#I had a moment today where it almost reminded me what it feels like to actually be known and cared about as a human being

[gwens-love]

The space he left behind

Summary: After Nicky’s passing, Agatha doesn’t know how to handel being a good mother to her daughter, and a partner to Rio. She navigates her grief while struggling to reconnect. As Rio hopes to recover the love that binds their family.

Warnings: Angst, grief and loss.

Word count: 1.7k

~Agathario x daughter!reader~

A/N: I used google translate for this sorry if there are mistakes.

Please don’t copy/steal or translate this work thanks.

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As you wandered through the library with a book in hand, you looked up at Agatha, or better said your Mama. She was busy, but you missed the comfort of her voice, the warmth she used to give so freely.

“Mama?��� you asked softly, hoping you weren’t interrupting her too much.

Her eyes flicked to you, and a small, sad smile appeared on her face. She had been distant since Nicky was gone, but there was still a part of her that wanted to be here for you, to love you the way he would’ve wanted.

“What is it, little one?” she replied, her voice softer than you’d heard it in days.

You held up the book, looking at her with hopeful eyes. “Can you read this to me, Mama?”

Agatha looked down at you, her expression conflicted. She reached for the book, fingers trembling slightly, and let out a deep sigh. “Maybe… maybe later, my love. I’m… I’m not quite ready today.”

Your heart ached a little, but you nodded. “Can… Mami read it to me, then?”

Agatha’s expression softened, and she glanced down the hallway where Rio was bustling around. Rio heard your voice and peeked in, her face lighting up with a gentle smile as she approached, kneeling down beside you.

“Of course, mi corazón,” Rio said, taking the book from you and winking at Agatha. “Mama and I both have time for our little reader tonight.”

Agatha gave Rio a grateful smile, her hand resting briefly on Rio’s shoulder. Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay together, they would find their way forward, for you.

You nestled into Rio’s side as she settled down with the book, her aura carrying a mix of nature’s calm and something far more powerful… the kind of energy you could feel in your bones. To you, she was Mami, warm and loving, but everyone else knew her as the green witch or Death with a capital D. Her touch felt like spring’s renewal and autumn’s quiet decay, life and death balanced in her very presence.

Rio opened the book, her fingers gliding delicately over the pages. “Are you ready for an adventure, mi amor?” she asked, her voice rich and velvety, holding that magical spark that always made your heart race a little faster.

You nodded eagerly, glancing over at Agatha, who sat nearby. She was watching the two of you with a softness in her eyes, though you could sense a shadow in her heart. Rio noticed too, her gaze meeting Agatha’s, a look passing between them a silent understanding of grief, love, and the weight of the responsibilities they shared.

As Rio began to read, her voice wove the story into something almost real. Her words seemed to hang in the air, each sentence wrapping around you like an invisible charm. You leaned in closer, comforted by her presence, while Agatha, though still distant, stayed close enough to remind you she wasn’t going anywhere.

With both Mama and Mami by your side, you knew you were safe, held between life and death, love and sorrow, warmth and magic. And for now, that was enough.

As Rio’s voice wrapped you in the story, the words began to blur. You found yourself glancing over at Mama, who was watching the two of you with that faraway look in her eyes the one she had whenever anyone mentioned him.

You shifted, looking down at the edge of your blanket, and softly asked, “Mama? Where… where did Nicholas go?”

The question hung in the air, pulling both of them from the gentle quiet of the story. Agatha’s face froze for a moment, a flicker of pain crossing her features. She opened her mouth, then closed it, clearly unsure how to answer. Rio’s hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but even she looked at Agatha, letting her decide what to say.

“Well, my darling…” Agatha began softly, her voice a blend of love and grief. “Nicky… he had to go somewhere very far away. Somewhere we can’t visit him.”

“But he’s coming back, right?” you asked, looking between them, the innocence in your eyes making it clear you hadn’t grasped the weight of what had happened.

Agatha’s shoulders dropped slightly, and she reached out to brush a stray hair from your face. Her fingers were gentle, yet you could feel the heaviness of her sadness. “Sometimes, people go to places they can’t come back from, little one.”

You blinked, processing her words, your heart sinking. “Like… like the stories? Like when someone goes into the spirit world?”

“Yes,” Rio murmured, her voice a whisper, her thumb tracing soothing circles on your hand. “Nicky went to a place like that. But he loved you very, very much, and he’s always watching over you, mi amor.”

You looked down, frowning, the ache of missing him suddenly sharper, more real. “Will I ever see him again?”

Agatha swallowed hard, her voice catching slightly. “Maybe… one day, in a different way. But for now, he’d want us to take care of each other. To remember him with love, even though he’s gone.”

You held their words close, even as you struggled to understand fully. In that moment, you could feel both their hands grounding you, reminding you that even though Nicholas was gone, Mama and Mami would always be here. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

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But for Mama, that wasn’t enough. Agatha missed Nicky deeply, in a way words could never capture. She carried the loss in her eyes, in the way her shoulders sagged when she thought no one was looking, and in the quiet moments when she seemed miles away, lost in memories of him.

After she tucked you into bed that night, Agatha lingered by your side, brushing a gentle hand across your hair as you began to drift off. She stayed until your breathing slowed, your small hand still curled around hers.

When she finally pulled away, she found Rio waiting at the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms folded, watching her with a look that held both understanding and sorrow. The green witch, Death herself, could face any darkness with courage, but this grief the emptiness left by Nicky’s absence was something even she couldn’t fully shield them from.

Agatha closed the door softly behind her and let out a sigh. “I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right,” she admitted in a whisper, her voice breaking. “I wasn’t meant to do this alone, Rio.”

Rio stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on Agatha’s arm. “You’re not alone, mi amor,” she replied, her voice low and steady. “We’re in this together. Nicky’s gone, yes, but his love he left that with us. With you.”

Agatha looked down, her fingers brushing the sleeve of her own robe as if tracing the fabric might help her remember his touch, his laugh, the quiet way he’d reassure her during nights like this. She wanted to believe Rio, to find comfort in her words, but the ache of Nicky’s absence was too raw, too present. “It’s just… sometimes, it feels like there’s a part of me that went with him.”

Rio tilted Agatha’s chin up gently, her gaze fierce yet filled with empathy. “You still carry him, Agatha. He’s in every act of love, every time you comfort mi cielo, every time you give of yourself even when it hurts. Nicky would be so proud of you for everything you are, and everything you’re becoming.”

Agatha’s eyes filled with tears, and she let them fall, silent yet heavy with the grief she’d been holding back. Rio pulled her into an embrace, grounding her, her arms strong and steady, as if she could anchor Agatha to the world again.

For a long while, they stood like that in the dim light, surrounded by quiet and loss, yet also by the bond they shared a bond born of love, even through the pain. Agatha knew she had to carry on, not just for you, but for Nicky’s memory and for the family they were still trying to build.

And maybe, with Rio by her side, she would find the strength to face each day anew.

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“I can’t forgive you. Not yet, anyway,” Agatha murmured, her voice laced with sorrow, her words hanging heavily between them. There was a deep sadness in her eyes, a glint of hurt that hadn’t yet softened, no matter how much time had passed.

Rio’s face softened, her usual confidence faltering as she held Agatha’s gaze. She nodded, understanding the weight of the pain she had caused, the way it still lingered, the wound not fully healed.

“But I will love you until the end of my days here on this earth,” Agatha continued, her voice breaking slightly as she brought her hands up to Rio’s face, her thumbs tracing the curve of Rio’s cheekbones with a gentleness that spoke of both love and longing.

Rio closed her eyes at the touch, feeling the warmth of Agatha’s palms against her skin. For a moment, it was as if the world fell away, leaving only the two of them, bound by love, loss, and the complicated history that lay between them. She knew Agatha’s forgiveness was not something that could be given lightly, nor something that could be hurried. Rio had hurt her, betrayed the trust they’d built, and she understood that forgiveness might never fully come.

“I don’t deserve you,” Rio whispered, her voice barely audible, thick with the weight of her own guilt. “But I’ll spend every moment of this life making it right, even if it takes until the end of time.”

Agatha leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Rio’s, their breaths mingling in the silence. It was a closeness that spoke of all the words they couldn’t bring themselves to say, of all the love that still pulsed between them despite everything.

They stayed like that, bound together, in a promise unspoken yet deeply understood: to hold each other, even when forgiveness felt far away, even when their hearts were heavy with grief. Because love, even in its most fractured form, was a lifeline neither of them could bear to sever.

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Fin <3

[skinnypaleangryperson]

Where there used to be light in people's eyes, active warm skin, fresh air and experiences shared with other people with intimate emotional fashions, there is now nothing but cheap AI robots while I sit and waste away in the same bedroom every single day until my parents die and then I die

[obsessedelusional]

the prettiest girl in the room (smut)

paring �� Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary ↬ You shared a secret relationship with Eddie, if that’s what you could even consider it. You wished for more but never could bring yourself to tell Eddie this. What happens when your at a party and he gets dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room?

word count ↬ almost 3k

a/n: felt inspired to write for my pookie eddie munson again.. I will cherish this man till the day I die luv uuuuuu

reblogs & feedback appreciated ♡

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Eddie responds, sitting back in the couch with his legs spread waiting for his dare. You watch him smiling at his cocky grin towards the random freshman that chose him for truth or dare. Eddie would undoubtedly answer any question or complete any dare thrown his way.

“I dare you to…” The freshman’s voice fades as he looks around the room, trying to think of how to finish his sentence. Eddie only laughs in response, making a joke about finishing his dare sometime today.

Everyone is laughing but you, eyes still on Eddie. Your lips press to your solo cup, taking a sip of the drink someone mixed for you. Your thoughts are else where, the way Eddie is sat reminds you of the night before. When you were sat in his lap, riding his cock. His lips pressed to your chest, leaving marks that are still there. Hidden under your bra.

The freshman takes too long, to the point others begin to suggest dares for Eddie. He still hasn’t looked at you, and maybe that’s entirely your own fault. The two of you have been dating secretly for a few months now. He was the one to offer the secrecy to you, as an attempt to keep your perfect reputation. At first you thought it would be a one time thing so you agreed. Nothing more than a meaningless drunken hook up but after that he had you hooked. You kept coming back for more, until it became a nearly daily occurrence.

The talk of what you two were never to be had. Feelings growing on both sides, and now here you are. At a party tipsier than you should be. You stopped keeping count a while ago. Staring at him with fuck me eyes, too drunk to care who’s watching. You two exchanged a few smiles, brief conversations as if you two were nothing more than acquaintances. Which upset you but at the end of the day it’s your fault for making Eddie feel like he needed to be a secret in the first place.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.” The freshman finally speaks, louder than everyone in the room. Shutting everyone up as they watch in anticipation of who he will choose.

You too are watching the only difference is your eyes haven’t left Eddie all night. His eyes scan the room, playfully looking at all the different girls. Finally his eyes land on yours, only stopping for a moment before moving on. Your heart is broken, begging for you to leave the room. In one swift moment he stands up and walks across the room, away from you. Of all the people he could kiss right now, he chooses the worst possible choice. His ex.

Can’t bring your self to watch, looking down at your cup. Your eyes finally leaving the man you’ve been secretly dating for months now. As people begin to cheer and laugh at the kiss shared between ex lovers. Eddie pulls away, viewers chanting for more.

“Nah I did my dare, I’m done. Who’s next?” He chuckles as he plops down onto the couch where he was previously sitting.

The game continues on like you didn’t just witness the man you’ve grown to care for, maybe even love kiss his ex. You’re a mixture of anger and sadness but self aware enough to know that this is your own doing. It’s all too much so without announcing your departure, you stand up and walk through the crowded room. You finish off your drink, throw away the evidence and make an attempt to leave the party.

Realizing that you’re entirely fucked, no way to leave. Your home too far to walk, your ride somewhere in the party with absolutely no intention of leaving any time soon. Annoyed because you only came with your friend because you knew Eddie would be here, hoping that you showing up would have ended differently.

A frustrated sigh leaves your mouth as you head outside anyways. Deciding to take a moment to breathe before heading back into the party. Thanking whoever’s listening when you walk out side to an empty porch. Sitting down on the steps, looking out at the silent road filled with unfamiliar houses. A few cars drive by as time passes.

You sit there staring and thinking about how you ended up here. Alone but having a secret relationship, with a man you’ve grown to love. Not even entirely sure if his feelings are mutual. You’ve been spending so much time with him. Most if not all instances leading to sex. Even when you two aren’t fucking, there’s a connection. You’ve spent more time at his trailer than your own home in that last month. He makes you so happy, quickly become the person you run to when you need anything. Doing everything a relationship entails without labeling it.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by the sound of the front door opening and that oh so familiar scent of cigarettes, weed and his cheap cologne you’ve grown to love. Your eyes stay down, looking at your fingers that fiddle with anxiety as he sits next to you.

“I was looking for you.” He speaks, facing you.

“I just needed some air.” You whisper, avoiding eye contact but Eddie knows better. Knows that you’re upset at the kiss and too stubborn to admit that.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, touching your chin and tugging at your face to look at him. You didn’t even realize you were crying, so you wipe away the tears. As a sad attempt to mask your pain. Mentally noting that you had too much to drink as you plaster a fake smile on your lips.

“I don’t know. It’s stupid. It’s probably cause I’m so drunk.” You force a laugh, wiping away at the remaining tears. Eddie doesn’t laugh and obviously doesn’t buy your excuse.

“Is this because I kissed her and not you?” He questions, and your smile fades as you nod your head in response.

“I didn’t want to kiss her. I just about puked as I did it. Was so close to blowing chunks all over her.” He admits, letting him self laugh at the thought causing you to feel a little better.

“I wanted to kiss you, only you. I just wasn’t sure if you would have been okay with that.. considering we’re just kinda hooking up or whatever this is. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with such a public display of affection.” He further explains, all anger you had dissipating as quickly as it came.

“I wouldn’t have been uncomfortable.” You respond.

“Also was afraid once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’ve been watching you all night, staring at me with those eyes. Like you want me to drag you upstairs to an empty room and fuck you. Been walking around with a hard on all night, waiting till we can be alone.” He lets out a sheepish laugh, adjusting him self as your eyes are wide. You’ve been with a few partners before, none of which had such a dirty mouth as Eddie. Constantly out doing himself on the naughty words that leave his mouth.

“I was not staring at you like that.” You lie, grinning playfully swatting his shoulder. His laugh only grows, throwing his arm around you. You rest your tired drunken head, into his embrace.

“You’re a shit liar. Tell me what you want.”

“You. I don’t want to this.. us to be a secret anymore.” You admit, looking up at him while his arm is still stretched over your shoulder.

“Yeah?” He asks as he looks down on you.

“Yeah. I want to be the prettiest girl in the room.” You say with no filter. Admitting your drunken insecurities outloud, cringing as soon as it leaves your mouth.

“You are always the prettiest girl in any room. Only now you’ll be my prettiest girl, okay?” He says pressing a simple sweet kiss to your forehead. You nod in response, the biggest grin plastered on your face as if you weren’t sobbing moments ago.

“I think I need to fuck you so good that you forget about that kiss.” He whispers, his lips only a few inches away from yours.

“I think so too.” You say, before closing the distance. Pressing your lips to his, kissing him tenderly. His lips move with yours, as your hands find the back of his neck pulling him closer. Without thinking about it you slowly lower the two of you until he’s on top of you. Smiling and lettting out a giggle into the kiss as your back hits the cold wet wood of the porch.

“What’s so funny?” He pulls away, just enough to break the kiss.

“The way I was about ready to let you have your way with me outside on this porch. Can we go somewhere else?” You ask, looking up at him while he’s staring at your lips.

He rolls his eyes, getting up off you and standing up. Eddie reaches his hand out to which you take letting him help you up. He leads you back into the house, through the crowd of people. You’re too busy watching the man you’re with to notice the stares. Your man.

He leads you up some stairs, pushing through several people waiting for the restroom to a dark empty bedroom. He pushes you inside, following closely behind. While you take a few steps in he locks the door. When you turn to face him he’s already standing near you, looking down on you.

“How’d I get so lucky?” Eddie says as pulls you closer, his arms find their way to under your thighs. Picking you up in one swift motion.

“So fucking beautiful and all mine.” He gently sets you on the bed, never letting go. He’s on top of you, looking at you with so much more than just lust.

“All yours.” You respond, your hands already working on taking his shirt off.

“So eager.” He laughs, pulling it off the rest of the way.

You watch in anticipation as he undresses himself. Once he’s full naked and ready, he’s tugging at your pants. You lift your hips to help him as he slips them off. After a few moments you’re both naked and he’s dropping to his knees. His arms under your legs pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. His face a few inches away from your glistening cunt.

“I love the way you’re always so ready for me. Always so wet.” He murmurs, kissing your inner thigh.

Without hesitation his mouth dips into your folds, finding your most sensitive spot. Kissing it lightly before applying more pressure. Your hand find his hair, your hips tighten as your mouth lets sweet moans leave it. Letting him know he’s doing a good job. His tongue plays with your clit, as his finger slips into your hole. A loud moan leaves your mouth at the new sensation.

He continues, his motivation is the sinful sounds that come from your lips. He hears you say more somewhere in the mix of moans and curse words. So he adds another finger, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. His mouth still tactfully working on your bud. He knows exactly what he’s doing and how to get you to your climax. The squeezing of your walls, lets him know you are close.

“Don’t stop.” You mutter pulling on his hair, as an attempt to pull him closer. Your hips moving with his face, nearly riding it in an attempt to finish. Eddie moves faster, just enough to cause you to come undone. Releasing all over his fingers. He slows his movements until they come to a halt as he pulls away.

“You always taste so good. Do you wanna taste?” He ask as he stands up, his two fingers finding their way to your mouth.You nod yes in response, opening your mouth enough so he can set them on your tongue. You taste yourself while never breaking eye contact even when he pulls them from your mouth.

“Fuck you’re such a good girl.” Eddie groans, pulling you back to the edge of the bed.

He raises one of your legs with one hand, the other hand aligning his cock to your hole. As he slowly, inch by inch fills you up he’s grabbing your other leg. Both of them in the air and supported by Eddie as he bottoms out inside of you. You whimper at the stretch and the feeling of being full. His hips start to move, slow motions as he fucks you. Painfully slow, you need more.

It’s like he can read your minds because before you can ask, he’s pounding into you at a brutal pace. You’re a moaning mess under him, your legs being pushed wider as he fucks you harder. The only sounds is your moans, his grunting and the sound of skin slapping. Your pussy is so wet it’s loud as he goes in and out of you. The muffled sounds of the party down stairs is barley heard theough the door. Everyone upstairs can most certainly hear but in the moment you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, you take me so good. It’s like your pussy was made for my cock.” He stammers as he attempts to talk while sinking in and out of your wet, warm core.

He continues to speak his mind, letting all his thoughts flow out without a filter. His movements never stop, desperate to please you and please himself in the process. He’s pushing you deeper into the bed with every single thrust. Your hands find their way to his back, as he pressed himself closer to you. Kissing you hungrily as his hips continue to roll into you. Your hands scratch into his back, leaving marks in their tracks. He groans as a response, into your lips as you two kiss.

You start to feel that familiar coiling tension. Your fluttering walls let Eddie know that you’re coming close to your climax. He continues the same pace, pulling his face away from yours so he can watch you come undone. His favorite thing to witness and be the cause of. Your back arches as the tensions finally snaps. Your walks tighten as you come all over his cock.

Which is enough to push him over the edge, he pulls himself out leaving you empty. Without missing a beat he grips his dick, pumping it roughly. Allowing himself to finish on your stomach. When he’s done, he’s pressing a sweet breathy kiss to your lips before stumbling around in the dark to find something to clean up the mess he made.You lay there for a moment before feeling him wipe you clean. When he’s sure as he can be that he got it all, he throws it across the room.

“Eddie you can’t just..” Your own words cut off as you start to wonder whose room you two just fucked in.

“Whose room is this?” You question as he helps you get dressed again. As he pulls your shirt down over your head, he’s laughing.

“Jason Carvers.” He speaks, you look around for the first time and it’s most definitely a basketball players room.

“You didn’t.. we didn’t.” You reply, suddenly in a hurry to get dressed and back to the party. Moving his hands off you so he can get himself dressed.

“We did.” He grins, pulling his jeans on.

“Eddie..” You groan his name out but it doesn’t last long. His smile bringing you to smile.

Once you’re both dressed, he’s pressing another kiss to your lips. He grabs your hand and gently leads you out of the bedroom, praying that no one is sober enough to remember Eddie and you going into Jason’s room. Only to met with several pairs of eyes, not so silently watching and judging you. Eddie doesn’t seem to care, so you pretend to not notice. Following him back downstairs, to the couch where he was sat early.

“Eddie.. I want to go to yours. Can we leave?” You say stopping him before he can take a seat.

“Give me like thirty minutes to sober up. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as you are…” He teases.

“But I did drink a little bit. We can leave soon, okay?” He says as he sits down, pulling you into his lap. You have the cheesiest smile plastered on your lips. He’s acting as if it’s just another day, like this is a totally normal occurrence between the two of you. Like everyone in this room didn’t just watch him kiss his ex as a dare.

“Okay.” You nod, that smile still shining.

“You’re so cute and so drunk.” He whispers softly, his lips inches away from yours.

“And?” You question.

“And you’re so mine.” He says matter of factly.

“And?” You question again, eyes brows raised. Knowing what your tipsy self wants to hear. As you smile waiting, he looks lost but you see it click in his eyes before he rolls them.

“And you’re the prettiest girl in the room.” He lets out a soft chuckle before kissing you unapologetically. You kiss him back, drunkenly unaware of the eyes on you two and the gossip beginning to spread around the two of you. Nothing could ruin this moment for you.

[51voices]

Max Level: Pleasure Unlocked

Le Sserafim's Miyawaki Sakura x Male reader

AN: So... I may have been a tiny bit late to class today 😅. Why, you ask? Well... I was up all night re-watching Marry My Husband (totally worth it, btw). Anyway, fast forward to class, and I casually checked my phone, and—wait for it—WHAT?! Almost 300 likes for Ms. Kim Chaewon?! You guys are seriously amazing! 💖 This story was supposed to drop tomorrow, but because I love you all so much... here’s a little treat! 😘✨

P.S. Why is this lecture soooo long? Send help! 😂

Miyawaki Sakura, the eldest member of Le Sserafim, had found a new thrill—one that didn’t involve the stage lights or concert crowds. Live streaming had pulled her into its vibrant, fast-paced world of colorful pixels and instant connection. It wasn’t just a hobby anymore; it became her escape—a digital realm where she could unwind and be herself. Streaming offered her a space where she could share her love for video games in the most authentic way possible. Her laughter would echo through the headset, filling the room with the joy she found in navigating complex game worlds and strategizing with her audience. It was a welcome reprieve from the pressures of K-pop stardom, a place where she could exist without expectation.

But as Sakura’s love for streaming grew, so did the distance between her and Y/N. Y/N cherished their quiet evenings together—the ones filled with soft conversations, playful glances, and the warmth of shared intimacy. Now, those moments seemed to slip away, replaced by the blue glow of Sakura's monitor and the sounds of gaming filling the room. He found himself feeling increasingly sidelined, the comforting presence of his girlfriend diluted by the endless stream of fan interactions and in-game distractions. Every evening, as he sat in their apartment watching her stream, Y/N felt like a shadow in her life, forgotten behind the glow of her screen.

The silence after Sakura's gaming sessions hung in the air, heavy and unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the laughter that used to fill their nights. He would lie in bed, staring at the empty space beside him, wondering when their quiet, intimate nights had been swapped for late-night streams. The late-night absence became more palpable, the connection they once shared now buried beneath layers of bright pixels and fan interactions.

Frustrated and unsure of how to bridge the growing gap between them, Y/N turned to the one person who knew both of them best—Kwon Eunbi, Sakura's former leader and the matchmaker who had brought them together in the first place. Eunbi, always the voice of reason and support, listened with a thoughtful expression as Y/N poured out his concerns.

"I just don't know how to get her attention anymore," Y/N confessed, his voice tinged with frustration. "She used to light up when we were together, but now it feels like I'm competing with a screen."

Eunbi, ever the sage, leaned in with a twinkle in her eye, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Well, my dear, sometimes you just need to remind her of what she's missing," she said, her tone playful yet reassuring. "There's this little shop downtown. They have... items that might help reignite that spark you're worried about. A little mystery, a little surprise—that's the key."

Y/N blushed at the suggestion, but the idea intrigued him. Maybe Eunbi was right—maybe a little spontaneity was exactly what their relationship needed. "Okay noona," Y/N said with newfound determination. "Take me there. I'll do whatever it takes."

Eunbi grinned. "That's the spirit. Trust me, after this, she'll be more than eager to spend some time away from that screen, and if it doesn't work out... you have my number" the older girl winked before giving a slightly playful slap to Y/N’s behind

As soon as Eunbi led him into the little adult shop tucked away in a quiet side street downtown, Y/N’s nerves melted into curiosity. The shop was intimate, lined with rows of items that promised to stoke passion and bring lovers closer. Eunbi was more than willing to offer her guidance, clearly enjoying herself as she pointed out various products.

"Trust me," Eunbi had said with a wink, picking up a small bullet vibrator from one of the shelves. "This one is discreet but packs a punch, It's perfect for getting things started. She won’t see it coming." Y/N’s cheeks had flushed at the thought, but the image of Sakura’s surprised reaction made her smile. It was perfect for catching his girlfriend off guard.

As they continued browsing, Y/N’s eyes landed on a sleek, curved G-spot vibrating dildo that promised deeper, more intense sensations. He couldn’t help but imagine how Sakura might respond to its use—what that extra thrill might do to rekindle the heat between them. Eunbi happily skips over to Y/N with a box that he hasn't seen before, a rabbit ear vibrator "Y/N you have to get this, I’m telling you Sakura will melt and turn to putty in your hands, I have one myself and it's pretty amazing." Y/N looked at his noona with a skeptical look. Why is she so into this, is his precious noona actually not as innocent as she portrayed to the public?

Thinking about her words he can't deny that the idea of being the one to control Sakura’s pleasure sent a surge of excitement through him. He added it to his growing selection of items.

The final addition was a delicate set of pastel pink lingerie. His girlfriend's favorite color. lace-lined and revealing, something that he knew she would love, he remembered her saying she wanted something similar to this but was always ashamed and embarrassed to buy it

Y/N picked up the set knowing how much it would make his lover feel even sexier. He could already imagine the fabric clinging to his girlfriend's skin, the look in Sakura’s eyes when she sees it. There was no doubt that tonight, he would make sure all of Sakura’s attention was focused on him.

As the duo went to the counter the current cashier was about to take a break and out comes his replacement, someone who Y/N would not have expected to work here.

"Oh Eunbi unnie welcome back Oh! and Y/N oppa, what are you doing here?" the duck looking girl squealed. To say Y/N was shocked is an understatement. His girlfriend's former members, his friends, were all so familiar with this place.

"I was showing Y/N around the store, he needed my help" Responded the eldest. "Oppa is Sakura unnie giving you a hard time?" Yena responded, causing Y/N to shrink into himself in embarrassment. 

The girl started scanning the products one by one, her curious eyes glanced back and forth from y/n and each product he bought. "I didn't think Sakura unnie would be into this, I guess she's less of a prude than I thought" At this point Y/N just wanted to leave, he slightly hid behind his noona as she started placing her own products she wanted to buy. 

"I’ll pay for it Y/N I get a discount here, just pay me back after" Y/N nodded before Eunbi tapped her card and they both left with Yena waving to them, saying that they should visit her again.

With his purchases in hand, Y/N left the shop feeling embarrassed about the whole situation but he thought about the end goal and it made him feel more confident than ever. This was his chance to break through the monotony that had settled between them.

Later that evening, back in their shared apartment, Sakura was already in the midst of her nightly streaming routine. Her set up was in the living room, per Y/N's request after waking him up way too many times. It was bathed in the soft glow of the monitor, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across her face as she engaged with her audience. Y/N, his heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement, watched from the shadows, clutching the items he had bought earlier.

He knew exactly what to do.

Grabbing a piece of paper, Y/N quickly scribbled a note and held it up just out of view of the camera, flashing it at Sakura with a grin. The note read: "Since you're so into games, let's play one right now, this will be level one, don't make anything obvious, good luck."

Sakura blinked in confusion at first, her head tilting as she tried to make sense of the message. But when she looked up at Y/N’s playful expression a delicate smile spread across his lips, a knowing look in his eyes. Sakura then glanced down at her stream, her posture adjusting as if nothing had changed, she quickly muted her mic. “ Not now Y/N, I'm busy.” before turning it back on and saying her mic was glitching. But Y/N had spent too long planning this out, spent too much money to turn back now. 

Satisfied with the confusion, Y/N smiled back. The game was on.

Without another word, Y/N crouched and began crawling under the desk. Since her desk was longer than any normal person would normally have, It made the access to the prize easy for him as he just needed to go from the side, his movements smooth and deliberate, hidden from the camera’s view. Sakura’s attention was still on the screen, her voice cheerful as she interacted with her viewers, but Y/N knew it wouldn’t be long before his girlfriend’s focus would shift entirely. Beneath the desk, Y/N felt a rush of excitement as he prepared to introduce a new level of spontaneity into Sakura’s night.

The note had been the first step—a secret shared between them, a playful challenge that only the two of them would understand. What happened next was up to Y/N, and he was ready to make it unforgettable.

Y/N smirked as he slowly slid the small bullet vibrator out of its box, he wiped it with a wet wipe before lifting up the pink short skirt in front of him, He brought the toy up and pressed it against Sakura's panty-covered mound, watching with delight as the Japanese girl jolted slightly in her seat. Sakura tried her best to maintain focus on the video game, determinedly gripping her mouse and keyboard as she attempted to hide her reactions to the subtle vibrations. But Y/N could see right through her act - the way Sakura's thighs clenched together, the slight flush creeping across her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened.

To save face Sakura quickly slapped Y/N’s hand away from her wet pussy but Y/n quickly placed it back to its home.

The little vibrator buzzed away, its vibrations transmitted through the thin fabric barrier. Y/N could feel the heat radiating off of Sakura's core, could sense her wetness growing with each passing second. Sakura squirmed almost imperceptibly, fighting the urge to spread her legs further.

Sakura's game character died with a pitiful electronic squeal, breaking the spell. She blinked hard a few times, trying to regain her composure as she struggled to stay focused on the screen. Y/N chuckled quietly, pulling the vibrator away.

Rising up from his spot on the floor under the desk, Y/N made sure that he was holding eye contact with Sakura the whole way. Sakura's eyes widened as Y/N made a show of slowly swiping his fingers on the toy before rubbing them together and slowly pulling them apart a slick line of the idols juices were connecting Y/Ns fingers showing her that even though she's against it, her body doesn't lie. Y/N’s fingers were brought to his lips, eye contact still not breaking and in an exaggerated motion he licked her fingers clean. Sakura quickly glanced away, her face burning crimson now, but she couldn't keep her eyes from peeking back at Y/N. A shaky exhale escaped her lips.

Y/N just winked before reaching for a piece of paper that read Level 2 commencing before crawling back to her side of the desk, leaving Sakura even more flustered and distracted, though trying her best to play it cool. Y/N made a mental note - Sakura was even more responsive than expected. This was going to be fun indeed...

The next level involved the G-spot vibrating dildo, escalating the intensity. There was only one small thing blocking his way, deciding to deal with it he wrapped his fingers around her panties before giving it a quick and powerful tug completely ripping them. The sound loud enough to catch Sakura off guard. Shocked, the idol’s hand instinctively reached down, her fingertips brushing her now bare, wet pussy. She inhaled sharply, her body reacting to the sudden exposure, but she didn’t dare glance away from the screen.

Y/N teased her relentlessly, his fingers circling her entrance before finally pushing the toy into her slick cunt. He moved it slowly at first, letting her adjust to the sensation, feeling her muscles tighten around the intrusion. Sakura’s hand gripped her mouse tighter, her knuckles whitening as she fought to keep her composure. She nearly missed a key on her keyboard, her body betraying her as Y/N expertly played with her, pulling the toy out just as she neared the edge of release.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven pants. The subtle strain in her voice didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, who watched with a smirk, knowing just how close she was to losing control. Yet, he denied her the satisfaction of climax, bringing her to the edge again and again only to retreat, leaving her desperate and aching.

“Fuck,” Sakura muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible as she tried to focus on her stream. Her viewers, blissfully unaware of the torment unfolding beneath her desk, cheered her on in the game, oblivious to the real game being played just out of sight.

Y/N pulled the toy away once more, but this time, Sakura couldn't hold back her frustration. "Ahh, what the fuck" she whispered harshly, trying to control her reaction. She couldn’t look down to see what he was doing, not without giving herself away on camera. She tried to push through the absence, hoping Y/N would relent, but the moment stretched on.

And then, without warning, Y/N switched the vibrations onto its highest setting and plunged it back into her, the thick dildo buried deep inside her clenching cunt, the toy felt around and lived up to its name, pressing on that spot she loved.

"AHHHH!" Sakura’s cry pierced the quiet of the room, her pussy convulsing around the toy as an intense orgasm overtook her. She barely had time to mute her mic, her thighs trembling and squeezing together, her stomach contracting as wave after wave of electric pleasure crashed over her. Her body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation

Her game character spun wildly on screen, her mouse jerking out of control as her body seized up. Her viewers, concerned but unsuspecting, quickly flooded the chat with messages.

"Are you okay? What happened?" one asked.

"You just screamed like you saw a ghost, lol," commented another, oblivious to the real reason behind her outburst.

Sakura’s cheeks burned with humiliation. They had heard her, but thankfully they couldn’t know the truth—how their sweet, innocent idol was secretly being driven to the brink of madness by her boyfriend under the desk. With a shaky breath, she forced a laugh. "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I thought I saw a bug under the desk," she lied, her voice higher than usual, the embarrassment clear. "You know how I get when it comes to bugs!"

Her viewers, still clueless, accepted the explanation, laughing along with her as they playfully scolded her for getting so worked up over something so trivial. But Sakura’s mind was far from the stream now. The aftershocks of her orgasm still rippled through her, and she bit her lip hard, willing her body to calm down. The irony wasn’t lost on her—here she was, playing the role of their wholesome crush while secretly being ravaged by Y/N just out of sight.

Satisfied for the moment, Y/N leaned in and gave her sensitive pussy a slow, teasing lick, sending another shiver through her body. Her thighs trembled, clenching around his head as his tongue worked its magic. She didn’t want to admit how much she missed this—missed him—but the pleasure coursing through her veins made it impossible to deny. He left a final lingering kiss against her soaked lips before pulling away, leaving her panting and desperate for more.

As Y/N stood, he reached for the final toy in his collection, pulling the rabbit-ear vibrator from his bag. His fingers traced the packaging—Rabbit Ear Toy: Maximum Clitoral Stimulation—and a grin spread across his face. The playful sparkle in his eyes revealed his mischievous intent, recalling how Eunbi had enthusiastically recommended this particular device. With a small chuckle, he knew this would be the perfect grand finale to their secret, unspoken game.

Y/N scribbled a quick note—Level three, good luck—and slid it over to Sakura. Her gaze flicked to him, and their eyes met briefly. A silent exchange of both anticipation and trepidation passed between them. The tension hung thick in the air, a blend of excitement and nerves that only heightened the moment. Sakura’s cheeks flushed as her fingers hovered over the keyboard, pretending to remain focused on the game, but her attention was split, knowing what was coming next.

As Y/N shifted back into his familiar spot under the desk, his breath hitched in anticipation. It had become his little domain, a place where he could send Sakura into oblivion without her viewers being any the wiser. He carefully unwrapped the vibrator—an egg-shaped toy, compact but powerful. The soft, flexible rabbit ears promised an intensity that could tip her over the edge with just the right pressure. His hands, steady and deliberate, moved between her legs, teasing her for a moment. The toy slipped between her folds, refusing to cooperate at first, but Y/N’s persistence paid off. He finally nestled it perfectly in place, the rabbit ears snugly embracing her clit.

For a second, he paused. The anticipation in the room grew thick as Sakura shifted in her chair, her breaths shallow. The tension between them felt electric. Y/N knew what this small delay would do to her—he was prolonging the inevitable, letting her body crave the release that was just out of reach. Then, with a press of the button, the vibrator buzzed to life.

The effect was immediate. A surge of pleasure ripped through Sakura’s body, her muscles tensing as the toy began its relentless rhythm. She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying desperately not to give herself away. The overwhelming sensation sent waves of heat cascading from her core, and her hands trembled as they hovered over her mouse and keyboard, trying to maintain some semblance of control. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, her body writhing ever so slightly, desperate to remain still for the camera.

Her chat lit up with messages of encouragement. Her viewers had no clue the real battle she was fighting—the one between maintaining her composure and succumbing to the pleasure that was quickly unraveling her. The boss fight on screen grew more intense, each phase of the battle requiring her utmost focus, but her concentration wavered with every flick of the vibrator against her clit. It was nearly impossible to think, let alone execute precise game mechanics, as the rabbit ears worked her over with merciless efficiency.

Sakura whispered to herself, “Y-You’ve got this, Sakura!” Her voice was strained, too high-pitched to mask her struggle, but she plastered on a wide smile for her audience. Her hands shook violently now as they moved across the keyboard, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of the game. Her pulse raced in sync with the toy, the pleasure mounting to unbearable levels.

The boss’s health bar ticked down in sync with her endurance, her every keystroke becoming sloppier, more frantic. As the final blow landed and the boss collapsed in defeat, Sakura could no longer hold back. Her body convulsed as the climax hit her like a tidal wave. A guttural shout escaped her lips as she slammed her hands down on the desk, her voice cracking with a blend of triumph and carnal release.

“YESSSS!!” she screamed, her eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving with the force of the orgasm that ripped through her. Her muscles clenched, and her toes curled as the vibrator continued its assault, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until she was utterly spent.

Her viewers erupted into cheers, congratulating her on the hard-earned victory. Oblivious to the real reason behind her breathlessness and the flush on her face, they celebrated her skill and persistence. The screen flashed with messages of admiration, and Sakura forced herself to sit up, her body trembling with the aftershocks.

“Whew… that was intense!” she gasped, wiping away the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her hand reached for her water glass, her fingers still trembling slightly as she took a long, much-needed drink. “Thanks for cheering me on, guys,” she added with a weak laugh, masking the exhaustion coursing through her.

As Sakura leaned back in her chair, Scrolling through other games to hopefully find a good one to end the night, Y/N, who had been patiently watching her recovery, wasn’t quite done yet. A devilish grin played on his lips as he leaned forward, his finger hovering over the vibrator’s controls. Without warning, he cranked the toy up to its highest setting.

The sudden jolt of the vibrator sent Sakura reeling. Her body stiffened, eyes widening in shock as the intensity of the stimulation threatened to unravel her all over again. Her breath hitched in her throat as her muscles tensed, gripping the arms of her chair to ground herself. Y/N’s laughter echoed softly from beneath the desk, watching her fight the new wave of pleasure with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction.

Sakura, the ever-composed streamer, found herself on the precipice of a new kind of experience. The powerful vibrations of the new toy sent shivers through her body, a primal force that ignited a wildfire of anticipation within her. Her body responded with a raw, undeniable intensity, the moisture building until it seeped through her folds, dripping off the chair and leaving a glistening trail on the floor. The sweet scent of candles that once permeated the room was quickly overtaken by the pungent aroma of her arousal, a testament to the burgeoning passion that consumed her.

As the pleasure reached its crescendo, a surge of instinct took over. With lightning-fast reflexes, Sakura muted her microphone and switched off her camera, craving the sanctuary of privacy for the intimate storm that was about to break. The online world faded away, and she surrendered completely to the throes of ecstasy.

The timing was impeccable. As Sakura neared her peak, Y/N, her boyfriend, seized the moment. He seamlessly combined the pleasure of the vibrator with the intimacy of his mouth, diving forward with a ravenous hunger. His tongue explored the depths of her, savoring her taste and fueling the fire that burned within her. Each flick and swirl of his tongue sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through her body, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

The combined sensations were too much for her to bear, and with an animalistic moan escaped Sakura's lips, a guttural sound intertwined with a scream that seemed to rise from the very core of her being. "UGH FUCK YEEESSSS Y/N!" Her voice was a raw expression of unrestrained pleasure. She grasped his hair, her body convulsing in a wave of ecstasy. Her legs lifted and wrapped around him pulling his face impossibly close to her core, her muscles contracting and relaxing with each tremor, the old gaming chair squeaking in protest with every movement. Her cheeks flushed a vibrant hue, a visible marker of her heightened state as she rode the wave of her orgasm with unbridled abandon, her breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Sakura climaxed with a force that left her breathless and trembling. Y/N continued his ministrations, prolonging her orgasm until she felt every ounce of pleasure.

For Y/N, the experience was both exhilarating and intensely intimate. He couldn't see anything; his vision was blocked by Sakura's body. Each subtle movement sent shivers down his spine—her soft skin felt warm and alive against him, her thighs encasing his head in a passionate vice that was as constricting as it was pleasurable. it was just the two of them, enveloped in a cocoon of heat and desire.

This was a Sakura he rarely saw, one that lay hidden behind the carefully curated persona of her online streams. In those moments, she had shed the facade of the cheerful, bubbly entertainer and revealed a side of herself that was raw and unfiltered. It was the Sakura from before her streaming career, the girl who had always been playful and spontaneous, exuding an authentic vulnerability that left him breathless. Her laughter echoed in the confines of his mind as he realized how seldom he’d had the chance to witness this intimate version of her.

The chaos of streaming and the demands of her audience faded into the background, replaced by a potent chemistry that crackled between them. His own heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum echoing the urgency of the moment, while his breath hitched at the raw display of passion and surrender before him. Every heartbeat was a reminder of how deeply and irrevocably he craved this connection.

This moment carved a permanent mark on him, etching itself into his memory like a secret tattoo. It was a reminder of the beautiful, complex dynamics that fueled their relationship—beyond the streaming lights and scripted interactions lay a blend of affection, longing, and a hint of danger. Their souls intertwined in this rare instance, revealing as much about their hearts as it did about their desires. The very essence of their bond lay anchored in these fleeting but fervent exchanges, making each encounter a treasure and a risk he was willing to embrace.

Sakura's breath came in ragged gasps as she slowly released her hold on Y/N, her legs trembling, weak from the intense stimulation. The room seemed to amplify all her senses, the cooling sensation of sweat mingling with her skin a stark contrast to the recent heat. Her legs, barely able to support her, struggled to find their footing as she fought to regain her composure. The assistant to her pleasure, the formidable toy that had helped push her to the edge of chaotic bliss, lay on the floor, a glistening reminder of the storm that had just passed. Its surface, coated in her essence, served as a tangible testament to her unleashed passion.

Realizing that her momentary loss of control had severed her connection with her viewers, Sakura quickly attempted to regain her composure. Her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. But before she could complete the act of resuming, Y/N’s steady hand came to rest against her thigh, gently halting her fidgeting. Kneeling between her legs, his tall frame allowing him to almost come face to face with her, their eyes meeting in a moment that felt both electric and profoundly intimate.

Sakura's mind swirled with a haze of emotions, a flicker of melancholy washing over her like a soft tide. She missed these moments—the brief interludes where they could shed their roles and embrace a deeper connection, where laughter and genuine emotion melded seamlessly into something more. Each stolen glance, every shared laugh had been a thread weaving them closer, and yet, amidst the chaos of their lives, she felt those threads fraying, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

In that heavy silence, Y/N reached for her, his fingers warm as they gently cupped the back of her head. There was no need for words; his eyes spoke volumes, conveying understanding and longing in a single gaze. Then, with a tenderness that sent shivers down her spine, he leaned in and sealed their lips together in a passionate kiss. The flavors of her arousal mingled with saliva—a delicious, intoxicating symphony that danced on their tongues, each movement igniting a fire deep within her core.

Sakura was momentarily consumed by the warmth of his embrace, every worry dissolving into the sweet elixir of their connection. But as the kiss lingered, her heart raced at the thought of what lay beyond this moment. Still lost in the afterglow, Sakura whimpered softly when Y/N finally pulled away, his lips brushing against hers gently as they parted. His gaze held her captive, a silent promise lingering in the space between them, but it only deepened her desire, leaving her craving more.

This was the testament to their bond—a connection that blossomed amidst the chaos of her storm, a lingering whisper of hope amid uncertainty. She knew she couldn’t let this slip through her fingers again, not when they had ventured into a territory that felt so beautifully raw and undeniably real.

But as the seasoned entertainer she was, she corrected her streaming gadget, turning her webcam back on and adjusting her microphone. Her face, still flushed from her recent exertion and her lips swollen, was now contorted into an apologetic smile as she addressed her audience, hiding the true reason behind her sudden departure by blaming it on unpredictable internet issues.

"Sorry about that, guys," she panted, her voice slightly uneven with the remnants of her peak. "We had a little technical glitch," she continued, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous hint that was not quite caught by her virtual audience.

The chat, a flurry of messages, was filled with questions and mild irritation. Her viewers were curious, their previous excitement now shifted to suspicion and a growing sense of doubt . They wondered what had caused such a sudden disruption. Yet, despite their curiosity, they respected her privacy, unwilling to push for explanations that she was not willing to give until she was ready. In their minds, the truth of her interruptions could often be their most decadent fantasies, creating an air of mystique and allure around her that kept them coming back for more. Sakura, a master of her craft, knew how to keep her audience hooked, turning even a glitch into a potential performance enhancement, as her viewers' imaginations filled in the blanks left by their sudden disconnection.

Y/N, with an air of mystery swirling about him, gracefully emerged from under the desk, his presence suddenly filling the room with an electric energy. As if appearing from the shadows, he moved with a fluidity that captivated Sakura, drawing her gaze irresistibly. From his vantage point behind the monitor, Y/N's eyes met Sakura's, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths.

His movements were deliberate, with a rhythm that matched the beating of Sakura's heart, as if he were conducting an intimate dance where only the two of them could hear the music. The fact that he planned this whole thing gave Sakura a warm feeling. The remnants of their shared passion became a declaration of love, a promise of intimacy, and a reaffirmation of their bond.

Satisfied with his thorough work, Y/N offered Sakura a look, his eyes darting back and forth from Sakura and a bag that was placed just to the side. A secretive smile playing upon his lips. It was a silent challenge, an invitation for Sakura to join him in their next adventure. Turning away, he walked calmly towards the bedroom.

As he cleaned the toys and meticulously arranged them in their new resting place, the nightstand, Y/N took the time to appreciate the small details of their shared space. The nightstand, once merely a piece of furniture with no purpose, now held a whole new meaning, a symbol of their intimate connection.

Sakura remained seated, her breath catching in her throat as Y/N disappeared into the shadows of the bedroom. The atmosphere lingered with a charged energy, the room still humming from the intensity of their shared moment. Sakura’s mind raced, replaying the image of Y/N’s mischievous smile, his teasing, deliberate movements, and the unspoken promise that hung in the air like a secret waiting to be unraveled.

For a moment, Sakura sat frozen, the temptation pulling her forward. She felt a surge of warmth radiate through her, a tug towards the bedroom where Y/N awaited, his presence as enticing as ever. The weight of their connection, unspoken but deeply understood, anchored her as she ended the stream and rose from her seat.

Sakura’s eyes fell to the bag on the floor, under the coffee table, its presence both familiar and intriguing. She had seen Y/n walk in with it  earlier but hadn’t given it much thought in the midst of her stream. Now, as the evening light dimmed into twilight and the apartment grew quieter, curiosity took over. Slowly, she bent down, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the bag as she picked it up. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent a ripple of anticipation through her. 

Peeling back the wrapping, her breath caught when her eyes landed on the contents. A stunning set of lingerie lay folded neatly inside, the color immediately striking her—her favorite color. The rich, silky fabric shimmered slightly in the low light, delicate lace tracing intricate patterns along its edges. She lifted it out of the bag, feeling the cool smoothness of the material slip between her fingers. The fabric felt luxurious, softer than she imagined, and as she held it up, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Y/N had remembered.

In the whirlwind of their lives, it wasn’t often that someone paid attention to the small details, but Y/N always had a way of doing just that. Not just any lingerie, but a set that spoke to her tastes, a color that made her feel powerful, beautiful, sexy. The care and thoughtfulness behind it warmed her from the inside, the kind of warmth that settled deep, in the quiet places of the heart.

Sakura didn't waste time, a surge of excitement bubbling up inside her. Without even heading to the bathroom, she began to undress right there in the middle of the living room. Her body was sore, every muscle aching from the games “levels”, but the thrill of the moment outweighed the discomfort. She moved slowly, peeling away the layers of her clothing, and as each piece fell to the floor, she felt lighter. Her breath hitched when the cool air of the room brushed against her bare skin.

Pulling the lingerie up over her legs, she marveled at how perfectly it fit, as if it had been crafted just for her. The lace clung to her curves in all the right places, accentuating her figure in a way that made her feel both strong and undeniably feminine. She caught a glimpse of herself in the nearby mirror and paused for a moment. The reflection staring back at her was striking—she looked lovely and powerful. The fatigue that had settled into her bones seemed to dissipate, replaced by an invigorating energy, one that thrummed beneath her skin like a quiet storm ready to break.

Her gaze shifted from the mirror to the slightly ajar bedroom door, and that’s when she felt it. The pull. It was almost magnetic, an invisible force drawing her toward Y/N. There had always been something between them ever since they met, something more than words or physical attraction. It was an unspoken connection, a shared intimacy that went beyond the surface of things. Y/N had a way of turning even the smallest gestures into something profound. A simple gift of lingerie wasn’t just a gift; it was a conversation, an invitation, a reminder of the bond they shared.

Sakura’s heart raced as she stood at the threshold of the bedroom, her hand resting lightly on the doorframe. From where she stood, she could see Y/N’s silhouette bathed in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. The room itself was dim, quiet, filled with the gentle hum of the night outside. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, focused. There was a look in his gaze—one that she knew well. Mischief, affection, desire, all wrapped into one.

Her breath caught again, but this time it wasn’t the cold air or the tightness of the lingerie. It was the way Y/N looked at her. As if she were the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. As if the night was theirs and theirs alone.

Without breaking eye contact, Sakura stepped inside the room, her bare feet soundless against the wooden floor. The door clicked shut behind her, the soft sound echoing in the quiet. It was as if the outside world ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them in the cocoon of their own making. The air between them was thick with anticipation, with the unspoken promise of what was to come.

Y/N didn’t move, didn’t say a word. His gaze traveled over her slowly, taking in the sight of her standing before him in the delicate lace and silk he had chosen. The corner of his mouth lifted in a small, appreciative smile, but there was something deeper in his eyes—a smoldering intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

She moved closer, the space between them shrinking with every step. Her own breathing had become shallow, her pulse quickening in response to the heat building between them. It wasn’t just about the physical desire; it was the emotional weight of everything they had shared, everything they had been through together, all condensed into this one, intimate moment.

Sakura reached the edge of the bed, standing just before him, her body illuminated by the soft, golden light. Y/N reached out, his hand gently grazing her thigh, his fingers brushing over the delicate lace. His touch was light, teasing, sending a shiver up her spine. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation, the feeling of his skin against hers.

He had given her so much today, endless pleasures each one more intense than the last. But now, as she stood before him, she knew the time had come, it was his turn. She smiled, slow and teasing, as her fingers toyed with the straps of the lingerie. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear, her voice a soft whisper filled with promise.

"You’ve given me so many gifts today baby. Now it’s your turn to unwrap your present." 

She gave him multiple kisses from his neck to his cheek, ending with a needy one on his lips.

“Since you're so into games, let's play one right now,” her words mimicking those that started this whole thing.

The night had just begun, filled with endless possibilities Sakura's situation mirrored her favorite games. She had failed multiple times but knew that this was a fresh start, an extra life, With a smile she positioned herself face to face with his crotch and pulled down Y/N's pants exposing his member, she gave the tip a quick kiss and lick, before reminding him that singing was not the only thing her mouth was used for.

Miyawaki Sakura was back on level one.

[peachesofteal]

pls let Simon hold that baby 🥺

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild suggestive content, mention of spanking - could be considered mildly dark and twisty

"Oh, you came!"

What? Yes, he came. You invited him, didn't you? Wasn't that... did he get this wrong? "Er, yeah... I thought you said-"

"I did, I did. Come in." You step to the side, allowing him entry into the hallway where the smell of something incredible lingers, pulling at the pockets of his cheeks. You can cook. Judging by the scent of roast chicken and herbs that fill the room, he knows immediately that you're better than the 'subpar' dinner you mentioned yesterday. "You just ah, seemed unsure. I didn't want to assume." His hand pats his pocket instinctively, seeking the mask, trying to fight the urge to pull it over his face, pleasantly surprised you don't seem off put by his face, or the fact that it's the first time you've seen him without it.

"I had some things going on today, wasn't sure about my schedule until a few hours ago." Lie. It's a lie, a bold faced one. He knew he'd be here from the moment you had rushed out the invite, offering to cook him dinner as he dwarfed you inside your cozy apartment, dead smoke detector batteries in his hand.

"Well, thank you for coming. And thanks for all your help yesterday. I couldn't figure that stupid thing out to save my life." You laugh, teeth exposed, easy and carefree. A shiver ricochets down his spine. Why you let him inside your flat the first time, he'll never understand. Maybe one day, he'll reprimand you for it. Chide you for letting a stranger inside your home, remind you to be more cautious. He would explain why you need to more careful, more observant of your surroundings, as his thumb rubbed away the fat tears falling over your cheeks, the result of him taking his palm to your ass a dozen times for the slip up. Can't be makin' mistakes like that, love. Not with it just being you and the baby when I'm not here- he'd tell you, make you promise not to do it again, soothing your tears with cool cream against your skin and gentle, but firm, reassurance.

You just need someone to take care of you, that's all. Teach you.

Emmaline makes a noise, a half babble, half cry, and it breaks him from his reckless daydream, bringing him back to reality in a matter of seconds. What is he thinking? You're his neighbor. He doesn't even know you.

"Thanks for inviting me." You're bent at the waist, hands pulling a roasting rack from the oven, perfectly cooked bird sitting on a bed of potatoes and carrots, and his stomach rumbles almost loud enough for you to hear.

"I owe you. That beeping would've kept little miss here up for hours." You jerk your head in Emmaline's direction, where she's fixated on you, mouth hanging half open. "Needs a few more minutes." You mumble to yourself, and then turn around again. "Do you want a drink? I've got some lagers, and a bottle of wine somewhere." Your fingers knot together, words on the tip of your tongue hopeful, almost... nervous, and you give him another smile, albeit this one is less confident.

"A lager would be good." He tries to settle you by being agreeable, and you produce two from the fridge, your fingers brushing against his when you hand one to him, skin warm and so, so soft, the kind of soft he's rarely felt, the kind that feels like silk against sandpaper. Yours against his.

"So, you said you travel for-" Your question is interrupted by a shriek, a demanding cry from Emmaline, her little fists waving in the air at you, like she's indignant about the redirection of your attention. You pick her up, yellow jumper bright against your red apron, and you shoot him an apologetic grimace. "I'm sorry, I was hoping she'd be down by now but, she's just been so fussy lately." You bounce her back and forth, cries quieting until she's just blinking at you with wet eyes, and the timer on the oven goes off. "Shit. Ah..." You look at her, and then look at the oven. "Can you, would you mind?" You extend your arms, Emma inside them, and he puts every piece of his training to use trying to control his reaction.

His heart soars.

His brain panics.

"Yeah, okay." He says, and you dip forward, pushing her into his arms. He knows how to hold a baby, held Joseph plenty, and she seems to agree, settling in against his chest, hands grabbing at his sweatshirt, tugging and trying to eat the fabric. She's light, lighter than he expected, but still sturdy, and when her lips shift into a gummy smile as she makes eye contact with him, he feels everything logical inside him shutting down.

Beautiful baby girl, and her perfect, sweet, angel of a mum.

He'll be keeping you.

He'll be keeping you both.

[freedomfireflies]

Insufferable You*

Summary: The third part to Infinite You*

The one where Harry is still in an open relationship with your best friend, so maybe it's time to remind him what he's missing.

Word Count: 7.3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, edging, spanking, brief exhibitionism, sir kink, masturbation, brief choking

“Kitten…what are you doing?”

Your whimpers are airy. Light. A string of breathless pleas woven between the soft sounds of your fingers fucking into your cunt. And you can’t answer his question. Can’t find the strength to pull yourself away from the pleasure between your thighs.

“Kitten,” he asks again and it’s firm. “Talk to me.”

He’s panting through his request and the sound—the image in your head of the way he must look, fucking his fist to the melody of your voice almost hurts you.

“I’m…I’m playing with my clit,” you answer. He groans. “Just like you do.”

“Just like me, hm?” He curses on his end of the phone and your legs shake. “How?”

“M’pinching it,” you tell him. “And pulling it. The way you like.”

His noises are louder. Needier. He must like the image in his head, too. “God, I’d give anything to see it, baby. Give fucking anything to watch you touch yourself for me.”

Anything. Anything. You shiver. “Yeah? You’d watch me?”

“Mhm.” He’s getting closer and you don’t want this to end. “Sit there on my knees and take every drop in my mouth when you’re done.”

Your hips buck up and your fingers sink deeper. He ruins you even when he’s not here. “I know,” you whisper. Your eyes squeeze shut. “And I’d let you.”

He makes a sound that might be a laugh but could be a strained moan. You aren’t sure. But you don’t really care because it’s beautiful, no matter what it is. “Kitten,” he exhales and your insides twist. “I need you to cum for me, okay? I need to hear you. God, I need to fucking hear you, baby, let me. Come on—”

There’s something in the way he speaks. Like he’s just woken up. Rough and low and thick. He sounds like sex and you miss hearing it in person. But you were desperate—you had to call him. You had to hear him talk you through this moment and you’re so glad you did.

When you cum, it’s everything. Perhaps not as satisfying as when it’s with him, but still euphoric. And your whimpers of pleasure are what send him over the edge.

The phone fills with the sounds of your ecstasy and you wish you could record the way he moans your name. You wish you could bottle this feeling and get drunk on the way he adores you. 

Instead, you indulge in the few moments you have with him. Because you know they won’t last much longer.

“That was good,” you tell him breathlessly and he chuckles. “How are you so good at that? Even over the phone?”

“Could ask you the same thing. Now I’ve got a sticky hand and nobody to clean it up.”

You pout. “Stop, don’t tell me that. It’s not fair.”

He laughs again. “Sorry, Kitten. Couldn’t help it. You all right? You feel better?”

“I do. Thank you for letting me call you.”

“Always.”

Your heart skips. “So…what are you up to today?”

There’s a pause. A long pause and you know what he’s going to say even before he says it. “Rebecca and I are running some errands.”

“Oh.” Oh. Your throat goes dry. “Right…sorry, I’m…you probably need to go, don’t you?”

Another pause. “In a bit,” he says. “After I make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you say far too quickly. And far too obviously forced. “Yeah, no, I’m…duh. Obviously I’m okay now. After…yeah. Okay, sorry. You can…I’ll talk to you later—"

“Kitten.”

You stop. “What? I’m…I’m letting you go—”

“Don’t. I want to talk to you a little longer.”

“But you’re busy—”

“It can wait.”

Swallowing, you whisper, “Harry, I’m…I’m just saying—”

“So am I.” He’s firm again. “Don’t do that. Don’t send me away because of her. We can talk. I promise.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. You force the tears back. Why does orgasming make you so emotional? “I know, I just…she’s there, isn’t she?”

Another beat. “Not in the room.”

“But she’s there. In the apartment. Near you.”

“Yes.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “See, that’s…that’s why I’m letting you go. So you can be with her. Okay? I’ll talk to you later—”

“Kitten.”

“Harry.” You huff if only to make yourself sound stronger than you feel. “I’m okay. You can go.”

“You’re not okay. You’re sad.”

“I’m…no, I’m not sad, I’m just…I’m tired. I came really hard.”

“I know you.”

“Well…you don’t know me that well. Cause I’m fine.”

“Baby—”

“Just go,” you insist. “I promise I’m okay as long as you are. I shouldn’t have called so early anyway, that was…I’m sorry. That was my mistake—”

“You can call when she’s here, you know that—”

“But I don’t want to.”

Another long pause that feels like an eternity. “Okay,” he finally murmurs and you pull the phone away to take in a shaky breath. “But I want your honesty. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Are you really okay?”

Truthfully, you don’t know. “Yeah, I’m fine. Swear. Thanks for helping me. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You will,” he agrees. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Rebecca’s dinner.”

Fuck. You forgot. “Oh…right—”

“You’ll be there. Right?”

It doesn’t really feel like you have a choice. “I…I don’t know yet, I might be busy—”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that. I could have plans.”

“You do. With us.”

Us. Your nose scrunches. “I mean other plans—”

“You don’t.”

“I might—”

“You don’t. If you did, I’d know.”

“Well, that’s presumptuous.”

“Maybe, but it’s true. Because you talk to me. When I ask you a question, you answer honestly. You’re a good girl. I know you.”

Your chest feels tight again. “Well, I don’t tell you everything.”

“You should.”

“You don’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t ask.”

He’s right. You never ask him anything personal because honestly, you’re afraid of what he’ll say.

“Fine,” you agree. “I’ll be there. Are we done?”

He waits a moment before saying, “We’re not done. We’ll discuss this later. But for right now, yes.”

And even if he sounds a bit strict, you can’t help smiling. “Yes, Sir.”

“Mm. That’s my girl. Take it easy today, all right?”

“I will.”

“Good. See you tomorrow, Kitten.”

“Goodbye, Sir.”

He chuckles and you hang up and even despite everything else…you can’t help but grin.

“Oh, my god. He does. Every time. He’s got such a weird thing with feet.”

You laugh. “It wasn’t so bad at first. But then he got a little too comfortable—”

“No, he does that. He really does.” Rebecca smirks as she throws the freshly chopped carrots into her pot. “And it started out cute, but now…”

You both glance into the living room where Harry is relaxing on the sofa. He’s smiling as he watches the two of you work on the food and even if he can’t hear you, he must know you’re talking about him.

“It’s still cute,” you argue in his defense. “Gross…but cute.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I guess he can be cute when he wants to be.”

You grin together and this feels good. You’ve missed your friend. You’ve missed having someone to laugh with, gossip with. And maybe it was strange at first, to come into their apartment and talk to your best friend about sleeping with her boyfriend.

But after a minute or two, you settled right back into the familiar rhythm of your friendship. And it almost felt…normal. 

“Has he done the thing where his left leg starts to shake when he gets overstimulated?” she asks and you nearly snort. 

“Oh, my god. Yes. The other day. I thought he was having a heart attack.”

“It’s the funniest thing. It just started, too. Couple years ago. He swears it doesn’t but like…I can see it.”

“It’s quite the tell,” you agree and you can’t help the way your eyes drift back to where he’s lounging on the sofa.

He notices and smirks at you.

“What?” you call.

He shrugs. “Nothing. You girls are cute, that’s all.”

“Bite me,” Rebecca says and he chuckles. “We’re not cute. We’re hot.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. He leans forward. “Let me guess. You’re telling her about the leg thing?”

“Yup. And I was right,” she says smugly. “She sees it, too.”

His eyes roll but he smiles at you. “It’s not that bad—”

“No, it is,” she argues. “You look like a dog. A very cute dog, but still.”

He laughs a little louder and you’re almost jealous of their dynamic. A dynamic you’ve been witness to for almost five years. And it’s never made you jealous before.

But now…

She puts the soup on simmer and grabs your hand to lead you to the living room. “I told you we were gonna gossip about you,” she reminds him. “All good things, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles at you both as you take a seat on the sofa. She flops down right beside him while you cautiously sit on the other end. Exactly where you’d been that first day you agreed to this arrangement. “This is nice,” he says.

She hums. “Yeah, it feels like old times.” She glances toward you. “And it’s not weird…is it? I mean, you feel okay?”

Feeling a little hot under the spotlight, you swallow and force a quick shake of your head. “No, this is…it’s good. This is fun.”

However, she knows you better than anyone and her brows pull together as she studies you. “Do you have any questions? Or anything we can clear up?”

“Uh…I don’t know.” Truthfully, you don’t want to ask. “Is it…is it weird for you guys?”

They both shake their heads, almost as if in sync, and you resist the urge to scrunch your nose.

“Do you…have any regrets?”

“No,” she says and Harry agrees. “None. Do you?”

“No,” you echo. “No, I just…I don’t know. This still kind of feels like cheating.”

They exchange a glance and your heart skips. You’re even jealous of the way they look at each other.

“Rebecca and I have always agreed that whatever the other decides to do is their business,” Harry says. “As long as we communicate, there's freedom there. No judgment, no expectations, no regret.”

“And no jealousy,” she adds, offering you a soft smile. “Or shame. Or anything like that.”

You nod and pick at a loose string on your jeans. “And are you two…I mean do you still…”

“No,” she assures you and you’re thankful she figured out what you meant. “No, we haven’t in a few weeks.”

“Oh…because of me?”

She shakes her head while Harry says, “Not entirely. Most of it is for safety reasons. Keeping things clean and respectful. But it’s also one of our rules.”

“Rules?”

“We have a few rules we like to follow,” she explains. “It just makes it easier. Sometimes it can be tricky and this helps keep us on the same page.”

“And no sex is one of them?”

“Kind of. We don’t sleep together if one of us is seeing someone else. Well, no penetration, anyway.”

You hate the way your stomach sinks. “Oh. And…do you date other people…a lot?”

He looks over at her and she thinks. “Not…really?” she says. “I don’t think, anyway.”

“Jack was the last guy you were with, right?” Harry asks and she snaps her fingers.

“Jack. Right. Yeah. He was cute. And then yours was…Angie? I think?”

He nods. “Last year.”

“She was nice.”

“She was…sure. Yeah. She was nice.”

Rebecca laughs and he grins proudly, happy to have made her laugh. Your nose scrunches.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Rebecca argues. “She was just put in a weird position.”

“Literally and figuratively.”

She smacks his arm playfully and he pinches her thigh. You want to look away. 

“Either way,” she finally says, “we don’t very often. And I don’t think of it as cheating. Especially not with you. Because I know he’s a good partner and I know that you deserve someone as kind as he is.” 

He gives her a grateful grin before returning his attention to you. “We can stop if you want. Because I agree with Bex. I wouldn’t want to lose you as my friend and if you feel pressured or unsure—”

“I don’t,” you nearly rush to argue. “No, I don’t, I…I’m just really struggling with the dynamics of it. I guess.”

“Trust me, I get it,” she says gently. “It was a bit of a learning curve for us, too. Harry can get incredibly jealous.”

You’re tempted to tell her that you already know but you watch his reaction instead.

His eyes roll but then his stare returns to you and he winks, as though he’s recalling the same memory you are. 

It makes your skin feel warm.

“Oop, hold on. I gotta check the soup,” Rebecca suddenly exclaims before jumping off the sofa to rush back to the kitchen.

And now left alone together, your attention is drawn back to the tall, handsome man you can already feel staring at you.

“Any more questions?” he asks softly. He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees and somehow, even that makes you feel safer. 

“Just one,” you murmur and he nods. “Does this mean you and I are…dating? Or are we just fucking until I can find somebody else?”

There’s a slight edge in your voice that you hadn’t meant to be there, but he picks up on it instantly.

“Are you looking for somebody else?” he asks.

“Not really. But this whole thing started because you both felt bad for me,” you remind him. “And it’s been a lot of fun. Honestly. But you are kind of on loan. I just…I’m not sure what this makes our situation. If we’re just fucking…or more.”

He takes a moment to think about his answer, eyes flicking between yours almost as though studying you. “Would you like there to be more?”

You bite back huff. He’s very good at redirecting. “I don’t know. Would you?”

“I think more can get complicated.”

Your feel your expression fall. “Right.”

“And I don’t want to lose you from my life for good,” he continues. “You know that. Neither of us want to lose you—”

“Right, yeah. It’s fine. Forget I asked.”

He’s frowning now. “Kitten, don’t do that—”

“No, really,” you argue. “It’s fine. You’re right. Let’s just keep it like this until I can find somebody else.”

The frown turns into a glare. “Kitten—”

“Okay, soup is almost done,” Rebecca announces as she returns. This time she sits next to you and throws an arm around your shoulder. “What did I miss?”

The tension is palpable. You speak first. “I was just telling Harry that I might not need his services much longer.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows raise while Harry’s scowl deepens.

“Oh?” she asks.

You nod. “Well, seeing as we don’t want to do anything to ruin the friendship…I thought I’d give Ethan a call.”

It’s mean and perhaps a bit cruel, but you can’t help yourself. You aren’t trying to hurt him. Because he is right. And don’t want to lose him for good, either, and all this evening has truly done is prove how close he and Rebecca actually are.

You’ll never be able to compete with five years of love and affection. And maybe you don’t want to.

Maybe it’s time to move on.

“Ethan?” Harry repeats while Rebecca perks up.

“Yes,” she squeals excitedly. “Oh, I was hoping you would. He’s so nice, I think you guys would be perfect together.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a pointed look at Harry. “I think so, too.”

He knows what you’re doing. You can tell. And he’s oddly calm as he leans against the cushions and tosses his arms over the back of the couch. “And who the fuck is this Ethan?”

“Guy from my work,” you answer, equally as calm. “Nice. He’s been asking me out for a while.”

“A while.”

“Yeah, a while.”

His brows furrow. “So why do you want to go out with him now?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “He was never really my type before but we’ve gotten closer recently. I think it’s only fair I give him a real chance.”

“Really?” He’s curious. Maybe skeptical. “Now?”

You nod. “That way the three of us can preserve our friendship. Since that is the most important thing.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Rebecca tells you and hugs you to her side. “You’ll have to let us know how it goes.”

You grin and it’s all teeth. “I will.”

Dinner is nice. Tense but nice. You and Harry spend a majority of the meal exchanging icy glances and keeping to yourselves, leaving Rebecca to do most of the conversing.

And she doesn’t seem to notice. That or she merely pretends not to. She catches you up on some drama at work. Teases Harry about his sleep talking. Says she’s planning to visit her parents in a few weeks and then gives you the recipe for the soup.

And you and Harry nod politely, despite the unspoken rage from your ends of the table.

When dinner is finished, Harry offers to clean up and do the dishes. She kisses him on the cheek gratefully and says she’s gonna go take a quick shower since she’s got an early day tomorrow. She tells you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like and then she hugs you tightly and whispers, “I’m so glad we’re still friends.”

You hug her back and agree.

The moment she’s gone, Harry sets down his sponge and turns to you. “Come here.”

You hesitate by the front door, itching to escape. But he’s firm as he watches you from the sink, eyebrow raised and jaw clenched, leaving you no choice but to listen.

“Kitten,” he repeats. Lower. Sterner. “Come. Here.”

You take a tentative step toward him. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?”

“Kitten.”

You huff and throw your purse back down. “I really don’t think we need to—”

“I don’t care what you think. I’m telling you that we’re gonna have a chat and you’re gonna come in here like a good fucking girl and talk to me.”

This is how he gets you. This is how he pulls your strings and turns you around until you obediently join him in the kitchen. Like a good fucking girl.

Satisfied, he leans back against the counter. “Now. What’s this Ethan shit you pulled?”

“It’s not shit, it’s real,” you huff. “He really did ask me out and I really am going to say yes.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I told you. He wasn’t my type—”

“No, I want the real answer.”

You frown. “That is the real answer—”

“No,” he repeats. “It’s not. And you know it.”

You cross your arms and look down at your shoes. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He wasn’t my type but now he is.”

The argument lulls and the small kitchen falls silent. You hear him sigh and it almost hurts to hear how heavy his disappointment hangs.

But a moment later, he’s slipping his fingers beneath your chin and raising your eyes to his. They’re soft. Serene. Filled with everything he can’t seem to find the words to say and you hate how quickly your body begins to crave him.

“You aren’t being honest with me, baby,” he murmurs. Your lashes flutter. “You aren’t communicating with me. And I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say and he sighs like he knows this is a lie. “Really, I just…I know myself. If I don’t put a bit of distance between us…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe on my own.”

This makes him sad and it hurts you to know you’ve made him sad. “Kitten,” he whispers. He steps closer until his chest is brushing against yours. “If I’m doing something wrong—”

“You’re not. That’s the problem.” You swallow and he brushes his thumb along your jaw. “You’re doing everything right and I’m worried I’m gonna want you in ways that I shouldn’t.”

“Do you not want to want me?”

“Not…like that,” you admit. “Not when you’re still hers.”

He frowns. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about anyone else—”

“But I do. Because at the end of the day, you’re still her Harry. You’re on loan to me until one of you decides you shouldn’t be anymore—”

“Kitten—”

“And I can’t be with you in any way but physically. You said so yourself. More would get complicated and even if you wanted to be with me…I don’t think I could share you.”

 He considers this. A long moment passes. “So you’re punishing me,” he says. “You’re going out with this Ethan guy to prove that you don’t need me.”

“What? No.” You lean back but he doesn’t let go of your chin. “I mean…okay, maybe I wanted to piss you off a little but I really do think I need to be with someone else in order to truly move on. I’m not punishing you. I’m…obeying you. If anything.”

He scoffs. “If you really wanted to obey me, you would have talked to me about what you were feeling.”

“I tried. You said more would get complicated.”

“It could. There’s always that risk. But I never said it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“So…what? You’d date me?”

“Of course.”

The answer is quick and it surprises you but it doesn’t seem to surprise him.

You blink. “You…really? You would date me? Like…officially?”

“I would.”

“And…what about Rebecca?”

“What about her?”

“You’d…you’d still be with her? Right? Even if we were together?”

He seems to know what you’re implying and sighs quietly. “Yes. I would.”

“And even if you weren’t…I’m assuming you would still want to be in an open relationship with me?”

Another pause. “Probably,” he admits, and even if you knew it was coming, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. “That’s just the agreement I’ve always felt most comfortable with—”

“And that’s fine. I get it,” you assure him. You sniffle and he seems to wilt. “Really. I just…like I said, I don’t do well with sharing and if…if all we’re doing is fucking, I might as well just find somebody else, right? So that way the three of us can stay friends. And it doesn’t have to get weird.”

“I understand,” he says and you know he does. “I do, Kitten. And I would never keep you in a relationship you’re not comfortable in.” A beat. “But I can’t say that I like the idea of you going out with this guy.”

You smile. Gently. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He looks down at you and takes your cheek in his hand. “You’re my girl,” he says. “No matter what. If you’re with me or not with me. You’re my fucking girl. And he doesn’t deserve even a second of your time.”

You fight a large grin and cling to his shirt. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because.” You play with his buttons. “You don’t get to be jealous when you’re still with her.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna like seeing you with someone else.”

You pout. “That’s not fair, Harry.”

“I know.” He brings his lips to yours. They hover—close—but never make contact. “I can’t help it. Can’t ever seem to help it when it comes to you.”

You want to push up and take his kiss, but he teases you just a little longer. “Harry—”

“Do you know that, Kitten?” His hands drop to your waist and he squeezes. Even though Rebecca is only two rooms away. Even though you can hear her humming in the bath. Even though he can never be yours. “Do you know how much I think about you?”

You swallow. Thick.

“How I think about the way you asked me to take care of you…” He ghosts his mouth down your neck. “The way you begged me to be rough….to spank you. Choke you. Degrade you.”

His voice is a sin and your eyes fall shut.

“Do you want me to degrade you, baby?” His fingers slip beneath your shirt. “Do you want me to pull you on my lap and spank you until you’re crying?”

The image in your head is somehow even better than his taunting. Your knees about buckle. “Harry…”

“You can find somebody else if you want to,” he whispers. “But do you really think they’ll be able to care of you the way I do? The way you want? The way you deserve?” 

His kisses find your chest while his knee slots between your thighs.

“I know how naughty you really are, baby girl,” he says and it’s over. “He will never know.” 

You grab his hair and he grabs your hips and you’re on the counter before you can even whisper his name. He pushes the hem of your dress up and guides your legs apart. He makes a home there, finger curling around the crotch of your panties in order to get a taste and it’s magic. Always.

And he does this to you only a few hundred feet away from where his girlfriend is innocently taking a shower. He does this, knowing she could walk out and see. He does this and you let him do this because there is no world in which you stop him.

“Harry,” you say—whimper—and he hums. His tongue licks up your cunt and your head drops back. “Har—wait—”

He doesn’t. He holds your thighs beside his cheeks and he sucks on your clit until you begin to squirm. “You promised to stay for dessert,” he says. “This is my dessert.”

The sounds are loud and beautiful and his curls feel good in your hands. You feel good in his.

Things fall to the ground. Bowls, pots, containers. He grins. He likes this, the danger. And he knows you like it, too. Because if you really wanted him to stop, he would. 

But you don’t. And you yank him closer to your pussy as though this will be the last time he ever gets a taste.

And deep down, you wonder if it is.

Either way, you enjoy his tongue and his lips and the tip of his nose that nudges your clit so expertly. You wonder how it’s possible to be so addicted to a man you’re not even with. A man that only recently started fucking you and a man that you’ve only ever considered a friend.

Part of you wants to get caught. Part of you wants things to implode. To believe that he’s doing this because he wants her to find out. Because what would happen if she saw? What would happen if he realized he wanted to end things? Would he be yours? Would he decide that your time and your heart and your pussy were infinitely more important than his sexual prowess?

You scrunch your nose. These are all the wrong questions. Harry doesn’t work like that. He never has and you can’t expect something from him that he won’t ever give you.

You return your focus to him. To the way his large hands are curling around your thighs and hoisting them up on the counter. You love his hands. You think they might be your favorite hands in the world.

They’re so gentle but strong. Practiced. You know they’d look good anywhere on your body. Your thighs, your chest, your throat…

You whimper at the thought and he glances up. He’s proud again. Drenched in your arousal and the evidence of your lust for him.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg and nips. He leaves marks and memories along the soft skin and you can’t wait to stare at them whenever he’s not around. The way he makes you his in the only way he can.

And you’re so close. You aren’t even sure how he got you here so quickly but he always seems to. And you don’t mind. Instead, you fist his hair and you buck against his tongue and he’s going to make you cum all over his girlfriend’s kitchen counter.

And then he stops.

He stops, he lets you go, and he pulls away.

Your heart drops to your toes as the orgasm fizzles down to nothing. “What…what are you—"

“Get down,” he says curtly. He slaps your outer thigh. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going. And you don’t ask. Instead, you watch as he wipes his mouth and disappears from the kitchen to wait by the front door.

After straightening your dress and readjusting your underwear, you scurry to his side with a fretful glance toward the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you tell her you’re going?”

He smiles. “She’ll figure it out.”

With that, you leave their apartment so he can take you back to your place and he keeps his hand on your thigh the whole drive. You wonder if he merely wants to keep some sort of claim on you or if it’s habit. 

Either way, his thumb rubs circles into your skin, right over the dark spots made by his lips and you smile. You want to lace your fingers with his. Want to hold his hand and pretend like the two of you are on your way home from a date. To pretend like this is normal—an everyday occurrence.

But you lose your nerve and soon, he’s pulling into the parking lot.  

“I want you upstairs,” he says and gives you a pointed look. “On the bed. Naked. And waiting for me by the time I come up.”

You nod quickly. “Okay. Are…am I in trouble—”

“That depends on if you obey.” He unlocks the door. “So let’s hope you do.”

Swallowing a giddy grin, you scurry from the vehicle and into your building. You don’t bother with tidying up or adjusting your appearance. You run straight into your bedroom, rip off your clothes, and spread out into a starfish position on the bed.

You hear him follow not much later. Slow, deliberate steps. Meant to taunt you, tease you. Make your stomach flip. And it works.

When you see his tall, muscular figure in the doorway, your pulse skips.

Smiling, you call, “Hi, Sir—”

“No speaking,” he says shortly. “Unless I say otherwise. Is that understood?”

“Yes—no—sorry, I’m…” You stop. Nod. 

He frowns but you know it’s only to hide a smirk. “Don’t test me, Kitten. You’ve already done that enough this evening, have you not?”

Another nod.

“And you knew better, didn’t you?” He walks into the room and begins to unzip his jeans. “Knew better than to dangle fucking Ethan in my face.”

You nod again but your eyes are trained on his hands. On the fingers that pull the hem of his shirt up and over his head.

“And you fucking knew…that if I got a taste of such a sweet pussy…I’d never stop,” he murmurs. He crawls onto the bed, wearing nothing more than his briefs. “That I’d forgive you. And let you off the hook.”

You don’t nod this time. You can’t. You’re too far gone in the lust in his eyes. The gentle green that’s now dangerous and luring you in.

“Well,” he whispers and then he smiles. “You thought wrong.”

He grabs your thighs and flips you over. Before you know it, you’re on your stomach, head spinning, while a large palm comes down in a sharp smack to your ass.

You jolt. Shriek. 

“Easy,” he says and he’s kinder now. “You’re gonna take your punishment like a good little whore, aren’t you?”

Now you understand. You see. And you settle onto the bed as he smooths the stinging print with the soft of his hand. 

You nod.

“Good.” He spanks you again. “I think we should do one for every time you lied to me. For every time I asked for the truth…and you refused to give it to me.”

Your lashes flutter. You suppose that’s only fair, although in your defense, the truth would have only hurt him.

“Let’s see…we’ll start with five,” he says and you exhale a sigh of relief. “Because I know you don’t mean to be a bad girl, do you?”

You whimper.

“You want to be good. Want to behave for me.” He spanks you. Number three. “You want a lot of things from me, don’t you? And maybe I’m bad, too. For not being able to give them to you.”

The air in the room shifts and you attempt to glance back.

However, he lays another firm smack to your ass before you can and then squeezes your hip. “Come on, you’re almost done,” he coos. A beat passes. “Do you remember me mentioning the traffic light system?”

You nod.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for good, keep going?”

Nod.

“Good. Then I want you to use your words and tell me what color you are right now. Honestly.”

“Green,” you whisper, then clear your throat and speak louder. “I’m green. Honestly.”

He hums. “And you’re gonna take your last strike, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you’re gonna thank me for being so generous to such a selfish fucking whore?”

Your cheeks flush. Oh, he’s very good. “Yes, Sir.”

You still can’t see him but you can imagine his grin.

The last spank of his hand lands against your tender skin and somehow…it feels good. There’s something delicious about his pain. About the way he inflicts it. The way your body responds to it.

You groan—moan—and finally manage, “Thank you, Sir.”

He purrs something devious as he strokes the spot and begins to kiss his way up your spine. “Good fucking girl,” he breathes. The exhale of his praise dances across your back and you shiver. “Took your punishment so well. Wasn’t so bad, was it? Bet you even fucking liked, dirty thing. Didn’t you?”

You nod again and feel his knee begin to nudge its way back between your thighs. 

“Let’s check, shall we?” His fingers move now for the mess you already know is there. And when he feels it, he curses. “Fucking shit, Kitten, you’re soaked.”

You are. You are soaked and you’re making a mess of your duvet and his knee and he still hasn’t let you cum yet and you think you might die if he waits any longer. 

“Harry,” you nearly cry. “Please…please…”

He brings his kisses to the back of your neck. To the place below your ear that makes your stomach flip. He kisses. Sucks. Nips and violates the skin with his teeth.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, but only because I know you need it.”

You nod again and begin to turn over. He goes to stop you—he wants to try from behind—but you insist.

“I want to see your face,” you say. “Please, I just…I need that tonight.”

The softness in his eyes and the fall of his expression almost hurts you. You don’t want to cause him pain or confusion. Ever.

But he’s not confused. He understands. And he agrees because maybe he needs it, too.

You pull him out of his briefs and he hikes your leg around his hip. Until the heel of your foot is digging into his ass and pulling him forward.

When he first pushes in, you both take a moment of silence to appreciate the beauty of your bodies connecting.

Harry was once your best friend and now he’s something else entirely. A completely different entity and you never imagined you’d see his cock disappearing into your cunt but now you don’t want to imagine his cock anywhere else.

When he’s about halfway in, he pulls back out and begins a steady pace. He’s large and he knows you need a moment or two to find the pleasure before he picks up a faster rhythm. So, he puts the focus on you. On your clit, on your thighs, on the way his lips feel against yours.

He kisses you—soft, sweet. Gentle. And then he kisses your neck. Your chest. Plays with your tits and whispers about how good they feel in his hand.

Then, he buries himself to the hilt as his hips find yours.

You arch and he catches you. There are more kisses, more soft murmurings. And there’s an intimacy here that doesn’t feel like sex. It feels like making love, a term you once scoffed at but now indulge in. Because maybe he does love you, in the only way he knows how. Maybe he does choose your body over hers. Maybe this was the best thing that ever could have happened to you. 

You grab his hand and bring it to your throat. Pointed enough that he knows what you want and after a quick glance for consent…he squeezes.

Your lashes flutter and you press on his knuckles. Harder. He obeys.

And you were right. His hand does look good on your body. A necklace to wear proudly and he whispers your name before tightening his grip and allowing the sides of your sanity to go fuzzy before loosening his fingers. 

You breathe. Deep. The air tastes like him and you love it.

He smiles. “You okay?”

“More than okay. That was…shit, I really like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Probably cause you’re doing it.”

He uses this hold to kiss you and it’s a mess of tongues and spit and loud sucking. It makes you giggle.

“You’re making this very hard for me,” he suddenly whispers.

“Well, I prefer you hard.”

He smirks, but this is not what he means. “I want this to work.”

“I know. I do, too.”

He surges forward—a sharp thrust. “It can’t work if Ethan’s in the picture.”

Oh. “Why? Because you need room for Rebecca?”

He sighs and you hate how sad it sounds. “I know I’m not being fair—”

“You’re not.”

“I can’t help it—”

“Well, neither can I.”

He stops for a moment and looks at you. “You have every right to go out with him. I know that. But I think I’ll lose my fucking mind if you do.” He continues to roll his body against yours and you want to purr. “So I want to make a deal.”

“Okay…”

“If you go out with Ethan, you go out with me,” he says. “If you date him, you date me. And I’ll play nice. I’ll share. But only until you realize he’s a waste of time.”

You run your fingers along his shoulders. Along his back. Along the curve of his ass. You think about his proposition. It sounds good, it does. A way to keep him while also keeping your options open. 

Because maybe this way, it won’t hurt so much when he still goes home to her.

“Can I think about it?” you ask. 

He kisses you. “Of course. Always.”

You resume the languid but fervent pace he previously set. He squeezes your neck whenever he wants to hear you whimper and you scratch your nails down his spine whenever you want him to groan.

And it’s perfect. Truly. Because while you’re on this date with Ethan, he’ll be able to see the marks Harry left on your throat.

And when Harry goes back to Rebecca, she’ll see the scratches down his back made by your hands.

You can’t help but feel satisfied with the idea and it brings you that much closer as Harry presses your hips to the bed and begins to fuck into you harder.

He readjusts his stance above you, knees deep into the mattress and hands clutching the sheets beside your waist. And every thrust is purposeful. Hard. Beautiful. The sounds are symphonic and when you look down to see, you nearly mewl. The way his cock is absolutely fucking covered in you, slipping in and out of your cunt with ease and determination. 

He’s beautiful when he’s focused. When he’s about to cum. You just want to kiss him and hold him and love him and be his.

And you fucking hate it.

“Need you to cum, baby,” he whispers and you nod in agreement. “Can you do that?”

“Yes….yes, Sir,” you stammer, already feeling the overwhelming power creep up your thighs. “I’m…I—”

“I know. I know, come on—”

You do. Just like that. Unravel like a spool of thread and dissolve into nothing but pleasure beneath him.

But you don’t feel him follow. In fact, he continues fucking you through your high until he suddenly pulls out and comes all over your swollen pussy.

It’s the most mesmerizing thing you think you’ve ever seen. The sticky substance paints your cunt in masterful strokes. Glistening from your body, your clit, your thighs like stars.

And you want to be disappointed that he didn’t finish inside but soon you understand why.

He takes your hand. Moves it closer and presses your fingers into the mess. 

“Touch it,” he whispers. “Fuck it back in.”

Your eyes widen. He smiles but the look in his eye is mischievous and deranged.

“Go on, Kitten,” he says. “I wanna watch.”

Your arms are shaking. In fact, every part of you is still shaking from your orgasm but you obey. You slowly—very slowly—begin to circle your touch around your clit. Feeling the way it nearly throbs as you stimulate it. As you force it into more pleasure.

Harry’s attention is glued to the show before him as he swallows thickly and you swear you can almost see his heart beating against his chest like a cartoon.

You move down. Collect as many drops of him as you can and slowly begin to ease two fingers into your fluttering hole.

When you reach the knuckle, you gasp and he exhales. 

It’s perfect.

He scoots back until he can lay on his stomach and place his cheek against your thigh. Close. Close enough that you can feel his breath fan across your hand.

And he watches. Happy. A lazy smile on those beautiful, pink lips. Lashes fluttering every time you whimper or whine.

“I…I can’t,” you whisper. The sensations are too strong. You’ve already cum once, you can’t possibly cum again so soon.

He hums. “Yes, you can. Let me see, baby. Let me watch.”

And you almost want to be embarrassed but something else seems to take over your mind entirely and you can’t help but go faster.

You pinch and curl and flex. You push his offering as far into you as you can reach and then you push in a little more. And it’s easier this time, even if it almost hurts. But you cum. You do, right in front of his very eyes until he’s quickly grabbing hold of you as though he’s desperate to be closer.

You’re more than a puddle this time. You’re practically limp but you’re also so incredibly happy. And he smiles brightly as he pulls your fingers away and puts them in his mouth.

You don’t even have the energy to make a noise this time. You merely watch him—content—until he starts kissing down your palm, along your arm, and to your chest.

Then, he pulls you into his embrace and you both indulge in a moment of peace. 

You’re both quiet for a while. Even after your heartbeat has steadied. Even after the sweat on your skin has dried and the room no longer feels so warm. 

You run your fingers down his torso. Along the dips and curves of his muscles that seem more defined every time you see him. 

“You’re insufferable,” you finally say and he laughs. The sound bounces between the walls of your room—joyous and unencumbered—and it makes you giddy. He doesn’t laugh like this for her. “What? You are.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Another beat. Longer.

Then, you whisper, “Okay.”

He looks down. “Okay?”

“I’ll agree to your deal.”

“Really?” He’s grinning again. Big.

“Mhm. As long as I get to keep you in some way…maybe it’ll be worth it.”

He seems to sadden at the use of the word maybe, but he brushes it off before you can comment on it. Instead, he pulls you closer and kisses you hard. Forever. 

And maybe…this won’t be so bad.

Previous Part:

~ Insatiable You* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Infinite You Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921

[pucksandpower]

Back Door

Day 21 → Anal 💋 Lando Norris

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Lando's arm tightens around you, pulling you closer under the covers, the warmth of his body pressing against your back. His breath is slow, steady, the rhythm of it lulling you deeper into the quiet of the night. You’re both still, and for a while, it feels like time has stopped, suspended in the silence of the room.

You close your eyes, content, until you feel his hand move, his fingers tracing slow circles along your hip. At first, it’s innocent — just the light touch of his fingers gliding across your skin. But then his hand drifts lower, resting on your thigh, his thumb brushing dangerously close to where you’re still sore from last night.

“Lando,” you mumble, not really thinking much of it at first, though your voice holds a slight warning.

“Mmm?” He murmurs, his voice low and sleepy, but there’s an edge to it now. His hand doesn’t stop moving.

You shift slightly, uncomfortable, but his fingers are insistent, teasing, dipping lower with each pass. You bite your lip, eyes squeezing shut. The soreness from last night is still there, sharp and tender, a reminder of how intense it had been, how much he had taken from you.

“Lando,” you say again, this time more firmly, your hand catching his wrist, stopping him.

He pauses, blinking in the dark. “What’s wrong?” His voice is soft, but there’s confusion laced in it, a hint of worry.

You swallow, feeling your face flush. It’s not that you don’t want him — it’s the opposite, really. But your body is still recovering, the soreness a reminder that even though your heart says yes, your body is begging for a break.

“It’s just-” you hesitate, not sure how to explain it without sounding awkward. “I’m still … sore. From last night.”

Lando blinks again, his brow furrowing in the dim light. “Sore?” He sounds almost surprised, like it hadn’t occurred to him.

You nod, even though he can’t see you clearly. “Yeah. It was … a lot.”

He chuckles softly, his hand retreating from where it had been dangerously close. “I didn’t realize I went that hard on you.”

You can’t help but laugh, a quiet, embarrassed sound. “You did.”

Lando’s face softens, and he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at you. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the moment,” you admit, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “It was … it was good. Really good. Just … a bit much for me, I guess.”

His eyes search your face, and then he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t think it would still hurt this much today,” you say, your voice sheepish. You shift slightly again, your thighs clenching instinctively as the dull ache flares up once more.

He watches you for a moment, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “How sore are we talking?”

You can’t help but laugh again. “Like, too sore for what you’re thinking.”

He grins, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. “Really?” His voice drops lower, teasing. “What exactly am I thinking?”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at his tone. “Don’t play dumb.”

His grin widens, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m not playing dumb.”

Your breath hitches, and you try to pull away, but he’s quick, his hand already back on your waist, holding you in place. His thumb brushes over your hip bone, the touch gentle but firm.

“Lando,” you warn, but it comes out weaker than you’d intended.

He hums softly, ignoring your protest, his hand traveling lower again. This time, his fingers skim over the sensitive skin between your thighs, and you hiss, your hand flying to his wrist to stop him.

“See?” You say, breathless. “I told you. It still hurts.”

His brow furrows again, and he pulls his hand away, resting it on your stomach instead. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were that sore.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, trying to relax again now that his hand is no longer wandering. “I just … need a little time.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your stomach. Then, after a beat, he speaks, his voice thoughtful. “What if I said I had another idea?”

You blink, turning your head to look at him. “Another idea?”

His grin returns, slow and teasing, and he shifts closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Yeah. Something that doesn’t involve … that.”

Your heart skips a beat at the way his voice dips, low and suggestive, but there’s also a tenderness there, an understanding that makes you relax. You can tell he’s not pushing, not trying to make you uncomfortable. He’s just … Lando, playful and confident, but also considerate in his own way.

“Another idea, huh?” You repeat, feeling a smile tug at your lips. “What are you thinking?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his fingers still tracing those lazy patterns on your skin. Instead, he shifts again, pressing another soft kiss to your temple before moving down to your jaw. His lips linger there for a moment, and then he pulls back, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice soft but full of promise. “Trust me.”

Lando’s eyes stay on yours, studying your reaction, and you feel the warmth of his body pressed against your side. His hand, once tentative, begins to stroke your skin again, only this time, there’s a different energy in the air. He’s deliberate now, teasing, not in a rush but also not backing away.

You shift slightly under his touch, unsure. “Lando …” you murmur, but your voice trails off. He’s close, his breath fanning against your cheek, his hand moving down again, but this time, it doesn’t travel in the same direction. He hovers just above your backside, fingers brushing gently. It’s a light touch, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

“You trust me, don’t you?” He asks, his voice soft but with a steady, quiet confidence. His eyes, even in the dim light, are locked on yours, and there’s an intensity there that makes your heart race.

“I do,” you whisper, but there’s hesitation in your voice. You’re not exactly sure where this is going. You have a suspicion, but you don’t want to assume. Not yet.

Lando smiles, his thumb circling on your hip, soothing, before he leans in closer. “Just relax,” he whispers against your ear, his voice deep and calm, “I promise I’ll be gentle. You’ll like it.”

You swallow, the weight of his words settling over you. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can feel the tension building. “Lando, I don’t know-”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips soft but firm. “You don’t have to do anything,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping lower now, just resting there. “But I think you’ll enjoy it. Trust me, love.”

Your breath hitches, and you glance at him, trying to gauge his seriousness. His expression is calm, reassuring, but there’s something behind it — something darker, more confident. “You’re asking me to try … anal?” You can hardly believe you’re saying it, the question barely audible.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his lips brushing against your skin. “Only if you want to, though.” His hand moves, cupping you softly, not pushing, just holding you there, waiting for your response.

There’s a moment of silence as you try to process it. It’s something you’ve thought about, sure, but never seriously. It’s always been one of those things that seemed like it belonged in fantasies, not reality. And yet, here he is, suggesting it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart races, the hesitation still there. “Doesn’t it … hurt?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s fingers trail along your skin, his touch gentle, coaxing. “It might, at first,” he admits, his voice low and soothing. “But I’ll take care of you. I won’t hurt you.”

His hand slips away for a moment, and you hear the sound of him shifting, reaching for something on the nightstand. When he comes back, you see the small bottle in his hand, the slick sheen of lube reflecting in the low light. “I’ll make it easier,” he says, his voice calm and steady, as if this is something he’s done a thousand times.

You bite your lip, nerves twisting in your stomach, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you — patient, confident — that makes you feel safe. “I’ve never done this before,” you admit softly, feeling a little vulnerable.

He smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I know,” he says gently. “And that’s okay. I’ll guide you through it.” His voice is warm, reassuring, but there’s still that hint of dominance in his tone that makes you shiver.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Okay,” you whisper, your voice shaky but resolute. “But go slow. Please.”

Lando’s grin softens into something more tender, and he nods. “Of course,” he says, his fingers already working the lube over himself, slick and smooth. “I’m not going to rush you.” He shifts his position, pulling you closer, his hand returning to your lower back, massaging the skin there with gentle strokes.

He guides you, his movements deliberate and patient, adjusting your hips slightly so you’re more accessible to him. “Just relax,” he murmurs again, his voice a soothing balm to your nerves. “I’ll go slow.”

You nod, closing your eyes, trying to let the tension leave your body. His hand moves between you, and you feel the cool slickness of the lube as he coats his fingers, preparing you, easing you into what’s about to happen. His touch is gentle, slow, and when his finger presses against you, you gasp softly, the sensation strange but not unpleasant.

“You okay?” He asks quietly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, watching for any sign of discomfort.

You bite your lip and nod, though there’s a nervous flutter in your stomach. “Yeah. It’s just … different.”

“Different can be good,” he says with a small smile, his finger circling slowly, applying just enough pressure to ease you open without pushing too far. He’s patient, his movements deliberate, and you try to relax into it, trusting him, knowing he’ll stop if you ask him to.

It takes time, his finger slowly working its way inside, and at first, there’s a sharp discomfort that makes you tense up, but Lando is quick to notice. “Shh,” he soothes, his free hand stroking your back, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “Breathe. Just breathe, baby.”

You do as he says, taking a deep breath, trying to focus on the rhythm of his voice, the softness of his touch. The initial sting fades, replaced by something different, a fullness that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his finger sliding deeper, his pace slow and steady. “You’re doing so good.”

You exhale shakily, trying to focus on his voice, on the way his hand feels on your skin. He adds another finger, stretching you further, and you wince slightly at the pressure. It’s not painful exactly, but it’s intense, the sensation foreign and overwhelming.

“Are you okay?” He asks, pausing for a moment, his fingers stilling inside you.

You nod, though there’s a tightness in your chest. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice breathless. “It’s just … a lot.”

“I know,” he says softly, his voice full of understanding. “But you’re doing so well. Just a little bit more, okay?”

You nod again, biting your lip as he resumes his slow, careful movements, his fingers gently stretching you, preparing you for what’s to come. It takes a while, but eventually, the discomfort fades, and you find yourself relaxing into it, your body adjusting to the unfamiliar sensation.

“See?” Lando murmurs, his voice full of quiet pride. “You’re doing amazing.”

You manage a small smile, though your heart is still racing. “I don’t know how you’re going to fit,” you joke weakly, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll go slow,” he promises again, his fingers slipping out of you as he reaches for the lube once more. “I’ll stop if it’s too much.”

You nod, your nerves flaring again as you feel him position himself behind you. He’s slow, deliberate, his hand guiding himself to your entrance, the slickness of the lube making the movement smoother. When he finally presses against you, you tense instinctively, a sharp gasp escaping your lips.

“Shh,” he soothes, his hand rubbing your back gently. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You try to relax, but the pressure is intense, a dull ache spreading through you as he pushes in slowly, inch by inch. It’s overwhelming, the sensation almost too much to bear, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“It’s okay,” Lando whispers, his voice soft and comforting. “You’re doing so good, love. Just breathe for me.”

You nod, trying to focus on his voice, on the way his hand feels against your skin. The pain doesn’t fade immediately, but Lando is patient, moving so slowly that you almost don’t notice when he’s fully inside you.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “You’ve got me now.”

You bite your lip, tears slipping down your cheeks, but not from pain anymore. It’s a strange mix of emotions — intense, overwhelming, but also … intimate. Lando wipes the tears away with his thumb, pressing soft kisses to your cheek, your shoulder, your neck.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice full of concern.

You nod, sniffling slightly. “Yeah. It’s just … a lot.”

“I know,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “But you’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you.”

His words send a warmth through you, and slowly, the discomfort begins to fade, replaced by something else — a strange but not unpleasant sensation. It’s still intense, still overwhelming, but there’s a tenderness in the way Lando holds you, the way he moves, that makes you feel safe, cared for.

Lando’s fingers brush your chin softly as he turns your face to his, his lips just a breath away. “You’re doing so well,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with admiration. His hand doesn’t linger under your chin for long, though. It moves lower, sliding over your chest, and then, with deliberate slowness, it finds its way to your clit.

Your eyes widen, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as his fingers make contact with the bundle of nerves that’s still tender from the night before. The sudden mix of sensations — the fullness of him stretching you and the electric jolt from his fingers — hits you all at once, overwhelming your senses.

“L-Lando,” you breathe, your voice trembling as you feel your body react, your thighs clenching involuntarily.

He hums softly, his breath hot against your ear. “I know, baby. I know,” he soothes, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. It’s too much, too intense, and you can’t stop the way your body tenses, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts. But even as you’re overwhelmed, you can’t help the way your hips instinctively push into his touch, your body betraying your mind.

The combination of him inside you, stretching you in ways you’ve never been stretched, and the way his fingers are working that sensitive spot, has you teetering on the edge of something you’ve never experienced before. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure mixed with the faint remnants of discomfort, but somehow it all blurs together into something indescribable.

“Breathe,” Lando murmurs, his voice calm and steady, though there’s an edge of excitement in it, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His fingers don’t stop, rubbing slow circles, and each pass of his thumb sends a new wave of pleasure coursing through you.

You try to catch your breath, but it’s no use. The sensation is too much. You can feel yourself tightening around him, your body trembling as the pressure inside you builds, threatening to spill over. “I-I can’t-” you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you, desperate for something to hold onto.

“Yes, you can,” Lando whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re so close. Let go for me.”

His words, combined with the steady rhythm of his fingers, push you over the edge. The sensation crashes over you, all at once, a tidal wave of pleasure that leaves you gasping for air. Your entire body tenses, your back arching as you cry out, overwhelmed by the intensity of it. You’ve never felt anything like this before — this deep, all-consuming release that has you shaking and clinging to Lando as though he’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“There you go,” Lando murmurs, his voice soothing as his hand slows, guiding you through the aftershocks. “That’s it, love. Just like that.”

You can’t speak, your breath still coming in shallow gasps as your body slowly begins to relax. You’re trembling, your limbs feeling boneless, and the only thing grounding you is the steady weight of Lando behind you, his body warm and solid.

He doesn’t move for a long moment, just holds you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your hair. “You okay?” He asks softly after a while, his voice gentle and full of concern.

You nod weakly, though you’re still trying to catch your breath. “Y-yeah,” you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse. “I just … I’ve never … felt anything like that before.”

He chuckles softly, his hand stroking your side. “I know,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “You were amazing.”

You smile faintly, though you’re still too overwhelmed to process everything that just happened. Your body feels heavy, spent, but there’s a warmth spreading through you, a sense of satisfaction and closeness that you’ve never felt before.

Lando shifts slightly, easing himself out of you, and you wince at the sudden emptiness, the soreness returning now that the intensity of the moment has passed. He’s quick to notice, though, and his hand returns to your back, rubbing soothing circles. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “Just relax.”

You do, sinking into the mattress, your body completely worn out. Lando pulls you into his arms, holding you close, and you feel the steady beat of his heart against your back. For a while, the two of you just lie there in silence, the weight of what just happened settling between you.

It’s Lando who breaks the silence, his voice soft and teasing. “So … how do you feel?”

You laugh weakly, turning your head slightly to look at him. “I don’t even know,” you admit, feeling a bit dazed. “That was … intense.”

He grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Good intense or bad intense?”

“Good,” you say quickly, though your voice is still breathless. “Definitely good. Just … a lot.”

He hums, his hand sliding up and down your arm. “Yeah, it’s a different kind of feeling, isn’t it?”

You nod, though your face flushes slightly at the thought. You’ve never done anything like this before, and it’s strange to think that you just did. But with Lando, it hadn’t felt strange at all. It had felt right, natural, like he knew exactly how to take care of you.

You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking again. “Lando?”

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, and he turns his head slightly to look at you.

“I … I think I’d want to try it again. You know, sometime.” Your voice is shy, barely a whisper, but you feel a surge of warmth when you see the way his eyes light up.

His grin spreads slowly, but there’s something tender in it, not cocky or arrogant. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Whenever you’re ready,” he murmurs against your mouth. “We can take our time.”

You smile against his lips, feeling your body relax into his. There’s a contentment that settles over you, the weight of his words reassuring you. You know he means it, that he won’t rush you into anything you’re not ready for. And that makes you feel safe, makes you feel like you can trust him with anything.

“I’m not ready now,” you say softly, still catching your breath, a little sore but content.

Lando chuckles, pulling back slightly to look at you. “I didn’t expect you to be, love. Just let me hold you for a while, yeah?”

You nod, resting your head against his chest, your body finally relaxing completely. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and you feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmur after a while, your voice barely audible.

“For what?” He asks, his voice soft, curious.

“For being so … gentle. Patient.” You feel your face flush, embarrassed by how vulnerable you’re being, but Lando doesn’t seem fazed by it at all.

He kisses the top of your head, his hand running through your hair. “I’ll always be gentle with you,” he says quietly. “I’ll always take care of you.”

His words settle over you like a blanket, warm and comforting, and for the first time in a long time, you feel completely at ease. There’s no pressure, no expectations — just the quiet, steady assurance that Lando will be there for you, that he’ll take care of you no matter what.

You close your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips as you drift off in his arms, already feeling a sense of anticipation for the next time.

[amsznn]

Please I’m begging u could you write Chris x reader when reader gets wisdom teeth out. Pet names only baby

WISDOM TEETH - c.sturniolo

-

“todays video is gonna be a bit different guys.” chris spoke into the camera before turning it to you, revealing you leaning on the kitchen counter. “y/n’s gonna get her wisdom teeth out!” your head quickly shifted towards the mention of ‘wisdom teeth’, unfortunately being reminded of what will be your reality in a matter of moments.

“chris stop, she’s literally fearing for her life right now.” nick said while laughing. “don’t worry y/n, its not that bad.” he said while patting your shoulder.

“i dont think i wanna go anymore.” you said quickly as you remembered how much pain nick was in while he was recovering.

“it’s gonna be alright baby, we’ll be right there.” chris reassures as he wrapped his shoulder around you, still holding the camera.

it took some convincing, and maybe some bribery from your boyfriend to get you food after the procedure, to finally convince you to get in the car and go through with getting your teeth pulled out. you had been in pain for a long time, complaining about the pain the teeth were causing you.

chris knew this and knew the best thing for you was to get them out. now you all were packed in the car with matt and chris in the front, while you and nick were in the back.

occasionally chris would reach behind his chair and allow you to hold his hand for some time. he knew as you were trying to appear calm and collected, your mind was actually racing.

but that feeling would only intensify as matt pulled into the parking lot of the dentist office. you did all the regulations upon entering the building, signing in, and waiting.

before you knew it you were in the chair, about to get those teeth pulled out.

“promise, you’ll stay?” you turned over to chris, watching him with pleading eyes as he grasped your hand in his.

“promise.”

timeskip

a couple of hours passed and you were finally off of the operating table. drowsy and unaware of where you were.

“where..where am i?” you spoke. you realized there was a strange feeling in your mouth. “waths in my mouf?!” you quickly tried to take out whatever it was from your mouth before chris stopped you.

“y/n, you need those in there baby.”

confusion took over for the rest of the day as your boyfriend completed the rest of the paper work and walked you out to the car where matt and nick were waiting.

“sooo..how’d it go?” nick asked amused as he saw your state. “nick, sit in the front i wanna sit with y/n.” chris said as he opened your side of the car door. you almost face planted as you got in but nick was quick to balance you before moving to the front seat.

chris didn’t feel like filming on the way back home since he’s sure you would kill him if he ever uploaded a video of you in this state. blabbering on and on about nothing that made sense while also questioning everything and anything.

“chrissy…why are there three of you.” you pouted before poking your boyfriend’s face, the reaching to poke matt and nick’s face as well. matt swatted your hand away and scolded you since he’s driving.

“why are you yelling at me?” you frowned at matt who you thought was chris before saying, “im breaking up with you!”

chris could only laugh at your antics causing his brothers to join in as well.

“y/n that’s matt.” he softly said while caressing your shoulder.

you made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth in realization, and muttered and apology to matt for threatening him.

you all made it back home, with chris carrying you to your shared room. as soon as he set you down on the bed it was lights out for you. immediately falling asleep in your boyfriend’s bed. he smiled as he moved his face in front of yours, softly giving you a kiss on the forehead, trying not to wake you up.

“i love you, y/n.” chris whispered, to which he got a snore in response. but thats all he needed. he knew you loved him just as much.

-

a/n: sorry i didnt know how to end it but i hope you enjoyed!

[entirelysein-e]

『 Be quiet 』

☼ synopsis: You like to test Nanami's patience but didn't think you can take it that far.

☼ character: Nanami Kento

☼ wc: 1.0k

☼ cw: female!reader, afab!reader, sub!reader, teasing, masturbation, clit slapping, fingering, gagging, bondage

☼ Kinktober Masterlist

Making Nanami lose his patience with you became your favorite game lately, trying to see just how far you can take it with him until he finally snaps, often times getting bent over the nearest surface and getting fucked senseless. Just today he seemed to have the patience of an angel when Gojo came over for something work related, which usually meant he would snap quickly - just not today and you weren't sure why but it meant you can be extra naughty. When you brought them both some chilled lemonade, wearing a slutty little skirt you bent down to place the drinks on the table, letting Gojo get a nice view of your cleavage while Nanami came face to face with your pretty pussy… wait what?

You giggled as you walked out of the room again, feeling Gojos eyes on you while Nanamis jaw threatened to break from the sheer pressure he had while clenching his teeth together, trying his best not to put you in your place for dressing like this around his friends, but that had to wait until later, reminding himself that you can't always get what you want, that it's his own fault that you behave like a spoiled brat now. You were so sure that you had him in the palm of your hand like a trained dog but the opposite was the case. Nanami knew exactly which buttons to press to make you go dumb so he can take his frustrations out on you.

The next time you came into the living room where the men still sat you gently sat on your husbands lap, keeping your legs slightly open - far enough to distract the white haired men in front of you but not enough to let him see anything and you could feel Nanamis grip on your hips tighten. Couldn't you just sit still and behave for once? He was at loss of words with your behavior, silently begging you to wait just one more hour, he would give you everything you wanted if you were patient for just a little longer but you just couldn't, disappearing to the bedroom.

He almost lost it when he heard can't whimpers of his name coming from the room you were in as he walked to the kitchen, getting himself and Gojo a refill on drinks. “Can you wait a moment? She's feeling unwell and needs me to hold her hair,” He excused himself from the living room, not caring if Gojo could see right through the lie. The moment he entered your shared bedroom and saw how you desperately fucked yourself with three of your little fingers, trying to imitate the stretch he gave you, he completely lost it, grabbing you by your ankle and pulling you to the edge of the bed where he held both of your hands in just one of his. A slap to your clit made you yelp “Is this what you needed? Behaving like a little slut in front of Gojo? Wanted me to take you on the table right in front of him, hm?” He hissed, voice barely above a whisper and you shook your head no only to get another slap to your weeping cunt. “Don't act up now,” he warned you, shoving two of his fingers into your tight entrance, a small scowl on his face when you started to moan “You need to be quiet - Can you do that for me? Behave for once?” He asked stern but it made you giggle, moaning extra loud the next time he curled his fingers against your sweet spot. You knew that he was just with you in that moment to take care of you quickly before returning to business, most likely rock hard, but business came before pleasure, always.

“I said be quiet, love. Please… Or do i need to gag you? He asked sincere, fingers stilling inside of you but no matter how hard you tried to be good for him, you were far too gone to be silent now so you shook your head, making him sigh and pull out of you.

You didn't get time to whine or protest, his fingers working quickly to untie his tie before walking over to your head “Now be a darling and open up,” He hummed, pushing the long piece of fabric into your mouth entirely before kissing your forehead “So needy for me, hm? Just one. I promise i'll take proper care of you later,” He said loving, the contrast of moments before making your head spin. Thick fingers returned into your tight heat, massaging your velvet walls as his thumb grazed over your little clit, your slick aiding he movements. Nanami knew exactly how to get you to fall apart in mere minutes, the tips of his fingers pressing into your sweet spot while working on your clit - moans now muffled by the tie stuffed in your mouth, letting your eyes cross in pleasure as you finally tumbled over the edge thanks to his generous attention.

When you finally calmed down he pressed a kiss to the mound of your core, before standing up again, your hands still in his clutch. You didn't expect him to grab another tie that was laying on his bedside table, tying your hands up to the bed frame while leaving you gagged. “Just precaution… You stay here now and wait for me,” He explained wearing a neutral expression although the tent in his pants gave him away. The sight of you tied up and gagged, only waiting for him to fuck you senseless made him rock hard - and especially after an entire day with Gojo he had plenty of frustration he needs to take out one way or another and since you were still begging for his cock, you sure wouldn't mind if he takes it out on your poor cunt.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

Troy Saga ❛  do what i say and you'll see them again.  ❜ ❛  what do you live for? what do you try for?  ❜ ❛  say no more, i know tat i'm ready.  ❜ ❛  the blood on your hands is something you won't lose.  ❜ ❛  is the price i pay endless pain?  ❜ ❛  something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke.  ❜ ❛  we should try to find a way no one ends up dead.  ❜ ❛  why should we take when we could give?  ❜ ❛  i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  have you forgotten the lessons i taught you?  ❜

The Cyclops Saga ❛  it's almost too perfect, too god to be true.  ❜ ❛  what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?  ❜ ❛  your life now is in my hand.  ❜ ❛  remember them, we're the ones who carry on.  ❜ ❛  what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?  ❜ ❛  i am your darkest moment.  ❜ ❛  i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test.  ❜ ❛  that's just like you, why should i be surprised?  ❜ ❛  unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain.  ❜ ❛  i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done.  ❜

The Ocean Saga ❛  at this rate, we won't make it out alive.  ❜ ❛  please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do.  ❜ ❛  yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out?  ❜ ❛  you rely on wit, and people die on it.  ❜ ❛  you're like the brother i could never do without.  ❜ ❛  and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out?  ❜ ❛  keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust.  ❜ ❛  'cause the end always justifies the means.  ❜ ❛  do you know who i am?  ❜ ❛  you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great.  ❜

The Circe Saga ❛  whatever you need to say can wait some more.  ❜ ❛  there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save.  ❜ ❛  wouldn't you like a taste of the power?  ❜ ❛  don't thank me friend, you very well may die.  ❜ ❛  did you do something to them?  ❜ ❛  if you make one wrong move, then you're done for.  ❜ ❛  you and i are now evenly matched.  ❜ ❛  you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust.  ❜ ❛  who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make?  ❜ ❛  this is the price we pay to love.  ❜

The Underworld Saga ❛  all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes.  ❜ ❛  i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died.  ❜ ❛  when does a man become a monster?  ❜ ❛  now you tell us our effort's are for nothing?  ❜ ❛  how has everything been turned against us?  ❜ ❛  do i need to change?  ❜ ❛  i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed.  ❜ ❛  what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along?  ❜ ❛  what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves?  ❜ ❛  if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger?  ❜

The Thunder Saga ❛  you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life.  ❜ ❛  i've got a secret i can no longer keep.  ❜ ❛  you know that we are the same.  ❜ ❛  we must do what it takes to survive.  ❜ ❛  tell me you did not know that would happen.  ❜ ❛  if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame.  ❜ ❛  how are we supposed to trust you now?  ❜ ❛  how much longer must i suffer now?  ❜ ❛  someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say.  ❜ ❛  please don't make me do this.  ❜

The Wisdom Saga ❛  you've made your worst mistake here.  ❜ ❛  this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good.  ❜ ❛  you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more.  ❜ ❛  did you know you talk in your sleep?  ❜ ❛  i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here.  ❜ ❛  you don't know what i've gone through.  ❜ ❛  i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  life would be so much worse if you had died.  ❜ ❛  you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame?  ❜ ❛  no one beats me, no one wins my game.  ❜

[lis-likes-fics]

Matters of Propriety

Pairings: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Laenor Velaryon (Platonic) Word Count: 6.4k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, constant use of metaphors, reference to homosexuality as an illness, fingering, oral (f!receiving), soft dom!Rhaenyra, consensual adultery, useless lesbians, kinktober... A/N: I love Rhaenyra. She's so scrumptious and I enjoyed writing this. I wish I could have done more bc I don't feel like I did her dominance justice, but, given the circumstance, it's actually not an issue. Anyway, enjoy and Happy Halloween!

Rhaenyra brings a hand to her tired eyes, working away at the warmth in her temple as she looks upon her husband. “Do you toil in anything but sea and sex, husband?”

Laenor is especially restless today, just in a more excited way. He's practically beaming from ear and ear as he shares the gossip he's learned with his wife. Although it's a pleasant thing to see him so full of life, Rhaenyra would humbly ask for some rest if she were not so busy today.

Laenor rolls his eyes more pleasantly than she. He turns his back to tidy the scrolls piled on a table. “This isn't sea or sex. It's gossip.” He glances over his shoulder mischievously. “And, yes, I do.”

Rhaenyra sighs. “What are the matters of a servant girl’s likes of sex to me?” Her brows furrow, a light sheen of humor in her voice as she tilts her head. “What are they to you? Might I remind you, Laenor, you prefer snake to oyster.”

Laenor laughs. “And even if she's meant to prefer the same, just as you do, she does not.” He lets out another giddy laugh, like he's thought of some witty banter to add on. “Anyone who feasts upon the wrong meal is my friend.” He turns and leans against the table, looking at her with a quirked brow. “She's your friend, too, Rhaenyra.”

The way he says it makes her squint. “And what is that meant to mean?”

He smirks. “She's one of your servants.”

“Who?”

“Your favorite.”

Now her interest is piqued. She tilts her toward him, almost scoffing as she considers this. “Truly?”

He comes over, leaning over a chair and shrugging. “What reason have I to lie?”

“Entertainment.”

He scoffs, plopping down in the seat opposite her. “I find entertainment in this without need for deceit.” He watches her, watches the way her face shifts as she thinks about what he's just told her. It's surely just rumor. But a rumor like this could be deadly—of course, he knows better than to spread something so dangerous. “Admit it. You're interested.”

She takes in a deep breath, standing to act like she's got better things to do. And she should…but at the moment, she's got nothing to occupy herself until the small council meeting.

“I have no need to be interested.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes in amusement. “You prefer snake.”

“I do.” She turns away. “Besides, what is there to like without the usefulness of an extra appendage?”

His smirk is diabolical. “Why don't you ask her yourself?”

She tilts her chin up, humoring him for the sake of humoring him. “Perhaps I will.”

It's a wonder his smile grows. It had already been split so far that she wondered if someone had taken a knife to it.

“Excellent!”

~

Rhaenyra is settled in one of the rare moments where she has time to herself. Laenor is on one of his many ventures, she has no appointments, and no one has come to bother her yet. She's been busying herself with needlework (though she knows she has a terrible hand in it, it gives her something to do).

When someone knocks on the door, she glances up and mutters a distant, “Come.”

The door opens. “Princess.” She glances up at the voice, one she recognizes well. You bow gently, offering a smile as you hold out your tray. “I brought your tea, if it please you.”

Rhaenyra smiles, nodding and allowing you farther inside. “Thank you.”

You come and sit the tray down on the table, pouring her cup and adding her sugar. “Would you like me to bring anything, my princess?”

She shakes her head. “That won't be necessary. Thank you,” she says again.

You hum. Once her tea is prepared, you move to tidy her room. There's no real mess, but the longer you spend in here, the less time you have to spend doing other tedious and mind-numbing work. Besides, the princess has expressed to you how she doesn't mind your presence. You prefer to be here.

You start gathering empty cups and any forgotten dishes, wiping as you go. “If you don’t mind my asking, Princess, how fares your day?” You know she doesn’t mind, but you’ll never be able to shake your impulsion toward over-politeness. “It’s been quite lovely out.”

“That it has,” she says. Rhaenyra sets down her canvas, reaching for her cup to take a sip of the tea you’d so graciously brought her. “Meanwhile, I have been confined to the castle doing court duties and pretending the men are actually listening to me.”

A stray chuckle seeps from your nose. “One day, you shall be queen, my princess, and then they will have to listen to you.”

Rhaenyra’s chuckle is more rueful, but just as stray as yours. “That day can’t come soon enough, it seems.”

She likes the way you address her. Most of the people here call her princess with such emphasis, as if they were reminding her of her place as though it were eternal. She is the heir to the throne, yet they call her princess almost like they were saying “peasant”. When you say it, “my princess”, she almost thinks for a moment that she is already Queen.

Rhaenyra hums, glancing at you as you feather thin dust from shelves. Laenor’s words echo in her mind. She had almost forgotten the rumor she’d heard, almost let it slip her mind in the time between seeing the two of you. As she watches you, it’s glued in her mind, stuck like honey in her head.

She imagines it now. Your lips against a woman’s—a woman’s whose lips are suspiciously pale and whose nose is suspiciously distinct.

“Some gossip has come about me from my husband today,” she says without much thought. It slips out more than she means to say it. Even her tone has become shifty in the last moment. “It seems he’s as bored as to listen to the rumors of the servants in the Keep.”

You hum without turning, still stalling to avoid going back to work. “Is that so, Princess? What rumors, if I may ask?”

She chooses her words carefully, slowly. “Rumors of a servant girl with…queer customs.”

Your hesitance was almost indistinguishable. You could have gotten away with it, but she’s watching too closely. You continue almost without a hitch. “What sort of queer customs?”

Rhaenyra licks her bottom lip. “Ones that make her adverse to the taste of sailors…or sea-men, in other words.” She almost couldn’t believe herself. She’s turned to her husband’s humor.

There’s a long pause where you consider her words, wondering if they’re funny or thoroughly ridiculous. You suppose they’re both. “I do not know many who prefer the taste of…sea-men, as you say.” You don’t look at her. You keep your gaze solely on task. “Though a different story can be told of sailors.”

Rhaenyra shifts her whole body toward you, tilting her head and smirking lightly in a less-than-subtle investigation. “Do you like it?”

You purse your lips, considering your options.Your belly churns. “Would it be rude not to answer, my princess?”

She hums. “Well, it is generally frowned upon to disobey your masters.” She doesn’t want to pressure you, but she’s far too intrigued now to let it go. She doesn’t quite know why.

You sigh gently, thinking for a moment. She’s right. You try to find solace in the fact that you don’t think she’s the type to look down upon you and order your execution because of your…your perversions.

You’d hoped to keep it secret forever. You’ve even tried to fix yourself of your sickness, but you’ve found that it is something that cannot be done.

“Truthfully…” you mutter, your heart aching in a sad way, “No, Your Highness, I do not like…” you’re getting a bit exhausted of the metaphor but you would rather not change to practical terms when talking to the princess, “...sea-men.”

She looks away from you, and you’re grateful for it because you can pretend to busy yourself again. “I suppose that’s understandable enough. They can be quite salty in nature.”

Gods be good.

“Yes. Quite,” you mumble dismissively. You know you shouldn’t ask, but it’s eating away at you. You could be in danger… “If you don’t mind my asking, Princess, where did Ser Laenor hear such a rumor?”

She tries not to make a joke about his tastes. “Who knows where he finds his gossip?” You hum in agreement to dismiss it.

Rhaenyra’s curiosity is probably what got the better of her. She didn't fully intend to ask, but Laenor's words from below are stuck in her head. “Why don't you ask her yourself?”

“I wonder what fun it could truly be.” She waves a hand, taking a sip from her near forgotten tea. “Seeing as it could only be used for fun in this instance; there's no duty without the injection.”

You swallow thickly. “I wouldn't say simply fun.” You shouldn't say anything at all. “Though it does remove transaction from the activity.” You sigh, faltering to keep up the ruse with your unnecessary feathering of clean shelves. You turn toward her, running your fingers through the slightly dusty feathers. “With something like this, there must be trust.”

Rhaenyra watches you closely, the way you speak of it. It's more blatant than you should be in this circumstance, but she's not really focused on that when she's too busy studying the crease between your brows or the softness of your lips.

“Without trust, there is no fun or intimacy in it. Without fun or intimacy, there is no pleasure. You must be willing to give up a part of yourself and accept a part of someone else.”

There's a silence where you watch each other. You're quick to realize your mistake as you physically take a step back, looking down at your feet and hiding your embarrassment. She doesn't say anything, she just watches you with this look you can't decipher.

“Forgive me, Princess.” You bow your head and drop your hands by your side. You turn quickly, unsure what else to do. “In truth, I simply worry for the girl. She could be in quite a lot of danger if she were to be exposed. I shall pray to the Mother for her safety.”

You should leave. You've likely overstayed your welcome.

Rhaenyra breaks away from her thoughts, trying to organize them as she sits a little straighter. She sets her cup down on the table before her. She hums, trying to be light-hearted again but failing with the way her head is so full of your words. “‘Tis a shame, really,” she clears her throat, “that such a thing is of such offense.” She takes a breath and stands, just to give her something to do as she circles the sofa and leans against it.

“Pleasure is pleasure. Who should care where a man chooses to stick it? Or, perhaps, where a woman…” she falters. “Well, we don't have anything to stick, do we?” She should forget about it. “I simply wonder how…the deed is done without the…tool.” She decides she just likes to hear you speak.

“Well…” you still don't watch her, though you hesitate in the middle of your task, “I would not believe it to be as difficult as it would seem.” You take up a light blanket to fold.

She raises a brow. “Is that so?” She strokes the back of the couch with a ring-clad hand. “Tell me, how do you suppose it's done?”

“Princess?”

She shrugs in faux innocence. “I'm simply curious. Of course, if you have other duties to tend to.”

What she's proposing has no shortage of lack of propriety. It would be even worse if you responded. But…

Your gaze drifts down to her hand, a stray thought in your mind imagining the fabric was your flesh. When she squeezes lightly, you hate that you imagine her hands wrapping around your thigh…just to feel.

It is generally frowned upon to disobey your masters.

You swallow a lump in your throat, that you assume is nerves over want. It cannot be want.

“Well…if I had to guess, I would assume she could use,” you hesitate, “her hands.”

Rhaenyra doesn't have the thought to raise a curious brow. Her face doesn't change much as she stares at you, strangely hooded as you pass it on for confusion instead of what you recognize it to be.

“Just the same as a man could…” your words become a little quieter, “...or rather, as a man chooses not to, in my experience.”

Rhaenyra inches closer. It doesn't register. “How would she use them?” How could her voice be so smooth? It's like a layer of velvet on your skin, and you don't know how to manage that.

“Any way she saw fit.” You hadn't expected your voice to dip as it had, a richer tone influenced by the way she watches you. You hadn't realized the way your finger dipped between the fold of the blanket you've been holding for the last couple minutes. “You could just feel, massage, you could.. You could use them in place of a man's tool. Of course, they would not eject.”

Her chuckle is so shallow, with no real intent to emphasize humor. Her thoughts are confusing.

“No, I suppose not,” she mutters. She steps even closer, tilting her head. “Would her hands be all she would use?”

It's a strange thing, knowing more than the princess—informing the princess on what you know. She listens with such curiosity, such interest. You have to stifle the pull in your chest. It isn't proper. You shouldn't be telling her about any of this—it isn't proper.

But you carry on because you can't help it. Not when she looks at you like that.

You lick your bottom lip absently. “Well, if they were, my princess, what would be the point of the taste for sailors? Rather than simply the touch of them? Women often prefer a sailor’s salty taste. Some men have an indulgence for, not just the bee, but the honey, too.”

You hadn't realized you'd both gotten so close. She's only a few feet from you now, staring at you with eyes that should not be regarding you in such a way. “And if you had a taste for honey? How would you indulge?”

“Frequently.” Rhaenyra had not meant to gasp the way she did. It's soft and barely audible, but you catch it. It's hard to miss anything when she's so close, staring you in the eyes, running her fingers together with gentle brushes of skin.

You break the heavy eye contact with a glance down. “But I assume that would pose a challenge, as not many bees prefer their honey to be tasted by other bees, especially if not by a man.” You shake your head, looking back at her with a new kind of certainty. “No, many bees prefer the sailor and their sea.”

You hate the gods for making you as they did, but sometimes you hate them for making everyone else as they are instead. If you had to come out so wrong, why could no one else join you?

Rhaenyra can see this in your eyes. It's just a little glint, but she recognizes the same look in her husband from time to time. The difference is that he's allowed his indulgences in secret. You must have more trouble. Women always have more trouble…

Her breath is light when she breathes. “And what if one was willing to try?”

You look at her quickly, eyes wide and a little skeptical. “To try, Princess?”

“The indulging.” The step she takes is long. She stands right before you now, hardly a foot away. “Or even allowing one a taste of it? Say this…servant girl, perhaps?”

You squeeze your thighs together, though you don't mean to. She's a very intimidating person, and it makes you falter in your reasoning for why all of this is a terrible idea.

“I'd say…maybe she'd agree.” She's so close. If you took a step, leaned in just a bit…

“But there are many things to consider.” You step around her, ridding yourself of the closeness to put space between you. This is dangerous, she is dangerous. The way she looks at you, the way she makes you feel. It's not fair, and it's not right.

She spins around, dizzy from the sudden break in tension. “What sort of things?”

You drop the blanket on a chair and run your hands down your apron, an attempt to center yourself. “Things like…like whether or not this woman, potentially even a princess so interested in tasting, has a husband? A royal one, at that?” You shake your head. “This servant could be killed.”

Rhaenyra sighs, waving a hand as she looks upon your back. “If a person was killed every time they tried other indulgences, we would have very few people left in the world.”

You turn toward her, but make no move to come closer. “Even still.”

“What if this princess,” she closes the distance again, this time scooping your hands into her own. Her hands are very warm, much warmer than your own. They are only contrasted by the chill of golden rings. It's inviting as you try not to lean into her touch. You can't look at her. You're already breaking so many rules by letting her touch you. You're breaking rules by talking of such things with her.

“What if she were to tell the servant that her royal husband has his own tastes to favor? Not in bees, but in sailors?”

Royal husbands are a much different standard than lowly servants. But the only thing in your mind with such a proposal is, “And what if the princess dislikes the servant's work?”

You shudder when her warm palm envelopes your cheek. Your eyes flutter, and you look into her eyes. What a temptress she is, to look at you like that. To look so deeply into your eyes that you falter every time you come from a blink.

This is one of the only times when you're grateful for your sickness. If you had not been the way you were, her beauty would be so ordinary to you. She is anything but.

“Then she shall decide for herself.”

Your voice is so soft now, afraid to rupture this feeling between you. You feel manipulated, but you can't bring yourself to mind. If your roles had been reversed, you'd likely do the same.

“What if something happens?” You raise a hand to cover the back of hers. “If someone sees? There are many things to be considered.”

Her hand slips down from your cheek to grasp your chin between her forefinger and thumb. “If you wish not to continue, then you may yo. But it's as you said…” she's so close, you can feel her shallow breath on your lips, “this requires trust.”

Your eyes dart between her own, taking in every feature of her face. Gods, how beautiful is she?

She leans in, tilting her head in such a way that you become dizzy. “Will you put your trust in your princess?”

How could you refuse?

“Yes.”

“Then who's to say it's wrong?”

Your breaths mingle. She leans in quickly, and your breath hitches in anticipation of the kiss. Just as they barely brush, she pulls back again. It becomes this dance, a back-and-forth, push-and-pull. You know she's playing with you, and you invite her in full compliance. You would be her court jester if only she asked.

When she kisses you, it's maddening. Your thoughts are blurred in a swirling motion in your head. Your ears become fuzzy, your lungs already ache. You breathe her essence in through your nose and out through your mouth as she pulls you in by the back of your neck. She tastes of sweet wine, of grapes and blueberries.

Your hands grasp at her sides, pulling at the fabric wrapped securely around her body. “Princess,” you gasp against her lips.

You feel her lips curl against your own, her smirk fueling a fire between the both of you. “Shh,” she says between kisses. Her palms cup your face, her lidded eyes taking in the sight of you so close. “Just show me how you do it.”

You lean in to gather her lips again, your breaths heavy between you. You walk her back, pushing her up against the wall as your hands explore the length of her body. Your lips trail over her own, kissing the corner of her mouth and slipping down to her neck. Your teeth nip at her skin, your tongue laps, your lips suck. Her eyes flutter closed as she leans into it. Her hands grip your arms and beg you not to go.

You pull away from her then, your bodies still flush against one another as you take in the sight of her. Her eyes are of lavender, her skin is of ivory, her hair is of silkweed. She’s dripped in maroon and pearls. As you brush your knuckles down her cheek, smiling as you move to kiss her again.

There’s a soft smack of your lips as you pull away. Pinching her chin between your fingers as she had done yours, you whisper so closely to her lips that they brush with each word. “You are so beautiful, my princess.”

She stares at you. She had been called beautiful before. She has known intimacy and she has known passion, but there is something in the way that you speak to her that has her chest aching. A heavy breath puffs shallowly from her mouth.

Before she says anything, you kiss her again as your hand reaches down to collect fistfulls of fabric. You press a kiss to her collarbone, nipping lightly as her breath hitches. You slip to your knees, dipping your hands beneath her dress and pressing your hands to the thinly veiled skin of her legs. Her stockings stop just above her knee, tied neatly that morning while she was readying herself for the day.

She watches you, her eyes dark but so intently focused on you. You look up at her as you ride her dress, layer upon layer, up the length of her body. She reaches down and captures it, holding it in her hands and relieving you of the duty.

You’re holding your breath when you lean in to press a chaste kiss to the inside of her thigh. Her skin is so warm. If she had not been so soft, too, you would have wondered if she’d really been a dragon all along. You cup the back of her thigh in your hand, stroking up and down and enjoying the feeling of such smooth flesh.

You shift her leg over your shoulder, turning your head to kiss her thigh again. Her breath, although thick and shallow, is such a gentle thing. She never tears her gaze away. Her hips jerk lightly when your excitement manifests in little nips into her skin. There’s a pleasant feeling that stems from it.

“Must you tease?” Rhaenyra huffs, though not of any real offense. Her chest rises and falls like she’s ready to burst. A swell of pride blooms in your chest at the knowledge that she could be so aching for your touch.

“Apologies, Princess,” you smile, raising a tentative hand farther up the side of her thigh to bring her closer. You move so slowly as you inch toward her, this aching need which you have yet to see but can smell so dearly. “May I?” you whisper, so softly that you are almost unheard.

Her leg shifts to push her heel into your shoulder blade, not roughly but in a way to induce haste. She brings you just a bit closer, dipping her head. “You may.”

Just as soon as the permission leaves her throat, you attach yourself to her. You dip your tongue between her folds. You lick and suckle around her pearl. Arousal has already seeped from her need and is painting your tongue.

Rhaenyra’s hips cant forward, and there's a slight shudder. As one of her hands desperately grasps at her dress, the other reaches down to card through your hair.

You flick your tongue along the seam of her cunt. You really had chosen the right word—honey. She tastes sweet, a filling nectar you would die to feast upon.Rhaenyra is eager to feel it all, amazed by how wonderful you are at this, better than even Ser Criston Cole—who had always been very eager to taste her in her youth.

She supposes it shouldn’t be so surprising. You both have the same parts, it would only make sense that you knew how to use them. Your dull nails dig into her ass, bringing her forward as you both rock against one another. Her moan catches in her throat, and her hand reaches forcefully out to take hold of the table at her side. She grips it tight in order to keep herself up, looking down at you as her chest struggles to keep up with her lust.

“You are very eager to please,” her voice shakes.

You stroke your tongue along the length of her cunt, pressing a messy kiss into her pearl as you pull back just enough to speak. “That is not a difficult feat when you taste as good as you do.” A rough kind of whine slips when you suck around her pearl. “I was right about the honey.”

She smiles in the middle of the rock of her hips. “I might have to taste a sample myself. Just to check. Ah–!” Her hand flies out to take hold of your hair again, just to ground herself when you lap your tongue inside of her. “Right there,” she groans, her voice lower now with the coming of her relief. “Oh, gods, don’t stop.”

You focus on her pearl now, lapping and laving at it with all the strength you have left in your tongue. It’s a bit tired from the work, but it’s a good kind of feeling when you’re being rewarded so generously. The fat of her thigh is a welcomed weight on your shoulder, an even better weight in your hand as you stroke your hand up and down the length of it. You squeeze it in fervent desire.

You can feel her clenching against your tongue, her hips become more jerky with their movement. You hum into her, anticipating her release as much as she does. Her breath stalls in her chest as it builds and builds.

Right as she's at the cusp, you murmur against her pearl. “Breathe, Princess.”

Just as she takes a breath, a crashing wave rolls over her. She trembles against you, gasping as her head whirls with the weight of her release. You hold her steady, lapping up the precious taste of her cunt with a desperate need. She jerks forward when you suckle gently on her sensitive pearl.

When the rush dies down to something a little easier, her breaths become deeper as a drunken smile finds her lips. “I could certainly make this a habit.”

You press your mouth into her thigh, laying a sweet kiss upon her skin. “Tis likely to be a bad one.”

She shakes her head, moving her leg off your shoulder and lifting you to stand with a curled finger under your chin. “Nothing bad about it.” She leans in, her lips hovering.

You pull away by the slightest inch, watching her gentle eyes. “Did I do well, my princess?” You lift your hand to cautiously rest at her back, your fingers curling through silver locks. “Have I pleased you?”

There's something about you that makes her head spin. “Yes, darling,” she rasps. “You are magnificent.”

You smile like she's given you an incredible gift, accepting her kiss with a similar enthusiasm than you'd accepted the honey between her plush thighs. You're needy in gluing your lips to hers, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her against you by the small of her back.

She eases your mouth from hers, her breath short from the greatness of your desire. “You can call me Rhaenyra. I feel we've reached the point where such formalities are no longer necessary.”

You chuckle breathily. “Of course, Princess.”

She pinches your chin. “Go sit.” She lets go of you.

Just for the humor, you dip into a curtsy, looking up through your lashes as you do. “Yes, my princess.”

You turn and walk toward the sofa, sitting with your legs pressed together and your hands upon your lap. She watches you for a moment, doing nothing but watching. Your humor is dissipating as you look away, unable to take the heat of her gaze.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare, sweetling?” she asks gently.

You nod. “A bit, yes.”

She takes a step closer. “Do not be nervous. I won't hurt you.”

“I know.”

She moves toward you, and you peek up at her with eyes wide in anticipation. She comes to stand in front of you, standing tall in all her glory and regality. She's ethereal, especially with the way the golden light of the evening is peering in through the windows.

She bends down, her hands on either side of your head as she boxes you in. You lose your breath. You don't think you'll ever be able to stand her being this close to you.

She kisses you. “Spread your legs for me.” You're shy, but you do as she asks. Your thighs inch farther apart as you indulge in the taste of her lips. Her hand cups your throat. Your breath stalls, and then starts again to inhale more of her.

You feel her palm trail down the column of your neck, her fingers tickling your throat. She moves down your front before she's riding the skirt of your dress and apron up your legs. When her hand touches your bare thigh, your hips jerk slightly. She shushes against your lips, moving closer and closer until her hand is cupping the wet of your cunt.

“Gods, you're dripping.” You want to say something, but you can't. Her middle finger sinks between your lips, parting them to make way for her intrusion. You clamp down on her finger, your hips rolling against her hand already.

She strokes inside of you, curling her finger and coaxing you closer. When she adds the second, a slight hum slips from her throat. You reach out, grabbing a hold of her arm.

“A little deeper,” you guide gently, tilting your hips up. When she adjusts, your head spins. “Fuck, Princess, right there.”

She focuses there, hovering over you as she presses her lips to your forehead, to lips, the tip of your nose. “Do you like that?” she huffs.

You nod, holding her arm tighter. “Yes. Yes, my princess.”

She dips her head down to your neck, and you whimper when she nips at your flesh. “You'll have to guide me,” she whispers into your ear.

You're a bit confused as she removes her fingers from you. You stifle your whine, watching with bated breath as this princess, the heir to the Targaryen throne, kneels before you. Her handmaiden. A lowly servant who was meant to stay beneath her.

She eases your leg over your shoulder just as you had done before. She presses her mouth against your thigh, kissing it and licking her lips. She looks you in the eyes, smirking as she brings her fingers to her mouth. She dips them between her lips, and the sigh that parts your lips leaves you breathless. She hums deeply. “I can see why you called it honey.”

You chuckle lightly. When Rhaenyra’s lips wrap around your cunt, you whimper. You're careful in setting your hand at the side of her head, carding your fingers through her hair. You don't grasp her, you don't guide her. You just hold her as you watch her with hooded eyes and parted lips.

She sucks on your folds, flicking her hot tongue along the seam of your cunt and slipping it inside clumsily. Either way, it's nice. It's not often you get attention like this, and from a princess?

“Up a little more, princess.” Your voice is light and high with pleasure. When she does as you say, your sigh is tinted with a whine. “Good. Right there.”

She suckles lightly at your pearl, licking and tasting with a curious intent. Her fingers prod at your pussy again, and you arch your back when she presses two inside.

Rhaenyra is a quick learner. Her pace is steady as she curls her fingers, coaxing them in and out of you with an eagerness that you had displayed before. Her lips and tongue work at your pearl, licking and sucking and making you feel like you'll burst any second.

“Please, don't stop,” you gasp. “You're amazing.”

There's a certain power in having someone desire you, blubbering with pleasure and begging for more. It goes straight to her head. She thrusts her fingers into you as though she wielded her own cock, she laps at your slick like she's been deprived of water for far too long. She huffs and groans, drunk on the taste of you, on the pleasure.

You've never met a woman so eager to please another. When they're not shy about indulging in something so forbidden, they're too used to professionalism to initiate intimacy. Having this kind of desire is hard and it's depriving. If Rhaenyra keeps this up, you'll make the mistake of falling utterly in love with her.

You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet to keep from alerting the knight at the door. The walls are thick, no one should hear you.

“I'm so close,” you whisper, rolling your hips in your haste to come. “Please, my princess, don't stop.”

When she hums, it comes with a desperate sort of sound. Your thighs tremble around her head, trying not to close her in. You become dizzy, your head spins with the weight of her pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut and–

“Princess,” you bring a hand to your mouth, breathing heavily into your palm. Your hips roll and your mind whirls with the sensations of her lips sucking on your pulsing pearl, spurring you on and on. Her finger curls against a deep spot within you that has you seeing stars behind your eyes. “Fuck, Rhaenyra,” you curse, whimpering under your breath and losing composure.

Her hand slips out of you just to grasp your backside, pulling you in and devouring you as you continue to become slick with arousal. Her nose presses into your pearl when her tongue is too busy at your folds. Her warm breath fans over your skin in such a delicious way.

When your trembling has subsided, she eases away from you with a huff. She's got a drunken smile on her lips, her pupils blown wide and your eyes dark with pleasure. “I see why you enjoy that so much.”

You smile, catching your breath as she breaks away from you to crowd your space once more. Your tongue is heavy, and your words are sticky. You look at her like you'll be shattered if you don't hear what you want to hear. “Did I do well, my princess?”

She smiles, raising a hand to stroke your cheek with gentle knuckles. “You are perfect.” The look on your face is devastating. There's a bursting joy in your eyes, a kind of joy that only comes when it's been met with a considerable amount of sorrow.

She tilts your chin up, embracing you in a different kind of kiss. This one is all for you. She kisses you like she wants you to know something that she doesn't know how to say aloud, like she's telling you a secret that only you could ever understand.

She pulls away, still cupping your cheek. You swallow thickly, watching her and taking in every little feature of her face before you're forced to keep your head down once more.

“Will you regret it?” Your voice is so small that she almost misses it. If her nose had not still been brushing yours, she would have. “When I leave, and you've had the night to contemplate… will you regret letting me touch you? Will you regret…touching me?”

She wonders briefly who hurt you. You are such a good woman. You are loyal and eager to please. Not to mention, you are utterly beautiful.

She doesn't know quite how to navigate this. So instead, she sighs as she looks upon your face. Worry and doubt creases every little feature that lies there. She presses a kiss to your forehead, over the crease between your brows.

“No, sweet girl.”

You blink, taking her answer for what it is as you smile. “Okay,” you whisper.

She leans in to kiss you. There's a knock on the door.

Rhaenyra sighs, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips and straightening her back. “A moment.” She holds a hand for you, and you take it as she brings you to stand.

“Finish your work…” She pauses. “Will I see you again soon?”

You smile, nodding gently. “If my princess commands it.”

Her smirk soon follows. “She does.” She knows she's taking too long. “Goodbye, my darling.”

You nod. “Goodbye, my princess.”

You linger too long. You are wasting time. You break away from her, grabbing your tray of dishes, stacking her cold tea on top. When she's sure you're both decent, she sighs.

“Come.”

As the door opens, you give a curtsy. “Princess.”

She nods, but it's such a small movement that you'd question if she'd already forgotten you if you knew she wasn't doing it for appearances.

As you walk down the hall, you glance up when you see Ser Laenor walking toward you. You look up at him, pausing to curtsy.

He looks at you, giving you a smile that makes you nervous as he fully stops. You think you hear him sniff, and then his smile grows into something more mischievous. With a quiet chuckle, he wags his finger at you before turning on his heel to continue to—you assume to be—Rhaenyra’s chambers.

You continue walking, slowly this time as you try to figure out why he would react in such a way. You guide your nose toward your shoulder and almost freeze in place.

Gods be good… You smell like her.

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[astheforcewillsit]

In which the Kaminoans provide a miseducated version of what and who the Jedi are, and the clones realize that at their core, the Jedi are religious monks.

Cultural misunderstands are bound to ensue due to this.

(based of the scene where Obi-wan and Anakin bow to Echo and Fives after they join the 501st)

(original ao3 link)

The first time Obi-Wan bows to Cody, he does so low and Infront of the men. All of the men. It is not a simple incline of his head. It is a slow, low dip.

Ancient practiced movements, just as Qui-Gon had taught him.

They had had saved his life. Again And he is truly grateful. He is still unused to a war like this. His very essence as a Jedi protests his involvement in it.

But he moves only by the will of the Force, and it has brought him to such a moment like this.

Before he completes his gratitude, he is stunned by a collective gasp amongst the men and an arm on his shoulder. The Force tells him it is one of the younger men.

There's a sharp reprimand from Cody, and the arm is off, though the Force is still disturbed

(The touch had not bothered Obi-Wan, in between droids and separatist leaders, it has been the kindest touch he's had all week.

It doesn't bother him, the touch of the clones. He enjoys their presence. Though he can feel the fear palatable through the Force. He hopes that one day they'll be less terrified of him. That they will know him for the human he is. Force knows the damage the Kaminoans have done to the reputation of the Jedi Order.)

Cody steps up as Obi-Wan rises--clearly the action disturbed the peace.

"Sir, I-"

"Clearly I have done something to offend you." He straightens himself, "I apologize."

Cody looks scandalized. This is not going well.

He hesitates. His Commander is still a Labyrinth. He looks at the face of Jango Fett everyday, though he sees none of the darkness clouded in those eyes. With Cody, it's almost fear.

"Sir, there is no need to apologize to us. it's just..."

"it's a sign that we've done wrong and have to ask for forgiveness, usually done by subordinates--cadets to the Kaminoans or the bounty hunters that trained us. When you did that, well...it looked like you thought you did something wrong, that maybe you were asking for forgiveness or was ashamed," another clone (Boil, Obi-Wan reminds himself, the "shiny" who touched him) supplies with some distaste, "doesn't mean the same for you sir?"

Obi-Wan could confuse them, because technically Jedi do bow for forgiveness too. But not in shame, never. He decides to keep it beginner level friendly today.

"I am expressing gratitude. You saved my life," Obi-Wan responds as if it is the most obvious thing, "Though If I have done anything wrong, it has simply been confusing you all. I will not bow if it makes you all comfortable."

His culture is important to him. It his his blood and his soul, but these men are not here with him of their own accord. These men are making sacrifices just by being alive, Obi-Wan could stand to be more like them. Though his heart pulls at the thought of abandoning something so natural to him.

"No sir, that is not necessary," Cody seems to relax in front of him. His anxiety has dissolved into gentle waves in the Force, and instead Obi-Wan senses a small bit of curiosity.

It reverberates through the company.

"Should we..."

"Oh Force no, if bowing has been negative to you please do not do it on my account. And I will alter it," he makes an example, inclining his head just slightly and putting a hand to his chest, praying he doesn't offend, "I am grateful to you all, and I endeavor to show it."

"Only what you're comfortable with, your culture is sacred to you, I know this," he adds, "and if you never tell me anything, I will be okay with that."

"Can you...can we learn more. The kaminoans didn't tell us you did that, they didn't tell us you were...priest--"

"Monks," Obi-wan corrects and smiles at the clone who asked, Waxer the Force tells him, "And I will till you all you want to know about the Jedi, if you feel comfortable telling me about who you are."

There's reluctance in the Force. They may not be Mandalorians, but they carry the secrecy of their beliefs with them. He doesn't blame them. They have so little that belongs to them, the clones. Why give what scarcity they own away to the man who they were handed to on a silver platter.

The Force radiates skepticism, but also trust.

Good, the gap is slowly bridging.

[navybrat817]

How does Bucky handle you being sick? 🥺

I may have gone overboard, nonnie. 😂

Sick Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you get a cold. He also takes care of the guy who may have given you a cold.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, reader has a cold, implied smut, interrogation, Bucky Barnes being a ridiculously wonderful boyfriend in love (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I don't know where this came from. Maybe a bit of inspiration from @inklore here. 😂❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When you had a hard time getting out of bed this morning due to a cold you caught at work, you tried to brush it off. Bucky immediately called in to take a personal day and said he had to take care of you, which forced you to take a sick day as well. It was for the best. You had a tendency to push yourself past your limit some days and he kept you in check.

You snatched a tissue out of the box beside you just in time to sneeze into it. With a pained groan, you scrunched up your face and dropped the tissue into the small pile in your lap. It took you a moment to sip your water, followed by your herbal tea. Though your throat was sore, you had to stay hydrated. You also had to get some rest.

Bucky wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“I hate this,” you mumbled to yourself before your boyfriend rushed into the living room to check on you, his piercing eyes searching the room as if to assess a threat.

“I heard you talking, baby. You need to rest your voice,” he said, adjusting the humidifier he set on the coffee table before his concerned gaze snapped back to you. “Wait. Do you need something? Do you not have enough blankets? I can get you more tea. Or I can put something on TV. Shit, where’s the writing pad?”

You tried not to smile as the massive shirtless supersoldier bustled around the room. He hadn’t seen you under the weather since the two of you started dating and you should’ve known he’d make a big deal out of it. Whether it had to do with growing up with Steve who dealt with all sorts of ailments or simply because it was his girlfriend feeling less than stellar, you weren’t sure. Either way, it was endearing to see the former Winter Soldier worked up over you.

He had nothing to worry about though.

“I’m fine,” you croaked before you went into a coughing fit.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he crouched beside you and brought the water back to your lips once you had yourself under control. His brows furrowed when he checked your forehead with his right hand, which made you fall in love with him a little more. You tried to tell him earlier to keep his distance so he didn’t get sick before he gently reminded you that he wasn’t exactly prone to catching colds thanks to the serum.

A silver lining from the pain he had to go through.

“You’re not fine. You’re sick. Well, you’re still 'fine',” he smiled a little, making your heart swell. “I used that in the right context, didn’t I?”

You almost went into another coughing fit as you giggled, the sound huskier and deeper than normal. “Only you would think I’m fine when I’m like this,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his silky chestnut hair. He hadn’t brushed it today. Too busy taking care of you. “And I’m not ‘sick’ sick. it’s just a cold.”

“It isn’t just a cold. Not to me,” he said, his jaw clenching as his vibranium fingers curled.

“I’ll be better before you know it,” you assured him, raising an eyebrow as his cheek twitched. “What’s the matter?”

Why is he getting himself worked up?

“I just don’t like you feeling any kind of pain,” he said, leaning up so he could press his lips to your forehead. He huffed as they lingered there. “I wish I could take it away and I can’t.”

It was a sweet sentiment, especially after everything he went through.

“I know you would if you could and it’s okay that you can’t,” you said. You understood where he was coming from though because you didn’t like the idea of him in pain either. He had a heart almost as large as his body and you were lucky to get a single ounce of his love. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“You’re my girl and it's impossible not to worry,” he said, a touch of possession and tenderness seeping into his tone. Belonging to him was as natural as breathing. “But I'll try to relax a bit.”

“As long as you try,” you said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

Your head tingled from his lips before you frowned. This close, you could usually get a whiff of his woodsy cologne. Your eyes welled up when you inhaled again and couldn’t smell him, doing your best to blink the tears away so he wouldn't catch them. It was silly that you suddenly missed the comfort of that smell because your nose was acting up.

He didn’t need your tears on top of that.

But, of course, he caught your sad sniffle, which sounded slightly different from your cold sniffle. His body stiffened, like a cobra ready to strike. “Tell me what’s wrong, even if I can’t physically fix it.”

God, I love this man.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I really miss the smell of your cologne,” you told him, your gaze probably nothing short of pathetic as you tilted your head to see his handsome face.

Your breath caught when he looked back at you and brushed a tear away with his thumb. There was nothing but love and adoration in those brilliant eyes of his. It made you feel lighter.

“That’s far from ridiculous because I smell amazing,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours to bring a smile to your face. “How about I spray the blankets after you take a nap and I make you some soup? That way my scent will be there even if you can't smell it.”

Tears clogged your throat as you gave him a nod, committing the moment to memory. You were used to going it alone before he came into your life. He couldn’t take the pain away, but he could make you feel better in ways that mattered to you. That likely comforted him just as much as it soothed you.

“That would be great,” you said, yawning a bit. “Can we watch a movie after my nap?”

“We'll watch whatever you want.”

You pulled him close so he could join you on the couch, knowing that his muscular and warm frame against yours would feel just as comforting and safe as the blanket that covered you. And he relaxed and quickly accepted your wordless invitation to wrap his arms around you, keeping you in his loving embrace. It was home and always would be.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, closing your eyes as you nuzzled your head against his bare chest. “I love you.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” he promised, his vibranium hand moving in slow circles along your back as you began to drift off. “I love you, too.”

You let out a happy moan before you said one more thing. “And hunt down the person who gave me this cold, okay?”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see the determination written all over his face. “You got it, baby.”

You were right as rain and back to work a couple of days later, thanks to Bucky caring for you and some much needed rest. Not even an hour into your shift though, Steve requested for you to meet him in the second lower level. You didn't hide your surprise as that was usually reserved for interrogations.

Which was exactly why he called you down there.

“What's going on?” You asked as you walked into the viewing room. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Tony all looked your way, but didn't give you any sort of response. “Seriously, what's up?”

“You don't know?” Natasha responded, nodding toward the glass.

You followed her gaze with a gasp as you saw Bucky tower over some blonde male agent in the cell. Your boyfriend was almost unrecognizable with his face devoid of any emotion, dominant and on the edge of terrifying. It was a far cry from the loving side you were privy to, yet you loved this side of him just the same.

“Buck dragged John down here a few minutes ago,” Steve explained in a quiet voice as he punched the bridge of his nose. “Said something about him hurting you.”

You tilted your head as you looked at John, recognizing him after a second due to his punchable face. “Him? No. He didn't hurt me. He just bumped into me the other day in the break room,” you explained. Which wasn't that big of a deal to you, but probably offensive to Bucky. “But he didn't apologize.”

He also had a cold.

Oh, no.

“So, you had nothing to do with this?” Sam asked, chuckling as you lifted your chin.

“No, I didn't,” you replied as you bit your lip. “At least, I don't think I had anything to do with this.”

Your heart raced faster when Bucky pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and gripped John by the collar, the veins in his right arm popping out. You wished you could lick them. Maybe later.

“I know it was you, you piece of shit,” he said, roughly shoving the agent back into his chair. “You got my girl sick.”

Oh, Bucky.

You stared straight ahead as you felt the group collectively look your way, refusing to react under their stares. “Before any of you say another word, this is definitely not my fault,” you stated.

“Of course it isn't,” Natasha smirked. She knew Bucky loved to play the hero on your behalf even though you could take care of yourself. “Just enjoy the show.”

Your mouth fell open as your boyfriend slammed his left fist on the table, leaving a sizable dent as John nearly fell backwards in his chair. This guy was an agent? He was either new to interrogations or simply scared shitless of the former assassin.

Maybe both.

But you ignored him as you shifted your attention back to your beefy, perfect boyfriend.

When you had mumbled for him to find the person who gave you the cold, you didn’t think he’d actually do it. You weren’t sure how he narrowed down to John, but the former assassin was resourceful and you should've known he'd take you seriously. And, fuck, if it wasn’t slightly mortifying on your behalf and hot as hell watching him in action.

“That cold you gave her made her cry. You made my girl cry. Do you know what I do to guys like you who make my girl cry?” Bucky said through his teeth, bringing his fist down on the table again as John flinched and you smiled. With all the strength he possessed, you never had to worry that he'd hurt you. But you couldn't say the same for the frightened agent. “You're about to find out.”

You didn't think you could love Bucky more after he helped you get over your cold, but he proved you wrong.

And you could now add Bucky threatening people to your list of things that made you dreamily sigh and tingle between your thighs.

“Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry! All I did was bump into her. It was an accident!” John shouted, putting his hands up in surrender and trembling when Bucky stood to his full height and cracked his neck. Your boyfriend waited a beat before he grabbed one of his hands and began to twist, making the agent pale as you bit back a whimper. “Fuck, stop! I won’t even breathe around her again. I’ll hold my breath! Just let me go!”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Tony asked you, taking out his phone to type a quick message as you hummed. Maybe you were enjoying it. How many guys went out of their way to scare someone who possibly gave you a cold? “Does the Manchurian Candidate know how much I’ll have to pay to keep this guy from suing him?”

“We can tell him it was a prank?” Steve suggested, bringing another laugh out of Sam as Natasha shook her head.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he flung the hand away, his hair falling in his eyes as you held your breath. He looked like a wild animal, untamed and stunning. “I should choke you. Make you see how long you can really hold your breath before you pass out,” he snarled as John rubbed his sore skin.

Steve snuck a glance at you, his cheeks a little pink when you put a hand to your throat. “I don't want to overstep because you're my best friend's girl, but you do know you just moaned, right?” He whispered low enough for only you to hear.

Oops.

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, putting your warm face in your hands to hide your embarrassment for a moment. “Is anyone going to stop him?!”

“Why haven’t you stopped him?” Natasha countered knowingly.

Because I’m too busy thinking of how I’m going to suck his dick so good later that I'll make him see God.

You took a breath as the ache between your legs got stronger and pressed the button beside the glass. “Bucky?”

He swung his head toward the glass and met your gaze even though he couldn’t see you. No matter what, he’d always be able to spot you. “Hey, baby. I found the prick who gave you a cold. Want me to beat the shit out of him?” he bragged as John paled.

“I love you,” you giggled from how sweet and ridiculous he was. “And no. I appreciate you defending me, but I think you can let him go.”

Tony playfully rolled his eyes when Bucky grinned. “Your crazy matches his crazy.”

True.

“Okay. I love you, too,” Bucky said in a light tone, his smile falling the second he looked back at John and smacked the table against the wall with a clang. The agent looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Next time you see my girl, apologize and walk away. And the next time you have a cold, stay the fuck home or you'll answer to me.”

Yeah. I’m going to suck the soul from his body to thank him for everything the moment we get home.

And maybe the two of you could take another sick day to spend the day in bed.

Totally normal boyfriend, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[runnning-outof-time]

Up Until You | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: In which Tommy Shelby realizes that he might just have someone he wants to live for.

Warnings: smoking, slight season 2 spoilers

Word Count: 3698

A/N: boy does it feel good to post a story again! I hope there won’t be as big a gap between this and my next one … I promise I’m getting these requests written! Anon, I hope this is as angsty as you were hoping….the prompt you sent is bolded. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: I almost forgot! I wanted to give a shoutout to the lovely Mars @toms-cherry-trees for helping me so much in the planning process of this fic…I don’t think it would have gotten finished if it weren’t for you!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged!

(Y/N) sent Ada Shelby a look that asked 'where is he?' the second the latter opened the door. Ada answered with a head nod to the left, which conveyed the answer of 'he's in there'. A glance over the Shelby woman's shoulder confirmed it - Tommy was sitting at the table in the front room. His back was to the door, so he hadn't noticed that she arrived...yet.

She sent Ada an appreciative smile before she quietly walked into the room, hoping that Tommy wouldn't hear her footsteps. He seemed to be too engrossed in his writing for that to happen though. She stood there for a few moments, carefully peering over his shoulder as he finished the sentence he was writing.

He paused then, and it gave (Y/N) the ability to read the sentence he'd just written:

In the event of my own death, I want the following facts to be known...

Reading those words made her mind go blank. "You're actually going through with it?" she asked without thinking.

The sudden sound of someone's voice made Tommy quickly turn in his chair. He was already on edge with the day's events taking up his mind, so this unexpected visitor had caught him completely off guard. It took a few moments for it to register that (Y/N) was standing in front of him. When it did, he cursed under his breath before letting out a huff.

"When'd you get here, eh?" he asked, his eyebrows raised as he placed his hands on his thighs.

"Just now. I couldn't find you at home. The guys hadn't left for the derby though, so I figured you'd be here," she explained her reasoning. "You don't have to go through with this, Tommy," she then circled back, not letting him switch topics.

"I have to," his response cut right to the point. He didn't have time to get into a discussion about it.

"What about the other options you've shared with me? The options that don't include you having to come face to face with this man in order to get the job done," she reminded him of the talks they've had in the past, hoping that doing so would get him to change his mind.

"There's no time for those other options, (Y/N). The derby's today. The plan's been laid out," he wasn't biting.

Silence hung in the air as they stared at each other. (Y/N) was hoping that he'd change his mind. She waited on bated breath, waiting for him to announce that to her. But he stayed silent.

She couldn't wait any longer. "So that's it then?" she asked, incredulousness present in her voice. The fact that he wasn't even trying to entertain a conversation about this was breaking her heart. "You're just going to write your note and practically seal your death with it? And what'll that mean for me?" she was unable to stop herself from getting choked up as she uttered her final question. She didn't want to think about her life without him, but it was staring her dead in the face at the moment.

"The note's just precautionary, love," he attempted to assure her. Her expression didn't change, her brow was now furrowed and it was noticeable that she was biting on her bottom lip; most likely to stop her tears. Tommy finally stood then, coming face to face with her in hopes that his proximity would wash some of her worry away. "I'll be fine," he added in a low voice, blindly searching for her hands so that he could hold them.

"You can't promise that," she responded, her voice coming out as a shaky whisper. It was taking everything she had not to burst out into tears in this moment. She'd always associated his closeness with safety...whenever Tommy was close, (Y/N) knew she could never get hurt. But now his closeness was making her hurt even more.

"It'll be fine," he repeated, squeezing her hands.

"It's really been decided?" she still couldn't accept it.

"It has," he nodded.

(Y/N) sighed at his confirmation. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she pulled her hands from his grasp. She then wrapped her arms tightly around her frame as she turned and took a few steps towards the windows.

"(Y/N)." Her name left Tommy's lips as a breath. He knew he was fighting a losing battle here. "Come on, love. Look at me," he gently coaxed her. She stood still. "It'll be fine," he tried once more to assure her.

That set her off. She whipped around within a second of hearing his statement. There was now a fire burning in her watery eyes. "Do not say those three words again," she snapped at him, "do not continue to try and reassure me with things that you cannot guarantee will happen. You know how dangerous this plan is, Thomas. Please don't try and act like It isn't. You wouldn't be sat here writing a note for someone to find in the event of your death if you didn't think that there was a possibility of it happening," she spoke her mind, letting her emotions go free as all of the pent up worry flowed out.

"(Y/N)," he spoke her name again, in a different tone this time. He didn't need this lecture. Not right now. "This is what needs to be done," he continued in a low voice, staying stoic in hopes that it would alleviate the situation quicker.

But (Y/N) no longer cared about what he did or didn't need at that moment, and if anything, his statement just made her even more upset.

"It doesn't need to be done like this," she insisted, "you don't need to sign your life away for a contract...for a man who doesn't give a single care about the stakes that have been raised here so long as he isn't the one carrying out the deed. Any other person would be trying to find a way to take themselves out of the equation but you've decided to put yourself in the driver's seat."

(Y/N) felt like she was talking in circles. Hell, she probably was, but she was doing so in hopes that something would be set off inside of him. She wanted him to realize that there was still time to think up another plan; one that didn't include him being placed in harm's way.

"What is it that you want from all of this?" he asked her, his brows furrowed together.

"You, Tommy!" she exclaimed, her frustration shining clear through her words. "I want you to fight! I want you to realize that things don't need to play out this way; that you can still put another plan into play!" she paused, taking a deep breath as she swiped at the tears that had escaped her eyes. "I want you to come home when all of this is finished," her voice was level again as she spoke the final sentence. Her eyes were locked onto his, hoping that he'd realize how much this was affecting her.

Their eyes stayed locked and a few moments passed before Tommy looked down at the ground. He exhaled a sigh as he brought his hand up to the back of his neck. "It's already done," he said, his voice void of any tone.

"Then I guess I'm done," the words left (Y/N)'s mouth before she could stop them. She didn't take them back though. She was tired of fighting in a one-sided fight. It was so obvious that Tommy had his mind made up. Nothing was going to change it at this point. But yet she still held onto that sliver of hope. She hoped that her showing up today and speaking her piece would get him to change his mind.

"(Y/N)..." Tommy looked up again as her name fell from his lips, shock now present in his expression.

"I can't be here a moment longer. I can't stand in front of a man who is acting as if he's already dead. I need to leave."

Her words were spoken softly, but Tommy heard them loud and clear. He said nothing as she moved to the archway, expecting her to leave without another word. To his surprise, she turned around just before she was about to exit the room.

"I didn't believe that love existed until you came along, Tommy. But you showed me how wrong I was for thinking that way; for thinking that I'd never experience something like that. And now you've just decided not only your future, but mine as well. I can't stay here and watch it play out. I'm not sure if I'll be home when you return. I just..." (Y/N) stopped speaking as the words got caught in her throat. She let out a shaky breath, tears welling up in her eyes once more.

All words escaped her at that moment, and she shook her head instead, deciding that finishing her declaration would be a lost cause anyway. She couldn't even bear to look at him again, too afraid that she'd actually break down. So instead she turned and made her way to the door of the home, opening it and leaving without looking back.

The sun was now shining down on her. It was an absolutely lovely day in London, but yet she was having one of the worst in her life. She decided to go for a walk, revisiting the streets that still felt like home even though she'd made the move to Birmingham several months ago.

(Y/N) knew Ada Shelby before she knew Tommy. She'd met her when Ada had moved into the next door apartment with her adorable son, Karl. The two women quickly became friends, spending a lot of time together right up until the day Ada had been found and hurt for being a Shelby.

Contact stopped briefly as Ada had moved out of the apartment, but things continued like nothing had even happened when Ada sent (Y/N) a letter that contained her new address. The two frequently spent time together in the front room of the lovely new home, sipping tea and talking about the day's events in front of the fire.

Ada's house was where (Y/N) first met Tommy. Surprise riddled their first encounter. Ada had stepped away to tend to Karl when Tommy came knocking on the door. (Y/N), being the friend that she was, didn't hesitate in opening it. The sight she was greeted with took her breath away. Thankfully Ada had returned from Karl's room, or who knows how long the two would have been standing in the doorway, staring at each other. She even joked about the fact that they couldn't seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Of course it didn't help that Tommy had forgotten what it was he was even there for for the first few minutes of his visit.

That wasn't the last time (Y/N) saw Tommy. The two became very close very quickly. It was like they had known each other forever; like there was this pull present between them that neither could ignore. Things also got serious pretty quickly. So serious that (Y/N) was packing up her things and leaving her London apartment for Small Heath after only six months of knowing Tommy.

Some might think it was crazy; that things were moving much too fast. But (Y/N) had never felt so sure of doing something in her life.

Which made what was happening now hurt so much more. But she needed to keep walking. She'd done the right thing.

Tommy placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a match before taking a deep drag from it and exhaling slowly. The sealed letter sat on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a few moments before pressing the thumb and index fingers of his free hand against his eyelids, hoping it would alleviate some of the pressure he'd been feeling.

"I made you up some tea," Ada's voice broke through the silence, and the sound of glass being set on the table he was working at made Tommy lift his head again.

He nodded as a thank you before bringing the cigarette back up to his lips again. He then stamped it out in the ashtray while exhaling the smoke slowly.

"I heard everything that was said, you know," she said then, moving over to one of the chairs so that she could sit. "What were you thinking, Tommy?" she asked with raised eyebrows, her eyes zeroed in on her brother.

Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked off to the far wall. He didn't need anymore of this right now.

"She was my friend first. She was the only person who cared about me when I moved here. She helped me through a lot. I'm not going to let you ruin her for your stupid ambitions," Ada had no problem speaking her mind and letting him know how wrong he was for responding to (Y/N) the way he did.

Tommy pulled the timepiece from his pocket and checked it before letting out a sigh and returning it back to its place. "I need to leave," he told Ada before lifting the cup and downing the beverage in one go. In hindsight he was thankful that it wasn’t scorching hot. "Thanks for the tea," he said to her as he set the empty cup back down.

Nothing more was said as Tommy stood from the chair he was sitting on. He looked to Ada as he pulled the jacket he'd been wearing back on over his shoulders. She was glaring at him, hoping that he'd have something - anything - more to add to the conversation.

It became apparent that he didn't when he started for the archway. So Ada left him with one last statement: "please don't let her go, Tommy. We all need her." There was a quiet desperation now present in her eyes, one Tommy wasn't sure what to say in response to.

So he nodded and turned to exit the home, heading right to the car he parked a few streets down.

Truthfully what he wanted to do right now was head back to Birmingham and stop (Y/N) from leaving, to tell her that she was more important than any plan he could ever put into place. He knew she was justified in saying everything that she had.

But it was too late to do that now. Tommy knew that there'd be men searching for him by the end of the day if he stepped away from the plan this late into it. At least now he had some sort of control over the outcome of his life. And he was going to try like hell to stay alive...because now he had someone to stay alive for.

The house on Watery Lane was quiet when Tommy stepped into it later that evening. The fire in the main room was still lit, but he couldn't quite remember if they'd put enough wood on to keep it going prior to leaving that morning. So judging (Y/N)'s presence based on that could have surely given false hope.

He took his overcoat off and hung it on one of the hooks by the door. The suit jacket followed after, and he draped that over one of the chairs in the sitting room as he walked through it.

No one was downstairs, but he hadn't expected anyone to be at this time of night.

He quietly walked up the steps and down the hall to the bedroom that he and (Y/N) shared. He paused at the closed door, taking a moment both to steady himself; to regroup from the day's events, and to prepare himself for the possibility that he may be opening the door to an empty room.

After inhaling and exhaling deeply, he turned the knob and opened the door. The first thing he noticed was the lit candle on the bedside table. Seeing it made all of his worries dissipate. (Y/N) had a habit of lighting them and then falling asleep.

Looking slightly to the right, he found the woman that hadn't left his mind since she left him in Ada's sitting room. She was laying on her side, facing the wall, telling him that she was sleeping.

Slowly, quietly he began ridding himself of his outer layers. It wasn't until he moved over to the dresser that he noticed the bags sitting on the floor. They were packed. It was easy to see that, even in the candlelight. He looked back to (Y/N) then, putting the pieces together in his mind. She was going to leave...but something made her stay.

Now only wearing his undergarments, he made his way over to the bed. Hesitation overcame him again. Should he lay with her? Should he go back downstairs? She was in her spot, tucked up against the wall so that enough room was present for him on the small bed they shared.

A few moments passed before he made his decision, lifting the covers and slowly slipping underneath them. He laid on his back for a short time before turning onto his side so that he was facing her sleeping frame. Another bout of hesitation filled him, but he didn't let it stick for too long as he gently draped his arm over her midsection.

That was when (Y/N) let out the shaky breath she'd been holding in from the moment she heard the door open. She was awake the entire time.

"Are you still awake, love?" Tommy asked in a whisper.

"Yes," she breathed out, her voice wavering.

"You've been crying," he pointed out, able to read her like an open book.

"I didn't know if I'd see you again," she answered him, choking up as she spoke.

"I'm here," he assured her, his arm wrapping tighter around her body.

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Instead tears fell from her eyes as she held her breath, trying not to make it noticeable that she was crying. But Tommy was able to feel how her body was shaking.

"Turn and look at me," he said quietly, a soft demand that took her a few moments to comply with. Her tear-stained face became visible in the candlelight when she did, and seeing it broke Tommy's heart. "C'mere," he breathed, allowing her to move even closer to him so that he could engulf her in his embrace.

"No one knew where you were, Tommy," she whispered once she was finally able to get words out again. "I thought..." she paused, not even wanting to say what she was thinking, "I thought the worst."

"I'm sorry you had to think that way, darlin'," he murmured, stroking the back of her head slowly. He held her close until her body stopped shaking, giving her the time she needed. He didn't speak until she lifted her head from the crook of his neck. "Better?" he asked in a whisper, peering down to see that her eyes were still closed.

"Slightly," she breathed out a response. "I'm relieved that you're home. Is..." she paused, seeming like she was looking for the words to say next, "is it finished?"

"It's finished," he answered in a definitive tone, nodding his head as best he could.

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath upon hearing his response, feeling as if the rest of the weight had lifted from her chest. She slowly opened her eyes and looked right into his. "I was going to leave," she started, watching Tommy's brows furrow together in the candlelight, "but I realized that this is part of the life I chose with you. That this is the type of work you carry out, and that I can either fight you on it or support you the best that I could. I also realized that my desire to be with you is so much greater than the worry that your work creates." Her eyes didn't stray from his as she spoke. Watching his hardened blue irises soften as he took in her words was enough to fill her heart to the brim with love.

Tommy took a moment to soak in her words. He moved his hand from behind her head so that he could gently trace the line of her jaw with his thumb. Taking in a deep breath, he knew what he had to do. Searching her eyes for a few seconds longer, he thought of the words he wanted to say.

"I thought I could lose everything and be totally fine with it," he began, clearing his throat in hopes that she wouldn't notice the fact that his voice was breaking. She noticed. "But then you came along...and now I see how wrong I was."

"Tommy," she breathed, taken back by his admission.

"I had nothing to live for up until you, (Y/N)," he admitted, not holding anything back now, "and I promise you now that things will change... that there’ll be no more of these plans. I don't want to have the possibility of an outcome that doesn't include you in it."

(Y/N)'s mind was swirling. It had been a rollercoaster of a day, she still couldn't quite believe the change of events that had happened. But she was so very thankful that things had ended up with Tommy by her side again.

"I love you, Tommy," she whispered, a smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he repeated the phrase, his expression mirroring hers as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Now that he had her again, he knew that he could never let her go. What he'd told Michael earlier in the evening would soon be true: he was going to ask (Y/N) to marry him.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

[aereasrage]

The Favorite.

summary: Alicent has always loved her youngest daughter most. Too much, perhaps. — This is intended to focus on the relationship between Alicent and daughter!reader but will eventually dive into some Jace x reader (maybe some Baela x reader too idk yet) and platonic!yan green family in the following parts.

cw: codependent mother-daughter relationship, mentions of childbirth, pregnancy, alicent is on some weird shit about her favorite child, platonic!yan!alicent

notes: reader is said to resemble alicent, as in her hair and eye color.

word count: 2.7k

When Queen Alicent ended her labors, exhausted, delirious and filled with an anticipatory dread she’d come to know was unavoidable; she heard the maester say, “a healthy princess, my queen.” She had grimaced then as the child’s cries filled the air but the babe was pushed into her limp arms which almost refused her. There, laid upon her breast, was her daughter…with features so like hers. It felt unreal, she had been prepared to bear another princeling with a smattering of fuzzy silver hair to form his crown. To remind her of whom their sire was. But as you laid against her, cooing irritably at the noise in the room and squinting at her with those eyes she knew so well, she fell in love. Weakly, in her milk of the poppy haze, she thought on the moments of her pregnancy where she’d felt so uncomfortable, so ready for the babe to leave and return her body to her. It could be said that in that moment it was the rush of hormones and the dregs of milk of the poppy still ravaging her system but suddenly, regretted those feelings sorely. No, she should have cherished the time when you were safely tucked away for herself. When you were more hers than you’d ever be again.

She held onto that for years. The ache of separateness she’d never felt for any one of her children before. The love for her other children had always come so late in comparison. With you, it was so easy.

Until it wasn’t so. You hadn’t yet flowered but you’d grown so fast. The ache intensified, the stirring need to have you back where you belonged, closer to her heart — very nearly killed her every time she saw you. Even so, she would still rather be with you than your siblings. She couldn’t be with you as much as she had when you were but a babe and she could take you anywhere in her arms without scrutiny. She was preoccupied with the needs and antics of your elder siblings who always seemed to be in need of something they could not or otherwise would not give themselves. It was exhausting. The ache was a reprieve in itself from the monumental exhaustion of dealing with your, though beloved to be sure, very high maintenance siblings. It was pleasant. Everything about being a mother was as tender as a wound, it could never be wholly pleasant. But there was something so addictive in it when it was you. She never felt so close to the Mother as when she held you.

In your chambers just after you’ve bathed and dressed in your nightgown, she arrived at the side of your bed to kiss your forehead gently, a gesture reserved for you. “Tell me what you’ve learned from your Septa today,” she softly instructed, stroking your hair. It has gotten so long, so soft and so lovely to twirl about her fingers. It’s a habit she developed. “Did you practice your letters?”

You nodded, looking up at her. “Yes, she says I’ve gotten much better.”

“Good job,” she praised, a soft smile on her lips. “Perhaps I don't have to read to you nearly as much now.” A lie. She'd read to you until the end of the world, even if you no longer needed her to, so long as she can be near you. Her eyes slipped shut momentarily, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as her hands continued to stroke your hair in a lulling rhythm.

You pouted slightly, in a way she might've reprimanded you for, had you been your elder sister. "But I like you reading to me."

You feel her arms wrap around you, folding you into her embrace, unable to resist. “Would you like me to read now?” she murmurs, kissing the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your freshly washed, still slightly dampened hair.

"Yes, please." So pleasing and charming you were when you said it. Oh, she could hardly get your siblings to simply mutter the words meaninglessly!

"Very well," she said softly, but the warmth in her voice made it more than a simple 'yes', her other children would never know she could offer anything but a resigned, "here" that came with an exasperated sigh. She settled in next to you.

"What shall it be tonight?" She asked, her thumb stroking your cheek, her voice holding a level of patience that could only come from the love she has for you. "The Seven Pointed Star?" You hummed your assent.

She opened the tome, her eyes scanning the words for a moment before she begins.

"The Seven Who Are One…" Your mother's voice sung out in a soft lilt, the words soft, the pace measured and gentle. As she speaks you feel yourself relaxing, and falling deeper into her embrace. You could lose yourself with her. Your eyes closed as she read on. Her words fell into a rhythm and her voice carries a soothing tune. You feel drawn inward. The world is just you and your mother.

Alas, she’d had to leave you after you fell asleep, to check on her other, more tumultuous children. It was a mournful fact that because you were her youngest and regardless of being her most beloved, she was still forced to give less of her time to you. But she returned before you woke and when you opened your eyes, your mother was there sitting beside you in your bed. “Good morning, sweetling.” she said, and she snuggled you in her arms, just holding you. She gazed at you, studying your face. “You slept for a while, it is already late morning, I wasn’t sure if you would wake.”

“Good morning.” You rubbed at your tired eyes. “I slept deeply, I suppose…” you muttered.

Alicent knew this. Of course she did, she was watching you for a while. “You've always slept heavily. Even as a babe, you would fall sound asleep with just a bit of rocking.” A small smile curled at her lips, her voice soft and motherly. “I used to worry that you’d never awaken, when you were a babe. I could never tell the difference between your sleeping and your death.”

That earned her a small, dreamy smile from your lips. “You were fussing over me even then?”

Her ensuing laughter was rich, and her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Oh, my sweetling, of course I was.” Her tone grew more serious then, and she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I worried for you every single day.”

“You worry now.”

“I know. And I know you think me foolish, but I do.” Her voice held the weight of her heart, the weight of years of anxiety. She strokes your hair, her hands gentle as they run through your locks. “I know you're nearly a woman grown, but I cannot help it. You are my daughter, my youngest. My little one.”

“I would not wish to leave your side,” you tried to assure her.

She sighed. “I would be wroth to see you ever leave my side. I cannot stomach it.” She kisses the top of your head. “I don’t know how I will do it if you are wed outside of our house. I feel my heart break just thinking of it.”

“Mine as well.” It was true, you truly could not imagine being away from your mother’s side. You did not particularly desire either of your silly elder brothers but the idea of marrying them held a certain comfort as it meant you’d get to stay with your mother. You were certain to die if you had to leave her behind.

“They tell me not to dote upon you, and to prepare you for life. But I can only see you as my child. I suppose I will forever.” She looked at you with a somewhat haunted expression, and her hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I enjoy you doting on me. Your company is a comfort.”

"I am glad," she smiled, her fingers threading through your hair. "When I'm not around, I worry that the world will be harsh to you, that it will swallow you whole and break you. I did not have…my mother with me when I left my home for good. But you have me. You are mine, and I wish to keep you safe."

She bit her lip before continuing. “I would have kept you in my womb until we turned to dust, would that I could. I know it is foolish but I miss it terribly. There we had nothing to fear. I protected you from the outside. You lived in a realm of safety, of comfort. No one could ever touch you there. No one could ever hurt you."

The concept intrigued you. The life you led, of scrutiny and pending obligation, could leave you feeling so exposed, a wound open to the air. “The world is much too loud now that I’m in it. I do miss being so close to you.” You obviously couldn't remember, not like she did, but you could imagine. You could imagine yourself curled into her, held by her, never needing anything but that...and the thought was an enticing one.

“I miss it more,” Alicent whispers. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know it is foolish of me, but when I see a woman with a child in her belly, I cannot help but be reminded of you, I cannot help but envy her.” Her voice was sullen, her gazed fixed on you. “I miss those kicks against my womb, and I miss the way you would curl into yourself. I wish I could bring us back.” Revising history is something the queen has gotten quite good at doing, she cannot recall— or at least won’t admit to, those same feelings of helplessness, lethargy and slight dissociation that had returned with each pregnancy. All of it has been replaced, memories tinged in the feeling of yearning she carries now.

“It would be just us two,” you whispered, your chest tightening slightly with an unfortunate longing to return to her.

"Forever. That would have been a very good life, my sweetling. A peaceful one." A tear trickled down her cheek, this time, though, she did not even try to wipe it away. You reached out to wipe her tear away, delicately with your thumb and the gesture was so soft, she thinks. Softer than any touch she had ever felt. It overwhelmed her to the point of trembling.

“Thank you.” Her voice was slightly raspy. You are truly beautiful to her in the candlelight, and even though you are a girl almost grown, she still sees you as the babe you were when you were first pushed into her arms, so many nights ago. “You have a very soft touch."

“Of course, I learned from you,” you said easily and Alicent had to look closely at your expression to be certain you aren’t just being jovial at her expense. But she was relieved and vaguely ashamed to find that you are entirely sincere without a hint of irony in all of your being.

She was speechless for a moment. Alicent was no longer gentle, she didn’t think she had that in her anymore. Her whole being felt sharp, ready to bleed. Even with her own children, she was seldom the mother she’d have imagined herself to be before she was married, especially with Aegon who she so struggled to even want to be gentle with. She’d forgotten that all the gentleness she possessed was not lost but had simply been redirected into you. It shamed her, it relieved her.

She decided that it was true, even if later she’d be deep her self loathing and rebuke the notion. For now, your softness was owed to the kind of mother she’d been to you. “That is true.” She laughed softly, feeling the high of your praise overwhelm her wariness. Her hands returned to playing in your hair, wafting the scent of soap and the warm musk of your skin toward her. Oh, that scent…When she come to visit your chambers just after you left them, she’d smell your pillows, your sheets, unable to help herself. It always unlocked some beastly sort of satisfaction inside her. She had even saved a little gown of yours from when you were a babe, unwilling to part with the scent of your skin. Back then, she’d attributed it to you being so young, to the bodily mysteries of a mother still fresh from labor but it had lingered. “You have such a sweet smell, my girl. I have always loved your scent.”

“I know. My handmaid told me you used to smell me a lot when I was a babe.”

So her strangeness had not gone unnoticed. “That I did. The smell of your sweet skin…” You could tell she got lost in a memory for a bit, and her face grew nostalgic. “I loved your scent so much. There was nothing like it.”

“Every day, I would smell your skin. I would kiss your cheeks and your little fingers…” Her words trailed off as she smiled, remembering. “You still have the same scent now. I would know it anywhere.”

“You were enamored with me,” you said, grinning as you stretched out in bed like a lazy cat.

She laughed softly. “I really was. You were a beautiful babe, so perfect and delicate in my eyes. I never wanted to let you out of my sight.” She remembered her father admonishing her for refusing to leave you with the maids, her near in tears trying to make him understand that this was different and him simply not willing to understand how the love of a fourth child, a girl, could have driven his daughter so utterly mad.

“I know. Grandsire says you took me everywhere with you.”

“That I did,” she confirmed, sighing softly. “I did not want anyone else to hold you.”

“Why not?” You had yet to truly address the severity of your mother’s preoccupation with you. To you, it was only love. You could not understand its implications or its logic.

“Because I did not trust anyone else with you.” She whispered. “I could not bear the thought of even leaving you with a maid, not for long anyway. You are my child, and I did not want anyone but me to care for you or see to your needs.”

“Oh, but it must have been such work!”

“All children are work, a lot of it,” she insisted. “But you were— you are a good kind of work. You gave me something to focus on besides all my other obligations. You were my little princess, always with me, and always wanting my attention. It was tiring, but I would not have had it any other way.” You made her feel the kind of love her first chance at motherhood should have brought her. You made her feel like a mother in the way the gods intended.

“That is very sweet.” It was more than sweet. It warmed your heart to hear from your mother that the work she has put into raising you, into keeping you — she saw it all as worth the trouble.

“It’s the truth. I have never loved anything more than you.”

“I’m glad for it. Glad to be deserving of it.”

Oh, your sweet little heart! Her hand cupped your face, and her fingers stroked your soft, delicate cheek, her eyes meeting yours. “You are far greater than deserving. You were perfect when you arrived, and you only became more beautiful as you grew older.”

You looked down, slightly bashful. “You’re beautiful too, mother.”

Your words bring on the fiercest of longing. Tears of joy and perhaps bitterness trickled from her eyes. "You are the sweetest daughter a mother could ask for. I love you so very much."

She is near breaking into a fit of sobs, breathing deeply to calm herself, blinking away her tears before she speaks again. "Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, and have those days again. The days where we could be wrapped up in each other, and the world was just us two."

And as your eyes light at the words, she cannot resist anymore. She brings you into her arms, your head resting against her breasts and her leaning down to kiss your head, breathing in your smell yet again. In a few years at latest, she’d wed you to one of your brothers and keep you safe within her watch. Then everything would be alright, you’d be safe only when there was promise you could stay with her forever.

“No matter,” she murmured against your hair, trying to soothe herself back into dignity. “Mother will protect you even now.”

[residentflamingo]

Twice Members’ Favorite Places to Kiss You

Twice x fem! reader

Genre: fluff!!

Warnings: so sweet you’ll get a toothache <3

A/N: I have so many good drafts I want to share with you guys, but my motivation has been at 0% because school has been kicking me in the ass 💀✌️ But lately I have been getting a lot better, so more works are expected to come soon! Which also means I will be opening back up my requests box :D Someone did request me to write something a long time ago, and I’ve been steadily working on it over time. It’s got about 3,000 words on it, so as long as my lazy ass doesn’t put it off to writing it, that draft will be coming out soon as well. Thank you to all of you lovely people who have been patient, and also the ones that have been liking my posts. You guys are phenomenal and I love and appreciate all of you ❤️

Nayeon

Lips ♡

A very standard one, but well suitable for her

She loves how soft and plump your lips are

Like Sana, Nayeon is a very affectionate person

So after she’s had a loooong day at the studio, all she wants to do is give you some repetitive and silly kisses that end up in slow and passionate ones

(Sometimes she’ll even bite your lip if she’s feeling a little bit frisky that night…)

“Oh my gosh I missed you so much Y/N. You won’t believe how many new dance routines they made us learn today.”

Her favorite kinds of kisses are good luck kisses and goodnight kisses <3

(And the passionate ones of course ;)

Nayeon loves how sweet it feels to be able to show her love through a kiss, and be able to feel your soft lips in the process

Kissing your lips make her feel grounded, and wanting nothing more than to spend every moment of every day with you

Jeongyeon

Forehead ♡

Very domestic and homey feeling for her

Her kisses are always very sentimental and sweet

She doesn’t kiss as often as other people, which makes the wait worth it every time

“Here honey, you go lay down and rest. I can do the rest of the laundry for you.”

Always kisses you randomly and making sure it catches you off guard

She loves seeing you all flustered and shy <3

Kissing you on the forehead reminds her of being married to you someday, and just being able to protect you from harm

You are everything to her, and she never wants you to feel anything less than that

And if you’re shorter than her, then it’s an even better reason for her to kiss you on the forehead <3

Will also give you the biggest kiss when she comes home from work 🥺

“I missed you so much honey, what have you been up to?”

Momo

Tummy ♡

When you had previously told her about being insecure about your tummy, you never thought she would take it so seriously

But oh boy how wrong you were

It instantly became Momo's favorite place to kiss you

Momo made sure to always remember it so she could prove your insecurities wrong

She loves how soft and chunky your tummy is, and just can't ever get enough of it

Also loves how much you giggle when she kisses you

If you ever have those days where you're not feeling too great, she will start giving you kisses there first and make sure you feel so loved and beautiful

“You are so beautiful Y/N. Don’t you ever forget it.”

“Your stretch marks are not ugly at all honey I promise. They make you look even more gorgeous.”

She will sometimes leave hickies and bite marks there too, but only when she’s in the mood and you give her permission

If you are also pregnant, she will not hesitate to smother your tummy in kisses then too <3

It would be almost impossible for her to keep her hands off of you

Her end goal is to always make you feel loved, and to remind you that you are the most beautiful woman she has ever set her eyes on

Sana

Dimples ♡

We all know Sana is a very affectionate person. So choosing her favorite spot to kiss you would be impossible right?

Nope not at all for her.

The first thing that had drawn her to you was your radiant smile

But the deal breaker was the dimples that came along with it

She just couldn’t get enough of them

Once you guys had been dating for about 3-4 months, you both had gotten very comfortable with each other and started being all lovey dovey and such

That was when you noticed how much she loved to kiss your dimples

Any chance she could get, she made sure to kiss you in that same spot

It never failed to make you blush every time, and that’s part of the reason why she would constantly kiss you there

She also loves how well they compliment your face, and how adorable they make you look

“Y/N have I ever told you how much I love your dimples? They make you look so cute!” *pinches your cheeks*

Jihyo

Cheeks ♡

She doesn’t mind kissing on the lips. She loves it actually, but she just enjoys kissing your cheeks even more

Jihyo’s kisses are the most genuine ones you will ever feel in your entire life

Sometimes it’s hard for her to say how much she loves you outloud, so she’ll express it through her kisses

When you’re having a bad day and come home tired, she’ll wrap her arms around you and give soft pecks on your cheeks

Or when Jihyo has to leave for early morning dance practice, she’ll slowly wake you up by peppering your face with kisses too

It’s just a super sweet gesture for her, and your puffy cheeks are too cute for her to not kiss anyways

She loves the way you blush when she randomly walks up to you and kisses you

Jihyo adores you so much, even if it’s hard for her to say outloud sometimes

When she does, she makes sure it meaningful, and at the perfect time

“I love you so much Y/N. Even if I don’t say it outloud that much, I really do. You’re my world, and I never want you to feel any lesser than that.”

Mina

Nose ♡–-

When you confessed to her that you hated the shape/size of your nose, she made it one of her top priorities to make you feel less insecure about it

Her shy persona may keep her from expressing a lot of things, but it didn’t stop her from showing her affection for you

You were used to her always giving you warm hugs, and very soft kisses on the lips

But when she added your nose to the agenda, it was game over for you

She loves to kiss your nose when you look super cute, and she can’t handle it

Or when you’re doing something sweet for her like washing the dishes, or doing her laundry. She’ll always find a way to pay you back with affection

“Thank you so much baby. You’re so sweet.”

Over time your insecurities had slowly gone away after receiving so much love and support from her, making your nose the very very least of your worries

Having someone like her in your life made you realize that looks weren’t every thing, and that you never have to worry about when you’re with her

“Honey your nose is so cold. *kisses your nose* Here let me kiss it some more so it will feel warmer...”

Dahyun

Hands/ fingers ♡

Dahyun is very loving and sweet

She loves to hold your hand when you two are walking around Seoul together, or just cuddling on the couch

She loves the intimacy it brings between you two

If she doesn't express her love with words at the moment, she will express it with actions

She'll bring your hand up to her lip and pepper your knuckles, fingers, and whatever else with kisses

Something else that she would never admit, is how she loves the softness of your hands

It reminds her of when she was little, and she would hold her mother’s hand

Dahyun wants you to feel loved and adored by her at all times, even if it’s not verbally

When you guys are at restaurants, she will have no shame holding your hand from across the table and kissing it

“Dahyun be careful. People might see us.”

She’ll just laugh and say, “Let them. Nothing will ever stop me from expressing my love for you darling.”

Chaeyoung

Jawline/Neck ♡

We all know Chaeyoung is a big romantic

And can sometimes be a bit flirty with it too

So it’s no surprise that her favorite place to kiss you, would be the most intimate and steamy

Even though it is her favorite spot to kiss you, she doesn’t really kiss there very often

But when she does, she makes sure to go all out

She loves how intimate it is, and loves hearing/ seeing your reaction every time she kisses in that area

Most definitely will leave hickies too, so be aware when she starts going to town down there

“You like it when I kiss you like this baby?”

You can just already see her smirking while saying that…

She loves riling you up and making you melt from her touch <3

Tzuyu

Ears ♡

Tzuyu is a one-of-a-kind woman, and the sweetest one you have ever met

When you guys first started dating you it stayed at the awkward stage for a little bit longer than most couples

But when she started warming up to you, her affection towards you became even greater

It started with little kisses on the nose, then on the cheek, lips, she eventually progressed to your ears

You thought it was weird at first, but you eventually grew to love it

Tzuyu loves to hug you from behind because of the height difference, and she’ll often whisper in your ear how much she loves you

Sometimes she’ll nibble a little bit too after kissing it, but not very often

If you have slightly larger size ears, she would tease you about it every now and then

But not enough to where you would feel insecure

She just thinks your ears are super cute, and make you even more loveable

"I love you so much Y/N... Don't ever change. You are perfect just the way you are."