those who truly deserve it," you replied with heartfelt sincerity. As you gracefully slid off his lap, you stood before him, your delicate fingers tracing a path down his bare chest, savoring the contours of his toned body. "And you, Jace, deserve the world. I intend to give it to you." You paused at the waistband of his pants, your fingers lingering on the button. "Now, let me show you how I’ll care for the future king, shall I?"

Before you could kneel in front of him, your husband grabbed your bicep to stop you. "At least use my shirt and pants as a cushion for your knees, issa ābrazȳrys." My wife

You hummed softly, then leaned back in to give him a gentle kiss, then felt the fake crown slip from his curls knocking against your head. The delicate touch of his lips sent a shiver down your spine. "Always the gentleman," you whispered against his mouth, your breath mingling with his. "Se bona’s skoro syt nyke’d zālagon se vys ilagon syt ao." The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a moment of unspoken promise and fierce devotion. And that’s why I’d burn the world down for you

Locking your eyes solely on him, you helped Jace out of his black silk pants, readjusting the decorative crown on his head. Then once he was freed from his clothes, you let them pool at his feet to use them as a cushion as you knelt in front of him. "Sit back, husband," you teased, pushing at his toned chest down to his abs, just above where his cock rested. Even in the seemly light room you could see the glistening tip as it slightly bounced in the air, begging for attention. "Let me worship you."

You grabbed his shaft firmly in hand, running your palm up and down the length, savoring the soft moans escaping his rosy lips. You smiled up at him as he sat back in his rightful throne, the one he would rule one day, and parted his legs, giving you more room to work with. Shifting closer, you spit down on his glossy head, circling your wrist from his tip all the way to his base, then leaned down to apply open-mouthed kisses to his thighs.

Jace's head arched back against the throne, his eyes locked on yours, pupils blown out with lust. "So pretty," you moaned against his skin, continuing your strokes and sucking on his fair skin, intending to leave marks for him to remember in the days to come. "All mine, my king."

"You were sculpted by the gods," he said, his voice rough and his hands fisted at the armrests.

"Hmm," you hummed against his thighs, kissing up until you reached his cock. You kissed the red tip, then licked a broad line from his balls back to the uncut tip of his shaft; tapping it against your tongue before indulging by taking it into your mouth. You moaned against his girthy size, sending vibrations along your wake. "It seems as though you were gifted heavenly yourself, husband."

Jace cursed to himself as you took him fully into your wet mouth, bobbing up and down, only managing to take him halfway in. You jerked the bottom half while your other hand fumbled with his heavy balls. "You're too good at this, my queen." Heat pooled within you at his praise, making you bob faster, wanting to please him.

Drool spilled from your mouth as you let him out with a pop, then sucked along the side of his shaft, tonguing his thick, protruding vein. You sucked back on the tip, moaning around him, making his right hand fly from the armrest to the top of your head, guiding you to sink your mouth back down until he reached deep in the back of your throat. "So fucking good, my love. Taking me so well."

Your eyes stayed locked on him as you ran a hand up his thigh, tracing his clenched stomach until you reached his nipple, pinching it. "Holy," he muttered, his eyes beginning to shut and his hips buckling under your touch.

When he bucked his hips, his cock slipped further into your mouth, making you choke, and you loved every second of it. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" he asked, panicked. You only pressed your hands down on his thighs, sinking your nails into his skin, and took him deeper, allowing tears to form in your eyes. You swallowed around him, causing incoherent words to spill from his lips.

You pulled back slowly, a glistening trail of saliva covering his entire mound and dripping down to soak the front of your dress. The sight was mesmerizing, the slick sheen catching the light as you panted, lips parted and eyes locked onto his.

Without thinking, you pulled your gown over your head, leaving you in nothing but your lace underwear and ankle lace socks. "Don't worry about me, dear prince." You squeezed the head of his cock, paying close attention to it, knowing it was the most sensitive, much like your clit. "If I were to choke to death from giving you pleasure, then I'd die a happy woman."

Jace let out a forced laugh, but it was cut off by a moan as you leaned back down to take his balls in your mouth, inhaling his natural musk mixed with the scents of lavender and bath salts. You loved the way he smelled; it was intoxicating.

You shook your head slightly, your tongue and lips still working over his sack, savoring every moment. As you pulled away to press soft kisses against his thighs, you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. "Are you enjoying yourself, my love?" you whispered, your voice laced with desire.

It was undeniable that the prince was lost in the pleasure you were giving him. His eyes were dark and blown out with lust, his gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made your heart race. The veins in his arms stood out starkly, a testament to the tension coursing through his body, while his chiseled abdominal muscles were clenched tight. His lower half trembled with the sheer force of his ecstasy, a testament to the overwhelming sensations you were creating.

"Don't tease me, my future queen," he growled, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. Your lips curved into a wide smile, knowing exactly the effect you had on him. "You know what you do to me." His painfully hard length brushed against your lips, evidence of his desire, as his hand caressed your cheek tenderly, the contrast between his touch and his need making your heart race.

"I know," you admitted with a sly smile, licking his tip before trailing your tongue down to his balls and back up again, savoring his taste. "But what would really make me happy is making you cum on your rightful throne, my future king." Before he could respond, you took him entirely into your mouth, beginning to bob up and down his length with unrelenting passion.

"Y/n," he moaned, slipping his hand back into your hair to help guide your mouth up and down his shaft. His grip tightened when your hand twisted around the base and the other cupped his sack, giving them a little tug. "My wife, I'm so..." he dragged out. "Close." You didn't let up.

Nothing could make you stop. Seeing Jacaerys' face scrunched up in bliss, his eyes staring down at you, as you pleased him on the Iron Throne was intoxicating. A literal dragon would have to drag you away before you stopped.

"I'm—" his breath hitched in his throat as you slurped and sucked on the tip of his cock, jerking the rest. "Fuck."

His hips bucked as his cum shot into your mouth, and you greedily continued. His salty essence was the best thing you had ever tasted, and you lapped it all up, even as his cock began to soften just a bit. Finally, when you felt like you got every last drop, you looked up at Jace with a cheeky, toothy smile.

"For you, my future King Jacaerys Velaryon," you said, slowly standing up despite the ache in your knees. His clothes had barely cushioned them, but his blissful expression held your attention. The kiddish fake crown slipped down, covering his eyebrows and pushing some of his brown curls into his face. Gently, you pushed the crown back up and brushed his hair aside, gazing down at him with nothing but love in your eyes. "I will always bend the knee."

Why do I always get obsessed with characters who die. Like I truly contribute to my own downfall. Mental health who???

~ Caroline

[glitterjay]

i need you to please expand being hee's pillow princess please 🥹😭

⭒ dom!heeseung, pillow princess!reader (fem), head (f. receiving), face fucking, overstimulation, heeseung is rough, dacryphilia, cussing, suggestive content under cut mdni

⭒ c's note: your wish is my command 🫡. reblogs are appreciated!

⭒ taglist: @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @fertilizedtoesw @kwiwin @enhabooks

heeseung had you where he wanted you the most, under his strong arms. you tried to fight back so he could free you from his harsh hold. he was beyond excited to give his pillow princess what she deserved for looking so incredibly cute and small all the time.

he was quite harsh; the grip his hands had on your wrists was definitely going to give you bruises. he was scanning your naked body up and down, licking his lips every now and then.

your eyes were starting to tear up because of the grip heeseung had on you. it was just what he wanted. to him, your face looked far more beautiful when it glowed, but only if it was caused by your pretty, crystal-clear tears.

"already fucking crying? we haven't even started yet."

-

you were seeing stars spinning at the top of your head. Your eyes kept rolling back, your back arched, and you moaned loudly as heeseung kept eating you out like a starving man. your legs were shaking, but he kept them still with his own two hands. you tried pushing him away, pulling his hair as hard as you could, but he wouldn't budge.

he was basically using you as his toy, not caring how much you enjoyed it or hated it. his priority was to fulfill his dirty thoughts and boy was he doing an amazing job.

heeseung left your overly sensitive clit alone when you reached yet again another orgasm. he was satisfied to see your entire body shaking in desperation as your head sank further into the mattress. his chin was glistening with your juicies, which tasted like heaven to him.

without letting you rest for more than a minute, he grabbed your arms and pulled you up harshly. your body fell on top of his standing figure, not being able to gold yourself up. heeseung loved when you depended on him.

he was quick to have you sitting on top of his face. his eyes were glowing as your dripping cunt was aligned perfectly with his face. he could devour you whole, and he would. "such a filthy whore, still here even when your body can't handle more."

he was right. you felt like you could pass out at any second, but he was a lot stronger than you were. he was the one keeping you there. you were pathetic and helpless, which only turned on heeseung even more.

his strong arms pressed your hip down, so you were quite literally sitting on him. he was quick to start eating you out again, this time with more pleasure as his nose made direct contact with your sensitive bud.

his tongue was fucking in and out of your hole. yet again, heeseung was the one making you bounce up and down. what came out of you were no longer moans, but screams of desperation. your thighs closed on his face, strangling him with force. all heeseung could do was let out a muffled laugh. he was sick to the head.

-

after hours of torturing you, he finally set you free. by that, it meant leaving you alone in bed since you couldn't move at all. he was the one who put your clothes back on and gave you a peck on the forehead.

his whole aura had changed. it was no longer heavy and scary; it was nice and warm. his dedication was now to take care of you, as if he wasn't the cause of your nearly fainting several times.

© glitterjay | tumblr

[tarothouselattier]

Describing you the way a Love interest would describe the Main character (you)

| private readings • PAC masterlist |

Pile 1 🌟

“I don’t know how she does it»

«She shines brightest in the dark”

“She is my everything”

“She is the funnest soul I’ve ever seen. She picks up her sword and shines a light ahead. She is a beacon in the darkest dark. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Without her positivity. Without her pushing me, picking me up, picking all of our spirits up. She is my everything. Evangelina(like the Star from Princess and the Frog I’m crying because there’s literally also the star card). When she’s lost on her track, reminiscing with what-ifs, I’ll be there to catch her. Not all that shines is gold and she deserves the world, and she WILL get it. Because that’s who she is, and I wanna be by her side forever. I can’t wait to see on what adventures she will take us))))”

PILE 2 ❤️☄️

Immediately I feel like you are the type of character where your love interest is like “y/n, NO!” and then you’re like “y/n, YES!!” lmaoo😂

“She is always one step ahead of everyone. She is an independent thinker. She doesn’t do what she’s told, doesn’t just take anything that’s given to her. She takes no prisoners, mainly she doesn’t imprison herself. She’s so much bigger than the world can see. She is the mastermind behind the turning of our world. This is her world and we’re just living in it.

The sparks of her youth turned into flames of wisdom, her spirit alone can hold this world together. She is the Sun. Fiery , passionate and she never gives up, she only moves and lives on.”

PILE 3 👸

Song - Dancing with the Devil by Demi Lovato.

“Out of control” Control is very important here. Immediate empress vibes. But not the vibes that the card gives, more like the Emperor. It’s giving Empress Navier from “The Remerried Empress” on Webtoon. I LOVE how you got a literal character from a comic/novel.

“She isn’t going to be controlled”.

You are very poised. Very meticulous, only the smartest of people can be the kind of virtuous that you clearly are. You know yourself but it’s like nobody can get a clear read on you. Not even me😅😅🥲

IT’S GIVING NAVIER FR OH MY GOD. Okay, so at first glance you are like a fortress, but if you let people to look deeper, you are SO nurturing, compassionate, considerate, kind to others. You’re not the only one who’s winning when you do what it is you do. You are GENEROUS with your community and loved ones. You put your all and you know how to be patient and PLAY the LONG game. You might overwork yourself and over-give yourself out of the goodness of your heart. Please rest, my Queen🥰❤️🕊️

[ichorai]

little dragon ; aemond targaryen. (m)

part two ; water dragon.

pairing ; aemond targaryen x tully!f!reader

synopsis ; he was your fire, and you were his sea, willing to push and pull the tides at his behest.

words ; 5.8k

themes ; fluff, smut (minors dni!), fantasy, established relationship (married), pregnant au

warnings / includes ; unprotected sex, tiny bit of oral (f recieving), breeding and praise kink, pregnancy/childbirth, vhagar cameo, aegon being a menace, foul language, aemond being a good husband/dad unlike his own father, so sorry if the valyrian grammar isn't completely correct ;-; if anyone gets the bert & ernie tully reference you deserve a million dollars

main masterlist.

It happened in the dead of night. When the winds quietened to but a feathery whisper, when the moon shone white and gold and silver, when the fires in the hearth of your chambers had waned to a soft orange glow.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon,” he whispered against the flushed skin of your neck, traveling downwards to softly kiss along your clavicle. His voice was gravely and rich, soaked with honey and ocean salt. The sapphire within his eye glinted with the dim lighting of the sparse candles scattered around your chambers, and you craned your head to press a kiss upon his scar, your nose slotted against his cheekbone. 

My love was what he’d said—you didn’t know much Valyrian, still trying your best to study during your free hours, but your husband called you that often enough for you to recognize the affectionate words. 

One of your hands was buried within his silken silver hair, tugging in tandem with his swift, fluid motions. The other clawed down his toned back, leaving angry red trails in its wake. A strained cry fell from your kiss-swollen lips as you rocked your hips against his. 

Aemond held your waist in a tight grip, thumbs brushing against the sides of your ribs with every stroke of his throbbing cock within your slick, heated cunt. His lips, his tongue, his teeth—all blistering, scorching, searing with need. 

“Sīr sȳz syt nyke, ñuha embar.” So good for me, my sea. He was your fire, and you were his sea, willing to push and pull the tides at his behest. A guttural groan tapered his voice to a close when you clenched around him, his susurrating praises mumbled against your breast sending jolts of arousal straight to your core. His rapid, desperate string of Valyrian fell upon deaf ears, buzzing with pleasure. Stars colored your vision a blinding white when one of his hands relinquished his hold on you to snake down your abdomen, pressing his long fingers against your clit.

“Aemond!” you just about sobbed, legs curling around his waist to pull him closer. You were insatiable, cracking your eyes open once more, a thin film of tears warbling over your widened gaze. “Oh, please, please—!”

A gasp caught in your throat as he thrust into you with more power than before, but froze once he was completely sheathed within your throbbing cunt. “Please, what? Have I fucked you stupid already, jorrāelagon, hm? Dragon got your tongue?” he hummed in mild amusement, regarding your beautiful, sweaty form with a hungry, lustful expression, eyebrows cocked as he waited for your answer. 

Part of you wanted to snarl at him, tell him to keep moving, but the other half of you wanted to cry and plead and beg for his cock.

Knowing your husband, he would’ve been quite pleased with either. 

“I want you to finish inside me,” you breathed out, lips brushing the shell of his ear, eyes half-hooded with want. “Fuck me full of your cum, valzȳrys.”

His cock grew impossibly harder within you, throbbing almost painfully—whether it was because of you calling him husband in his native language, or because of your devilish tongue laving upon a sensitive spot on his neck, he couldn’t quite tell. Expression hardening, he grabbed at your hips and yanked himself out of you, before flipping you onto your stomach and swiftly breaching your entrance in no less than three seconds, earning him a shriek of surprise which winded into a litany of breathless moans and blubbering pleas. 

And yet, he remained still, cock stretching you out so deliciously well—but he wasn’t moving. You sobbed with frustration, burying your face into the feather-pillow in front of you, muffling your desperate cries. Aemond’s growl thundered through his throat, and he slid his hand into your hair and tugged you up flush against his chest, so he could hear your obscene noises loud and clear. His free hand creeped down between your trembling thighs, where his middle finger only barely grazed over your clit, despite your fruitless attempts to buck your hips up to meet his touch.

“Ask me again nicely, ñuha embar,” he whispered, placing a loving kiss to the side of your temple. “In my mother tongue—you remember all those lessons I gave you, no?”

You wanted to curse at him. Your Valyrian lessons with him were the very last thing on your mind at the moment. Thoughts hazy, you murmured out a bit shakily, “Kostilus, qogralbar nyke, Aemond. Ta… Tatagon iemnȳ, kostilus.” 

Please, fuck me, Aemond. Finish inside, please.

He hummed in satisfaction as he pressed sweet kisses along the curve of your shoulder. He gently pulled out and began to roughly thrust back up into you as soon as you moaned out, “Nyke jorrāelagon ao!”

I need you!

A broken sigh tumbled from your throat when he finally began to fuck you just the way you wanted, knowing that your climax was drawing near. You had no chance of lasting when he began to circle the pads of his fingers against your clit. 

“Iksā sīr sȳz. Sīr, sīr sȳz, ñuha embar,” he said, chest rumbling with each word. You feel so good. So, so good, my sea. “Avy jorrāelan, avy jorrāelan, dōna ābrazȳrys.” I love you, I love you, sweet wife.

You preened with his praise, arching your spine and pushing your hips back to match his quick pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, of your arousal rang loud and true throughout your chambers, bouncing off the stone walls and ricocheting back to you, heat spidering over your skin upon hearing your own lust. 

“Tatagon syt nyke,” he growled, motions growing erratic and hurried. Cum for me.

With one final moan, you collapsed against him, cunt spasming tightly around his dick as you toppled down from the edge, pushing Aemond over the brink as well, spurts of warm cum painting your cunt. Despite the both of you already coming down from your highs, Aemond rocked into you a couple more times, kissing your sweaty hairline over and over again as he showered you with muted praise. The sticky substance dripped down the insides of your legs once he gingerly pulled out of you with a low sigh. He reached down to collect it and abruptly stuffed his cum-slickened fingers back into your cunt, wrangling a sharp intake of breath from you.

He chuckled lightly, pulling his hand back out and dragging his tongue over his finger to taste the filthy mix of your essence with his seed, before winding his arm around you to allow you to do the same. You whimpered around his fingers, sucking on the digits slowly—Aemond could feel his cock growing hard again. 

With a pleased hum, he languidly set you back down on the bed so he could lay beside you, pulling his hand away from your mouth with a lewdly wet pop. 

“I love you,” you croaked, throat parched and voice hoarse from all your moaning, an utterly blissful grin stretching your swollen lips.

Aemond cupped your face within his palms and pressed a chaste kiss to your damp forehead. “And I you, my dear sea.”

MOON ONE.

“It’s been a moon since you’ve bled, my lady,” your handmaiden, Lailena, commented, a knowing excitement to her gaze. “Could that mean…?”

In truth, you haven't told anyone about your pregnancy just yet. Nobody knew except you and the maester, who’d sworn himself to secrecy with a kind, understanding smile. It’d been a couple days since you found out, and you were still trying to find a way to tell your beloved husband. In the meantime, you were enjoying the peaceful privacy of knowing that it was only you who knew of the babe growing within you. No doubt when the news would inevitably break out, Alicent and Aemond would be hovering over you like overprotective hawks. 

Not being able to contain your smile, you grasped your handmaiden’s hands within yours. “You’re not to tell a soul, Lailena. I still have yet to inform the prince.”

Your handmaiden mimicked locking her lips shut, a beautiful smile etching across her features. “I am so happy for you, my lady. If you need anything—anything at all, please do not hesitate to let me know.”

“Oh, you’re too kind, my dear,” you hummed, patting her cheek affectionately. You had a soft spot for your young handmaiden—having stopped her from being sold into a whorehouse against her will at the ripe age of ten-and-two. “Will you please draw me a bath? I’d like to wash the day’s labor off of me.”

Not ten minutes later, you were sighing in relief as you sank into a tub of warm water, the heat a relief for your tense muscles. You let your eyelids slide shut, lolling your head against the bath’s edge. 

A familiar pair of hands settled upon your bare shoulders, and you didn’t have to look to know that it was your husband coming to check in on you.

“Rytsas, ñuha jorrāelagon,” he hummed, kneeling by the gilded tub’s edge and pressing a swift kiss to your cheek. Hello, my love.

“Aemond.” You shifted so you could face him, the water sloshing about with your movements. Nervousness was eating away at your insides, and you thought that no time would be better than now, where nobody else would bother you. “My darling husband, I have something to tell you.”

For a brief moment, worry flashed across Aemond’s expression, afraid something was wrong. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing bad,” you reassured him, a soft smile hanging onto the corner of your lips when he leaned forward to rest his forehead over yours. “At least, I hope it’s not.”

He remained mute, wordlessly urging you to continue. 

“I am with child.”

There were exactly three seconds of silence, presumably Aemond taking time to fully comprehend what you’d just told him. And then, a rare, beautiful smile overtook his usually impartial expression, his heart skipping over several beats with the realization that he was going to be a father. 

“You’re not jesting, embar?” he whispered, nose nudging yours. “Because this would surely be a cruel joke.”

Mirroring his growing elation, you let yourself beam brightly, craning your neck to kiss him properly. “I’m not jesting, Aemond,” you murmured, trailing your lips up to freckle kisses over the marred skin of his scar, and around his eyepatch, which you itched to yank off. 

“My love,” he said, struggling to find words for how he was feeling. Overjoyed? Shocked? Scared? “This is… you’re so… wonderful. This is wonderful. Avy jorrāelan. I love you, more than anything—and our little dragon.”

You scoffed, pulling away from him with raised brows. “Dragon? You forget I am a Tully, dear husband—they will be half my blood.”

With an affectionate roll of his eye, Aemond lifted his hand to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Alright, alright. Half-dragon, half-trout, then.”

“Fire and water.” You nodded in satisfaction at the compromise, your jubilated smile stolen away with a kiss from your sweet husband.

MOON TWO.

Aemond felt the bed shift as you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and swinging your legs over the edge of the mattress. A small noise of discontent rumbled in his throat as he propped himself onto his elbow, vision still adjusting to the darkness. 

“Where are you going?” he whispered, voice still gravely with slumber, twinged with confusion. “The hour is still early, my love. The sun has yet to rise.”

You hummed, leaning down to kiss his cheek, before rising onto your feet, shrugging on a silken green robe. “I have a sudden craving for honey cakes. I’m going down to the kitchens to see if they have any left from yesterday’s supper.”

“Now?” queried your husband, seeming partially miffed, and partially amused. He roused from the bed himself, sliding on a loose tunic so his chest wasn’t bare, and followed you out of your shared chambers and into the hall. “What brings about such a queer craving? You’ve never been particularly fond of honey cakes before.”

Subconsciously, you rested a hand on your stomach. “It must be the babe. I’ve been having the strangest cravings the past few days. Around a fortnight ago, I wanted to have nothing but apple fritters—those ones with cinnamon glaze, you know? For a while, everything else made me feel sick.”

A ghost of a smile graced Aemond’s lips. “I remember—mother said you were looking rather green at the mess table.”

You scowled at the memory, which spurred Aemond to huff out a laugh and tug you closer into his side. 

“My little dragon is a picky one,” he murmured, glancing down to where your hand hovered over your belly, still having yet to show physical signs of the pregnancy. “This is a good thing, ñuha dōna embar. They must already know their worth.”

Once in the kitchens, a part of the castle neither of you had ever ventured in before, Aemond scoured around for the blasted honey cakes you craved for so badly, and found them in a small container on the highest shelf. He pulled them down and handed one to you, grinning ever so softly when you didn’t even give yourself time to properly thank him before shoving one into your mouth and moaning around the pastry. 

Aemond kissed your temple and took a bite of his own piece of honey cake to appease your pleading urges for him to try it, even though it was far too sweet for his taste.

MOON THREE.

 You were beginning to show, and Aemond couldn’t be happier.

“Our dragon is growing,” he’d say every morning without fail, a prideful gleam to his eyes. “And you have never been more beautiful, dōna ābrazȳrys.” Sweet wife. 

That afternoon, he brought you down to the dragonpit where Vhagar was nesting with her brand new clutch of eggs, wanting to introduce his little dragon to his much larger one. You watched with wide eyes as her bronze, spiny tail curled around four scaled eggs, each a different shade of copper. It was a miracle that a dragon of her old age laid a clutch of eggs at all, much less four of them. 

“Do not be afraid, embar,” he whispered, noticing your stiff movements and your hesitant steps, despite the brave facade you tried to hold on. “Vhagar will not hurt you.”

At the sound of her name, the dragon lifted her head, bright green eyes shifting to her master, then to you. She huffed out a small plume of warm smoke in greeting.

“Lykirī, Vhagar,” commanded Aemond, placing a hand on her snout and gently urging you to come closer. “It’s alright, love. She can sense the dragon inside you.”

Still a bit tentative, you shakily lifted a hand and laid it beside Aemond’s, stroking the warm scales of her large nose. Emerald eyes shining, Vhagar’s chest rumbled, and she dipped forward ever so slightly, slotting her hot muzzle against your belly, as if acknowledging the babe inside you. 

Aemond smiled, his one eye creasing at the corners. “She likes you.”

“Though I have never been more petrified in my life…” you began softly, patting Vhagar’s snout and grinning widely, “I like her, too.”

“What do you say we pick an egg for our little dragon, hm?” asked your husband, commanding Vhagar to stay as Aemond led you to the beautiful quartet of shiny eggs. 

MOON FOUR.

You leaned against the intricate stone railing of the balcony attached to your chambers, breathing in the fresh morning air. You had woken up early—much earlier than you usually did, unable to fall back asleep because of the baby constantly moving inside you. 

Not too long after, your husband stepped out onto the balcony as well, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. Neither of you said anything, perfectly content on basking in each other’s comfortable silence. 

His hand laid upon your slightly rounded stomach, rubbing gentle circles over the thin fabric of your sleeping shift. The first birds of the day chirped as the sun rose, spilling golden light over the two of you. 

You leaned back into him with a pleased sigh. “Helaena has asked me to come watch the twins today. I’m rather excited for them to meet the babe.”

Humming, Aemond nuzzled his nose into your cheek. “I’m excited to meet my little dragon, as well.”

MOON FIVE.

Since you’d been having trouble sleeping as of late, Aemond found that fucking you to exhaustion was one of the few ways to get you to sleep soundly throughout the night. It was either that, or he could read philosophical books to you in Valyrian. 

And though he quite enjoyed reading to you, the prince much preferred the former option.

“Ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” he hummed deeply, bordering on a growl, thrusting back into your sensitive, slick cunt. My beautiful wife. “I’ve fucked you full hundreds of times and yet you always want more. I’ll give it to you, I’ll give you everything, sweet embar.”

A low moan slipped from your throat and you desperately pulled his face to you, your lips meeting in a feverish manner. He grunted into your mouth when you clenched around his lengthy girth, nails raking angry red lines down his shoulders to the middle of his back. 

“Aemond!” you cried, bucking your hips up to meet his, lips parting in a tantalizing manner. 

Your eyes slipped shut with the overwhelming pleasure, but Aemond grasped your chin, softly grunting out, “Keep them open, love. I want to see you when you come all over my cock.”

The intense eye contact made your body flush with a certain heat, hurtling you ever so close to your climax. Your husband snuck a hand between you to draw slow circles on your aching clit, and you were abruptly slammed into your third orgasm, the first two stolen from Aemond’s silver tongue and long fingers, respectively. 

Utterly spent, you trailed kisses over Aemond’s cheek, up to his scarred eye. He had slowed down to a gentle rock, cock still stiff and aching within you. “You can move, Aem,” you whispered, placing a tender kiss to the very tip of his nose. “I want you to cum inside—I want my cunt to be dripping with your seed.”

And he groaned at your lewd words, dipping back down to meet your lips once more, all teeth and tongue. His breath hitched as he began moving once more, your soaked core feeling like absolute heaven. 

“Mmh, fuck!” he growled, emptying inside you, catching himself with his elbow when he collapsed, thankfully before he could crush you or the babe. “So good for me, dōna embar.” 

A low whine emitted from your lungs when he slowly pulled out, holding your legs apart to observe his spend leaking out of your fluttering cunt. 

Much to your simultaneous dismay and pleasure, Aemond just couldn’t resist, swiftly moving down to drag his tongue from your cunt up to your clit, grumbling an expletive at your taste. 

“Aemond!” you yelped, flinching away with overstimulation, lightly swatting at his shoulders with a laugh. “Gods, you’re going to be the death of me,” you said, grinning when he moved back up with an apologetic smile, dark sapphire glinting with the flickering candles lit about your chambers.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. You taste heavenly.” Finally, he settled back onto the bed behind you, pulling you flush against his chest. “Get some rest, Y/N. I plan on tasting you on the morrow. Perhaps you can ride my face again.”

“Sounds wonderful,” you murmured in response, not having listened to anything he’d said, already drifting halfway into sleep. 

You slipped into a deep slumber with Aemond’s arm protectively slung over your baby bump.

MOON SIX.

You were grateful that you no longer grew sick at the sight of a regular supper. You weren’t quite sure how long you would’ve lasted on honey cakes and apple slices alone. 

Dinner that night was a warm, peppered vegetable stew with loaves of steaming bread to mop it up with. There were other courses, such as honey-glazed venison, and slow-roasted pork belly—the latter of which Aemond avoided entirely despite Lucerys’ hushed giggling from across the table. Initially, he’d wanted to stride across the room and strangle the smug expression off the younger boy’s face, but one look at your stern, disapproving countenance made him hesitate, before begrudgingly digging back into his food.

He was to be a father soon. What example would he set for his child if he were to go about beating his nephews every other minute?

Lucerys was not the only one who stirred trouble at the table that evening. 

Rhaenyra and Helaena were pleasant for the most part, querying about your pregnancy and giving their own advice from their previous experiences. Baela and Rhaena were also kind to you, eagerly asking if you had any names picked out for the babe. You told them that you haven’t yet thought about it, sheepishly smiling. “If you have any ideas, I’m more than willing to listen,” you told the younger girls, which made them beam brightly with excitement. You didn’t know the two nearly as much as you wished to, but you were willing to try and build bridges between the steadily distancing sides—bridges that Aemond, as much as you loved your husband, was keen on burning. 

Alicent was silent for most of the time, only pitching in every so often to make passive-aggressive remarks to Rhaenyra, and occasionally trying to compliment you with a strained smile. As Aemond was her most beloved child, she’d always wanted to be closer to his dear wife, but found it troublesome to bond with you when you were so very fond of Rhaenyra. 

The men at the table, on the other hand, were an entirely different story. Jacaerys and Daemon quietly spoke to one another, but were rudely interrupted by Aegon spilling wine all over Jace’s lap. He drunkenly proclaimed it to be a slip of his hand, a mere accident—but everyone at the table knew he’d done it on purpose. Jacaerys was visibly stiff, but held his tongue, fist clenching and unclenching around a silver fork. 

“I pity your betrothed, I really do,” simpered Aegon to his nephew, hiccupping as he downed some more wine. The rest of the chatter at the table halted to watch the drunken Prince blubber on further. “How will you please her in bed if you haven’t the faintest clue where to put your cock?”

“Aegon!” Alicent admonished sharply, eyes wide and jaw set.

The eldest Prince waved his mother away, standing up abruptly, brandishing another chalice full to the brim with alcohol. You briefly wondered where all these cups were coming from. Then, Aegon rounded his gaze on you and Aemond at the other end of the table. “See, my dearest brother has figured out how to do it! Look, his wife is all round with his first child—perhaps the next could be mine. It matters not which Targaryen fucks you, it’s not like you can tell the difference when the babe comes out. Your Tully whore of a wife probably wouldn’t even mind, brother! I’d bet all my coin every guard in this room has sullied her already!” 

In a blink of an eye, Aemond was on his feet, lips curled into a snarl. Alicent also stood up, glancing between her two boys worriedly, afraid a fight would break out. 

You were the last one to rise, placing a hand on Aemond’s arm. He seemed to soften beneath your touch, glancing back to look at you briefly, nonverbally making sure that you were alright.

You shook your head, glaring harshly at Aegon, before turning on your heel and marching out of the mess hall, leaving a portion of your dinner largely untouched. 

It took everything within Aemond not to clamber onto the table and throw his fist into his older brother’s arrogant, drunken face. He longed to resort to physical violence—after all, Aemond was taller and stronger and quicker than him, and would easily best his brother in a fight. But his urge to be by your side was far greater, so he settled with scathing words and a lingering threat.

“You are a foul excuse of a brother, Aegon. If you ever dare to insult my wife again, I will carve out your tongue myself and feed it to my dragon.”

With that, Aemond stormed out of the hall, strides quickening so he could catch up with you. On his way out, he faintly heard his mother trying her best to patch up the situation, rambling in a panicked fashion, “Aemond doesn’t mean it, Aegon. Sit down and finish your supper, will you?”

Aemond rolled his one eye. He’d meant every last word of what he said. 

When he finally caught up to you, you were already in your chambers, gently wiping the dampness of your frustrated tears from your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, tugging you into his chest and stroking the back of your head. “My brother is a drunken fool. Do not take his crude words to heart. He is not worth your tears.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Aemond,” you murmured into the fabric of his tunic, blowing out a calming sigh. “You didn’t have to follow me, though… you didn’t get to finish your supper.”

He blew out a mildly amused huff. “Neither did you, dōna embar.” Sweet sea. How you adored the affectionate nickname he called you. “I love you. And I would follow you to the ends of this world if I had to—even if it meant missing a bit of supper.”

It felt as if your heart was melting through the confines of your ribs, and you could only lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. ��You are everything to me, my darling Aemond. I love you, too.”

MOON SEVEN.

The baby was kicking again. Nonstop, for the past three hours.

You glared down at your swollen belly, before uncomfortably shifting on the bed until you were sitting upright. The babe kicked once more, as if sensing your annoyance. You couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh. 

From beside you, Aemond looked away from the thick history tome he was reading and tilted his head. He’d thought you were already asleep. “The hour grows late, ñuha jorrāelagon. What troubles you so?”

With an exhausted sigh, you laid your head upon his shoulder, and Aemond immediately shut the book and placed it off to the side. 

“The babe,” you said, threading your hand with one of his and tracing shapes along the back of his palm. “They haven’t stopped kicking since I got out of my bath and I can hardly sleep more than a few winks. Though, I can’t say I can complain—Lailena says the ones who kick more will grow to be strong warriors.”

A small, satisfied smirk flitted over your husband’s sharp features. “Of course they’re kicking around—they’re a dragon after all.”

“Trout-dragon,” you reminded him, a soft smile to your lips. 

Aemond barked out a laugh. “Dragon-trout.” His free hand came around to place it on the center of your belly, and he sucked in an astonished breath when he felt the baby moving around beneath his palm. He met your eyes, shining with pride and adoration—for both you and the babe within you. “They’re a true Targaryen. We’ve never been too keen on sitting still.”

“So this is your fault,” you bit out, drawing yourself away from his shoulder to narrow your tired eyes at your husband. “I just want to sleep!”

His purple iris glinted salaciously. The hand on your belly began inching further down between your legs. “Maybe I just need to tire you out, hm?”

“No, I’m already so very tired,” you murmured, melting beneath his touch. Immediately, Aemond retracted his fingers, cupping your face and pressing sweet kisses over your heavy eyelids. 

“I’m sorry, love. What can I do?”

With a grateful slant of your lips, you settled yourself into his side once again. “Read to me, please. You have a very beautiful voice—it’s especially soothing in Valyrian.”

Humming, Aemond reached over to grab the history tome once more, flicking it open to where he’d left off. 

The Prince began reading the tale of Aegon’s Conquest out loud for you, his Valyrian effortlessly smooth, like pure honey to your ears. Not even three pages deep, you had already given into the alluring promise of sleep, cheek smushed against his shoulder. Aemond kept reading anyway, placing a hand on your belly, certain that his child could hear his low voice.

“One day you and I will be in one of these books,” he told the babe, a wistful smile on his face. “And our great, great, grandchildren will be reading about us and the many adventures we’ll go on.”

MOON EIGHT.

The fire crackled hungrily as Aemond kindled the greedy flames with a fresh wedge of wood. 

“What do you think of Jacaelar?” your husband asked. “It’s a fine name for a son.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t know—their nickname would be Jace, and you’re not particularly fond of the Jace we already know. What about a Tully name? How does Bert sound for a boy?”

“No.”

“Ooh, what about Ernie?”

Aemond grimaced. With a laugh, you playfully rolled your eyes. “Alright, alright. We’ll stick to Valyrian names.”

After a moment’s silence, Aemond suggested, “Vaeron?”

“Yes, I rather like that one.” You grinned. “Do you like Daera for a girl?”

Your husband sat down on the plush chaise beside you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That’s a good name—though my younger brother Daeron might think we named our child after him, and I’d really rather not inflate his ego. I like the name Visera. There’s also Rhaelor, Jahaela, Haerys, Saelyra—”

“Oh, it’s just too many to choose from!” you exclaimed, cutting his extensive list off and sinking further into your seat. “We can just call the babe Aemond the Second and be done with it.”

With a chortle of laughter, Aemond shook his head, fine silver strands of hair tickling your cheek when he drew you close into his side. “And what if our little dragon is a girl?”

“Then we call her Aemonda. I don’t know,” you harrumphed, crossing your arms. Aemond lightly pinched your thigh. After another second, you gently proposed, “... Syraena sounds lovely. Don’t you think so?”

Humming, Aemond bowed his head. “Syraena. It is a lovely name.”

You rubbed your hands over your distended stomach. “Do you know if you’d rather have a son or a daughter?”

He took a moment to consider your question before quietly replying, “I care naught for the babe’s sex—they will be my blood, regardless. My little dragon.” Before you could correct him, he hastily added, “Trout. Dragon-trout.”

The two of you began cracking up with silent laughter, and you turned to watch the fire burn away, small golden embers floating up from the hearth. 

You heard your husband murmur Syraena beneath his breath once more, clearly content with the name. A glowing beam graced your expression. 

NINE MOONS.

The birthing was the most painful experience you’d ever gone through. There were tears streaming down your face, and your hair was damp with sweat. Aemond was by your side, loyal as ever, clutching your hand and murmuring sweet words of encouragement, uncaring of the impropriety of a man in the birthing room. He’d gone so far as to threaten the guards when they first told him that he should be waiting outside, enjoying the celebration being held in your and the babe’s name. 

“Try to keep me from my wife and I will decorate the floor with your guts,” he growled, his single eye burning with a thirsty flame.

The guards didn’t bother him after that.

“Oh, it hurts! Aemond, Aemond, please, it hurts,” you sobbed, another wave of pain washing over your body. “I need the baby out! Come out, come out, come out!” you screamed, skin burning hotly as more sweltering tears meandered down your perspiring face.

“It’ll be over soon, embar, you’re doing so well,” assured your husband, even though he looked every bit as terrified as you did, perhaps even more so. Gods forbid such a thing to happen, but if Aemond were to lose you to the perilous task of childbirth, he didn’t think he could ever live with himself afterwards. 

The midwives began telling you to push, and you happily obliged, eager to get the labor over and done with. 

It was said that your screams shook the very ground, but that might’ve just been Aemond exaggerating the truth out of proportion. 

“Congratulations, my Prince,” said one of the midwives once you’d pushed and pushed and pushed until you nearly passed out from the strain, the babe finally coming out of you with a shrill cry. Aemond could feel his heart lurch at the sound. “You have a beautiful, healthy girl.”

“Do not congratulate me, it is Y/N that did all the work,” muttered your husband, kissing the back of your clammy hand and sweeping the hair sticking to your face aside. “You were wonderful, jorrāelagon.” His face bore nothing but radiant pride, a rare beam stretching his lips wide. 

He stood up, turning to the midwife to look upon his small, screaming daughter, who was quickly bound in a red woolen blanket. She handed him the babe, and Aemond gently situated her into his arms.

“You have the lungs of a dragon, little one,” he crooned, expression bearing little else than raw love and adoration for the tiny thing. With fluid movements, he kneeled down beside the birthing bed once more, easing the baby into your awaiting arms. 

An exhausted smile made its way onto your face when you took the baby, cooing, “Oh, so you’re the one always kicking around during the night. It’s nice to meet you… Syraena.”

The baby—your daughter—sported thin wisps of silvery hair, much like her father and her grandsire. Targaryen blood ran thick, after all.

You turned to grin at Aemond. “She has your nose,” you murmured, voice thick with emotion and love.

Little Syraena’s wailing began to wane away as you bounced her, and she cracked open her tiny eyes for a brief moment, blinking up at the two of you with a wide gaze.

“And she shares the color of your beautiful eyes, embar. Rytsas, Syraena,” greeted Aemond, expression soft and ever so tender. One of his fingers reached out to gently stroke her soft, chubby cheek. For several moons, he’d read to her when she was still in the womb, and he wondered if she could recognize the sound of his voice. 

“My little dragon…” Aemond murmured. “My sea dragon.”

[plush-rabbit]

Adam Dating Headcanons

I love him sm and I hate that it's him!! Why couldn't be like Lucifer or something!!

Angel:

With his status as the “First Man”, Adam can get away with most things. In doing so, he has you with him at all times. Takes you everywhere like a pampered pet. If someone comments about you, he’s hyping you up. He’s telling everyone how you’re just so hot, and you give the best kisses, and how you tempt him constantly. You’re all that he can talk about. It’s him bragging about how great you are, and of course, you're great. He deserves all the finer things that angelhood has to offer. You’re an added bonus. Someone so cute and hot. 

He’s crass with everyone, and you are no exception to this. He’ll throw our swears, and phrases that are demeaning. He’ll use awful pet names that have your ears burning, and s scowl twisting at your lips. A part of you believes that he only continues to call you such things to see your reaction. His crude nature is public for all to see and bear witness to. He has no issue telling others the filthiest things that you two have done, and where you’ve done them. He only slows down when you swat at him, your face burning and hidden into his arm, pulling at the cloth for him to stop. His grin is sharp, and for the few times in his life, he takes pity, and he gives you mercy, letting the words come to a sudden halt, about how only he should be privy to just how perverse you can be. 

There are times where he’s just a jerk. Flat out mean, and cruel towards others and towards you.. It never lasts long, it’s more like it’s just second nature to him to know that he’s above everyone else, so he doesn’t have to play nice with others. He’ll snarl and when an angel clings to his robes with stars in their eyes about meeting him, all he can think about is how he has to be somewhere that isn’t there and they’re dirtying his robes. You’ve been on the receiving end a few times, and everytime you give him a certain look. He isn’t one to say sorry without being nudged into it, but he’ll lift his shoulders as if to hide himself, and he’ll mumble something close to an apology, and when you look away from him, he’ll hold your hand. He didn’t mean to snap at you- he thought you were someone else, and you know how it is. When you do take it personal, he still won’t tell you a proper apology, but he will wrap his arms around you and his mask will nudge itself along the crook of your neck, soft words spoken that won’t be heard for a long while.

It’s rumored around Heaven about the past wives of Adam- how they both fell for Lucifer, how they were Adam’s but they left him. He complains about it, grumbling under his breath about the fallen angel, about Lilith and Eve, and there’s this underlining of hurt in his voice. Everytime that you see him without his robe, he almost always has his side turned away from you, a hand curving just under his chest. And maybe because of the betrayal, he’s so attached to you. He wants you around him. He needs you around him. Far more than he would ever like to admit, he can’t- and he hates to even give it thought- he doesn't think he could stand another betrayal like that. So he’s attached to the hip with you. He’ll call you constantly, he’ll want to go everywhere with you. He just wants to be near you. 

While he may have his moments where he’ll whisper honeyed words to you, or give you bouquets of flowers, Adam expresses himself through touch. When the two of you go out, he’ll hold your hand, and if he can get away with it, he’ll tuck his hand over your bum. He’ll put his arm over your shoulders, letting his fingers graze over your chest, and keep you tucked underneath him. His wings are massive, soft to the touch and blinding in the sun, shimmering with gold and snowy white feathers, and while they can be heavy to hold them against his back, he’ll curve them around you, pulling you close to him when others cannot see. You’re protected underneath the gold, and he adores how you always reach out to touch them, to smooth at any stray feathers that bristle when he surrounds you. He needs to be touching you- he has to. In private, he’ll hold your hand and trace over yours with his claws. He’s never been so gentle with someone, he’s pulled apart sinners and covered himself in blood and gore, he’s vile and cruel, but he holds your hand so tenderly, and for a moment, he’s forgotten he’s Adam, First Man, and at that moment, he’s a man, holding an angel’s hand in his calloused claws.

Sinner:

Adam likes to joke that Extermination Day is the best thing to ever happen to you since it’s what allowed you to meet him. Plus, the added bonus is that now you’re protected and you won’t die. Probably. If you listen to what he says. But even then, he always makes sure to keep an eye out for you- hunting near your hiding spot, shooing away any of the other exterminators. It’s a win all around, really. At first, he’d have the two of you meet at the Heaven Embassy in Hell. However, it proved to be suspicious when other angels would question and even his own lies were starting to fall apart. He could always tell them he needed a break from all the singing and pure-hearted delight in Heaven, but he knows that he would have others follow him, peeking into something personal. So, he’s commissioned a new mask, and he’ll ditch his holy robes for something more Hell-esque to visit you.

You’re aware of his feelings towards demon folk, and walking hand-in-hand with him in the very place where he creates destruction, makes you feel like a traitor. You can tell that he's disgusted by everything- the gore and deaths, the rotten stench of meat coming from the Cannibal District. The rottenness of Hell has acid burning his tongue, but when you pull him towards a vendor on the street, he can hold his tongue. He gets to see you, and that’s enough for him. He holds no power in Hell. He could, and while he’s sure he could handle a few of the Hellborn and Sinners, you would be at risk. So any amount of disrespect has him biting his tongue and keeping you close to him. It’s infuriating to know he has to spend his time locked in your apartment, eating takeout- or on the lucky occasion your home cooked meals- and hiding away with you. He wants to show you off. He wants to be showed off. But, you sit beside him, and tap against his horns with an impish smile as you hold a forkful of food near his lips. 

He may never admit it, but he likes staying indoors with you. For those few hours, where you cook and you nap together, and you kiss him earnestly and with want, he can slip into the illusion that this is his norm. It’s vanilla- so much so that if it were any other time or place, he’d be sick. But, with you by his side, complimenting his mask, the tips of your claws curving over the horns and tracing the outline of his mask, he’ll take it. He’ll tease and snap at you, asking you to beg for him to remove his mask, telling you to ask nicely, and when you coo and press yourself against him, he’s grateful that the mask is still on. Not much can make the First Man flush, but when you act so sweetly, lips pulled into a smile with fangs on display, he thinks it’s one of the better sights that he’s seen in a long while. If he’s in a pleasing mood, he’ll rid himself of the oversized robe, and let his wings expand. He watches your expression- the awe and wonder that they hold, the gasps when you touch his feathers. He’ll stare and memorize the shape of your eyes, and the curve of your lips, as you familiarize yourself with his wings. In those few hours when he’s with you, it’s domestic, and it’s nice. 

When he visits Hell, he never stays for long. It’s visits that last for a few hours, but they never stretch into the night, and when it’s time for Sinners and alike to rise, he’s gone, not a single trace of him left behind. The dishes are put away, his part of the bed tucked in and flatten, it’s as if you dreamed a perverse dream where an angel took interest in a demon. You’ve asked him what excuses he gives to the others, never telling him that you wish he would stay for longer. He tells you that he’s told others he’s doing paperwork, or that he’s going to some orgy party and no one should bother him. When you laugh at that, he stares at you, eyes wide and heart- or whatever it is that he has- skipping a beat. You sleep in your bed, and he pulls you close to him, his eyes on the wall, as you make yourself comfortable on top of the Exterminator. He tells himself that he could miss a day- skip work and spend the day with you here, where the two of you could entangle yourselves with one another, but when brushes over your skin, and he hears the demons talk between the thinned walls of your apartment, he pulls away, and rests his lips over your temple. Leaving you behind in Hell never gets easier, and the more he erases that he existed in your home, the more he hopes that you’ll cry and miss him, and want him.

Unsurprisingly, he’s mean. Perhaps it’s his own personal feelings that he’s had with demon folk for the past number of  millenniums, and how in comparison to that, he’s only just met you, that he still has animosity towards demons. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop with you. He can be cruel, referring to you as a Sinner, and sneering at you, and when you flinch, hurt evident in the way that you back away from him and pull your limbs close to yourself, that he groans. He hadn’t meant it. Not like that- at least not towards you. You have to understand, some demons, some of those sinners, well- and his explanations are always cut short when you scowl at him. He hadn’t meant to be mean to you, he promises. He’ll envelop you in his arms, and pout, asking you to not take it so personally. He’s tense, and he waits with bated breath, and he visibly relaxes when you wrap your arms around him. Adam had never thought himself to care about what a demon may think of him, but in those moments where you sit still and he’s unsure if you’d forgive him or not, his mind is racing. He can’t- It can’t even comprehend what it would feel like to be rejected by you. 

[sytoran]

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟑

you and natasha were star-crossed lovers, separated by galaxies and timelines. like any other shakesperean tragedy, you and natasha's tale comes to an end... or does it?

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: this is the 3rd installment to the goddess!nat universe! please read the other parts first if you haven't already. this part contains major angst and smut. i have spent ungodly hours on this chapter.

word count: 4.5k (i am impressed with myself)

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously… 

No one escapes the consequences of their actions. Not even the Goddess of Lust, who had formed romantic relationships with a mortal. SHIELD’s decision to forbid the two of you from ever seeing each other again tears apart all the ‘what-ifs’ of a bright future.

Now…

Natasha doesn’t know how many hours she’s been crying in the bathtub.

After the finality of SHIELD’s crushing decision had truly weighed itself upon Natasha’s burdened shoulders, the mere thought of what she would have to do to you shook her to the bone.

Which is why she crashed at her sister’s place: to cry her problems away in a bathtub made of priceless gold, alongside a fine bottle of Pinot Grigio.

“Jesus, Nat, you’re gonna die of hypothermia if you stay in there a second longer.” Yelena says, kicking open the bathroom door with a tray of smoked salmon appetizers in hand.

“Take one,” Yelena says absentmindedly, sitting herself on the edge of the bathtub next to Natasha’s partially-submerged form. “Food helps with everything.”

Natasha doesn’t respond, only looking up at her sister through glassy eyes. Empty eyes. She felt raw and numb at the same time, but the contrasting emotions were merely child’s play in comparison to the storm that raged within her weary mind.

Yelena looks at her unamusedly, before folding her arms. “Talk to me,” she stated firmly, and it wasn’t a request.  The blonde sister was the Goddess of War, after all, she could be as intimidating and ruthless as she wanted to be.

Hot-headed at times, sure, but so paradoxically calculative and strategic at other times Natasha felt like she could get whiplash. Despite all of the finicky situations the older sister had found herself drowning in, Yelena was always there for her, fiercely protective with a passion like no other.

This was no different, with Yelena being the hand to pull her out of the water. Physically and metaphorically. 

Natasha inhaled shakily, then exhaled and felt a whole lot worse than before. Impulsively, she snatched one of the smoked salmon appetizers off the plate and stuffed it in her mouth, feeling her eyes well up as she does so.

“Damn, this human fucked you up this bad?” The blonde said quizically, with an air of sarcastic wit on the surface but a layer of genuine concern underneath only Natasha would be able to decipher. 

"... I've fallen in love with her." The Goddess says softly, faraway, like she was floating with the wind and time itself. Detached from reality, or perhaps running away from it.

Yelena stayed silent. For once, the Goddess of War was at a loss. 

“I’ve fallen in love with her,” Natasha says again, with slightly more conviction. She looks to her blonde sister, and Yelena’s heart nearly shatters at the sight of the sheer hurt on Natasha’s face. So broken, so agonized, everything that she did not deserve to be.

“But that doesn’t even matter, alright? She gave me her heart, Lena, and I’m going to have to break it. I’m gonna break so many– Fuck, I’m gonna have to break every single promise I’ve ever made to her, like she’s some kind of toy.” Natasha chokes out. “And I don’t, I fucking don’t– understand why it was us, why I lead her on and why I let it happen. I’m fucking stupid, and now it’s blown up in my face. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I-”

“You’ve never deserved it,” Yelena interrupts, placing a hand over her sisters’. Is that how you’re supposed to comfort someone? Yelena doesn’t know. Anyways, she’s trying. “Nat, I know you’re the Goddess of Lust, and your reputation precedes you, but, you, of all people, deserve love.”

You deserve love… what a fucking lie that was.

“Don’t try that on me,” Natasha snaps, her walls snapping back up in record timing. Her self-destructive defence builds like armour, and soon she’s standing up. 

“I’ve done some fucked up shit in the past, and I’m very aware of it. I thought I’d moved past it, but now those demons have caught up to me, and I can’t do jackshit but watch the love of my life slip away from my fingers. I don’t deserve love, it just happened to find me and I played along because I thought it could last.”

Natasha’s chest heaves at the impact of the outburst. She stares at Yelena, who remains painfully impassive. Arms folded, jaw working on the stupid fucking smoked salmon.

Fuck, she wanted to hurt someone. Make them feel her pain. Let it consume them like it’s consuming her, let it choke them and–

“Is that what you really think, Nat? That you were simply playing a game with Y/N L/N? Because I assure you, I haven’t seen much but I know damn well that those two months with her pure, unfiltered, undying, devotion.”

Yelena’s words puncture a hole into her conscience, injecting venom with it. Each syllable, each emphasis, cuts her. Because Natasha knows that it’s true, but she can’t accept it or she’ll never be able to let you go.

So all she does is give Yelena the best death stare she can muster, and stalk out of her bathroom like her clothes aren’t dripping with bubbly water. (Yes, she had gone into the bathtub with all her clothes on. Depression waited for no man, or Goddess.)

She shakes her head, forcing the stray thoughts to dissipate, and fixes up her appearance with wordless magic.

My palace. Natasha visualizes the place, closing her eyes, and when she opens them again, she’s standing right outside the door.

Apprehensively, she puts her hand on the handle to the huge, sparkling door. You would be waiting on the other side, waiting for Natasha to come home. 

Waiting for Natasha to break your heart.

She pushes the door open before she can cower and hide, before she can run away and curse every sentient being in existence. 

It was time for her mortal demise.

—

It was time for Natasha to see the fruits of your hard work.

You wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, huffing heavily but proud nonetheless. You step back to admire the absolute feast you had prepared for your girlfriend.

The fancy dining table was adorned with a checkered tablecloth and ornate with all kinds of things, expensive plates and cutlery already set up, just for two.

It was no secret that Natasha loved your home-cooked meals, despite being able to eat whatever she wanted, as a Goddess with a private chef. She had sworn you put something magical into your food.

You’ll never forget the moan she let out the first time she ate your perfected medium-rare New York Strip.

Which is exactly why you’ve spent over an hour cooking up a banquet of all kinds of food for the Goddess, an array of cuisines from all around the world. As much as you loved the hot sex you had with Natasha, you were an absolute sucker for the domesticity of life with her, how simple and perfect it was.

As if on cue, you hear the front door open, which was not too far away from the dining hall. 

Your heart physically leaps, unbridled excitement adorning your features. Natasha had taken longer than she normally would, and you could barely contain the anticipation thrumming in your bones.

That is, until you see Natasha standing in the hallway defeatedly, shoulders sagged and eyes lowered. Like all the life had been sapped out of her.

Fuck, you had never seen her like this. Natasha was the embodiment of undying energy, always with a smile on her face, or her expression schooled into composure, or her eyes fluttering in a state of lust. Not like this. 

Never like this.

“Darling?” you ask, hushed. You take one step towards her, tentatively. The head of red hair looks up to you, and Natasha’s biting her lip like she’s stopping the words from falling out of her mouth, like she’ll start crying if you say one word more.

“I-” Natasha tries, her voice hoarse and choked. The rest of her sentence dies in her throat, as she shakes her head and strides past you quickly, like she can’t burn any longer under your gaze.

Your hand drops in complete loss as Natasha simply walks past you, shoulders brushing like a ghost of what used to be warm hugs and sweet kisses. You chase after her before you know it, yelling her name as the Goddess speeds up.

Natasha blinks back tears furiously, striding through the dining hall as the servants scatter like mice. She hardly registers the feast prepared on the ornate table, vision blurring with each desperate cry of her name you let out.

“Natasha? What’s the matter? Talk to me, please!” 

You sprint faster, dodging your way through the hallways and up the wide set of stairs. The Goddess is within arm’s reach, now, and you extend your arm to grab onto hers, so you can spin her around and ask what on earth is going–

And the Goddess simply teleports away at the last second, the fleeting touch of her warm skin dissipating into thin air.

“Fuck!” you yell, eyes darting in frustration. Why was Natasha acting like this? Had you done something? Forget her birthday? No, that was December 3rd. Forget the anniversary of your first meeting? Nope, that was January 24th. What on earth had you done? Or had she done something? You–

No, okay, calm down. Slow down. The rational voice in your head speaks up. Where would Natasha have gone? What was a significant place she would escape to, in times of distress?

After a moment of contemplation, you find your answer, and sooner than later you’re sprinting up the long flight of spiral staircases to the Astronomy Tower. 

—

Natasha’s thankful for the dome-shaped glass ceiling the tower has, doing what it can to block out the cold. The sky is absolutely breathtaking, a heart-wrenching contrast to her inner turmoil.

It’s a dark blue and a soft pink, with millions of little bright planets splashing across the canvas like silver sequins. The view of the galaxy from the land of the Gods had always been the greatest, after all. 

The Goddess stands, unmoving and breathing lightly. She doesn’t feel the least bit better, but at least she’s calmed down in the slightest.

She’s bought some time by teleporting up here. Her hands were clammy, but no matter how many times she wipes them down on her dress it doesn’t change a thing. She can’t change a thing, not for anything, not for you.

“Natasha?” you ask, weakly, heaving at having sprinted up so many flights of stairs. 

At the sight of you, the Goddess feels the tears spring back into her eyes again. Stupid. She wants to say sorry. Stroke your face and kiss your lips, maybe. Well, not maybe, because she can’t. Because it’s the last– nope, she can’t say it.

“Nat, can you….. fuck, I need to work out more. Can you tell me what’s going on, please? I made- I made a New York Strip, if you’re hungry–”

The Goddess walks up to you, cradling the side of your face in her hands. Oh, fuck it. Tender, sweet, delicate. You’ve never seen her face like this before, so soft yet so broken.

“What—”

You’re cut off when Natasha leans into your space, eyelids fluttering shut. And for once, this wasn’t preordained or predetermined. You didn’t have to calculate the next move. You didn’t have to fix a destiny. 

Natasha’s lips meet yours in a grand, cruel, beautiful, broken kiss.

It feels so right, tongues interlocking like cogs on a machine, quavering breaths escaping from the sides of her mouth. You let her in, you drink her up. All other thoughts shut down.

Natasha kisses you with a hyena’s jaw, swearing she could never get enough, never satiate her desires for you, even if everything else is wrong. You’re stealing her every breath, every kiss, every sigh — she needed more.

She slides her hand down your torso, hands already finding the hem of your pants. But then you push her away – for the first time, for that last time – you push her away, and step back, and your head is spinning.

“I deserve to know,” you breathe heavily, and Natasha’s heart cracks. “You’re scaring me, Nat, okay? First you brush past me all soulless, and then you make me chase after you, and then you kiss me so- so sadly, and now you wanna fuck? It doesn’t make sense, not at all. I wanna know, I deserve to know, I–”

“You deserve everything,” Natasha interrupts, eyes transfixed on you now, and they look kaleidoscopic, just like the galaxy that hung above your heads. “You deserve everything, but I can’t give you what you need, and that’s why this is the last time we’re ever seeing each other again.”

Silence ensues.

You take a good moment to actually mentally digest what Natasha had just said. “...What?” 

“This is the last time we’re ever seeing each other again,” she repeats, firmer. You let out a bark of laughter in disbelief, half-joking, but Natasha’ stony face makes your face drop.

“Are you… breaking up with me?” you whisper, scared to say it loud, like doing so would make it less true. Natasha feels her heart clench, and her hands shake because you’ve never sounded so small, so vulnerable.

“No, I’m not– I had to, Y/N, darling,” Natasha says, trying to reason, clasping your hands in hers, shaking her head desparately, like it would stop her eyes from welling up. “I’m a Goddess, and you’re a mortal. I love you, please. But we can’t do this, we can’t-”

“Is it me?” you ask, softly, troubled. Eyes locking Natasha’s magnificent green eyes, one’s that you’ve fallen in love with a thousand times. Ones that you were still in love with.

“No,” Natasha says immediately, her knuckles whitening. “It’s not you. Definitely not.”

“Then who is it?” you follow up, eyes narrowing, head tilted. “Who’s the one tearing us apart?”

It was them, Natasha wants to scream out, until her lungs burned and her chest heaved and she ran out of tears. You’re the best fucking thing that’s happened in my life, and I’m a damned fool if I ever let you go, but this isn’t in my hands anymore. She wanted to curse the higher beings for centuries, taint their names with bitter words, but she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth.

You grow more hopeless as the silence stretches on. 

No, you’re the villain. Natasha’s voice says in her head. This was what had come to bite her back, this was her karma. You’re paying for everything you’ve ever done wrong, for all the hearts you’ve broken and never mended. It’s your turn to face the music, your turn to go through suffering. What a shame, isn’t it? That she’s the one who’s so hurt because of you. Y/N L/N. Only person to blame is yourself.

…Only person to blame is yourself.

“It’s me,” Natasha finally says, a shell of a woman who once was, and the Goddess swears she hears your heart smash into smithereens, the glass pieces against the floor you trod on.

“No, what are you saying, Nat?” you ask, confused, tearing up, visibly shaking. “You’re- we’re together. We’re doing good. We’re doing so fucking good, please don’t–”

“I’m the Goddess of Lust, and you’re an attorney from earth. We were never gonna work out. I wasn’t made to have long-lasting, committed relationships. Just… lustful nights,” the falsehood of the words that fell out of Natasha’s mouth wasn’t her own. It tasted bitter on her tongue, but it was like medicine and it was the right thing to do.

You needed a villain. Someone to hate. Someone to blame it all on.

And Natasha happened to be a very good one.

“We were a time-ticking bomb, Y/N, separated by galaxies you could never even fathom.” she continues. “We were never meant to be. I realise how wrong I am for this, because it was never real–”

“It was real to me!” You yell out, voice cracking, tears in your eyes. 

Natasha is stunned by the sheer volume of your words, so ferocious and so determined and fuck, she was pathetic. “It was fucking real to me, alright? It was the realest thing I’ve ever had in my entire life. It was so fucking real, Nat, so you don’t get to just pretend you never fell in love!”

Love.

“Love?” Natasha asks, letting out an amused huff of disbelief. “Love doesn’t exist, not in my world, Y/N L/N. It had to end at some point, you know that. You have your responsibilities, I have mine. We’re over, alright?”

You stand there, feet rooted on the ground, face fallen and ashen and grey. This was a dream. This was a dream, and you’d wake up next to the real Natasha later, the one with sweet smiles and peanut butter cookies, and everything would be alright.

“I’ve said what I had to say,” the Goddess says, and she has to regulate her breathing so she won’t choke on her words and swallow them back. She had to escape before she fell to her knees and begged you for forgiveness. “I’m leaving, now.”

She turns, and you grab her arm. “You’re staying.” you state, non-negotiable. A commanding tone. One that Natasha had grown to love.

This time, she scoffs, wrenching herself out of your grasp. “Fucking make me, then.”

Just like that, a lever between the two of you was flicked, and the sexual tension you’d been trying to avoid since just now is nearly suffocating.

“We’re not gonna do this right now,” You growl, looking up at the ceiling with a clenched jaw. Teetering on the edge of precipice was your raging impulse, to either punch a hole in the wall or shove your hand up Natasha’s skimpy dress.

The Goddess tilts her head up in defiance, looking at you daringly in the eyes. Your eyes narrow, taking it as a challenge. God, she looked so fucking bratty like that, and it didn’t help that she was still wearing a stupidly skimpy dress and that her pink lip gloss made that mouth so damn kissable.

“No? Then I’m leaving,” Natasha says abruptly, her tone of voice unyielding and domineering. She uncrosses her arms and turns on her heel, her hand going to the door of the tower. 

The rhythmic clicking of her strappy high heels against the tiling of the ground ticks your brain like a metronome. You stand there with your arms folded, her long legs in the field of vision of narrowed eyes. 

Click, click, click–

And then she’s being spun around and slammed against the back of the door with an unruly force.

“The only time someone ever turns their back on me, when I’m talking, is when they’re bendin’ over,” you growl into Natasha’s skin, each pause in your sentence filled with a harsh bite to her porcelain skin. Her gasp-turned-moan is heaven to your ears. 

Natasha struggles for a moment, hand still grasping for the doorknob. “Fuck,” she cries, but she feels the gyration of your roughly-shoved thigh up her dress and she nearly loses it. You wrap a hand around her neck, letting her give up her power, and you do what you’ve done a thousand times before.

Except this was the last time.

You don’t bother to take off her garments as you hike up the bottom of her dress and push your front against her. “Fuck,” Natasha moans, feeling your rock-hard bulge against her panties. She tries to grind against it, tries to alleviate the growing tension, but you do nothing more than rut against her until she’s fucking soaking.

“I don’t think so,” you growl, hands going to her ass as you push her up against the wall. Your mouth latches on to whatever slivers of bare skin you can find, on her neck and her collarbone and her upper cleavage.

You suck hard on her porcelain skin, leaving marks like you could claim her. Like this wouldn’t be the last time. “Please,” Natasha begs, indescribably aroused, her panties completely soaked through. You had never been this unforgiving.”Need you, please.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t what you were saying just now, hmm?” You ask, harshly, slapping the side of her thigh just because you can. You pin her against the wall with your knees and your left hand, using the other to unbuckle your own pants. 

She tries to reach out to help you, but you slap her hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you say coldly, and Natasha wants to cry but she knows she brought it upon herself.

It takes you more time on your own, but you get the job done and the sight of your cock, the one Natasha took the first day she met you, it makes her cunt grow a heartbeat and she’s a fucking mess against the wall.

“Now you need me so bad?” You taunt, rubbing the tip of it against the slit of her pussy. “Don’t have any more words to say?” God, she’s absolutely drenched, and you think you’re gonna die if you don’t go inside her in the next five seconds.

This was probably the worst way to communicate, but, fuck, the two of you were bad at talking and you couldn’t resist the divine goddess that was Natasha, no matter how badly she had hurt you.

You nearly cum the second you enter the Goddess. Her velvet walls cling tight to you, so warm, too fucking warm. Natasha’s babbling something you don’t understand, but you can’t wait any longer.

“Oh, fuck!” she moans, as you slide your cock into her wet cunt with ease.

Your bodies move together with every thrust, Natasha’s legs wrapped tight around your torso as you thrust into her against the door. It’s hard, and fast, and rough, and nothing tender like your Saturday mornings.

She clings to your back, head thrown back, moans and cries bouncing off the sides of the wall. The door is shaking, like it might crack from the sheer weight of your thrusts into her.

You grunt at the inconvenience of that prospect, instead opting to walk the two of you back to a desk in the corner. Natasha gasps, whimpering into your neck as you walk across the floor with your cock still deep inside her pussy. It’s too sensitive, so sensitive everywhere.

You bend her over the desk, pulling away then lining yourself up again. 

You’re about to make her beg, before the irrational, carnal side of your mind takes over, and you’re pounding into her pretty little cunt mercilessly. Grunting and groaning as lodge your cock in deeper with each harder thrust, as her moans delve into a symphonic crescendo of screams of your name.

She’s thrashing around, so warm and so wet and so overstimulated all over, but you don’t let up for a moment. You only grip her thighs harder and make her hear how wet she is, before Natasha’s eyes are rolling into the back of her head and there’s drool at the sides of her mouth.

“Pretty slut,” you grunt, pulling out to slap at her puffy clit before she’s squirting, white cream going all over the mattress. “Daddy,” Natasha moans pornographically, visibly shuddering at your degradation. She might like it, a little too much.

The title that had fallen from her lips elicits a groan of acknowledgement out of you, but simultaneously brings back the bittersweet flashbacks of your time spent with her.

This was the last time.

After she’s come down from her high and you’ve hit your climax, you spread her legs and lean down to get a good taste.

"Oh! Daddy - ungh - please," she begs, as your tongue meets her overstimulated cunt. Natasha hadn't even recovered from her previous orgasm, still bent over the desk and panting like she was in heat.

You lap greedily at her wet cunt from behind, and the sheer novelty of how many times you’ve done this truly hits you. How many hours you’ve spent exploring Natasha’s body. How many days you’ve spent worshipping.

All for it to succumb to this.

It’s only after another few orgasms that the weight of ‘the last time’ hits you. Both of you have ended up on the floor, completely naked, heaving heavily to regain oxygen.

“I loved you,” you whisper, hovering above Natasha, and the use of the past tense makes chips away at Natasha’s heart. It’s only then does she realise that there are tears on her cheeks, because you’re crying.

“You deserve someone better,” is the only thing the Goddess says, a ghost of her whisper on your lips. 

“You've ruined me for anyone else,” you say, face devoid of the passion there once was. “You loved me so tenderly I won't be able to have another, had such good sex I can't sleep with anyone else.”

Natasha doesn’t respond to that. She can’t respond to that. There were too many unsaid words, broken promises, a future yet to be.

Both of you look up at the pink-blue sky, bare backs on an astronomy tower, bound by love and unbound by timelines and galaxies. It was brokenly beautiful, undeniably so. 

You only wish everything could’ve been different.

—

You wake up the next day in an unfamiliar bedroom. The room was far too small, the walls were too grey, the air was too cold, and fuck.

No, no, no, fuck. This was not happening.

Realisation slams into your exhausted body like a two-hundred kilogram sledgehammer, and you're winded by the weight of the impact.

This wasn't Natasha's home. This wasn't her fancy palace. 

This wasn't the Goddess' universe.

Air crushes your lungs. Your heart pounds in your chest.

This was your bedroom. This was your universe. The one you had spent all your days in, before you met the love of your life. 

At least, who you so stupidly believed to be the love of your life.

You get up with a start, the ache in your bones forgotten with the sheer emotions coursing through your veins, terror and disbelief and anger.

Your mind swims as you grab at anything you can, overturning furniture and messing up papers to find anything, anything, that could explain why this had happened.

Deep inside your chest, you had already known. Even if you managed to fool yourself. Even if you’d dreamt up a whole future of your life with her.

With a shuddering breath, your eyes fall to an envelope on your bedside table. You open it with trembling hands, almost fearful of what lay beyond.

In the envelope, contained a signed check with so many zeroes you could live luxuriously for the rest of days. 

In the envelope, contained a note with five fated words and the name of the one that got away.

All you're left with is a broken promise, an agonized cry, and the ghost of what could've been. 

To every universe and back,

N.R.

series m.list | main m.list | AO3

4.5k words my eyes are not okay i've been staring my screen and typing for two hours straight, look what i'm going thru for yall

[louisupdates]

With the first quarter of the 21st century coming to an end, Billboard has been looking back on the 25 Greatest Pop Stars of the Past 25 Years. Below, we take a deeper look into the solo career of Louis Tomlinson — one of the members of our No. 22 pop stars, One Direction — and how his songwriting, originally honed in 1D, has helped him develop into one of the group’s strongest breakout artists.

When One Direction officially went on hiatus in 2015, Zayn Malik dropped Mind of Mine in 2016, Harry Styles’ eponymous LP dropped in 2017, Niall Horan followed with Flicker later that year and Liam Payne’s First Time EP arrived in 2018. Louis Tomlinson, however, took his time with releasing a full project – and entered an era of healing and self-discovery that saw him realizing his potential as one of 1D’s most self-actualized artists, even if not necessarily the starriest.

Even before going solo, Tomlinson showed he was meant for breakthrough success while in One Direction. Longtime Directioners know that Tomlinson wrote more songs in One Direction than any other member, penning long standing hits including “Perfect,” “History” and “Fool’s Gold” and proving his fortitude as a songwriter who understands lyrical cleverness and crafting the indescribably catchy refrains necessary to produce arena-ready hits. Beyond his musical abilities, Tomlinson’s sense of humor and friendship with fellow 1D members also ensured fans had a soft spot for him.

However, when he did go solo, the road was slippery at first. He teamed up with Steve Aoki for his first solo release “Just Hold On” in December 2016, and just three days before its release, Tomlinson’s mother died of leukemia. He still took the stage to perform the song on The X Factor, the first public testament to the star’s strength and dedication to his musical craft.

Tomlinson’s resilience amid adversity continued as he navigated the music industry. The star signed with Epic Records in 2017 and released a few singles – including “Miss You” and the Bebe Rexha and Digital Farm Animals-assisted “Back to You.” While the infectious hooks to both tracks could have easily solidified Tomlinson as a pop mainstay, the two singles didn’t perform as well as expected on the charts: “Just Hold On” peaked at No. 52 on the Billboard Hot 100 and “Back to You” hit No. 40, while “Miss You” missed the chart altogether. Ultimately, a full-length album never materialized with Epic Records.

Tomlinson shortly got back on his feet, as he always does, and signed with Arista Records in 2019 – where he honed his talent as a songwriter, this time feeling comfortable enough to tackle more vulnerable topics in his music. His first release under the label was “Two of Us,” a heart-wrenching tribute to his late mother. “I know you’ll be looking down/ Swear I’m gonna make you proud/ I’ll be living one life for the two of us,” he sings in the chorus, giving a glimpse into what would soon become a musical career full of honesty and vulnerability.

Unfortunately, shortly after its release, another hardship struck Tomlinson’s life when his 18-year-old sister Fizzy died of an accidental overdose. Both the release of “Two of Us” and the tragedy that followed showed just how close Tomlinson’s community of fans is, as they showered him with online love and support in the months that followed.

After taking some much-deserved time to heal, he announced in August of that year that his debut solo album was on its way – and shortly after, he released a follow-up single, the rock-leaning, drumline-driven “Kill My Mind.” Tomlinson admitted that he finally found his stride. “I’m actually really proud and relieved to finally find my place, find my lane musically,” he told Hits Radio Breakfast at the time, indicating a moment of relief amid his turbulent few years.

Tomlinson’s debut solo album, Walls, arrived in January 2020 and while it hit the Billboard 200‘s top 10, it was met with mixed reviews from critics, who suggested that the heart he wanted to portray wasn’t quite there. His growth outside of commercial success proved otherwise, as he had been spending the past few years building a solid identity not only as an artist, but also as a person. While some of the other One Direction alums are still finding their footing with their solo sounds to this day, Tomlinson grew strongly into an instrumentation-focused pop-rock artist whose lyrics go beyond the cookie cutter sentiments you might expect from a former boy band member.

And soon, all the hard work – both personally and musically – finally paid off. Faith in the Future, his 2022 sophomore solo album, debuted at No. 1 on the Official U.K. Albums Chart. In the United States, Faith In The Future debuted at No. 2 on Billboard’s Top Album Sales chart, and at No. 5 on the all-genre Billboard 200, his highest-charting set yet on both tallies. The album’s success, as well his sold-out live shows on its accompanying tour, not only showed the still-standing Directioner devotion to Tomlinson, but also made it clear that he picked up a slew of new fans along the way.

Tomlinson’s self-awareness was evident on the album’s lead single, “Bigger Than Me.” “When somebody told me I would change/ I was afraid, I don’t know why/ ‘Cause so does the world outside, I’ve realized/ It’s bigger than me,” he sings – indicating that the key for solo success all along was being himself, and letting go of the pressure that fame brings.

While Tomlinson has still yet to score the major chart hits stateside that his 1D bandmates essentially achieved right away – and has been more focused on his 28 clothing line the past couple years – he’s proven that he doesn’t need traditional pop crossover success to have a bright future ahead of him. With another couple albums and tours that continue to establish his identity and expand his artistry, it wouldn’t be shocking to see him making the jump to arenas in the not-distant future. Louis’ solo career may not have gotten off to the perfect start, but it just might end up being perfect for him in the long-term anyway.

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Pick a Card: Message from Aphrodite

I dedicate this reading to Lady Aphrodite. I deliver this message from her to the collective. Take what resonates and leave the rest behind, baby. But always be open to new experiences. Decks used are the star spinner tarot, the romantic Lenormand and occult tarot.

🌸Tip your Reader💖

_________

PILE ONE 🤍

Astrology: Leo, Libra, Virgo (maybe Scorpio)

Song: EVIL by Melanie Martinez

Vibes: Pink, dark purple, aquamarine, peacocks, lions, pheonix, whales, pixies, ship in a bottle, sunflowers, clear night sky, 1010, 2020, 2029

Cards: The Hermit, 10 of Swords, Queen of Wands, Queen of Cups, The Lovers (Gay), Sallos (2 of Cups), Woman, Garden

Hello, pile one. Lady Aphrodite is telling me that you aren't very kind to yourself. She wants this to change. I think you do too. Maybe you aren't sure what being nice to yourself really feels like. No one ever taught you. They taught you how to serve others. They taught you how to neglect your own needs. This isn't helping or working for you anymore. It is honestly just making life harder than it needs to be. I see this self-hatred could be leading you to depression. You try so hard to focus on other peoples problems so you don't have to focus on yourself. Lady Aphrodite says she wants to help you tend to your garden. She wants to nourish your soul. She wants you to learn about yourself and bring light to the darkest parts of your soul.

I am going to attempt to directly channel her.

"My dearest, you aren't undeserving of love. You bring the utmost sincerity to understanding every person and everything around you. I do so wish you would bring the loving energy you do to those topics to yourself. I want to fill your life with abundance. I wish to see you bloom, my flower. I wish to watch you flourish and grow past what you ever imagined was possible. Hear me, little flower. You are deserving of cherishing. It doesn't matter what the crowds say. It is truth. You are deserving of being known to your core. You don't have to fawn anymore to protect yourself. I will protect you from now on, my darling. Those previous lovers did you no good. Self-love is where you must begin. Start at your lust. It will lead you to where the hurt is. So, you may begin to heal."

Lady Aphrodite has seen your pain and wants to take away the pain you have been feeling. The pain you have been causing yourself isn't deserved. She knows you have been self sacrificing and is asking you to stop. Stop hurting the one person who has been looking after you this whole time. Yourself. Give yourself some slack and see yourself as the person you truly are. Don't filter your perspective of yourself through the lenses of others. All they know how to look at is reflections. You are not their reflection. The things they say are just their own self-hatred reflected off of you. You aren't what others see. You are more than that. Allow yourself to open your mind to experience yourself anew. Lay down your sword. You don't need to fight yourself any longer.

________

PILE TWO 💎

Astrology: Taurus, Capricorn, Pisces

Song: Nobody Else by Em Beihold

Vibes: Deep purple, deep blues, burgundy, yellow, gray, wheat, keys, time, clocks, gold fish, coy fish, bears, bulls, stars, alstroemerias, wishing well, thistles, 345, 78, 11

Cards: 8 of Pentacles, Hierophant, Empress, 4 of Wands, 7 of Cups, Whip, Fish, Balam (page of wands)

Pile two, welcome to you reading. Lady Aphrodite wants me to tell you a couple different things. First, why do you need to earn what you have deserved all along? I see how hard you work. She see's it too. You have this hyper independence and this unbridled need to prove yourself. These beliefs of yours are holding you back, love. Why do you think you need to be punished in order to receive? My dear these beliefs are from generational trauma that was passed to you. You don't have to work to deserve. You are inherently deserving of all that you need. You are lovable. You should be seen and recognized for all your hard work. Lady Aphrodite asks you to stop inheriting pain and start inheriting pleasure. Just for the sake of being happy. Just for the sake of your mental stability.

I will channel Lady Aphrodite directly so you can hear her clearly.

"My little dove, you can relax now. There is no one looking over your shoulder anymore. What are you trying to prove? You don't need to prove yourself to anyone, baby. You are just perfect. You will still be abundant if you take a second to breath. I'm so sorry your loved ones and career have made you feel like you aren't enough. You are more than enough. My love, I don't want you to think that you need to work so hard to get what you need or anything you want. You can take a minute to breath. I will take care of your desires, my dearest. I know you are getting all choked up about the needs and wants. Cry if you need to. Let all that built up pressure out. You don't always have to hold your composure like they all claimed you needed to. Relax your shoulders and unclench your jaw, my love. I wish you didn't feel the need to prove yourself. You have already proven yourself over and over. A thousand times you proved you could do anything. You don't have to anymore. Let go of spite. It doesn't matter if someone thinks you can't. Their opinion of you don't reflect the truth. It only spreads light onto their insecurities. You are perfect. You are perfect even when you aren't trying so please my dearest. Stop trying so hard. Just be."

Lady Aphrodite wants to take anything that is bothering you away so you may have the time to rest and recuperate from all that work you have been doing. You have done enough. You are enough. She can see it. She wants you too see it too.

___________

PILE THREE 🐰

Astrology: Cancer, Scorpio, Aquarius

Song: PUPPET SHOW by XG

Vibes: Sky blue, cyan, navy blue, indigo, green, purple, rocking horse, carrousel, apples, ibis bird, lilys, yellow roses, angels, mermaids, sparrows, unshed tears, circus, 45, 4444, 13

Cards: Queen of Pentacles, Knight of Cups, Star, 4 of Cups, 5 of Swords, House, Child, Berith (King of Pentacles)

Welcome, pile three to your reading. Lady Aphrodite has a very strong and stern message she wants me to tell you. You really might not like to hear this so continue if you desire but just know I warned you. You are 'playing house' with someone who doesn't want to play the role that they agreed to. You think if you coddle this person they will warm up and get back into playing with you but they won't. No amount of babying will make them play with you, my friend. This could be a romantic partner but more likely I see they are a FWB that you want something more with. This person is extremely childish and doesn't want to commit to you but wants all the benefits of being with you. I'm hearing you set up this persons doctors appointments and making their lunch. You are acting like a mother to this person. It is leaving you really disappointed and unsatisfied. You want something real with this person. You aren't scared to commit but the person only wants to take from you. They don't want to give. Lady Aphrodite thinks you deserve more than that. You deserve your desires to be fulfilled. This person can't do that for you.

Now I am going to try and channel Lady Aphrodite. She wants a couple words with you.

"I do not enjoy how that person treats you. Excuse my language but they are a bitch for not making a commitment to you. You deserve dates, flowers and A RING. You deserve the world and this person isn't giving that to you. All you are receiving is a second rate sexual experience and motherhood you never signed up for, my dear! I don't think kicking this person to the curb is going to work right away but you need to change how you think about this person. I would much rather you just leave them but I sense it wouldn't be safe quite yet. Don't worry, my dearest. I will set everything up just for you. Please, in the mean time while I set up your new love-life, start treating this person like a friend. They don't act like a lover so do not treat them like a lover. They will hardly notice, my love. There is nothing to fear. I will remove this person quickly from your life very soon so I can give you a new and better person. This new person will be perfect for you, just you wait and see. They are going to treat you exactly how you have always dreamed. I guarantee you some princess treatment and romance. I guarantee you a ring and a lovely life with this new person. You might have to leave some old behaviors and habits behind with the current person but I promise you good things will replace the things you will leave. Good luck, my love. You have me on your side."

You won't have to wish for your current situation-ship to step up for you because someone else will. You don't need to yearn much longer. You are a queen and you must be treated like one.

________

PILE FOUR 🌸

Astrology: Aries, Gemini, Sagittarius

Song: Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter

Vibes: Pastel pink, cobalt, cornflower blue, blonde, hawk, starling, rodents, garlic, cheese, peaches, walnuts, pecans, pineapple, dyed hair, orange peal, fish bones, illusion, 1212, 333, 5858, 55

Cards: Knight of Wands, Knight of Swords, 5 of Wands, 3 of Swords, 8 of Cups, Clouds, Mice, Gamigin (5 of Pentacles)

Pile four, I hope you are ready because this one is a doozy. Lady Aphrodite wants me to tell you that you need to run far away from whoever has been breaking your heart. She is telling me there is someone you are getting close with and have known for a while. It could be a romantic interest but not necessarily. They are probably an air sign. This person she is telling me about is changing into someone nasty behind closed doors. You have been seeing it too. You have been ignoring the red flags because you have known this person for a very long time but you haven't ever known them really. It has been little red flags or orange/yellow flags so you dismissed your own worries and haven't really entertained the thought that this person is turning into a pest. Those yellow flags are going to pile up, my friend. You will loose so much. Lady Aphrodite is really serious about this and wants me to say that if you don't break your own heart now. This person will do it for you and they won't be as kind as you are. They are growing close with someone who is a terrible influence on them. If you try to confront them about your concerns they will brush you off. Do not let them convince you. You aren't imagining anything. You are seeing the signs.

I will now channel a direct message from Lady Aphrodite.

"My dearest. Get away from them and their 'new friend'. While you still can. This person is a manipulative vexation and they are turning your friend into someone gross. This is the only way I can protect you from them, my love. You need to run. Hurry away. They are luring you into false security. Don't let this little rat of a person eat up your money, your time, your self esteem or anything else that is rightfully yours. Do not give away your power to these vermin. I know you might feel guilty, my dearest. Do not. I swear on the name of love that this person is not worth the guiltiness you feel. If you don't trust what I am saying. I suggest you find your person's new friend's previous partners and inquire about them secretly. Then you will have your proof. They have a pattern, my dear. They say the same pickup lines and take every person to the same date. They are not healthy for you or your friend but your person is in to deep now. I cannot protect you unless you help me protect you. I cannot save you if you refuse to save yourself. Please do not turn a blind eye."

I know it might be lonely at first, my friend but there will be new people coming in to take the spots that will be left empty. You will be provided for. You won't have to be alone forever. I understand that this air sign person you don't want to leave behind has helped you feel less abandoned in recent years. Lady Aphrodite won't let you be lonely for long. Your friend just has some lessons to learn that you don't need to be involved in. Please stay safe, my love.

[honeybubbledivination]

What do you need to hear right now? 🍯🐝

✨ Hello, hello, busy bees! ✨

Today, I just felt like pulling some cards and seeing what happened! Below, I have some cards for you to choose from!

[At the end, I have my ko-fi linked if you’d like to donate! Not required! Just appreciated if you’re feeling generous!]

[Cards to choose from are from the deck ‘The Divine Masters Oracle’ by Kyle Gray and Jennifer Hawkyard’]

Pile One:

Isis - Calling Your Power Back

‘Grapejuice’ by Harry Styles “There’s just no getting through; without you…”

‘Angels On the Moon’ by Thriving Ivory “Don’t tell me if I’m dying, ‘cause I don’t wanna know; If I can’t see the sun maybe I should go…’

‘Tarot of The Divine’ by Yoshi Yoshitani: The Emperor, KnoC, 7oS, KoP, 6oP, QoP, 2oS, KoS, 10oC, The Empress, 2oW, The Magician, 7oW, The World, The Chariot, 9oS, Judgement, 10oS, The Devil, The Hanged Man, 4oC, KoC, The Hierophant, 4oP

‘Oracles of Shadows & Light’ by Lucy Cavendish and Jasmine Becket-Griffith: Marie Masquerade //Glamour, intrigue, drama. Dried-Flower Fairy //Sweet Memories. Sea Storm //Calm amid chaos. Witch at the End of the World //An important end, a new beginning.

‘Moon Magic’ by Marie Bruce: Blood on the Moon, Star Gazer, Toad, Arcturus, Wolf Moon, Moon Stuck

Hi, Pile One! I feel as though I’m speaking to a peer. I’m 22, so you might be close to my age. Either that or you have a pretty youthful energy. I also feel a soft masculine vibe from this pile. Which leads into the reading. You know you don’t have to be all macho to honor your masculine side, right? Masculinity is about providing and strength. It’s not about being a massive dickhead. You can be ‘soft’ and still be a good husband and father. You aren’t a pansy or anything like that. I feel that you probably have family or friends who have more “traditional views”. But, no offense, they’re idiots. You’re uniquely you. You don’t fit into the boxes your social group tries to put you in, and that’s okay. To hell with them! Do what makes you happy, honey! Be you! You aren’t alone in not liking labels. You are human. You don’t have to be put into a box. Live freely. You may be highly sought after, but you aren’t making good friends or lovers. You have a very sweet air about you once you start to open up to people and most of those people tend to take advantage of you. You may want to pursue something in fashion or you might have a keen eye of what looks good and what doesn’t. You may tend to dress down to keep eyes off of you, but if wearing cute clothes makes you happy then do it! Who cares what anyone says! This is your life and you deserve to present how you want! Your new life will always cost you your old one. Don’t be afraid to let people, things, or situations go to move forward with who you truly are and what you truly deserve. Have the confidence to be who you truly are! And honestly, your family isn’t going to care that much. They’ll come around and truly just be happy that you’re happy. When you feel good about yourself, you do better in life. You have the ambition to go after what you want and take it. Plus, being a people pleaser is a form of manipulation. It’s not good to lie to yourself and in turn lie to others. Be mindful. You aren’t a bad person or less than for being ‘different’. You’re just you. And that’s exactly what you’re supposed to be, little bee!

- Bunny 💛🍯

Pile Two:

The Blue Beings - Light Transmission

Gold Rush - Taylor Swift “Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you…”

Permanent Vacation - Arrows in Action “I found my peace; In places I had never been…”

‘Tarot of The Divine’ by Yoshi Yoshitani: Judgement, The Lovers, The Fool, 3oP rx, 8oS, The Hierophant Rx, 9oP, 6oP, QoW, 10oP, The Wheel of Fortune, KoC, 3oC, 9oC, KnoP, 7oC, 8oC, 1oP, 5oP, 10oW, PgoW, 7oW

‘Oracles of Shadows & Light’ by Lucy Cavendish and Jasmine Becket-Griffith: Sea Storm //Calm amid chaos. I Am Kali //From death comes rebirth. Fairy of the Divine Hand //Intoxication, distorted view, overindulgence! Snow Angel //The signs are with you already!

‘Moon Magic’ by Marie Bruce: New Moon, First Quarter, Esbat, Black Cat, Unicorn Moon, Glimmering

Hey, Pile Two! You’re living as your authentic self! Congratulations! I feel like this took you some time and you may have felt a little called to pile one at first. I see that you’re getting to go out and party and have fun with new people! Black cats might be significant to you. (I take them as good luck!) You’ve learned to keep friends close, but not too close. You have good boundaries with other people and how the interact with your life. But, do you have good boundaries with yourself? Yes, you’re having fun and making money. But, are you remembering to keep your limits in mind? Are you overindulging in sex, booze, or just staying up too late? Make sure you’re still focusing on how to make yourself feel good, without getting lost in it. I’m so proud of you, though! I know it’s hard to find the balance, especially when you’ve only recently learned you DESERVE to feel good about yourself and have fun. But remember to reel it in and relax sometimes. You don’t have to go, go, go. And you don’t have to be lazy or greedy either. Just find balance in all that you do! Great work on choosing yourself, Pile Two!! To add a little treat for all your hard work and continued efforts to better yourself, you seem to have love offers coming in! That’s right! You’ve got options! I feel like you’ve been manifesting them (through prayer or just having something like a Pinterest board with relationship ideas and goals). They’re on their way! Keep yourself in check to be the best version of yourself for YOU and how you want to handle these new love offers!

[P.S. you don’t need as much confirmation as you think! Start trusting yourself more, busy bee. You’ve made it this far all on your own, why have still doubt yourself?]

- Bunny 🍯💛

Pile Three:

Hanuman - Devoted Warrior

Under Pressure - Queen & David Bowie “Pressure, pushing down on me; Pressing down on you…”

Take Me To Church - Hozier “I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies; I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife…”

‘Tarot of The Divine’ by Yoshi Yoshitani: The Magician, The Tower Rx, 8oW, The Lovers, The Devil Rx, 2oC, PgoP, The Moon, The Empress Rx, 3oS, 7oS, 4oS, KoS, 5oC Rx, 6oC Rx, 9oS

‘Oracles of Shadows & Light’ by Lucy Cavendish and Jasmine Becket-Griffith: Autumn Is My Last Chance //Please don’t lose hope! Strangely Lonely //Holding on way too tight. Witch at the End of the World //An important end, a new beginning. Fairy of the Highlands // It’s time to be brave.

‘Moon Magic’ by Marie Bruce: Sky God, Nightshade, Toad, Star Gazer, Full Moon, Moon Dust

You’ve been through the wringer, pile three! I see that you’ve been put in a situation to where you’ve had to pull away from a toxic situation involving a feminine energy who wasn’t reciprocating what you were giving them. This was really hard for you because you’re loyal and devoted. You would never turn your back on someone you love, but they turned their back first. You avoided a tower moment by stepping away and being firm in yourself and your morals! You aren’t a bad person, you just know when it’s time to cut the crap and leave people behind! Way to go!! I see that because of being able to cut this person out, you’ve made room for someone new! Don’t be afraid to open up and make new connections! Not everyone is here to use you, honey bee! You’ve cut off a lot of people lately or are at least hiding away to try and keep yourself safe. It’s making you lonely and you’re looking at things from a hopeless perspective. You are worthy of good things, love. Release control of what’s happening. Realize you have fought hard and deserve to relax and unwind. You can have fun with other people! Go on dates! Make friends with people online or in person! Go have fun! Get out of the house and go for a walk, you never know who you might bump into! Stop playing it too safe, pile three! Live your life! If you hide away, you’re still letting that old person and their energy have control over you! Remember who is really in control here! Keep buzzing onwards and upwards!

- Bunny 🍯💛

💛🍯 Bunny’s Notes:

Thank you for buzzing by! I hope that if this resonated with you, you gain the courage to keep being yourself and finding the balance of when to act defensively or when you should turn away from things/people/situations that no longer serve you! Love and light to you all!

If you’d like to tip me, below is the link to my ko-fi! Not needed to enjoy my readings! Thank you so much, busy bees! 💛🐝

[artethyst]

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister!OC/Reader

“You know, I am High Lord.” Eris murmured against your exposed neck, “I could so easily decline the invitation-“

“No,” you grinned, moving his wandering hands to cup the ever so slight bump that rested above your womb- one that had turned Eris feral when it had finally made its hardly noticeable appearance days before. “We cannot keep it from them forever.”

“I can do as I please,” he retorted as you sighed, watching him in the large mirror you both were stood in front of.

“So can I.” You smirked. “You made me High Lady, remember? I have just as much power as you.”

“How could I ever forget…” He mumbled with a lazed smirk as you drank in the sight of him- dressed in fine maroon layers laced with gold, his crown perched lazily upon his auburn curls. He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his veined hand splayed protectively over your growing babe.

“It is only one evening, I am sure even you can tolerate that,” you mused, straightening your vermillion skirts and joining your much smaller and softer hands over his. “No matter how you feel on the matter, Rhysand will still be their uncle.”

“No need to remind me,” Eris grimaced, his feelings for his brother-in-law still very much apparent after all those years.

The two males coming to some sort of unspoken agreement they would remain civil for the sake of the most treasured female in their lives.

“Is Big Bad Wolf of Autumn afraid of my older brother?” You began to laugh as he nuzzled his head against your collar as one of his hounds might. “Worried he might castrate you for impregnating his little sister?”

It was Eris’ turn to smirk then.

“Bunny, if that is what will bother him, I can assure him I have done far worse.”

You rolled your eyes, a light blush on your cheeks at the insinuation of his words, softening when he spun you around to force you to face him properly.

With his slender hand angling your chin, amber irises burning an impassioned fire through your own, there was nothing that could escape him.

Not even the small pout that had come to rest on your full lips. The ones he had to fight himself not to lose himself in right there and then.

“You know I only jest my Love, I will behave how you ask of me. Anything you desire-“

“I-It is not that,” you breathed, eyes brimming with tears you could only blame on the growing flame in your stomach. “It is just…”

“Tell me,” Eris’ usually composed face flickered with concern, his sharp brows pulling together in worry, his senses ever so more heightened since news of your newfound state broke. “Whatever is wrong I will resolve-“

“I miss my home,” your voice was shaky as you refused to meet your Mate’s eye, unable to bear the hurt that flickered across his face. “I…I miss my family, and…And times like these just remind me that my child will not be raised the same way.”

Eris did not know how to respond.

He would have liked to think he had made you feel comfortable in Autumn- that his home was just as much yours than anyone’s.

That if you ever wanted to leave, you would tell him- not that you ever had to. He never stopped you from visiting, hell, would always accompany you- begrudgingly, whenever you wished for him to

He would never be like that sorry bastard Tamlin and have you locked away.

Were his worst fears finally coming true? Had you realised what he had known all along? That he did not deserve you? That you should have never accepted the bond-

“Are…Are you not happy here?” He could not hide the disappointment in his tone. “If you wish to leave-“

“No, Eris,” your tears began to fall at the sight of him- so vulnerable, thinking that he could never be enough for you. “That is not what I mean I…I never wish to be apart from you again, you…You are my true home.” You felt worse when he began to comfort you, sending waves of love down the bond as he gently thumbed circles into your lower back, his gestures more delicate than ever since your pregnancy.

“Whatever you want, Bunny, I will ensure you have it,” his words were sincere and you couldn’t help but break into small sobs, knowing just how far he would go- the things he would sacrifice for you.

It might have terrified you once, but now you understood why. You understood because you would do the same for him.

“I just…I just wish things were different,” you knew he had been trying, that your brother had too, but tensions were still rife amongst the courts. With loyalist Advisors Eris had yet to wheedle out and men like Keir who respected your husband than his own High Lord, politics were never simple. “O-Our child will not be brought up with same customs, attend school with their cousins-“

“If that is what you wish who is to deny you, High-Lady?” You couldn’t help but laugh through your tears, melting into your husband’s arms as though his muscled chest was the only salvation from the rest of Prythian.

“No I…I-I want them to know of their heritage- this heritage. To be part of their own Court’s customs…Be like their father,” Eris couldn’t help the way his own heart tightened at that, having to remind himself if not by anyone else, you were proud of him. “I just…I just wish we could have both…”

“Who says we cannot, hmmm?” He wiped away your tears, thumb lingering beneath your glittering eye, the ones it had only taken him one look in to be hooked on for the rest of his breathing days. “I shall see to it we spend a quarter of our year in Velaris. We will have a family residence where our children will be able to live freely in such a place that is theirs too to call home.”

You noticed the way he had said children.

Plural.

Despite his anxieties, he subconsciously was hoping for more.

“B-But what about you? Your duties-”

“My Love, why do you think I have delegates? And what else is Lucien useful for if not performing tasks that are below me?” You scoffed at that as he chuckled, tucking a stray curl lovingly behind your ear.

And no matter how unsettled he felt in Night- the stares that would follow him, the distrust certain members of yours- now his by proxy, family still scathingly looked upon him with, he would stomach it.

He would compromise anything- everything to ensure your happiness.

“Is residing in my old apartment no longer good enough for you?” You let out, trying to lighten the mood. Chin coming to rest at his sternum, reminiscing of the times when the only way to see him was to sneak him through the wards of your private quarters.

“My darling, I would buy every property in that wretched place if it would bring back your smile.”

You poked him in the ribs as he groaned.

“You just wish to show off your riches and have us live in a grander estate than my brother’s…On his own land.”

“You know me too well, My Love.”

And so that night, when you broke the news, with happy tears from Feyre and Cassian, drunken squeals from Mor (who had already known) and crushing embraces from Azriel and even Nesta, Rhysand did not have the heart to slight Eris.

And in return, neither did your Mate.

A warm smile on his hardened face as you tried to explain to a babbling Nyx- who couldn’t understand a thing, that he was to have a cousin. Watching you flourish with a new glow, surrounded by your family- surrounded by love in your childhood home.

Your home which you had opened to him.

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys because we deserved a better epic battle between Merlin and Nimueh.

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 (You're here) , PART 13

More of "The Poisoned Chalice"

Arthur: Do you want to see what you'll be wearing tonight?

Merlin: (thinking) Not those ridiculous ceremonial robes again! (says) My clothes, obviously.

Arthur: (smiling brightly) No, the official ceremonial robes of the servants of Camelot!

Merlin:(fakes excitament) Oh, I can't wait to see them.

Arthur: (pulls out a very nice and elegant robes, nothing to do with the buffon custome he wore in his timeline)

Merlin: (mouth open) You... you can't be serious.

Arthur: (frowns in confusion) You don't like them?

Merlin: Are you kidding? Arthur, they're gorgeous! They look more like noble's clothes than servant's clothes. I... I can't use that.

Arthur: Too bad. You're using them. (throws robes at Merlin, who catches them in reflex) In fact, Keep them. They're now yours.

Merlin: What?! Wait! Arthur-

Arthur: You're welcome (leaves before Merlin can't give him the clothes back)

Merlin: (in shock for a few seconds, but then puts the robes on and smiles) Uhm, they fit perfectly. Just like the other ones. (processing) Wait, how did he know my measures? 😧

Time skip. Just after the revelation the cup was poisoned.

Uther: (furious) Who dare to try to poison my son!

Merlin: (raises his voice) I know who did it!

Arthur: Merlin don't-

Merlin: (points at Nimueh) It was her! I saw her entering the room were the ceremonial goblets were at night!

Nimueh: (surprised pikachu face)

Uther: (suspicious, to Bayard) Doesn't she work for you?

Bayard: (unsure) I don't recall her face.

Merlin: (mumbles a revelation spell to undo the glamour Nimueh put on herself)

Arthur: (subtly stands infront of him, so nobody sees Merlin's eyes turn gold, thinking) Has he always being this careless for gods' sake!

Uther: (livid, shouts) Nimueh! (to guards) Seize her!

Nimueh: (Runs)

Arthur: (tries to go after her)

Uther: (stops him) Don't. She's too dangerous.

Arthur: Do you know her? Who is she?

Uther: Nimueh. She's a very powerful sorcerer. No one you should mess with.

Arthur: (thinking) And yet you messed with her (turns to Merlin) Merlin, we have to-

Merlin: (already gone)

Arthur: Merlin! (thinking) He did not go into danger alone again! He did not just go to confront a powerful sorcerer all by himself. This motherfu- (shouts, between furious and concerned) Merlin! (leaves where the guards went)

Uther: Arthur! (sighs and turns to his knights) Go with him.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the woods.

Nimueh: (stops running to take a breath)

Merlin: (appears) I must say that was a really intelligent plan. Pretending to be some innocent maiden and trying to make me believe Bayard poisoned the goblet. But you won't fool me. (thinking) Not twice.

Nimueh: (laughts dryly) I understimated you. I'll give you that.(straightens up, smirking) Come now. We are too valuable to each other to be enemies.

Merlin: (dryly) I share nothing with you.

Nimueh: Don't you want Arthur to become king?

Merlin: You just tried to poison him!

Nimueh: No, I was trying to poison you. You keep interfiring in my plans when we have the same enemy. I have nothing against Arthur. It's Uther I want to destroy.

Merlin: By killing innocent people? Sorry if I'm not okay with that.

Nimueh: Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

Merlin: You just seek revenge, not justice. Nothing justifies what you've done. (Steps forward) I'll make Arthur king when the time is right. But you won't see that day. (extends his hand) Astrice! (strikes her with light of energy)

Nimueh: (traps energy in her hand) Your childish tricks are useless against me, Merlin. It's a shame, you could've been a powerful sorcerer, perhaps, if you had the time, the training and the experience, but you are no more than a newly hatched chick that hasn't learned how to fly. I, on the other hand, have been practicing magic for decades. I'm a Priestess of the Old Religion. I am an opponent you could face but not defeat Forbearne! Akwele! (Throws fireball at him)

Merlin: (stops fireball midair without moving a finger)

Nimueh: (utterly confused) ... What? 😨

Merlin: You're right. Immature talent can't overcome decades of experience. But an experienced talent can. Akwele! (Throws fireball back with more force and bigger)

Nimueh: Scildan! (makes a invisible shield so the fire doesn't touch her) Forbairn ypile! (Makes a circle of fire around Merlin)

Merlin: Cume þoden! (Makes a whirlwind that blows the fire and then strikes Nimueh against a tree) Fire is not the only element you can work with, you know?

Nimueh: (smiles) Oh, I know. Gewican ge eorðe (makes a hole in the ground and Merlin falls there while he screams. Then she stands up and starts walking to the hole, limping a little, and says to herself, rubing her back) Oh, that hurt.

Merlin: (emerges floating in a piece of earth and stone, eyes golder than ever) This is going to hurt more. Eorðe, stanas, hiersumaþ me. Akwele! (Jumps from the rock and it goes to strike Nimueh)

Nimueh: Stanas tobrytan! (manages to break the rock into pieces but she's still hit by them and is severely injured)

Merlin: (stands over her with a somber expression)

Nimueh: (recoiling in fear, weakely) How...? How can this be? You shouldn't be this powerful! You manipulate magic as if you've been practicing it for a life time!

Merlin: (coldly) You don't have to know. (Starts to create a fireball in his hand, about to make the final blow)

Lancelot: (appearing in the distance, meters behind Merlin) Hey! What's happening?

Merlin: (the flame dies as well as the gold in his eyes and he turns around, wide eyed, whispering overcome with emotion) Lancelot?

Nimueh: (takes advantage Merlin is distracted and pulls out a dagger hidden in her leg)

Lancelot: Look out! (Runs to them)

Merlin: (moves away just in time so the dagger cuts his neck superficially)

Knight 1: (far away, but getting closer) I think I heard something!

Knight 2: (far away, but getting closer) This way!

Nimueh: (runs away as fast as she can with all her body hurting)

Lancelot: (goes to Merlin) Did she hurt you?

Merlin: I... (falls)

Lancelot: (catches him before he hits the ground) By the gods! She did! (Checks him, full panic mode)

Merlin: (thinking in Lancelot's arms, only able to move his eyes) No, she did not. The wound is barely a scratch but she put a paralyzing poison on the blade, the sneaky bitch. 😑

Lancelot: (sees Merlin's neck is bleeding, worried) There's so much blood.

Merlin: (Thinking) No, there isn't. 🙄 Honestly, Lancelot, have you seen a serious wound before? (Analysing his symptoms) Hum... It's not a letal one, the effects should go in an hour or so.

Lancelot: (checks his vital signs and sighs in releaf) He's still alive.(shaking Merlin) Hey! Can you hear me?!

Merlin: (Thinking) Yes I can! I just can't talk or move, damn it! 😠 I did miss you though 🥺. Why did we have to meet again like this? 😖

Arthur: (arrives with his knights) Merlin! (raises his sword, furious) Stay away from him!

Lancelot: (puts Merlin on the ground gently and steps back, hands up) I was just helping him! The girl. She did something to him. He's seriously hurt! He needs help!

Merlin: (thinking) No I'm not! I'm just... ugh, never mind 😒.

Arthur: (finally sees Lancelot's face and his features harden due to the resentment he feels towards the man he once considered a friend but then betrayed him by getting involved with his soon to be wife in his other timeline) Arrest him.

...

Before you ask why doesn't Arthur know Gwen was echanted and Lancelot was a shade that time if he's from the future, well the only one who could've told him that was Merlin and he was a tree so... And I don't recall Merlin ever mentioning any of this to Gaius. But even if he did, I think Gaius just focused on telling Arthur everything Merlin did for him with his magic, and the man is old, he could easily have forgotten to tell him a couple of things.

[dear-tortured-adam]

" 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐑-𝐈-𝐃-𝐈-𝐂-𝐔-𝐋-𝐎-𝐔-𝐒 "

: ✎. casual? no no, all the world deserves to know how much you adore that broke loser. wc ≈ 0.7K | Mammon x Masc!MC, fluff, MC has a bit of a male lean, inspiration, not proofread

"Did I mention that I'm in love with you?"

Smug bastard — that's what ��𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍 describes the fastest player who ran up to the pedestal. Crystalline blue eyes watch as you grab the mic before the coach could utter a single word. Your cocky grin had set everyone's heart ablaze, cheerleaders chanting praises for you and your team's victory. The greedy demon scoffs, crossing his arms with a pout.

Even his brothers were more than thrilled, seeing as the "backup" or "replacement" became the all-star champion of this round. All demons were surprised that humans could perform with such skill; perhaps they have underestimated you too much? That just made the sweet taste of gold all the more satisfying.

Of course, Mammon was there to watch it all. Of course, he was there from the preliminary rounds held like a week ago or so, to that strike for the win: he was there to witness and frankly, cheer for you on. It was so unlike the Greatest Mammon to scream your name loud for everyone to hear - although there's absolutely nothing you can do.

Everyone was in on this. Every. Single. One. You "allegedly" managed to convince the entire cheer team to support you on this; not only that but you also got Diavolo's approval? It was a miracle how you managed to keep this secret. It was so well that others were even more appalled to witness the white-haired lovestruck idiot bawl his eyes out in speechless galore.

"You didn't know?" one asks, while others laugh at his supposed obliviousness. "Hadn't been obvious?" Mammon flushed red before dismissing the question. It was absolutely not.

How did he miss this when he was practically conjoined to you by the hip—the suave man gracing his presence in this sinful hell. What do you mean you met a guy who rocked your world that was ever enough? And that throwaway line of you saying that he got you on yours knees sealed the deal all in a perfect golden ribbon.

Confident. You'd walk around the court snapping your fingers, pointing your mic to the crowd. The melody was addicting, rhythms coursing through your veins as this match of Devildom Lacrosse turned into a special tribute to your treasure. An inspiration. You didn't mind if you looked kind of like an idiot: as if everyone wasn't screaming your name like avid fangirls. The flip of that hair, the way you lowered your voice for one specific line causing almost all of the crowd to swoon? impeccable.

And that not-so-subtle wink you gave Mammon before getting up to sing the chorus? A cherry on top.

Still, was it necessary to preform a whole ass song in the middle of the court Maybe not but with all of RAD chanting along to your words, it's-

"RIDICULOUS!"

Just-

"RIDICULOUS!"

Literally a charismatic idiot, though each minor mistake like accidentally missing a note or two flew right through Mammon's head. It's just. . . With the amount of times he told you that you're his, he wasn't expecting you to accept that. Sure you were both dating, but Mammon thought humans preferred a more casual approach.

You accepted it, and you did so wholeheartedly.

Until the second chorus of the song was Mammon's embarrassment fading away. Displaying to the whole Devildom that you're his? His one and only? Golden boy dropped the tsundere act and started being cocky about it. Partly to try and hide it though mostly it's just that. He may not say it out loud, but he likes it.

Mammon will be waiting once the song finishes. You promised, didn't you? Don't tease him anymore with that sweet grin, fuckin' heartthrob. With a final snap, you looked at the crowd, one final note to belt.

"And I would give my kingdom for just one kiss- Come on now!"

And you just had to blow him what he wanted. Mammon could hear the small 'pop!' of your lips before you dropped the mic to the ground. It takes him a long while to notice that you're running up to him, his glasses nearly dropping to the bleacher floors.

Prince charming, aren't ya? Might as well give him a real kiss this time.

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