#Iron Curtain Trail

[kilometermacher]

Abenteuer Polen: Letzter Tag und Heimreise

[friedelio]

Eigentlich wollen wir ja nach Prag …

… aber gekommen sind wir nur bis Thüringen. Bodenfelde an der Weser bis Dorndorf an der Werra240 KilometerGefahren vom 10. bis zum 13. September Wir finden: Neben dem Mai ist der September ist doch eigentlich die schönste Reisezeit. Es ist nicht mehr so heiß, meist trocken und das Licht ist anheimelnd. Auch sind weniger Leute unterwegs und die Campingplätze nicht so voll. Traditionell haben wir…

[littlexdeaths]

i get off - e.m.

perv eddie munson x perv fem reader

you don’t know that i know, you watch me every night…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), eddie is lil peeping tom but reader loves it, they both steal each other’s shit, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, choking, spanking, dirty talk, mean!dom eddie, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, squirting, they both are nasty freaks

a/n: this is another edit and repost from my old account. it’s one of my favorite fics so i had to move it over here. enjoy freaks xx. 😘

based on i get off by halestorm

word count: 3.8k

you’re sprawled out on your bed, fingers running through your drenched folds. clad in only an oversized iron maiden t-shirt and a pair of knee high socks, you’re everything he’s ever wanted. plucked directly out of one of his dirtiest fantasies.

you can feel his eyes on you, you always do.

not that he realizes that.

and while you’ve lived barely ten feet apart for your entire lives, eddie has never had the courage to make a move.

so he settles for this— watching you through his bedroom window.

fantasizing that the delicate fingers now dipping inside you were his. and the fist currently wrapped around his thick cock was smaller, softer. yours.

the first time he witnessed you like this it was a complete accident.

you had been pent up all day, and didn’t think to shut your bedroom curtains before slipping your hand inside your panties. the bedside lamp bathing your room in a muted yellow hue. eddie had been working on a new song, guitar perched on his lap.

he was frustrated with trying to string together this new melody, glancing up in utter annoyance. that is until his gaze drifted towards the window, his eyes widened and his cock stirred in his jeans.

you looked beautiful, you always did. however this was the most vulnerable state you could be in, and the fact that he got to witness it— made you all the more enchanting to him.

he’d be embarrassed to admit that watching you touch yourself made him cum in his jeans, completely untouched. and that first time you were none the wiser, not noticing the dark eyes that were trailing your figure. but once eddie had gotten a taste he couldn’t get enough.

eagerly waiting by his bedroom window to enjoy his new favorite nightly program… you.

you weren’t sure exactly how long he’d been doing it for, but the night you caught him in the act, it awoke something within you. while eddie made sure to keep his bedroom light off, the moonlight was not on his side that night.

it had filled his room in a soft white glow, highlighting his pale skin. his naked form perched on the edge of his unmade bed, stroking his shaft in tandem with each thrust of your fingers.

his moans are what gave him away, as your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure. but he’d gotten a little too carried away, thinking about how pretty your pussy would look stuffed full with his cock.

the thin walls of the trailer doing nothing to conceal his sounds. when your eyes finally opened, you were met with the most glorious sight you’ve ever seen.

eddie fucking himself into his fist, his head tilted back as he spilled all over his ringed fingers. the image alone had your eyes rolling back, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. one of the most intense you’ve ever had, and from that night on you always kept your curtains open.

desperately chasing that euphoric feeling again.

while you didn’t always see him, you knew he was there. the feeling of his greedy eyes on you was enough to have you cumming harder than you ever have in your entire life. your whimpers were muffled but still rang through his ears as he’d make a mess all over his hand and chest.

different images of you— on your knees, on top of him, taking you from behind, or his favorite with his head buried between your thighs.

it was slowly driving him crazy, and he couldn’t seem to get enough of you. he needed more. he quickly found himself staring out his window any chance he could. gazing longingly as you floated around your bedroom.

he watched you change, get ready for the day, study with your college textbooks. your pencil resting in between your teeth. eddie knew it was wrong, that if you ever found out you would be revolted.

if he only knew it was the exact opposite, and how you couldn’t finish without feeling his eyes on you. but you also needed more, desperate to feel his weight on top of you. his mouth trailing over your skin, his cock stretching you out perfectly.

so you became bolder, going as far as to leave your bedroom window open. letting your moans drift through the night air, teasing him further.

and when you noticed some of your panties had gone missing it only heightened your desire for him. knowing he was in your room, touching your things… holding your panties up to his nose as he came all over himself.

grunts of your name escaped his pouted lips, and his left yours as you drenched your fingers. but it wasn’t enough.

you needed him.

fueled by your insatiable lust you found yourself gazing at him more and more. as he sat on his messy floor, playing guitar or working on a dnd campaign. focusing intently on his fingers, and imagining just how good they would feel inside you.

but your favorite was when he was fresh out of the shower. his dark curls were drenched, water dripping down his inked chest. the patch of hair that disappeared beneath his towel drove you absolutely mad.

so you took a play out of his own book, sneaking into his room while he was working at benny’s. or coming home late from a gig at the hideout, surrounding yourself in everything that was so distinctly eddie.

eddie honestly wasn’t concerned when a few of his shirts had gone missing. or a pair of his cum stained boxers, a guitar pick… as he lost things all the time. he simply chalked it up to his forgetful nature, either he misplaced them or lent them to someone.

that is until tonight, as he peered through your window for what felt like the millionth time. his heart was in his throat as he instantly recognized the iron maiden shirt adorning your frame as his.

the realization dawns on him that you knew exactly what he’d been doing this whole time… and instead of being disgusted or upset, you liked it. enough so that you began doing the same thing to him.

that epiphany made any reservations or fears he still had fade into nothingness. the male decided that he couldn’t sit back and only watch you anymore.

he had to have you.

the brunette rose to his feet, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his long legs before slipping out of his bedroom window. quickly dropping onto the ground as he walks the short distance to your adjoined trailer.

his large hands grip the bottom of the window sill, pushing it open the rest of the way before he’s hoisting himself through it. a small gasp leaves you as he tumbles inside and onto your bedroom floor.

eddie is quick to get up onto back on his feet, as you eagerly eye the obvious tent in his gray sweats. he licks his plump lips as he practically sizes you up. he stalks forward like a predator, slowly crawling onto your bed and between your spread legs.

the male grabs your wrist, coaxing your fingers out of your drenched cunt. raising them up to his mouth, slipping them between his lips with a deep groan. “such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

for once you’re speechless, his actions jumbling your already fuzzy thoughts. you never imagined he’d actually come through your window, like you’d been dreaming about for weeks.

“speak for yourself, munson…” your confidence suddenly comes rushing back, pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth. feeling your wetness pooling onto the bed sheets as he swirls his tongue around them.

“guess we’re both a little dirty, huh baby?” eddie chuckles as he removes your fingers from his mouth, now leaning over you.

letting yourself fall back against the pillow, his face mere inches from yours. this is the closest you’ve ever gotten to him, now noticing the light freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose. the dimple that indents his cheek as he smirks down at you, little things that you found utterly endearing.

his hands begin drifting down your sides, his smirk only widening as you shudder beneath him. “is that what does it for ya? you like being watched, sweetness?” he grips the fabric of his shirt, starting to push it up your torso.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. “i get off on you…” you slowly trail your lips up his throat, sucking harsh bruises onto his pale skin. the male letting out a husky moan as you nip at his ear, “getting off on me.”

eddie curses under his breath before he’s pinning you down against the mattress, his lips crashing against yours. your fingers tangle in his wild curls, kissing him back just as forcefully. all the pent up sexual tension and desire now spills from both of you, as his hips rut into yours. you can feel his hard length pressing onto your thigh, causing you to moan into his mouth.

your impatience seems to get the better of you as you grip onto one of his wrists, guiding his large hand in between your thighs. a not so subtle way of telling him exactly what you wanted, the male nips at your lower lip before he’s leaning back onto his knees.

he spreads your thighs even wider, as his dark eyes zero in on the mess between them. his fingers dip between your folds, gathering your sticky nectar on the digits. swirling them around your swollen clit before moving lower.

the metalhead teases you as he circles the tip of his middle finger on your entrance. barely pushing it inside you before removing it, a wet squelch filling the room. “oh listen to her purr for me, baby… you want my fingers inside you?”

you nod frantically, lifting your hips up in an effort to get him closer to where you needed him. but he pulls them away immediately, causing you to whine from the loss. eddie grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together as he meets your hooded gaze. “i asked you a question, sweet cheeks.”

he watches as your eyes glaze over more, the dominance he was exuding turning your brain to mush. “and i expect an answer, or is that pretty little head of yours too fucked out for me?” his tone is condescending, borderline rude but it only seems to fuel the fire in between your legs.

you let out a soft whimper, the male letting go of your cheeks to trail his sticky fingers down your jaw.

“need your fingers, eddie…” the male chuckles, wrapping his hand around your neck. hovering his face over yours, his thumb stroking the column of your throat.

“need them where, hm?”

you’re quickly becoming impatient, and he can tell from how your lips jut out into a pout. thighs closing in around his own, in an attempt to feel some kind of friction.

“come on now… don’t ya wanna be a good girl for me?” he can see the effect those words have on you, your pupils dilating and your breath hitching in your throat.

“put them inside me.”

while your tone is meant to be demanding, it comes out as more of a plea than anything else. your heart is racing in anticipation as his fingers trail down your stomach. cupping your cunt in the palm of his hand, “and what do good girls say?”

you now realize your mistake, the male raising a brow as he awaits your answer. “please touch me.” eddie is quick to reward you, plunging two fingers into your awaiting heat.

“see? now you’re learning,” another string of curses leaves his mouth as your walls tighten around his fingers and a high pitched moan falls from yours.

“shit sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.” he curls the digits up, watching in awe as your back arches off the mattress.

“fuck i need to taste you,” he mumbles more to himself as he lays between your thighs. his tongue darting out, encircling your clit with an urgency you’ve never experienced with anyone else before.

the noises you’re making are music to his ears, and while he’s heard them before— you’ve never sounded quite so needy. pride blossoms in his chest knowing it was because of him, you needed him. he was making you feel this good.

your thighs begin to tremble as he increases the pressure of his tongue, pumping his fingers faster.

“m-more need more.” while eddie wanted to reprimand you for not using your manners, he’s been waiting to have you like this for far too long.

but he’d make sure you didn’t forget next time… if there was a next time. he hoped there would be.

he slips a third finger inside you, the long, thick digits reaching places you never realized existed until now.

and now that you knew what they felt like, your own would never suffice again.

“aww pretty thing, you gonna cum?” he chuckles mockingly as the sound vibrates against your core.

the feeling only aiding in bringing your release that much closer, as your eyes flutter shut. a harsh slap on your thigh has them flying back open, your eyes meeting his as he looks up at you from his position between them.

“eyes on me,” his tone is stern, commanding as his tongue returns to assaulting your swollen bud.

as you start to grind your hips up against his mouth, it pushes his fingers even deeper inside you. hitting that sweet spot that has you crying out a broken, “oh god, please.”

eddie hums against you, increasing the speed of his fingers. “i prefer master… but god has a nice ring to it.” if you weren’t on the brink of an orgasm you might have found that funny, not registering his soft laughter as he sucks harshly on your clit.

the sensation is what finally sends you over the edge, your thighs squeezing around his head and trapping him there.

not that he would ever dare complain.

once you settle back into the mattress is when he pulls away, crawling back up your body towards you. your excitement covers his chin in a light sheen, now tasting yourself as he kisses you with a bruising force.

you reach for the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his legs. feeling his cock rubbing against the bare skin of your thigh, and you want nothing more than to feel it hard and heavy on your tongue.

“wanna taste you too, eds,” you whine as he trails his lips across your jaw, sucking onto your skin. as much as he would love to have you gagging on his cock, his impatience had reached its peak.

“next time, sweetness… need to be inside you.”

you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. the promise of a next time making your heart flutter beneath your ribs.

eddie unwillingly untangles himself from you, now standing at the edge of the bed to remove his sweats. his cock stands at full attention as you sit up, eagerly crawling towards him. your mouth waters at the sight, finally able to admire him how you’ve been dying to for the last few weeks.

you wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft, glancing up at him as you lick up the pre-cum that was smeared across his pink tip. the male grips a fistful of your hair in his hand, tugging you off his dick as a small whimper leaves you.

“hands and knees— now.” he nearly growls at you, releasing you as you continue to look up at him in a daze.

“don’t make me repeat myself, baby.”

and as much as you would love to test how far you could push his buttons, that would be saved for a later date. so you do as you’re told, crawling away from him now on your hands and knees.

feeling his eyes trailing over the plush skin of your ass, “take a picture, munson, it’ll last longer.”

what you don’t expect is to hear the snap of your polaroid camera, whipping your head around to see the shit eating grin he was sporting. setting the camera and picture down on your dresser once more, “just following orders, sweet cheeks.” he chuckles, crawling onto the bed behind you.

eddie lands a firm smack on your ass, his chest now draped across your back. his hot breath fanning over your neck as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “face the mirror, you aren’t gonna wanna miss this, baby.”

your thighs clench together, now turning to face the full length mirror that stood across from your bed.

you glance at yourself briefly before your eyes trail upwards, now meeting his in the reflection. a cocky grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, his hands now roaming the full expanse of your ass.

feeling the tip of his cock brush against your core, pushing your hips back so you could feel more. eddie’s calloused hands grip you tightly, stopping any further movement on your part.

“don’t be fucking greedy, you’ll take what i give you.”

you squeak out a small apology, keeping your eyes focused on him as he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds. gasping once he slowly pushed himself into your awaiting heat, a strangled moan tumbling from his lips.

his eyes squeeze shut as he bottoms out, his balls flush against the curve of your ass. you feel incredibly full, the stretch so divine it makes your head spin.

“eddie, please.” you mewl, watching as his brown eyes meet yours.

desperate for him to do something— anything.

eddie’s rings dig into your hips, his eyes glancing down to watch as he slides his cock back out. groaning as you’ve already coated his length in your arousal, a sight he’d only ever seen in his dreams.

“gonna give you everything,” he grunts before slamming himself back inside, knocking the air out of your lungs as you fall forward onto the mattress.

you grip the edge of it for support as he continues to rock his hips into yours, this new angle allowing him to rub against your sweet spot perfectly. keeping your eyes locked on the mirror, the image of him behind you— thrusting into you will be seared in your memory forever.

the black ink swirling on his skin, the light sheen of sweat on his chest. the veins in his forearms that are much more noticeable as he grips you tighter. he looks more like a greek god than anyone had a right to.

your jaw is slack, mouth hanging open as you continue to watch him. the little ‘uh uh uhs’ that leave your lips mix with the sound of your skin slapping together. now filling the quiet space of your bedroom.

“taking me so well— this pussy was made for me.”

eddie moans, completely distracted by the way your pussy flutters around him. the creamy ring that’s formed around the base of his cock expanding with each thrust of his hips.

“look at me,” you whine, that signature smirk returning to his features as he meets your eyes in the mirror once more.

“aww poor little, baby,” he coos, slipping his hand between your thighs and landing a harsh slap on your already sensitive bud. “always need my eyes on you… don’t you?”

a string of curses slips past your lips as you nod your head. “need it,” you whimper as his calloused fingertips circle over your clit. “need you.”

your words seem to have quite the effect on him, a low growl leaving him as he fucks into you even harder.

“what do you need me to do, pretty girl? tell me.” it takes you a minute before you can answer him, the male having fucked any coherent thoughts from your head.

“n-need it inside.” is the best you can manage, but eddie understands all too well.

it’s what he had hoped you would say, “yeah, you want me to fuck you so full? ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else?” your eyes roll back in your head, as the male wraps his other hand around your throat.

he handles you like a rag doll as he pulls you up, your back now flush against his sweaty chest. the action forces his cock even deeper inside you, brushing against your cervix. his hand that was wrapped around your throat is now cradling your jaw, guiding your gaze back to the mirror.

your half lidded eyes watch as he leans forward, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “this pussy is mine now, got that, sweetness?”

it’s suddenly all too much, the rubber band in your middle finally snaps as your body trembles in his embrace. cries of his name and ‘yours yours yours’ tumbling from your mouth.

the brunette watches in amazement as you drench his thighs, your bed sheets— the pressure almost forcing him out completely.

the metalhead curses as he continues to bounce you on his cock, the wet squelching of your pussy finally sending him over the edge. grunting as he pumps you full of his cum, your body falling limp against his chest.

you’re both panting as you come down from your highs. his touch on your hips is much more gentle than before as he coaxes you onto your back.

you hum contently, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion hits you. eddie cradles your face in his palms, pressing soft kisses to each of your eyelids before his touch suddenly disappears.

your eyes fly open in alarm, reaching out for him as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “don’t worry… you aren’t rid of me just yet.”

eddie chuckles as he spreads your thighs apart, his dark eyes watching intently as his cum drips out of you. pooling onto the bed beneath you, making an even bigger mess of your sheets.

his head dips lower, inhaling as he gathers the mixture of both your arousal onto his awaiting tongue. moaning before diving in deeper, “shit, we taste good together.”

“too much,” you whimper, wiggling your hips away from his eager mouth due to the oversensitivity.

eddie presses a kiss to each of your thighs before he joins you once more, collapsing next to you with a boyish grin on his face. you reach out to trace the stubble along his jaw, your fingertips brushing over his plump lips.

you feel him release a shaky breath against your fingertips, the look he’s giving you makes your stomach do a little flip.

“so… is it too late to ask you out on a date?”

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,100+, 1,700+, 1,700+, 1,400+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Dracule Mihawk

Warnings: wet dreams, afab!reader, swearing, masturbation, dub con (Using your image to masturbate to), suggestive content, feelings, all individual 'x reader' drabbles, same reader!insert different outcome, chop-chop fruit shenanigans, angst, romance, smut, kissing, NSFW, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: Dreaming of You Masterlist Here, Please read the warnings. I am having a lot of fun with this series, but this one got away with me. They're only meant to be silly little drabbles between larger fics. Sorry for the lengthy read! Enjoy playing the part of a marine spy for Cross-Guild!

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @lostfirefly

Hips pressed against one another, huffing pants and gasps were collected in one another's lips and skin as he pinned your back against the wooden wall behind the burgundy curtains of the tent door. Legs collected over his hips, he held your left thigh in his right hand, his forearm caging you by slotting up between your right shoulder and the cool surface. 

Lusting and passionate, he drew intentional thrusts that were slow and deliberate enough to brush at your g-spot and mold your pussy to the contours of his thick cock. He slacked his jaw, his eyes swimming with emotion as he ground his pelvis against your clit with every heavy thrust. 

Your voice whimpered for him, stifling your mewls of pleasure by biting down into his shoulder and crying as he bullied his cock into your needy pussy. He groaned with you, rocking his cock in slow, languid thrusts up into your body. 

“Please,” you begged him, desperately clawing at his back and peppering his shoulders, neck and jaw with enthusiastic kisses, “We don't have long until the others come back.” He growled at your words, offering you a particularly mean thrust forward and a cruel bite against your neck. 

“A-Aah!” you gasped in shock, biting your lip and digging your nails into his shoulders harder. He sheathed his entire length greedily into you, his shaft twitching in bliss the moment he felt his blunt tip brush your cervix. His hips stapled yours against the wall he was bullying you against. 

“I don't care if they hear,” he barked against your neck, tracing his tongue over the bruise forming from his bite, “I don't care if they see.” He pulled back his hips only slightly before immediately propelling himself forward and forging his body against yours like soldering iron to a hot blade. 

“Let them hear,” he admitted, huffing against your neck as he rocked his hips into yours, removing his hand from hooking around your thigh to grip your neck and bring your gaze to meet his. “Let them see.” He plastered your parted lips with his own, desperate with tongue and teeth as he released your neck to hold your thigh once more. 

“I want them to hear,” he groaned into your mouth, rolling your cheek with his chin and kissing down your jaw, “I want them to see.” He trailed his needy kisses down your neck as he doubled his effort and sped up his rhythmic thrusting. 

As your core sucked him in each time he retracted, his mind was lost to him and was filled with primal desire. He needed them to hear your sweet moans and whimpers. He needed them to see who was making you feel this good. He needed you to know who you belonged to. 

“Say you're mine,” he growled, his lips mouthing up your neck, over your jaw and to your cheeks, “Say it.” He sped up faster, his cock hammering into you with every cruel, frenzied thrust. His hair was sticking to the dewy sheen of sweat against his forehead and neck, his brows furrowed as he glared into your eyes with an intensity he had never felt in life prior. 

“Say you're mine,” he barked at you, commanding you to fulfill his desires as his cock twitched within you. Your walls beckoned him closer, the thump of your ecstasy wringing his cock as he pistoned it within you had him desperately whimper and whine your name. 

“P-Please say you're mine,” he implored you in desperation, his fingers clutching your thigh in a heaping fistful as he continued to chase your mutual highs, “Tell me. Tell me your mine, and I'll be your slave.” He begged, kissing your lips and panting through his thrusts, “I'll be yours. Is that what you want?”

He chased your mutual high faster, rocking and pummeling into you with his heels digging into the floor. His belt buckle jingled atop his pants pooling at his ankles, your own pants discarded beneath you long ago. Leaning down, he took your peaked nipple into his mouth and rolled it over with his tongue.

A string of saliva attached from his lips to the puckered bud when he pulled away, huffing and panting at the lustful display of your breathing hitching. Body bouncing in sultry ripples with each thrust, he groaned as he felt his abdomen tighten with a familiar call of his imminent release. 

“Yes,” you whispered his name suddenly, clutching his neck and carding your hands through his hair, “Yes, I want that. I want you-...” You whined his name as he pistoned his length deep within you, “Please, I'm yours. Only yours.” 

He growled his pleasure at hearing your words into your lips, tongue lapping with yours and his hair brushing against your forehead. You hastily tugged him away from your lips by gripping the scruff of his neck and pulling hard. 

“W-What? Why are you-?” He began, his words halted by the intensity of your gaze. Your lips were parted, face flushed from a higher rise of hazy temperature, and skin forming lustful bruises and mapping his treasure with his marking kisses. 

“Make me yours,” you gasped at him, panting as your lust eclipsed your eyes, “Cum in me. I want it. Need it.” His eyes widened, and his jaw fell slack as his hips staggered their vicious thrusting deep inside you. 

“Fuck, I-I’m gonna-...” His abdomen tightened further, his eyes glowing black with luminescent lust as his seed spilled inside you with hot spurts, “I'm cumming-... hhah-... I-I’m cumming…f-f-fuck-...” Rope after rope of translucent cum released within your walls, the rhythm of your own ecstasy milking him with squeezing grasps on his throbbing cock. 

You called his name, throwing your head back as he trailed his eyes over your skin with adoration within his bliss. He couldn't get enough, reaching forward to collect your lips beneath his in a scorching mess of lips, tongue and teeth. With a desperate kiss to mold him against you completely, he forged an unspoken covenant to ensure you knew you were his and he was yours. 

Opening his eyes, the image of your blissed out afterglow faded from his vision. All that he was met with was the ornate ceiling in his bedroom, his cock twitching through the final waves of untouched pleasure. 

“No,” he growled, removing his duvet with his right hand and glancing at the lustful dance his swollen cock twitched with. A last spurt of cum spilled from the glossy slit and he immediately thrust the ruined blanket on top of his stomach to shield it from his sight. 

“Fuck.”

Sir Crocodile 

He balled his right fist, slamming it into the mattress beside his hip with a rumbling growl in his chest. Inhaling deeply, holding it for a few seconds, and exhaling slowly had him assess all that occurred to him with his night vision moments ago.

“Please say you’re mine. Say you’re mine and I’ll be your slave,” his own voice echoed in his mind, “I’ll fall to my knees and worship you in all ways. I’ll treat you like the deity I know you to be, showering you in praise and praying at your altar. Please.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered with half-hooded lessons, “I’ll only ever be yours, Sir Crocodile. Only yours.” He snapped his eyes awake, clenching his jaw impossibly tight and drawing his brows down in fury.

“I begged?” he snarled, reaching for a cigar and his flint-lock lighter, “I begged to claim you as mine?” He clicked his tongue before biting down on his cigar, lighting the end with a small flame and sucking in a sour lungful of smoke, “Utterly ridiculous.” 

Pulling the duvet away from his lap, he growled at the sticky ooze pooling at his abdomen before squaring his shoulders and walking to the adjoining ensuite in his master bedroom. The Cross-Guild tent did not have many luxuries, but he refused to go without simple pleasures while working with the disgusting clown. 

A bath was one such pleasure Sir Crocodile would not live without.

Running the water, he dropped each foot into the tub and sighed out at the contact of the freshwater rising to his thighs. The heat and steam eradicated his shame from his abdomen without much effort, melting it down and washing it away beneath the water. Groaning, he looked to his absent left hand and gazed down at the scarred stump. 

“We don’t have long until the others come back,” he heard your voice echo within his mind, drawing himself back to the dream and causing him to grimace in annoyance. He circled his palm and fingertips over his left forearm and molded the flesh within a firm grip. 

The pains on his phantom limb had returned, his mind racing and attempting to draw up distractions by any means necessary. Your midnight illusion was simply the latest commodity to preoccupy his attention with lustful desires, is how he rationalized such a shameful intrusion. 

He was a fourty-six year old man, not some prepubescent teenager so consumed with the need to fuck that their minds dreamed it into an untouched and sticky reality. The pain intensified, his teeth clamping in a rough hiss as the illusionary throb of his hand caused him to shake his arm from his grip. 

This was going to be a long and tiring day.

At the meeting, he was being short and harsh with anyone and everyone to cause him displeasure. His teeth snapped barks, his chest rumbling his fury and his hair was beginning to become disheveled. The clown was aggravating, and the swordsman’s silence was not as refreshing as it was under usual circumstances.  

His right hand only ever left his left forearm for the chance to draw up a cigar, yet the sour smoke did very little to soothe his pain, and his hand only seemed to make the intensity of the throbbing worse. As Mihawk and Buggy stood to leave the room, he remained behind and he finally hissed out a lengthy growl behind his clenched teeth at the pain. 

There was not a sound in the room, a slight ringing in his ears as the pain reached his head and dizzied his mind. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, he had no context for a gentle touch on his hand over his forearm until he snapped his purple eyes up to meet with yours. 

“Allow me, Sir Crocodile,” your smile illuminated your face, gently suggesting with your touch to remove his right hand from his left forearm. He attempted to fight the urge to bark at you, snap at you and give in to his desire to have you touch him. 

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Marine?” he growled, eyes narrowing and lips curling up into a deep snarl, “Who gave you the right to touch me-?”

“Oh, shut up. You've been horrendous today and I refuse to have this continue to be cause for your disgusting attitude,” you bit back, your own lips pulling back to reveal your snarl, “Let go of your arm and let me help you, damn it.” He immediately dropped his arm in favor of gripping your neck in a tight choke, bringing your face closer to his. 

“You dare to give me orders, Marine?” he roared at you, your teeth gritting back the pain and glaring into his eyes. “I was a former warlord, little spy. Now I hunt and kill your kind for a living.” As Sir Crocodile monologued, he remained ignorant of your hands working to find the clamps of his prosthetic hook and releasing the golden cover from his arm. 

“And now you touch me, spy? Offering me what, exactly?” he continued monologuing as you removed his hook and rolled up his embroidered sleeve. The pain in his forearm was so intense he could barely feel any relief of tension come from releasing his limb from the confines of his hook. “How are you going to help-... A-ah!” He gasped, his brows tugging up in the center of his forehead as he glared at you. 

Immediately releasing your neck, he looked down at his bare forearm within both of your hands and bit back a whimper. In his own grip, his scarred forearm felt hot and throbbing beneath his cooler temperature. In your warmer hands, his arm felt encased in an encumbering embrace like hot stones sizzling on a damp surface. 

Your thumbs traced the contours of his muscles, dipping between his bones and rolling his muscle between your fingers. The heel of your palm added a tight pressure to his ache, his breath coming out in rough pants the longer you held him in a tight grip. His eyes softened, his scowl loosening from anger to pain. 

Hissing and panting, an uncharacteristic whimper fell from his lips as you silently focussed on working the flesh within your skilled grip. Circling your thumbs and contracting your hands, you instructed him with calming and soothing words. 

“Deep breaths now,” you whispered in a slow and intentional hum, “In when I squeeze, and out when I release.” He nodded his head, feeling the soft roll of your hands over his skin. As you tightened his grip, his chest expanded with a lengthy inhale and exhaled as you withdrew. 

Repeating that motion, he felt the tension in his mind begin to release him from his illusions. Focussing on your movements as your voice soothed him with each direction, he didn’t expect his emotions to overcome him at such kindness. Your hard contractions over his arm eased up, your fingertips tracing the scars on the vacant nub and causing his flesh to tingle beneath it. 

“Better, sir?” halting your soft motions, you gently placed your hand on his forearm and held faint pressure over his skin. Reopening his eyes, he felt tangible relief wash its way over his face. Gazing into your eyes, you held nothing but empathy and gentleness in your twin orbs. He leaned down over your face, bringing contact between your two foreheads and offering you the slightest of smiles. 

“Why would you do that?” he whispered in an uncharacteristic soft voice, “Touch me like that? Offer me such kindness after all that’s occurred between us?” He raised his right hand and cupped the back of your head in a firm grip to hold you against him. 

“You didn’t kill me the moment I stepped into the red tent,” you smiled warmly at him, “Nor did you kill me any day thereafter.” Giving his arm another gentle squeeze, you glanced down at his missing limb and offered him a melancholy smile. He growled at your confession, searching your eyes for a further explanation. You huffed out a sigh, smiling further with a soft twitch up your cheeks. 

“I used to do this for my friend back at the marine base,” you offered him a glimpse at your history with your explanation, “Did it all the way up until the day she died. Said something about my hands feeling warm against her skin, different to her own temperature. Soothing.”

He chuckled at that, nodding against your head and closing his eyes shut in momentary bliss. That was why you felt so good on his skin, your skilled motions causing him aid and relief. You have done this before, and were offering it freely to him. 

“Oh?” he asked, his smile tugging at his cheeks and elevating the scar over his face, “And did she manage to say what she did without you by her side to aid her?” You laughed at him, breaking away your contact from his forehead and scrunching up your nose playfully. 

“I was always by her side, sir,” you confessed to him, nodding as you spoke, “She and I were inseparable, even in cabin quarters.” He nodded in understanding, looking down to his limb and back up to your eyes. 

“Well, if that’s the only solution for the pain I’m encountering,” he uttered, his lips curling into a wide smirk, “I would see you gather your personal effects and move into my cabin beside the tent, immediately.” You laughed at him, rising from his side and beginning to leave the meeting room. 

“I hardly think that would be appropriate. Don’t you agree, sir?” you question him, collecting your bag from the circular table in the center of the room. As you moved to leave the tent, a strong forearm snaked around your chest and grasped your shoulder, tugging you firmly into a broad chest. 

“Wasn’t a suggestion, Marine,” he whispered into your ear, the smooth rumble of his voice shooting tingles up your spine and causing you to gasp. “You’re mine now. Hear me?” He grazed his lips over your cheek and down your jaw in a slow motion. 

“Mine.”

Buggy

“Oh, what the fuck?” his nasally voice huffed, his makeup free face flushing with a hefty sprinkle of dark blush, “You’re fucking kidding me.” He reached down to his cock and fisted it in a pistoning motion. 

“Had to be you, didn't it?” he cursed your name in a pouty snarl, “The fucking spy.” He swirled his cock in his palm, growling at it before he simply detached it with his balls and brought it up to his face. He frowned in a deep scowl, drawing up his heckles as he began chastising his cock. 

“C’mon, man! How could you do this to me?” He growled at his cherry-red knob, choking it in his fist, “You think this is fucking funny? You think I want to see ‘em like this?” He drew up his other hand and slapped his knob, his pelvis wincing in response. 

“Out of bounds,” he berated his cock, “The spy is out of bounds. You know the spy is out of bounds.” He pinched his knob, choking it and only making his pleasure heighten. “N-Nnngh-... Not for thinking about, not for trying to fuck.” 

He whimpered, his priorly ruined orgasm still gluing his duvet to his stomach. He growled, hocking a wad of spit behind his lips. He spat on his cock in an attempt to degrade himself further, only leading to lubricating his ministrations and causing him to throw his cerulean colored hair back into his plush pillows in bliss. 

“Hhah-... The spy is not for you, you fucking idiot,” he gulped his confirmation, his cock thrusting itself in his fist beside his head as he frowned at it, “Think about something else,” he closed his eyes, meeting the thrusts of his cock with his hand as he tried to think about anyone else he could sheathe himself in. 

“Buggy, I-I’m gonna c-cum-,” he heard your voice whimper at him, his cock twitching in his hand beside his face, “Buggy, please can I cum?” He shook his head, attempting to picture anything else. Faceless breasts bouncing, ripples of an ass jiggling, parted lips panting and huffing with eyes scrunched shut-... Your voice calling his name with adoration pouring from your lips like honey. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, shaking his head and attempting to go back to the earlier images. He only pictured your hair, your skin, your perfume, and your lips behind his eyes. Those lips used to spell secrets, split in a perfect ‘O’ as he pictured you slicking his cock up in your needy cunt with your erupting ecstacy milking him of his heaping load. 

“Fuck! No, no, no, no, n-oooh!” He threw his cock away from his face to not shoot himself in the eye with his release. It spattered the wall in a secondary wave of sticky cum like a grenade exploding on impact. “Nnnngh-... F-Fuck. Fu-uck-... C-cumming-.” His abdomen contracted as he rode the remaining waves of his orgasm untouched and unstimulated. 

Ropes of guilt shot out of his small slit and coated the wall and floor in a sticky pile of pearlescent cum. He groaned your name, huffing and panting as his hips bucked up in an attempt to stimulate his detached cock. 

“N-... No…” he whimpered, bringing his palm up to his face and clapping it over his lips. “Not the spy. I can't-... I can't have the damn spy. They're a bloody marine, you fucking idiot,” he degraded himself further, rising from his bed and wiping his abdomen of the solidifying globs of sticky cum with his duvet. 

He reached his cock, staring at it as it looked like a pathetic, slobbering drunk as it lay in a pool of its own drool. He clicked his tongue at it, picking it up and dusting it off before reattaching it to his pelvis. Readjusting his balls, he found his red jumpsuit and messily thrust it over his body in one swell motion. Instead of throwing his arms through the sleeves, he tied the material around his waist and offered to remain shirtless. 

“Not the spy,” he whispered to himself as he exited his ornate living quarters at the Cross-Guild base. Making his way to the kitchen, he was halted by a soft hum reverberating around the room. 

A familiar somber tune painted the air with its melody, his eyes shutting and the corner of his mouth ticking up as he listened to the lyrics. Stepping into the room, he attempted to mask his nerves with his signature mischief written on his face. 

As he drew his eyes over your features, your back facing away and staring out the window by the sink, he couldn't help but have the mask of protection slip away. Your lips whispered the lyrics, your heart carried the tune. You were not in your marine uniform, nor were you adorning the attire Sir Crocodile purchased for your protection. 

You were dressed in simple, gray-coloured slacks that hung loosely around your hips. The top you were wearing was a cropped t-shirt with his Jolly Roger printed on the back. His lips parted in shock as he drank you in, listening to your soft singing and closing his eyes to experience it fully. 

Before he could manage to say a word to reveal his presence, your hums ceased and your voice lowly uttered your apologies. 

“Sorry, Captain Buggy,” you bow your head to him in greeting, “I was not assuming the three of you to be awake so early. If I bothered you with my noise, I apologize.”

“N-No bother,” he huffed your name and hastily gave his reply to you with a soft blush, “I-... I haven't heard that song since the old days. Way back when-... When Roger…” He trailed off, looking at a point just beyond your hips and against the sink beside you. 

“I love the old shanties,” you chased his gaze with your own, angling your chin down and attempting to pry his eyes up to meet yours, “They're either about drinking, fucking, or grieving.” Buggy met your gaze, grinning up at you with his teal eyes beaming. 

“Ah, two of my favorite pastimes,” he added his commentary, leaning in closer and a cheeky smile pulling at his cheeks, “I’m not one for fucking.” He shot you a wink, prompting you to laugh at his joke. Your laugh was music, each soft teeter was as radiant as a lilt from heavenly minstrels. After teetering off your laugh, he offered you a soft smile with his eyes wide and curious. 

“Would you mind…?” Buggy trailed off again, nervously clutching the back of his neck and cringing through his smile, “...Could you perhaps tell me why you decided to join us, again?” He released his hand from his neck and darted his eyes between yours. 

After taking a moment to collect your breath and mull over what it was he asked of you, shrugged and offered him a simple answer. 

“The Berry is good, and it’s mutually beneficial,” you nod at him, smiling with your answer, “You were the one who offered me a choice, remember?” Crossing your arms, you leaned your hips back on the sink and glared at him, “It was either: spy for the marines as a triple agent for your Cross-Guild with a livable wage, or have Crocodile or Mihawk take my head. I chose you, Captain.” 

As Buggy was reminded of his prior actions and offered you a sheepish smile in response. Stepping forward, he reached for your forearms and waited for you to flinch away or chastise him for such a soft gesture. In the wake of such a softness, he was pleasantly surprised when he felt your fingers interlace with his own and hold them beside him.

“You know, ‘m sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, looking to his toes and pouting his unpainted lips, “Didn’t mean t’ have it sound so bad.” You smiled in response, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze and angling your chin down to look at his uncovered fingers. 

“You know, you’re actually quite handsome,” you confessed in a breathy whisper, “The infamous Captain Buggy D Clown, genius jester, king of fools, and calamity of chaos.” You named his titles with a soft smile, looking up into his rainforest-colored eyes with such gentleness. 

“You-... You think I’m handsome?” He asked you, your soft laughter prompted his own to slip freely into the air. You unplaced your right hand from his left and cupped his cheek within your palm, running your fingers through his hair. 

“You’re usually dressed in makeup, with your long hair tucked under your hat,” you collected a strand between your fingers and rolled your thumb over the lengthy blue locks, “And, you usually don’t have this much skin revealed.” Looking down at his chest: his messy blue hair trailed down his chest, tapered off at his stomach, and picked up again like a cerulean trail leading to the assumed treasure beneath his red jumpsuit. 

“I’m not used to seeing this much of you, Captain,” you muffled, drawing your gaze back up to his with a rapidly broadening smile, “And I’m not mad about it.” Your eyes creased at the corners as you offered him a toothy grin in response to his vibrant blush.

The hue of his cheeks rivaled that of his nose and jumpsuit, his eyes almost weeping from the rapidly rising blood pooling in his face. His Adams apple bobbed at the compliment, gulping back a dry pit in his throat and swallowing it. 

“Y-You know,” he stuttered, chuckling to cover his nerves and squeezing your remaining hand in his in two short motions, “I… I take back my earlier sentiment, uh-... If you’re interested?” He continued stuttering and choking on his words as he clumsily cartwheeled around his intentions.

“Oh?” you smirked at him, raking your fingers through his hair and darting your eyes between his, “And what was your earlier sentiment again, Captain?” You trailed your fingers down to the end of his lengthy locks. 

He gulped his terror and humbled himself by offering you a short, huffed laugh. After taking a moment, his eyes twinkled in mischievous hope as he rejoined your eyes in a smiling gaze. 

“I am one for fucking…”

Mihawk

Amber eyes stared in horror at the ceiling, wide and unblinking as he replayed the final moments over and over again in his mind. He drew his right hand down to grasp around the steel girth of his deflating cock and wield it in his firm grip. 

“I want that. I want you, lord Mihawk,” You whined his name as he pistoned his length deep within you in his mind's eye, “Please, I'm yours. Only yours.” His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes twitching but remaining staring vacantly at the ceiling. Thumbing over the prior release, he hissed in agitation the moment his fingers collected his viscous eruption. 

“How fatuous,” he snarled, raising his duvet once more from his waist, “So puerile.” His face remained vacant, his eyes holding only a touch more agitation than his usual persona as he walked to his ensuite shower. Turning the taps, he didn’t wait to feel the rise in water temperature. 

Stepping into the freezing water, he made no reaction as the icy liquid pelted at his skin; not even blinking to dampen his rapidly drying eyes. The water began to elevate in temperature as he released his cock from the grip. Gathering his sandalwood soap bar in his hands, he began lathering himself in foamy suds and washing over his body with his shock and shame still evident on his features.

The only time he closed his amber eyes was when he washed over his face, scrubbing at his whiskered chin and massaging his cheekbones. As soon as his eyes closed, he only saw your face contorted in pleasure, your ethereal moans freely haunting him in his ears. Shaking his head beneath the water, he only saw your face and imagined your hands clawing at his back beneath the water. 

Horror and shock eclipsed his eyes upon reopening, his eyes remaining that way as he concluded his shower, dried himself off, applied his cologne and skin care products, and dressed himself in his pants and greatcoat. His fingers stuttered over the lacing on his outer greatcoat, his lengthy necklace almost choking him as he placed it over his neck.

Almost stumbling into the dining space, he searched in his mind for a reason something so juvenile could occur for someone of his age, standing, and stature. He had gone for so long without taking a lover, he barely felt any lusting urges overcome him anymore. It didn’t suit his routine, his monotony, or his lifestyle as a former warlord. 

His apathetic and bored stature coming from a place of loneliness in his sovereignty as World's Greatest Swordsman. His achievements were already so vast, and he had nobody to share them with - nor a desire to begin a courtship with someone akin to his title. He had no time to take a lover, no time to indulge in whoring as it took away from his duties tending his garden in Kuraigana, and his bounty collecting as Marine-Hunter for Cross-Guild. 

So, why did his mind replay your pleasure over and over again in a loop of falsified memory? The marine spy, the confidant to cross-guild, the whispering oathbreaker; all the titles he sought to bestow you with. His hands reached for the bottle in front of him, clasping the green glass in his hands and uncorking the waxy tip. Pouring the rouge liquid into a crystalline glass, he felt a presence to the side of him.

“Could you spare a glass for me, my lord?” your soft susurration drew his attention back to the present, prompting his eyes to flicker to you. He witnessed your soft smile, your gaze assessing his face and shoulders.

Wordlessly, he reached for another glass and began readying it for you. The dry liquid coated the glass, a soft drop spilling from the rim and down the stem which caused you to knit your brows in concern. 

“Everything okay, my lord?” you asked, reaching for a napkin and beginning to clean up the mess, “You seem out of sorts this morning. Berry for your thoughts?” You dabbed at the table with the wafer-thin paper and tidied up his spill without a second thought. His eyes followed your motions, almost viewing the dabs in slow motion the longer your hands lingered near him. 

His silence seemed to perplex you further, turning your shoulders and leaning your hips back against the marble counter and staring up into his unblinking eyes in response. His shaking hands reached for his wineglass and drew it up to his lips. His mustache dipped into the liquid, messily staining his upper lip with the tart tannins. 

Gazing at his shoulders, you noticed a loop of his shoulder straps seeming to bubble within the corseted lacings, your hands absentmindedly straightening the bonds without much thought. Mihawk choked on his liquid the moment your hands brushed against his shoulders. 

Feeling the warmth float from your fingertips to the exposed skin beneath the weighty jacket, his eyes widened briefly and his pupils narrowed in an accusatory glare. Huffing a nervous laugh as his soft choke and shaking your head, you reached behind you to the pile of napkins and began to raise it to his face and lightly pat at his stained skin. 

Reactionary, he immediately placed his glass down behind you with his right hand, his left clapped around your invasive wrist in a circled vice-grip. Your breath caught in your throat, darting your eyes around his face with your eyes wide and panicked. He immediately drew his face forward and captured your lips beneath his without restraint. He hummed into your lips, raising his right hand and carding his fingers through your hair to deepen the passion.

Lips, tongue, and teeth pulled and tugged at your mouth from the swordsman, his gentle moans and sharp breaths depicting his wanton need to join himself with you immediately. He was pent up for so long, restrained for so long, and his body betrayed him in a shameful display in his dreams as proxy to such desire. If his overnight visit from you as his midnight muse spoke for anything, it was that his needs were now becoming more insistent, prominent, and desperate to be satiated. 

And you were who he wanted to aid him in such a task. 

Your hands raised defensively beside you, your eyes were wide and staring at his furrowed brow and tightly clamped eyes. He continued pressing heated and passionate kisses against your lips with gusto. Not giving you time to adjust or react, he anchored himself between your legs and pinned you against the marble dining station. Lips trailing to your cheek and down your neck, he bit, nipped and sucked at your revealed skin. 

His hands looped around your neck and shoulders, drawing you against him with an incessant need to depict to you his desires with his unyielding grip. You gasped as his lips traced up your skin and returned to your lips, your hands dropping to brace yourself beside you on the marble surface. 

Pulling his lips away, he held your face stationary by palming at the scruff of your neck and holding your attention with his honey-colored eyes. His predatory gaze narrowed in on you as his bruise-kissed lips ticked up in his signature smirk. 

“There,” he snarled at you in soft agitation, before releasing your neck. He collected his wineglass and green bottle from behind you, keeping his face in close proximity. His smirk drew up further as he turned to walk away from you. 

Calling over his shoulder, he snickered his taunting remark at you before leaving through the door, “Now I can occupy your thoughts the same way you've been tormenting me in mine.” 

You stood there stunned, frozen in place as your lips still tingled with the feeling of his against yours. The silky scrape of his neatly cropped beard tickling your cheeks, the way his tongue brushed with yours, and the animalistic desire to consume you with his lust had your soul ignited. 

Turning to the marble bench, you claimed your wineglass and raised it to your lips, immediately gulping back the tart liquid in a heaping swig. Placing the glass in the sink, you stared at the door Mihawk just left through, your thoughts spiraling and sifting through all the possible scenarios of what his words meant, and what the kiss means for you now. 

Only Mihawk knew what he intended with the kiss, and after the morning meeting, he was going to give into his desires further and offer you a place in his bed to have his dreams become reality. 

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

Hi love! I hope you are doing well ☺️

If possible could I request a Aemond X reader? Maybe something where he takes notice of a hobby reader likes and surprises them with something related to it?

Piece de Resistance

Pairing: Aemond x Wife Reader

Summary: Aemond stumbles upon your love for the arts, painting, drawing, sketching, and the like. <3

Warnings: none I don't think, Aemond being a cute and supportive husband. a good moment of domesticity :)

AN: Hello! I absolutely love this request! I hope I did it justice haha. Thank you so much for submitting it! The picture is from Pinterest! It's St Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne.

It wasn’t often you got a moment to yourself nowadays. With your husband acting as Prince Regent in his brother’s absence, you and he both were kept rather busy. Him with the Small Council and issues of the realm, you with the petty social gossipings and happenings of the Court. So rare moments of peace and quiet like this were highly coveted.

Your marital chambers echoed with emptiness as you entered and looked around. The curtains you had chosen fluttered in the breeze. Aemond had not wanted them, but ultimately he conceded, never being able to say no to you. 

He must be in a Small Council meeting, you thought. Or perhaps training with Ser Criston, letting off some steam. Your husband seemed to have an ever-constant knot of stress in his shoulders and neck. You’d tried to massage it out many a time, but it never seemed to budge, or it ended in a much different sort of activity –

Under your armoire, lay a dusty, maroon-red box. You bent down, moving to pull it out of its little hiding spot. You had snuck it under there after you had moved into Aemond’s chambers. The day after your wedding. Aemond had insisted that you move to his quarters as soon as possible. He didn’t like being separated from you more than necessary. If he could, he would have you seated on his lap in Small Council meetings or even when he sat on the Iron Throne. But alas, that was a touch too far, and people would talk. As they always do –

Your husband was kind and dotting, if not overprotective and possessive of you. You had known one another since you were children. Your house and family coming to visit the Court, your mother and the dowager Queen had been friends since their youth. They had hoped that you and Aemond would get along well, and you did, famously so. When he had lost his eye, you had come to the Red Keep, to offer him comfort and company. You had never left after that. 

Your fingertips graze over the top of the box, as you rest it on top of your bed sheets. Leaving an empty trail in their wake. The lock lay rusted and golden on the front, pulling a small key from the pocket of your skirt, you unlock it. A small, soft resounding click bounced off the walls. As you gingerly opened the lid, the stale smell of linseed oil filled your nostrils. Small metal tubes of colorful paint lay untouched in the box. Clean bristles and dirty brush handles scattered about, small rolls of blank canvas. All of which lay, unmoved, unbothered, from the last time you had used them. 

When you were little, you had complained to your mother once about the bore of your lessons. For your tenth name day, she had brought in a painter from Highgarden to tutor you. He had taught you how to mix colors and paint the prettiest flowers. As you grew older, he taught you more complicated things, like ladies in bushy skirts, and golden dragons in the sky. An odd prophecy of your future.

Taking some basic colors, red, blue, yellow, and white, some brushes, and a small roll of canvas, you set up shop at your dressing table. For the time being, altering it into a makeshift desk. Deciding to paint what you knew best, you began to sketch out a dragon among roses, with some charcoal that you had borrowed from Aemond.

He wouldn’t miss it, you thought. He had a small goblet full of charcoal and quills, hiding amongst the piles of books and scrolls on the table. Which he used to plot his war games, or occasionally take dinner with you. When you both grew tired of his family and their bickering. 

The dragon began to take form on the canvas, it looked slightly like Vhagar, large, old, and wrinkly. Her age showing in her face and eyes. Around her, you drew roses, peonies, daffodils, lavender, a great colorful bouquet. Once you had begun mixing the paints, on a makeshift pallet made of spare parchment paper. The other sounds of the world seemed to fade away, the monotony of the act being therapeutic. A much-desired mindless activity in the middle of the war you all found yourself in. You would never voice this to anyone, but it was silly to you. The hubris and hypocrisy of your husband's family was vast and great, and deadly at the worst. The blood of the dragon ran thick and hot, volatile and dangerous. 

You had become so absorbed in your work that you hadn’t heard the door open, the faint call of your name. Lost on the wind perhaps. Aemond stood, leaning a shoulder against the door frame, a small smile playing at his lips, watching you, intently. He knew and had seen you become absorbed like this in a book or some piece of writing, but he had never seen you do this before. Paint.

The colorful oils stain your fingertips and wedge themselves beneath your nails. The same stale smell of the linseed oil met his nostrils.

 An odd sort of smell, he thought. He crept a bit closer, as close as possible not yet wanting you to know he was there. He silently rested his sword on the bed, the sheets muffling any noise it may have made. You were humming softly to yourself. An old hymn your mother used to sing to you. 

As he crept closer, Aemond could make out the picture you were working on. The colors came to life before his eyes, the eyes of his dragon staring back at him. 

“Gevie (beautiful)” He muttered, under his breath.

Startled, you jumped a bit, smudging one of the petals on the peony you were working on. “Shit” you breathed out.

“Aemond, Husband, I had not heard you come in!” You stand, turning to face him, stepping in front of your work as if to hide it.

Aemond chuckled a bit, noticing the pink tinge to your cheeks, embarrassed at being caught. He lifted an eyebrow, and gestured to the painting behind you, 

“May I see it?” He asked, his gaze meeting your own. After a slight pause, you stepped aside. Aemond walked past you, placing a loving hand on your waist, holding you to him slightly. Aemond has developed a habit of always having a hand on you, as if scared you were going to be snatched away, stolen from him. 

Again, he muttered a “Gevie” under his breath. He turned to look at you, your face twisted in anticipation of what he may think. You had hidden the hobby from him not out of malice, but rather out of embarrassment. Other ladies and some lords of the court had mentioned that painting was a poor man's job and that someone of “noble blood” needn’t concern themselves with such silly things. You had been worried that he would have agreed with them, not liking it. 

“I didn’t know you painted. This is lovely,” The hand on your waist moved to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind your ear, it had fallen loose from your braids. 

“I was afraid you would disapprove –” 

“Why on earth would I disapprove my love? This is beautiful, you have a talent”. Your cheeks turned impossibly more pink at his praise and approval. 

“Actually, I would like it very much if you were to paint something on my sword. Vhagar perhaps –” He trailed off thinking, “Or maybe the seas or those flowers are quite lovely too–” You had placed a finger over his lips, laughing. Aemond stopped talking, kissing the digit instead. 

“Yes husband, I would love nothing more,” Your smile matched Aemond’s from before. 

“I would like to show it off–” He murmured against your finger, kissing it again. You moved your hand to his cheek, cupping it lovingly. This small moment of domestic bliss was needed, for the both of you. 

“Well then, go and fetch it, and I shall get to work,” With the excitement of a little boy, your husband retrieved his sword from the bed, unsheathing it, placing it on the desk in front of you. The previous painting moved to the windowsill, to dry. Aemond pulled up a chair, sitting beside you. 

He rested his elbow on the corner of the table, chin in palm. The only free spot on the table, not littered with paints and brushes. You began to work, and he watched you, with nothing but love and admiration in his eye. He could sit here, happily, forever, watching you work, with the setting sun twinkling on the ocean water outside of the windows. Your delicate hands painted the hard metal of his sword. He would let you paint the whole damn keep if it made you happy. And now, with the conqueror's crown resting upon his brow, maybe he would –

Tag List:

@helaenaluvr ��@anukulee   @stuckinaf4nfiction

@darylandbethfanforever9

[jenscx]

FALLING — kim minjeong x f!reader

marriage life was great. minjeong was the best wife you could ever ask for; she’s sweet, caring, patient… the list goes on. she’s your favourite person, even when upset, you still think she’s the cutest.

TAGS — fluff, zero angst, ceo!minjeong, arranged marriage!au, established relationship, jealousy, continuation of daydreamin’

WORDCOUNT — 3.7k

being married to minjeong was like a dream. you had to constantly remind yourself by staring at the gleaming diamond ring wrapped around your finger. the weight of the ring on your finger never fails to bring a smile onto your face. already grinning at the thought, you turn your whole body, watching it shine in the moonlight.

unfortunately, turning to face the window meant turning away from the warmth of a body— minjeong’s. the girl stills in her sleep, groaning slightly and snuggling deeper into your hair. you take a peek at the sleeping girl, but take no action in turning back. seemingly upset, minjeong’s face furrows into a look of displeasure. slowly, her hand trails along the naked skin of your waist exposed by your sleep shirt riding up. a firm grip of your waist and you’re pulled back into her embrace. it was ironic that the cold girl was an extreme cuddler in her sleep.

she lets out a sigh, relieved that you were finally back in her arms. you retract your hand from admiring the ring in the moonlight back down to rub small circles over the back of minjeong’s hand. your wife doesn’t make any more movements, signalling to you that she’s finally fallen into deep sleep. it makes you content that minjeong is getting the rest she needs. after a rather exhausting day at the company, minjeong had come home, hair tousled and eye bags deeper than usual. you couldn’t help but notice the tremendous amount of yawns she let out during dinner.

if it wasn’t for her growling stomach, you would have immediately put her to bed. yet, she seemed equally hungry and tired. it had been a few months since she first brought up the deal with one of the businesses in china and minjeong had told you that they finally sealed it this week. you couldn’t believe your wife was the ceo of a company when she was jumping up and down joyfully. if she had a tail, it would be wagging.

(“minjeong, has anyone told you that you look like a puppy?”

“are you calling me a bitch? and yes, yizhuo said i look like a dog.”)

you were glad minjeong was such a competent worker who only strived for perfection. her work ethic was insane, and the company’s success spoke proudly of it. however, you just wished she could take a break sometimes. it seemed like her mind was overtaken with business and work. maybe your wife was a workaholic. that didn’t stop her from leaving the company building at exactly 5pm to get home to eat dinner with you though.

it only made your feelings blossom even further for her. kim minjeong, who cannot stay away from her job for less than a day, comes home on time to eat dinner with her wife. it was endearing. a whiny groan from minjeong makes you turn your head to her. minjeong had somehow burrowed her head even further into the crook of your neck, cheeks squished between the pillow and your shoulder.

ah, kim minjeong was so cute.

smiling softly at your wife, your eyelids flutter shut, relishing in the warmth that minjeong provides, for both your body, and your heart.

the ray of sunlight beaming through the slit of the curtains is the first thing you see. it hits your eyes directly, forcing you to turn away from the window. the second thing you notice is that the warmth previously surrounding your body is gone. frowning, you open your eyes, disappointed that minjeong wasn’t by your side anymore. yawning and stretching your arms out, you peer around the room. the duvet has been neatly folded to cover your whole body and the pillows on minjeong’s side of the bed are tidied up against the headboard. you get up from the bed and quickly brush your teeth and shower.

fresh out of the shower, you notice the bedroom door is slightly ajar, leaving a crack for the aroma of pancake batter to seep in. your stomach gurgles unintentionally at the hint of breakfast, and your heart lightens when you realise minjeong’s probably in the kitchen and you can spend extra seconds with her.

padding your way to the kitchen down the stairs, the sight of minjeong with her now blonde hair tied sleekly back. her body is adorned with a cute, frilly, white apron that is knotted at her waist. it makes you swoon.

your wife is humming a familiar tune, you deduce that it’s one of the many harry styles songs she’s made you listen to. slowly, you walk closer to minjeong, who’s still unaware of your presence.

“mindoongie,” you greet, “good morning.”

minjeong jumps, gasping as the spatula in her hand falls onto the counter. she turns to you, eyes wide.

“you scared me, baby,” she sighs, picking up the fallen spatula and transferring the last pancake from the hot skillet onto a plate, neatly decorated with an assortment of various fruits. you giggle apologetically, “sorry, i thought you heard me coming.”

your wife shakes her head and carries the two plates to the kitchen island. you take a seat on one of the barstools, eyes laser-focused on the dripping maple syrup cascading down the pancakes like a waterfall. your mouth salivates.

“this looks so good.”

“I’m glad,” minjeong takes the seat next to you, gently slicing through the pancakes and tasting it, “i think i’m getting pretty good at cooking. maybe we won’t need mr park anymore.”

mr park was minjeong’s private chef, one that her father had hired.

“mhm,” your cheeks are stuffed full of pancake, “it tastes really good. but mr park makes the best soybean noodles.”

minjeong’s eyelashes flutter as her gaze lands on you, “really? i think the one you make tastes better.”

“you’re just saying that, you flirt,” you swat at her shoulder. your wife pouts and it’s adorable.

“i’m not,” and god, minjeong whines. it’s seriously harming you with how cute your wife is. is it possible to fall in love with someone twice? you might need to look it up. maybe you had an obsession— it would make perfect sense. everything that you see, touch, feel, they all instantly connect back to minjeong. you eat at a new restaurant; minjeong would like the tiramisu here. you hear a new pop song on the radio; minjeong would like this song. you see a pretty dress while shopping; minjeong would look amazing in it.

everything reminded you of her.

was that a blessing or a curse?

you hoped it was the former, but with the way she’s almost given you heart attacks with her puppy eyes, perhaps it was the latter.

a poke is felt on your cheek, distracting you from your imagination of minjeong’s puppy eyes. your wife stares at you cheekily, fingers squishing your face, “what are you thinking about?”

“thinking about you,” you answer honestly.

minjeong laughs, “seriously? that’s so cliche.”

you shrug. she only repeats, “what are you actually doing?”

“i’m doing something cliche,” you retort, stuffing a piece of pancake soaked in butter and syrup into your mouth. minjeong merely scoffs, not out of annoyance, maybe out of disbelief that you were still so cheesy.

“i have something to ask,” minjeong says out of the blue. you’re chowing down the last piece of delicious pancake and savouring the flavour when she suddenly springs a question.

“i have a company banquet i’m obliged to attend. will you be my date?”

you hesitantly nod. minjeong’s whole face brightens up, “really?”

“uh, yeah sure.” sensing your reluctance, minjeong slides a comforting hand over yours. “you can always say no if you want.”

swallowing, you reply, “it’s okay, i want to go with you. i’m just worried that i won’t be that extroverted or eager in making business deals or whatever.”

minjeong guffaws, “baby, all you have to do is be right beside me and i would be the happiest woman alive.”

“okay, romeo, you don’t have to flatter me, i’m already going.” minjeong just shrugs, “is it really flattering if it’s the truth?”

you take a large gulp of water.

“when’s the company banquet?”

minjeong flashes you a bashful smile.

“tonight.”

“kim minjeong—”

you pull the hem of your dress to cover the skin of your thighs. minjeong had picked out a black, fitting dress, akin to the one you wore to the family dinner a few months back. staring at the mirror, you take a seat down facing the vanity desk.

“baby,” minjeong calls out from the walk-in closet, “can you come help me?” you stand up, peering in the closet. your wife was facing a full length mirror, her body adorned by a two piece black pantsuit. it matches your black dress rather well.

“do you think this looks good?” she asks. you brush at her shoulders, admiring how good your wife looks. you run your fingers through her messy blonde hair, trying to calm the locks of golden.

minjeong sighs into your touch. “you’ll look great in anything, but this makes me want to jump you.” your wife preens at the praise, like a cute puppy.

“c’mon, let’s go already, it’s almost 6.”

you pull minjeong’s arm, dragging her to the front door. the chauffeur is waiting patiently on the driveway. after getting in the car, minjeong whips out her phone, fingers rapidly working against the keyboard. curious, you peek at the chat.

“it’s jimin unnie,” minjeong explains, “she’s going to be there too. along with some of my other friends.” nodding, you let your head remain hovering above her shoulder. minjeong glances at you.

“you can sleep if you want to. it’s a twenty minute drive,” she whispers, gently moving your head onto her shoulder. drowsy, you let your eyelids close, your hands instinctively going to rest on top of minjeong’s lap. you feel her hand slither into your palm. grasping the warmth, you eventually fall asleep, blonde hair and lopsided smiles burned into the back of your mind.

the comfort disappears soon after. your eyelids flutter open as minjeong brushes the stray strands of your hair out of your face.

“we’re reaching soon,” minjeong murmurs. you nod, your hands flying to the seat to support your body. her hands fly to wrap around your waist, humming softly. enjoying the solace of minjeong’s embrace, you lean into her touch for a few more minutes.

“mrs kim, we have arrived,” the chauffeur announces. minjeong lets out a little whine as she separates herself from the hug. “thank you,” she clears her throat, “i will inform you when to pick us up.”

your wife exits the car gracefully, unable to resist running to the other side where you were seated to open the door.

“charming,” you remark. minjeong has a hand out to steady you, a goofy smile on her face, “anything for my wife.”

you smile back and accept her hand. your jaw nearly drops at the sight. a stunning, white stoned mansion. small engravings of gold studded into the pillars on the patio. outside, the house was surrounded by neat and carefully trimmed hedges. the driveway was crowded, luxury vehicles dropping off their clients, who were decked in even more luxurious outfits. minjeong tugs at your hand. your eyes follow her movement.

“is it pretty?” she asks. you nod meekly, slightly intimidated by the grandeur of the mansion. you couldn’t believe someone would even hold a company banquet here. if it were you, you wouldn’t even allow anyone other than family and friends to enter such a home.

“do you like it more than the penthouse?” your wife asks again. your eyes widen, “no, i would feel really lonely in such a big house.”

minjeong nods, “but you have me. why would you ever feel lonely?” your heart melts.

“on business trips, honey. but i like our house more, feels more cosy and like home.”

she brightens up at the answer. you can’t help but giggle at her cuteness.

“if you said you liked it more, i would have bought it for you,” minjeong says offhandedly. you wonder if it’s possible to fall in love twice.

a security guard greets you at the entrance. while you admire the intricate detailing in the doorframe, minjeong converses with the guard.

“mrs kim minjeong and mrs kim y/n,” the guard repeats, looking up from his clipboard, “you may enter.”

minjeong leads you into the main hall. awestruck, you gape at the soaring ceilings and marble floors. a glimmering chandelier hangs from the ceiling, shining brightly. your eyes wander around, amazed at the sweeping staircase, adorned with ornate mouldings. the room is filled with crowds of people, murmurs bouncing off the walls. at every corner, a table, wrapped with white cloth, holds refreshments.

“kim mindoong,” a hand twirls you and minjeong around. yu jimin stands behind, grinning as she sips from a wine glass.

“jimin unnie,” you greet, smiling widely. the woman was wearing a beautiful black dress, frills of sheer black cloth embellished around the fabric. her sleek hair was tied up into a bun, accentuating her sharp jawline.

“y/nnie! you look amazing,” jimin gasps, eyes roaming down your figure. minjeong’s grasp tightens around yours.

your wife shields you playfully, “don’t look at my wife like that.”

jimin rolls her eyes, “i’m just admiring. is it illegal to look at people now? anyway, i heard aeri will be here too.”

minjeong scoffs, “dressed up nicer for her?” you laugh, thinking about jimin’s crush on your mutual friend. the mentioned girl only smiles wider, “why? do you think she’ll like it?”

“you do know she still thinks you’re with jaewook, right?” minjeong asks, “don’t you think she’ll be put off by you?”

you think back to a past conversation. minjeong had told you about jimin’s ex, or rather ex-situationship. honestly, you had no idea if jimin was purely straight or she just liked aeri. you thank god every day that you didn’t have to go through drama to be with someone you loved.

“ugh, i forgot about that. whatever, i’ll just have to show aeri what she’s missing out on,” jimin winks as she twirls away.

minjeong stands rooted to the ground for a few seconds, sighing, “i can’t believe her.” as you and minjeong venture further into the room, minjeong says, “if i were aeri, i would literally rip jimin’s head off the moment she told us she was seeing jaewook.”

“really? why?” you ask curiously.

your wife laughs, “why would i want to see the person i liked being with someone else? that’s lunacy.”

you nod in agreement, eyes drifting to minjeong’s side profile. your brain already starting to imagine such a scenario; minjeong being jealous. you could visualise her furrowed brow and the purse of her lips. she would look extra attractive when mad. this, you couldn’t deny.

“what are you thinking about?” minjeong’s soft voice floats into your ears. her face is positioned above your shoulders, staring at you with a curious gaze. you shrug, “i’m thinking about you.”

“cute,” minjeong smiles, “i need to go talk to hanbin about branching out into china, wait here for me?” a waiter swerves by, you reach out to grasp a glass of champagne. “of course, go be a ceo.”

minjeong grins at you one final time, and she disappears beneath the hoard of people. you sigh, taking small sips of the champagne. from the corner of your eye, you could spot jimin and aeri conversing. they were in a deep, heated conversation, borderline argument. soon after, they both slipped away from your gaze. you don’t bother looking for them. most likely, jimin would be grovelling while aeri watches.

at the other side of the party, you make out yizhuo’s figure, clinging onto the arm of a woman you don’t recognise. yizhuo was dragging the woman around, probably introducing her to numerous investors and executives. as you watch yizhuo and her guest, a figure shows up next to you.

he clears his throat.

your eyes flicker to meet his.

“hello,” you say slowly. you don’t recognise him either.

the stranger, fitted in a tailored suit, smiles, “hello, why are you standing off in a corner? not interested in talking to the big guys?”

you raise an eyebrow.

“no, not very.”

he flashes an even wider smile. your eyes drift to his hair, black, gleaming, probably run through with heavy amounts of gel.

“i’ve never seen you before,” he notes, “is this your first time attending such a banquet?”

“yes, it’s my first time.”

“i’m sim jaeyun, but call me jake,” he thrust out his hand. you grip his hand in a firm shake, “i’m kim y/n.”

jake’s eyes widened, “kim? are you part of kim minjeong’s family?”

you smile, thinking about your wife, “you could say that.” jake looks blown away, you wonder about the power your wife has.

“she’s kind of a big deal, ceo and all.”

“i’m aware of that.”

“how are you related? have you met her? are you guys close?” he rambles. you're slightly taken aback by the number of questions he throws at you. overwhelmed, you just stare at him.

slowly, he regains himself, coughing into his hand while fixing his hair, “sorry. i shouldn’t have… that was rude of me, but she’s extremely private about her life. i was shocked that a family member of hers would show up here.”

“it’s all right.”

“ah, to make up for my haste,” jake smiled bashfully, “could i offer you dinner?” you halt, gears turning in your head as you make out what jake is implying.

“no, actually i’m already here with someone.”

“i can’t charm you away for a few hours? surely they won’t miss your presence too much seeing as they left you here alone.”

you force a smile, irritated and through gritted teeth, you reply, “i said no.”

“really? who’s the person that brought you here? i’ll just let them know that you’ll be coming with me.”

a hand slithers around your waist, you lean into the familiar touch.

a sweet, honey-toned voice says, “good evening, mr sim. i’m glad you have met my wife, y/n.”

honestly, if it weren’t for the pity you felt for jake, you might have bursted out laughing at his reaction. yet, the humiliation of having hit on a taken woman seems to overwhelm him.

“your wife,” jake repeats.

“i’m afraid she will not be going to dinner with you, as she will be going home with me,” minjeong sighs, rather apologetically. you know this is all a facade. minjeong was just acting.

jake blushes, “i’m sorry, i didn’t know she was already taken.”

minjeong just smiles.

“have a good evening, mr sim,” she waves goodbye, dragging you away from the corner she left you in. her firm grip on your wrist doesn’t deter you from feeling relieved. fear bubbles slowly in your stomach at what minjeong might say. she pulls you outside, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, just as you imagined.

“y/nnie,” minjeong turns to look at you and god, the girl is pouting with full-on puppy eyes, “you let him flirt with you.”

fuck, why was she so cute? all your fear disapparates instantly.

“mindoongie, i wasn’t flirting with him,” you extend your hand to squeeze at her cheeks, “and why are you being so cute? you know i like you the most, right?”

“you didn’t reject him.”

“i was trying to be nice! what if he was a potential business partner for you?” you try reasoning with her.

“i don’t deal business with jerks who go after taken women, and especially not my woman.” minjeong’s jealousy and possessiveness was kind of attractive, you couldn’t lie.

you roll your eyes playfully, “it was just a possibility, and i didn’t do anything to encourage his behaviour.”

minjeong’s pout only worsens, “but you weren’t rejecting him.” you can barely hear what she says, her cheeks being squashed beneath your palms.

“i did reject him, minjeong. he was just insistent,” you explain, “he asked if i was related to you.”

just remembering jake’s surprised face makes you chuckle. minjeong arches an eyebrow, “related to me?”

“am i not your wife, mrs kim?” you pinch her cheek. minjeong winces, grasping your wrist again, “a-ah, yes you are!”

you let go, smiling cheekily at the red mark of your fingers left behind.

“baby, it hurts,” minjeong whines. your first instinct is to lean in, pressing a soft kiss onto the reddened skin. your lips touch her cheek in a feather like movement, softly and slowly, your lipstick covers the previous mark. minjeong stares at you, eyes blown open and a hand cradling her cheek. you pull back, admiring the way her skin flushes again, like wine spilling into her veins.

minjeong is the prettiest this way. all flustered and vulnerable, just for you.

“you’re so cute, mindoongie,” you blurt out. it’s crazy the way your wife has changed; from the brooding, gloomy ceo to the silly and affectionate puppy she is now.

“y/n, it hurts here too,” minjeong pouts, pushing out her lips. you swat at her shoulder, well aware of what she’s trying to imply. “stop it, stupid.”

“but it really hurts!” minjeong’s a second away from stomping her foot and throwing a tantrum. you gaze lovingly at your wife. her eyelashes flutter, big, brown eyes begging for a kiss.

you can’t resist leaving a quick peck on her lips. minjeong sighs happily, pulling you closer.

“only i can have you like this,” she says, more to herself than you.

nodding, you caress her cheek, wiping away the lipstick mark left there. your other hand tugs at her blazer. minjeong leaves slow kisses on your face, from your forehead down to your jawline. you let minjeong have her fun, occasionally letting out sighs and teasing remarks. minjeong just ignores you and continues.

seemingly finished, minjeong rests her head on your shoulder, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

“i love you, kim y/n.”

being married to kim minjeong was great, you would say.

“i love you too, kim minjeong.”

[eetherealgoddess]

can you one with mikey where he is deeply in love with reader but she is oblivious and one night his dark impulses take control of him and he fucks he in her sleep??? love your content btww

thank you!! hope this turned out the way you wanted!! <3

ꨄTemptationꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Mikey Au

❦You didn’t know how tempting you were to those dark eyes❦

Sano Manjiro x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Temptation

The moonlight gleams through the cracked curtains, shining over the bed as a figure lies underneath the white comforter. You slumber, snug and warm as you lie on your stomach, one leg lifted as well as both of your arms though with bent elbows. Your other leg is planted straight down as your cheek meets the pillow. Light snoring echoed throughout the room as well as steady breathy. You were oblivious to the eyes gazing over your limp frame. He’s kneeled on the floor as his head lies on top of the arms that are crossed on the mattress in front of your face. His blonde strands hovering over his face, disheveled from his lack of care considering his sleepless nights.

Ever since he found a way to break into your room despite you still living at home, he hasn’t been able to keep himself away. He likes to visit you at night. It helps with easing the dark thoughts he succumbs to when he tries to fall asleep. His past haunts him, entrapping his mind with nothing but dark whispers of various impulses. The intrusive thoughts sneak up on him as a snake would before snapping the venom in their prey, trailed by the shadows of darkness looming over his back and reminding him that all he is meant to experience is suffering.

Ironically, sneaking into your room at night gives him a sense of normality. He can’t help but to live in the moment once you’re in the picture. A sane person wouldn’t think twice of you, having accidentally bumped into one another which resulted in you apologizing before running off. It didn’t make sense why he decided to follow you the rest of the day or command one of his gang members to search for more information about you. It doesn’t make sense why there isn’t a day he goes without thinking of you.

Maybe it was the sense of normalcy or distraction from his inner world. Maybe it was the qualities you had as a person that he found interesting after looking into you. The fact is that he is mesmerized by you. It’s been months since you first met, the accidental shove forever leaving a ghostly tingling sensation on his arm. He sits up for a moment, resting his elbows against the bed as both of his hands tangle through his hair, holding up his head as he eyes you with a half lidded gaze.

After a moment he stood up before slowly pulling the cover back, deciding to see more of you to get his fill. He gazed at your body that only consisted of a t-shirt and shorts. He loved to see the fabric of your bottoms wrapped tightly around your curves which is why his favorite nights are when you have them on.

He figured out that your sleeping habits vary. Sometimes he’d get there and you were in the middle of changing, scrolling through your phone, or… sometimes even catching you in the middle of a session with your sex toy. The tree next to your window and the space in your walk-in closet as well as the placement of your bed from across made those specific nights a lot easier to observe.

He uses a hand to caress your back gently before slightly lifting your shirt to reveal the skin on your lower back. His palm rubbed along the crease in which your derrière and back meet, squeezing your side before continuing his strokes, staring at your face cautiously. He bit his lip as he squeezed you once more, firmly as he watched your nose scrunch. He released your skin as he felt a tightness form in his pants.

It wasn’t his first time gaining an erection simply from gazing or touching you. In fact, there have been times he had rubbed his tense cock in your closet as you were watching porn, both of you orgasming together as he edged himself until you were ready for release. He’s used your clothes as towels and stole them. He’s also jerked off sitting right in front of you as you sleep on the bed, imagining all the different ways he can have his way with you.

The way your legs tense when the toy hits that spot that sends you into convulsion, your moans filling the air as well as the curses as you grind out your orgasm. Sometimes you’ll even repeat your sessions back to back, in search of the relief he wants to provide for you. He palmed his bulge as he reminisced those favorable moments. He looks down and gazes at his own hard on, his hair hovering over his face with his lips slightly parted as a red hue forms on his cheeks.

“Shit.” He whispered, feeling the overwhelming urge to climb on top of you. He just wanted to take a look at your wet pussy again. Leaning over to where he uses a hand to slide the leg nearest to open to gain a better viewpoint of your covered vagina. The tight shorts caused an imprint to outline the frame of your center. He glanced at you before gently connecting his fingers with your pussy, rubbing over the slit. He watched you as his middle finger moved to where your clit is hidden under the shorts, applying a still pressure to test the waters. Your hips twitched as you slightly readjusted but your eyelids stayed shut.

His fingers slid until he reached in between your ass cheeks, grazing over your covered anus before removing his hand all together. His torso bends over, crawling until he climbs over your legs. His hands connect with your shorts before he slowly pulls them down, revealing your naked bottom half as he tossed them to the side. He scoots to a better position over your legs and cupped both of your butt cheeks, squeezing and using his thumbs to caress the skin before spreading your labia with his fingers still planted on your ass.

He glanced at you to see your sleeping figure once more before he released you and shoved a hand into his pants. He lowers the lining of his underwear before pulling his cock from his pants. Deciding to ease some of the tension, he positions himself closer to your ass, using a hand to spread a cheek before pressing his cock in a downward position to where he could feel his head against your warm pussy.

He released a quiet grunt before lowering his torso on yours, basically hugging you as he eased his arms under yours, pressing his hips against you as he held it there. He thought he would have enough self control to not go all the way in since he just needed to feel you. It felt so good to feel your body against his, soft and warm. As time went on it was beginning to feel a little too good. He pressed down his hips before pulling back and repeating the same motion slowly in an attempt to not wake you up. He pants as the feeling becomes too hard to handle.

Deciding to just use the head of his cock, he licks his hand before lathering up his girth and using his fingers to position himself to your already wet vagina. He pushes forward slowly, your labia popping open wider as his tip stretches your hole. He accidentally released a moan as his head dropped, arms slightly shaking as they balanced himself over your figure.

“Oh fuck.” He hissed as he pushed in just a smidge more of a distance than before, stopping himself before he continued. It already feels like your pussy is sucking him in, the walls tightening the part of him already inside of you.

“So warm.” He groaned as he sat up more, breathing heavily with his lips apart as his head fell back. You slightly squirm against him as you attempt to reposition yourself, your leg that was bent moving down to where your feet are parallel. You wince as you take a deep breath before the slumber takes over once more.

He’s had to wait so long for this. He was having a hard time thinking rationally as all he wanted to do was shove his cock inside of you as deep as possible before forcing you to take all his cum. His hands reach the skin of your back under the shirt. His hips twitch back before he pushes back in, only his tip immersed in your walls. He can feel your pussy releasing more juice from the stimulation. Everything felt so hot.

He couldn’t take it anymore, lowering his upper body as he repositioned one of his arms under you and the other hand covering your mouth, lifting your head slightly. Your eyes finally flutter open into a squint, only just coming back to reality as you feel a heavy weight above you as well as a pressure from below.

“Forgive me, Y/n.” Your eyes widen at the low whisper before the hand tightens around your mouth and someone leaves a kiss on the back of your head before you feel a sharp pain in your core, causing a muffled grunt to leave your mouth as Mikey’s hips lock against yours in a swift motion.

He moaned when his hips smacked against your ass. You whimper at the pain as you attempt to push against the bed in an attempt to throw him off of you. You failed miserably, not even being able to move from your position because of his immense strength overpowering you from atop. You couldn’t even turn your head to see who the culprit is forcing themselves upon you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you grunt loud from another hard impact from his thick cock.

“G-get off of me!” You attempt to scream but his hand only muffled your speech. Both of your bodies rock as he gains rhythm, his hair flailing as he grinds against you.

“Shhh.” He nibbles on your ear as he makes an attempt to quiet his own moans, not wanting to risk your parents walking in though if it happened, he wouldn’t have a problem with ridding himself of the inconvenience of their presence.

“M’ gonna find it and make you feel so fucking good, Y/n.” He says in your ear, forcing his fast strokes in deeper as he searches for the spot that has you quivering when he watches. Your nails impale the sheets as your grip tightens, the pain having resided once he found the spot, a moan escaping your lips.

“There it is.” He smirks before pressing his head against yours and closing his eyes. He continuously aimed to kiss your cervix as his head dropped to your neck, his lips connecting with the skin before he thrusts harder, rutting against you as he humps your backside. His cock is suffocated by the warm gummy walls inside of you, your juice lathering him as a natural lube as you reflexively push your ass against him, meeting his thrusts as your nipples harden against the bed.

“Th-this isn’t right!” You try to speak once more, struggling to push yourself off the bed as he adds more weight to your form, cock rubbing along your inner lining as your g-spot is assaulted. “I don’t even know you!”

“The only thing…” he breathes, “…that matters is my lo…” He pants as his eyebrows furrow before the smacking of his hips against your body becomes louder as he brings you both closer to your orgasms, his tip beating hard against your g-spot. You release a loud grunt followed by a moan as your hips move against him desperately.

“Ah fuck, baby this feels so good.” He hissed before his lips fell apart. Lowering his head, he rests it against your shoulder as he fucks into you with firm yet fast strokes. You bite your lip as your eyes shut tight, your hips bucking as you release a desperate moan, a wave of pleasure engulfing your abdomen as you orgasm on the stranger’s thick cock.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He whispers before his grip on your face and shoulder tighten, his hips rocking as he thrusts out his orgasm. You both pant as you catch your breath, his cock still inside of you before he slowly pulls his hips back causing a grunt to leave you both. You feel him kiss your shoulder and neck as your eyes widen in horror at the realization of your circumstances as he releases your mouth.

“W-who are you?! Y-you j-just…” You try to turn around to get a look of him but he only pressed your head against the pillow.

“When we get to know each other better, I’ll explain. For now, just know that you’re my wifey, okay?” He smiled, ignoring the look of confusion and fear that appeared on your expression.

“I-I don’t even know you! HE-!” He covers your mouth once more and leaned to your ear.

“I don’t want to kill your parents, Y/n. So don’t make me, okay? I’d like to meet your family properly.” Tears stream down your face as he tells you to close your eyes. You comply, shutting them tight as you feel his weight shift before completely disappearing.

“See ya next time.”

tbh i liked the request but idk if i liked how i wrote it

[yeosgoa]

20:16 • sᴛᴀʀɢɪʀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʟᴜᴅᴇ (NSFW)

♡ dom!husband!Seonghwa x sub!housewife!reader

♡ domestic, smut

♡ WC • 1108

♡ Warnings!! (tags) • multiple positions, breeding, hair pulling, choking, exhibitionism(?), nipple play, creampie, breeding, multiple orgasms, wet dreams, raking. (pls lmk if I missed anything.)

♡ This has been rotting away in my head but I could never get to writing it. Now I've written it in half an hour listening to 'stargirl interlude' (The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey) on loop. It really helped tbh idk why I didn't think of it sooner 😭. Anyways enjoy, enjoy this while I work on my long fics. Lmk if you want a part two ♡♡.

♡ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

   His hands were on your hips, pelvis meeting with your ass every second. The blue strip light of your cabinet illuminated the black marble below, contrasting with your white almond acrylics that desperately wanted to dig into the material as you felt his cock slip in and out of you.

   Your tits moved forward at every smack, threatening to spill out of your apron until they did, cascading like curtains over the neckline. Back arching, his cock hit into you at a deeper angle, making both of you cry out. He leaned down, grabbing you by the waist and breathing into your neck, his words inaudible due to your ears ringing.

   “My perfect little housewife, letting me fuck you for all of the city to see.” Seonghwa grunted, one of his hands coming up to pinch at your erect nipples. You whimper at the slight pain, grinding your ass against his pelvis before he pushes you down, holding the back of your neck and pounding into you at a rough pace.

   “Hwa!” You squealed, now feeling a tingle down your spine at the thought of someone below potentially seeing you; though it was a bustling city your windows were not tinted and it was nighttime. Everyone had a complete view of you being pounded by your husband. Seonghwa always fucked you like this, it was though he actually wanted someone to see. The clerestory windows of your penthouse give the people a full show of your bare form.

   Your husband slowed his pace. “Shh, baby, you want the neighbors to listen in?” He huffed, giving your cheek a firm slap before picking up his pace again. You shook your head, trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum despite the clapping overriding the noise of your television. Ironic, as you turned your head towards the windows.

   “Your logic does not make any sense,” you whined, city lights reflecting off your eyes. “If they can see me, they should hear me.”

   You weren’t sure where the boldness came from, but it definitely did not go unnoticed by Seonghwa, who hummed with a smirk forming on his features. “Yeah? You want a noise complaint, pretty?”

   He didn't wait for an answer, leaning over to grab the television remote and turning it off. Tossing it aside he began his pace once more, grabbing your hair and forcing your head up. “Let them hear you.”

   Tears stung at your eyes at the sudden tug, but you didn’t have time to wipe at them as you already felt the knot in your tummy forming. Your knuckles turned white. Your eyes start to roll back as your noises gradually get louder, as do Seonghwa once his balls start to tighten. 

   His hand snakes around to your clit, middle finger working its magic around the pearl as he moans purposefully in your ear. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby.” He says, making sure to make himself sound extra whiny.

   “,’m cumming,” you blubber, foot thumping against the ground and knee colliding with the cabinet as your lower half spasms around his cock, juices coating him like glaze. Seonghwa’s cock kept moving in and out of you regardless, thrusts starting to stutter and moans getting caught in his throat.

   “Gonna fill you up, 'm gonna fill that pussy…” He trailed off, pausing and holding you firmly against him as he came inside, breeding your little hole. You both groan in contentment, and you pull him out, turning to face him as you sat yourself on the freezing counter. “Again,” you whine, opening your legs.

   Seonghwa didn’t waste any time, pushing back into you and moving at a fluid pace. His arm went up and held the handle of the cabinets above for support, the other hand playing with your tits and wrapping around your throat.

   “Oh fuck me,” you sniffle, looking into his eyes. Your eyes shifted between looking into his and where you two met. He threw his head back, letting out a dry chuckle mixed in with a guttural moan. “You’re fucking crying.” he mused, tightening his grip.

    “I love it, I love it Hwa,” you whimper pathetically, locking your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your grip on the counter’s sharp edges tightened, the edge digging into your palm. Your fingers were going to ache soon. “Love it so much.”

   “You just love this cock so much, baby.” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling of your gummy walls clamping around his sensitive tip. “It’s gonna breed you so much.”

    Seonghwa’s face leaned into yours, taking in your expression. His pretty little housewife, all spread and open for him to breed. The hand that was wrapped around the handle of the counter went down to your thigh, raking his nails into it. His balls started to tighten once more, his cock felt harder inside you. You looked down at where you met before looking back up into his eyes, sharp as slits. 

   Your husband leaned down to suck harshly at your jaw, hand still on your throat, and hand now gliding over your under thigh as he started spurting into you again. The squelching sounds now increased in volume. You could feel the mix of your juices drooling out of your pussy and down to the rim of your asshole, making you moan softly and your eyes shut at the warmness.

   “Pretty girl,” Seonghwa cooed, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. His hand rubbed your shoulder as the warmness of your body slowly dissolved, only feeling the sweat on your back and wetness between your legs. 

   You slowly opened your eyes as your head came to again, your senses coming down from the intense session. Seonghwa kept crooning at you.

   “That’s a good girl, open your eyes baby.” he said, still rubbing your arm. Your eyes fully opened again, being met with your pillow.

   “You’re awake,” Seonghwa murmured softly, hovering over you. You looked up at him, blinking unnoticed tears away. You could tell by his expression that he was amused, though his eyes were soft as they admired your sleepy features. “,’m felt so good,” you babble mindlessly, thighs closing. The discomfort of sweat now gets to you as you sit up.

   “Poor thing, having wet dreams again. You’re like a pup in its rut, darling.” Seonghwa ruffles your hair, “grinding and wetting against the sheets again. You’re all drenched.”

   You heat up at the revelation, sighing deeply and leaning forward into your husband’s neck in embarrassment, who pets and scratches at your scalp and nape comfortingly. He chuckles softly; “Don’t frown, I’ll take care of you, baby.”

[desperate-gay]

millie bright x reader where reader plays for arsenal and they are sneaking around because they thought that their chelsea and arsenal teammates wouldn’t approve of them fraternising with the enemy as it were. in reality both teams already know and are seeing how much they can hint towards it and embarrass them without letting on that they know. maybe you could even in include some of the chelsea and arsenal girls teaming up to do this. sort of like romeo and juliet but make it comedy

Romeo & Juliet

Millie Bright x fem!reader

“-What are you doing here? Someone’s going to see you!” You whisper shout, pulling the person in by their wrist and peaking your head out the door into the hallway to see if anyone is around. Thankfully there wasn’t.

You were looking through your suitcase before a series of knocks interrupted you. A little confused as to why someone was knocking at your hotel door at 11 at night, you went to open the door and noticed it was your secret girlfriend Millie Bright.

The main reason your relationship is a secret is because of the color of your uniforms. Hers being the dark blue for Chelsea and yours being the bright red for Arsenal. Two players on rival teams falling in love; ironic isn’t it?

If you both played for the same country it would be a little different, but sadly, you don’t. What’s worse is that you play for the USWNT, everybody’s sworn enemy it feels like, although everyone loves you no matter where you’re from. They obviously don’t hate players from the country, but since they’re extremely competitive, they have to keep up their tough front.

“Well, nice to see you too, love.” Millie snickers, slumping down at the end of the hotel mattress with a big thump, squirming in her place to get comfortable. She opens her arms for you to slot yourself on her lap and hug your arms around her neck.

“Sorry, I’m so happy to see you. I’ve missed you.” You sigh, pecking her cheek softly while nuzzling your face into her neck, trying to get as close to her as you can. Her tattooed arm trails underneath your shirt, rubbing at your stomach as she presses tiny kisses along your jaw.

“I’ve missed you too. I have also missed letting the TV run while I get my way with you.” She whispers suggestively, continuing to trail kisses in any place she can reach, making you hum in pleasure.

“Ooo! Look at the sky!” You hop off the blonde’s lap and open the sliding door to go onto the balcony, leaving the defender winded by your sudden disappearance. She sighs with a fond smile, shaking her head before getting up to follow you.

Millie’s arms loop around your waist as her chin finds a place down on your shoulder. Her muscular figure wraps around you comfortably while you both gaze up at the stars in the sky.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” You ask, rocking back and forth slowly with the taller girl’s body against yours.

“Almost as beautiful as you.” She teases, placing a kiss on your neck.

“You’re so cheesy.” You say in fake disgust with your tongue hanging out your mouth to prove your point further. Her fingers pinch your side, warning you to keep your mouth shut.

“I guess listening to Sam’s and Kristie’s calls all the time rubs off on ya.”

You both look at the sky and the people walking up to the hotel for a little bit until you catch a familiar blonde looking up at you with a puzzled face and a hand over her eyes to block the light from the lamppost. Of course, it had to be the Lionesses captain and your fellow Arsenal teammate.

“Shit! Mills go inside. Code red, I repeat code red!” Before your girlfriend can protest, you’re already shoving her through the glass doors and shutting it along with the curtains.

“Now what was that for?” Millie stands with her arms crossed over her chest, wondering why exactly their peaceful stargazing was interrupted by you yelling and pushing her into the hotel room.

“Leah might have just seen us from the sidewalk.” You bite your nails at the confession before peaking out the glass door to see if the girl is still down there. Running a hand through your hair, you begin to pace back and forth wondering if Leah has seen you with the Chelsea defender.

“Leah as in my England captain and your teammate Leah?” Millie asks, trying to process everything that just happened while making sure you’re talking about the same person.

Before you have the chance to answer, the sound of knocking appears at your door, causing your eyes to widen. You look out the peephole and notice Leah standing there with her familiar scowl on her face.

“Oh my god, we’ve gotta hide you.” You push at her back and drag her into the bathroom, gesturing for her to get into the shower.

“I don’t want to go in there!” Millie protests while whispering so she doesn’t alarm the girl who is currently still standing on the other side of your hotel door.

“Either you go in there right now, or you stay and explain to your captain that you’re in a long-term relationship with an Arsenal and United States player.”

“In the shower, I go.” She hops in so you can close the curtain right away and head over to the front door. You look at the mirror next to you and fix your appearance to the best of your ability.

Opening the door, you greet the other defender with a smile, “Hey, Lee. It’s pretty late, what are you doing here?”

You welcome Leah in, gesturing for her to sit either on your bed or on the little chair in the corner, but she chooses to stand.

“I just thought I’d say goodnight to my dearest friend, but I thought I saw someone else on the balcony with you.” She quirks an eyebrow towards you, waiting for you to answer her not-very-obvious question.

“Nope, just me.” You chuckle nervously.

After a few seconds of silence, Leah lets out a big sigh, “Thought I’d just say hey since I saw that you were up. Guess I’ll get goin’” Just when you’re about to think she’s leaving when she heads over to the door, she turns around and asks, “Do you have any extra tissues? Russo and Mccabe just finished watching The Notebook for the first time and used it all.”

“Umm yeah, I’ll go grab that for you-“

“No, it’s okay. I know where it is.”

Leah misses the panicked expression on your face when she heads into the bathroom. She looks under the sink and grabs the extra box before making her way back out by you. You almost sigh in relief when she doesn’t notice the tall figure standing behind your shower curtains, but you refrain yourself so she doesn’t ask questions.

“Goodnight, Lee. See you tomorrow.” You wave her out the door, closing it and locking everything you can so no one with a key card can get in. Hands grab at your waist making you jump at the sudden contact but relax hearing the familiar voice of your brick wall of a girlfriend.

“That was a close one. I think that calls for a long night of cuddles, don’t ya think?” She asks, jumping onto the mattress with her arms wide open, waiting for you to join her. You laugh at her childish pout and shuffle your body to fit into hers, resting your head on her chest.

“I love you.” You mumble sleepily.

Millie places a peck on your forehead whispering back, “I love you too, sweets. Get some sleep.”

—

“You actually saw Mills in the room with her?” Beth asks with a shocked expression on her face.

“Yes! Her bun was literally peaking over the shower curtain. Y/n/n thought I didn’t see Millie on the balcony with her when it was so obvious seeing how much bigger she is compared to our tiny Gooner.” Leah states as everyone rolls their eyes at yours and Millie’s attempt to hide your relationship.

The Chelsea and Arsenal players caught onto your relationship quickly when they caught you sneaking off into a materials closet to snog each other’s faces off. With the many attempts of the two of you trying to keep it a secret, they thought it would be fun to let it keep happening to get a little laugh in.

Everyone 100% supports you guys in every way. They think you both complement each other well and you’re basically a match made in heaven.

“Don’t get me started when I saw Millie get all lovesick on the phone a few weeks ago. When I asked her who it was, she tried to say it was Daly.” Sam shakes her head, taking a sip out of her drink. A bunch of the girls, both red and blue, decided to hang out in one of their rooms to have a meeting about you two.

“Do you think they’ll ever realize that they’re not as subtle as they think they are?” Niamh questions to which the whole group responds in a series of no’s, shaking their heads at your guys' obliviousness.

—

“Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass- ah!”

One second you’re walking around, next you’re being yanked away by an unknown source. You had time to spare before you had to go out on the pitch and practice, so you decided to stroll around and get a little pregame walk in.

“Beautiful singing there, love.”

“Warn a girl next time, almost gave me a heart attack.” You exclaim, pushing at her chest in fake offense which doesn’t even make her move an inch because of her string build.

She grips your waist and softly presses you up against the corner wall. Her lips begin to pepper all over your skin, from your cheeks to your collarbones.

“Mills, someone’s going to catch us.” You protest weakly, too consumed by the feelings of her kisses pressing lightly at all the right spots.

“We’re tucked away in a corner, no one will see us, darling.” Her voice vibrates against your neck, causing you to let out a soft giggle, melting the heart of your lover. “I miss you.”

You grab her cheeks with both of your hands and swipe the loose strands of hair that have fallen out of her bun. “You just saw me last night, baby. We’ll get to see each other again.”

“Yeah, but I had to sneak out in the early morning so no one would notice me leaving your room which is hardly romantic might I say.”

Your eyes remain on hers, roaming every detail of the different hues of blue splattered in her eyes. She smiles back at you and places her hand over yours that continues to stroke her cheek.

Snapping out of your little love bubble, you clear your throat and ask, “Is there any reason you stopped me from my regular pregame stroll?”

“Oh just wanted to come and wish you luck, but also let you know that there are no hard feelings after we destroy you.” She smirks, straightening her posture and showing off her new captain band.

“That’s so funny because I was just going to say the same thing.” Millie rolls her eyes at your mocking tone and threatens to walk away, but you grab her wrist and pull her back into you. “Good luck kiss?”

The defender huffs but leans in anyway, never being able to deny you. It first starts as an innocent peck but then you pull her back in for another and things start getting more heated. After a minute of her tongue in your mouth, you pull away gasping for breath while giggling slightly in the slight haze you’re in.

“Thank you for that, hope it makes you feel better after Arsenal beats Chelsea’s ass!”

And it turns out, you weren’t wrong. Arsenal won 2-1 with a goal from Lacasse and Russo. There were a few chances of you scoring a header but with a certain captain’s hands on your waist, whispering her thoughts about you had you distracted.

Safe to say that you’re not on your best game when playing against Millie Bright.

You’re now shaking hands with all of the other team when you approach the blonde. You both begin to talk while drinking out of your water bottles just chatting away. Millie leans in for a hug which you accept and take in her big embrace.

“Oi! You were already off kissin’, you can be separated for a little bit now.” An Irish accent interrupts you, making you pull away with a shocked look on both of your faces.

Your fellow Arsenal teammates stand next to Chelsea’s as they all stare at you two with amused expressions. Millie stands awkwardly, stuttering at the fact you two were caught while you gasp and point your finger at all of them.

“You all knew?!”

—

“Hardy har har, we get it. We weren’t as secretive as we thought we were.” You roll your eyes at everyone’s continuous teasing.

After the game, everyone agreed to go out and have a few drinks at the pub down the street since there’s a little break in the season and everyone has free time. The whole group besides you and Millie decided it was time to share all the times they either caught or suspected the two of you, many of the stories being incredibly embarrassing.

Millie is sitting on the booth with you on top of her, legs sprawled across her lap. One of her hands rests comfortably on the spot where your skin is exposed, right next to your belly button while her other holds onto her bottle of beer. You continue to sip on your cocktail as everyone turns to their separate conversations.

The blonde below you taps on your stomach, making you shift your attention to her, seeing her neck crooked up with her lips pursed. You let out a small laugh and lean over to press a few short but equally sweet kisses to her lips. Millie smiles in delight before the sound of fake gagging can be heard from across the table.

“Can’t you guys go swap saliva in the privacy of your own room?” Katie once again interrupts but ends up getting hit on the back of the head by Caitlin.

“You all better turn away because what I’m about to do is not PG!” Without warning, Millie grips your jaw with one hand and pulls you into a sloppy kiss, kissing the life out of you and dramatically making loud noises to peeve the other girls, causing your nose to crinkle at the disgusting sounds.

You push her away and hang your tongue out, showing your obvious fake displeasure. A few of the girls whooped at the public display of affection while others covered the eyes of the innocent ones. Everyone gets their laughs and jokes out, trying their best to patter on your so-called new relationship.

You’re laughing with Leah and Alessia about their little game disagreement when you notice how quiet Millie has been. You look over and see her staring into space so you wave your hand in front of her face, bringing her back onto earth with a small smile.

“Why don’t you let your hair down, baby? Loosen up a little.” You rub your thumb on the apple of her cheek while swiping away a strand of hair that fell down on her cheek.

“Mm, might have to wait till after we get to the hotel because the things I plan on doing to ya require my hair to stay out of the way.” A deep crimson red coats your cheeks before you look over to the side, sipping on your drink to avoid the lustful stare from the tattooed woman.

“Cheekyyy,” Sam says having slid over closer to you two for whatever reason.

Millie is quickly guiding you out the door, bidding your goodbyes to everyone and ignoring the wolf whistles that follow you out the door. After your rewarding night, you both equally decide to share your relationship with the world, so when you have up to thousands of notifications, you shut your phone and nuzzle your face right back onto your girlfriend’s chest.

—

liked by samanthakerr20 and 86,564 others

mbrighty04 rivals to lovers?? @y/nofficial

view all 720 comments

y/nofficial my favorite trope!

↳ mbrighty04 mine too!

flemingenthusiast y/n to chelsea?!

↳ y/nofficial ew.

↳ leahwilliamsonn she’s ours forever

samanthakerr20 they never shut up about each other

↳ mbrighty04 don’t get me started on you and kristie

[kilometermacher]

Polen nochmal: Von Kołobrzeg nach Darłowo

[laiiaaa]

It’s pretty well-established that Carmy is addicted to physical touch and acts of service, but he’s also such a quality time lover. He likes the thought of simply…being with someone, without having to be in panic mode. Just very soft, very slow, very in tune with his lover.

Never on his phone when he’s with you. He never liked it all that much anyway, never really got the whole phone thing, and now it’s practically useless unless you’re the one trying to reach him. The second you’re around it’s like it never existed: he’s captivated by you and you alone, attentive to every word or little facial expression, keen only to his moment with you.

Quiet mornings in bed, faces smushed into the pillow, sunlight spilling through the curtains, even if no words are exchanged. Likes hearing your sleep-ridden voice tell him G’morning, Carmy, before you creep a little closer, into his embrace. Will ask you about your plans for the day while busying his hands with the contours of your face, brushing by your jaw and cheekbone, content with the peace and never getting bored of it.

Early walks at dawn through crisp autumn air, listening to you talk about whatever comes to mind as he leads the way, humming along to your story. Waits for you to comment on how chilly it is, or how nice the breeze feels, like it’s the most profound thing you could ever say. You’ll tell him how beautiful the sunrise is that morning and without thinking he’ll let out a deep breath and say I know—and he’ll only be looking at you.

Visiting a flea market, or a thrift shop, or a bookstore, or a cafe, or anything you ask him to, trailing close behind. He peruses at your pace and pays closer attention to the things you look at a little longer. Hushed whispers over your shoulder as he leans in close, looking into your eyes as you speak sweetly:

What do you think about this for the living room?

I like it, baby, anything you like.

Spending his lunch breaks together, whether it’s him coming home for an hour or you stopping by the restaurant.

Grocery shopping together to get as much time with one another as you can.

A lazy day off sat next to each other on the couch, your legs in his lap with his hands smoothing up and down your thighs; catching up on the details missed throughout the week, quiet and gentle laughter slipping by.

Or another, a date night in, record playing and a steak cooking in the cast iron, you glued to his side or on the counter just the same. Coaxing Carmy into a slow dance once the meal is finished—though coaxing might not be too accurate, because he’s awfully willing when it comes to you. Your arms looped around his neck, his comfortable at your waist and hips, swaying in the kitchen.

Thank you for dinner, Carmy.

‘F course, baby, with a gentle kiss, and you know he’s really saying I love you.

And he’ll say it again and again, with subtle methods, because every moment with you is exactly what he needs.

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Slip

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: At some point or another, the words slip out. It's just that, naturally, you're an idiot who can't pick the right moment.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific pronouns for reader, night terrors, disassociation, attempted comfort, miscommunication, brief non sexual shower scene, unintentional harm, anxiety, sweet ending. (fr this time, I'm not pulling a 'Repentance.') Slight spoilers for 'Petals On The Wind' by V.C. Andrews.

Notes: I had a vision and I tried. Pls give me mercy.

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

The night air is sweet, fresh with the smell of citrus from the soap I had used earlier that evening in my shower mixed with the damp smell of the dew forming on the grass and the leaves outside. The curtains shift slightly as the air spills into the dark room, the only light born by a small lamp clipped to the cover of my book as I read quietly.

Beside me lays Mike, facing the ceiling and looking as peaceful as he ever could. It was a relaxation that doesn't come to him in consciousness, too busy with thoughts I sometimes am not privy too. But I don't pry. I've heard most of the story from him and from Abby, and he is allowed to grieve the past alone. He knows I am always available to help him.

It had been a long day for him. He didn't need to tell me, it was obvious by the way he'd sat at the kitchen table, thinking he was alone and hands buried in his hair. I hadn't meant to spy on him, having just slipped out of my shower. He wasn't crying, but his face was pale and dreadful. The bags under his eyes a dark purple that they hadn't been earlier at dinner, and the haunted quality of his stare had increased in an alarming manner since I'd left him. Had he moved since dinner? Abby was in her room, her voice trailing quietly down the hall as she hummed to herself behind the closed door. The overhead yellow light directly above Michael made him look like a painting of doom, covered in shadows with sharp edges as dark as his thoughts.

When I guided him to bed he wouldn't talk to me. Not when I removed his shirt to change him into something clean. Not when I opened the bottle of pills he'd been able to relax on for the past couple weeks. And not when I held a glass of water to his lips, his mouth only moving to take a long drink before I guided him onto his back, where he stared at the ceiling quietly while I stroked his hair, watching him carefully until he drifted away into a drugged dream of obliviousness where hopefully he could find the peace he needed.

More often than not I read before bed. Usually Mike would lay his head on my chest, his eyes reading the same bits I would and commenting on something here or there, once in a while spoiling the next paragraph for me. But I never minded when he did, it was always an accident.

It did get to the point where Mike imposed a limit of two chapters a night, knowing I could become so enraptured in a story I wouldn't even pay attention to the world around me until I finished it, usually with the early light beginning to peak through the branches outside and create dancing rays of sun along our bed. It wasn't really a rule, more so a concerned request. There was no punishment if I didn't comply, if I deprived myself of sleep reading all that would exist as a reprimand is my own exhaustion. Mike would always silently pick up on this, more gentle with me and luring me away from my nightly ritual with his arms wrapped around my tired body, fingers combing through my hair and his even breathing coaxing me into the sleep I needed until his alarm would wake us, still wrapped around each other and warm in the morning glow of a new day with a new chapter. And recently I realized it was something about him I loved. Though I dare not say it out loud. Not yet.

I'm only a handful chapters into this book. It's one that I've read before, an ironic favorite from when I was younger and snuck books home that I'd borrowed from the woman next door after playing with her granddaughters. The subject of the novel was taboo, Gothic horror I would hide under my bed away from my mother's eyes until she would lay in her own bed, allowing me to click on a light and read until school the next morning. It's been years since I've revisited it, and this copy I had bought at a local thrift store for only a quarter with an excited smile, causing an amused look on Mike's face as he'd watched me.

"Shouldn't you read something you already own?" He'd teased while we walked out of the store hand in hand, Abby leading the way to our car.

I'd rolled my eyes, smiling as I checked for cars coming through the parking lot with no regard for little girls.

"Am I not allowed to spend a quarter on my passions?" I said.

"You absolutely are. I'm just wondering how you're going to read everything," he said with a small squeeze of his hand.

The answer is by drinking a cup of tea and working through the book in one sitting as he lays next to me, no work ahead of me for the next two days that would demand proper rest. No limitation able to stop me now. I'm a few hours into my plan when I notice his leg jolt beside mine, no movement otherwise.

I glance at him quickly, seeing if he's woken with a start. His eyes remain closed, lips parted slightly in sleep and otherwise seeming fine. So I resume my book, flipping to the next page to start chapter eleven.

Halfway through chapter thirteen, Mike gasps. Loud and quick, causing a cough to escape him. I slip a finger inbetween my pages, turning to face him and worry stabbing my chest as I wait for him to choke and thrash frantically. But he doesn't. He remains still, his pulse visible near his adams apple as his breath quickens slightly. I watch him, waiting for any signs of distress. But he remains still in sleep, and reluctantly I return to my book once more, having decided it was just a dream.

Finally, at the early hour of four o'clock his hand reaches out, nails digging into my thigh desperately in a way that's painful against my bare skin, raking down and surely creating a trail of blood in his wake as a short, startled yell of Abby's name pierces the air, his body going ridged. And then he's still, body shaking and eyes wide open in confusion, darting around the room as though he cannot place his environment in his still drugged state.

"Hey," I say softly, abandoning my book and turning to face him, unsure if I should touch him or what I need to say to tear him away from the horrors of his mind. "You're okay, you're awake now."

If he hears me he doesn't give any indication, his breathing so quick and unsteady I'm scared he'll knock himself out from hyperventilating.

"It's okay, it was a dream," I tell him. I place my hand apprehensively on his chest, feeling his heart slam against the cage of ribs below my touch. "You're awake now."

His head turns slightly towards me, but he's still panicking, his hand gripping my thigh hard enough hard with nails he hadn't meant to let grow out for the past couple weeks that I have to make a conscious effort to not whine in pain.

He's saying something, quiet and mixing with his irregular breathing as his other hand grabs my hand upon his chest, pressing it tightly against him. But I can't make it out, I can only hear fragments of 'sorry' and 'take.' And the words only blur more as he starts sobbing beside me, the noises he makes terrifying as he struggles for air.

"Let's sit up. Come on, let's sit up," I say. I'm close to panic myself, trying to find his shoulders to pull him up in fear of him choking in such a state. But his hand is too tight around mine, and trying to take it away seems to only cause further distress, his teeth gritting and nostrils flailing as he tries to breathe in as much air as possible. I manage to get one arm under his shoulders, wrapping it around his body and pulling us both up. The shift of his body seems to make something click, his hand suddenly releasing my thigh as he gasps once more, eyes seeming to show recognition of something.

"You're home. We're in our room, Abby is down the hall," I tell him.

"They'll come here, they knew where we live," he says in a rapid but finally coherent voice.

"Who?" I ask. He's scaring me, making me want to join him in my own hysteria. But I don't show it, the pain throbbing in my leg giving me a point of focus to keep my voice even. "No one's coming."

"My aunt- she- they-"

"She's not coming over, no one's coming to take Abby," I tell him, stroking him arm and trying to shift my body to face his. "Everyone's home and safe. I won't let anyone go."

This seems to hit him, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He looks at my face, staring and trying to focus on me.

"I won't let anyone go anywhere," I repeat gently. His shoulders relax, his body leaning towards mine.

"You don't have to worry," I tell him. "I'm here."

His head lands on my shoulder, hand still pressing mine tight against his chest as his arm finds my waist, body wracking with sobs.

"It's okay. Slow your breathing," I say softly, my hand finding his hair and holding him close against me. "Focus on me and slow your breathing."

He's trying, I can tell by the way he gasps against my chest in even tempo that he's trying to regain his breath. His skin is hot against mine, body wet with sweat. Maybe I should get this shirt off of him, take away the sticking cotton and allow his skin to feel the cool morning air against it to prevent overstimulation. Or maybe the sudden change would throw him into more distress. I don't know what to do, what to offer.

"Do you want me to distract you?" I ask. At this he lifts his head slightly, a small 'what?' Asking for me to repeat the question. "Do you want me to distract you?" I repeat, anxious I've said something wrong.

He seems to think for a moment, his heart still beating at a concerning rate.

"How long have you been reading?" He finally asks, eyeing the book I'd practically thrown to the edge of the bed in my panic.

"A few hours," I say. "Started reading when you went to sleep."

He nods, going silent once more for a few more minutes. I focus on his hair, how some curls wrap perfectly around my fingertips, how soft his hair is even though he doesn't take proper care of it.

"Is it any good?" He asks softly, his mouth against my neck as he tries to relax.

Okay, talk about the book. Book with dead parents. Ah, fuck.

"Not... particularly," I admit. "The first one was better."

"Yeah?" Mike asks. "How so?"

Well, Mike. This is a V.C. Andrews novel. So there's an unsettling amount of incest that serves a horrifying point that I don't think you wanna hear about right now because that's gonna take several hours for me to explain. I wish you'd asked sooner.

"...questionable decisions," I decide is how I'll phrase it.

"Sounds like me," he mutters against my skin.

"I promise you it isn't," I mutter back, trying to think of what to say next.

Mike doesn't say anything, still breathing hard against my skin but finally gaining a steady rhythm. His body shakes less, my fingers gently combing through his hair as I finally speak again.

"It's something you'd laugh at if you felt better," I feel stupid, useless as I try to bring him back to me. But it seems to work, his shaking decreasing as he focuses on my words. "The main character is... dramatic, and... passionate."

I feel his smile against my skin, his fingers stroking my waist. "Oh?" He asks.

"Mm-hmm," I say. He hums, waiting for me to continue. And I'm not sure if I should.

"What's the plot?" He asks. Not something you should hear in your state, Michael. Lots of people die.

"It's about..."

Fucking half the town out of spite.

"...family."

That's one way to put it.

"And... doing what's right."

By burning a house down.

"And taking care of those you love."

Well, at least that point is accurate.

He seems content with this, pulling me down onto the bed once more and keeping me close.

"Are you okay?" I ask him carefully.

"I will be," he says softly. "Thank you. For caring."

"Of course I care," I say with a small laugh of nervous relief. "I love you."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh motherfucker, no.

"What?" Mike asks in a small voice, his body going still, mine going stiff.

Goddammit.

We've been together for about a year. And this is a normal point to finally say the words to each other, a sweet moment of realization and commitment that I'd been wanting to have. And I'd been trying to find the right moment, wanting to say it while he serves pancakes in the morning that he douses in syrup because he hates them dry. To say it when he pulls me close at night, taking a deep breath as he smells my hair. When he falls asleep on the couch or with his head on my lap. And maybe he's wanted to say it too, the way his eyes linger on me when I spin around the room with his sister, or when I fix her hair before walking her out the door, or when I slip out said door to return to my own home only to find myself back here the next day anyways, unable to stay away.

But this is the wrong moment. A moment of fear and terror and I have been selfish enough to dare utter such words that he may not even reciprocate while he's in such a vulnerable state. Shit.

"What did you say?" Mike asks, pulling away to look into my face, suddenly awake and clear of any fog that had been torturing him.

I can't speak. I can't tell him. What if he doesn't feel the same way? Or worse, what if he says it back in a desperation for approval after such pressure has been placed upon him to respond. Or what if he convinces himself he feels the same way only because I do?

"I- Shouldn't-" My head is shaking, eyes wide in worry as I try to think of a response.

"Shouldn't?" He says in the most heartbreaking voice.

"No!" This is all wrong! It all sounds wrong.

"Oh," he says quietly, eyes casted downwards.

"No, wait a minute. This is wrong-" I stutter, my hands shaking slightly.

"I heard you the first time," He says flatly, eyes avoiding mine.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I didn't mean to say anything."

"Then stop saying things," He says sharply, pulling away and turning to face the room.

"I'm not- I can't-" One of the ways Mike and I understand each other is by the way vulnerability makes us choke, gagging on sincere words for fear of rejection and becoming fools. And this time is one of them, even if I'm fighting against it. The silence is too long as I choke on my own tongue.

"It's fine," he says. He stands from the bed, not looking back at me. "I'm gonna take a shower."

I open my mouth to speak, my mind urging me to extend my hand in explanation. But he walks quickly, opening and shutting the door before I can even begin to put the words together in my mind. And I'm alone. With no one but my book to offer comfort.

I try to read. Try to focus on Cathy's piss poor plan that ends with her toes broken because of her terrible husband that she married to avoid her adoptive father. (Don't ask.) But all I can think about is what I should have said. And what Mike must be thinking. Of course he misunderstood me, his mind still racing from adrenaline and nightmares of losing his sister, addled by his sleep medication that would still be in effect. Vulnerable situations are already tricky with Mike, who'd lost his family young and had been forced to create his own stability with no comfort or care returned to him until the past few years when he finally began to create a new inner circle. It was understandable that he was gun shy around this sort of topic. And his already darkened mind earlier today? What a horrible day for a moment like this.

It feels like an eternity, but it must have only been about half an hour when Mike comes racing back into the room. Wet, towel crudely wrapped around his waist and holding up his hand as he rushed towards the bed.

"There's blood on here," he said. "Who's is it?"

I squint as I try to look, reaching out for his hand. He offers it quickly, and at the sight I remember. My thigh. Earlier when he'd gripped it so hard, nails digging in. I can see the blood underneath his nails, dark and most likely having just been noticed by him.

"Earlier when you were upset you grabbed my thigh," I say. Within seconds he's on the bed, ripping the sheet off of me and dripping water all over the place. It's not exactly a pretty sight, cuts from where his nails had dragged and sunk into me. His eyes go wide, cheeks turning pink with shame.

"Jesus," he says. "I didn't mean to."

"I know, you were scared," I say. "Don't worry about it."

"Let me clean this," he says, moving to stand from the bed.

"Mike, we need to talk," I say, grabbing his wrist. He doesn't stop, trying to pull his arm free.

"After I clean this."

"No, now," I say. My voice sounds so much sharper than it should in a situation like this, like a command rather than a request. But he finally stops his rush, his eyes meeting mine as he stands still, gripping the towel around his waist as he contemplates.

"I left the water running," he finally says.

"Clean me in there," I offer thoughtlessly. He raises an eyebrow at me but doesn't question it, tugging me up by my hand and not letting go as we walk to the bathroom in silence.

The water stings on my cuts as Mike kneels in front of me, his body between my slightly parted legs as his hands wash me carefully, lathering soap and working at my thigh with careful concentration. 'It's been ten minutes. Say something, dumbass,' I think to myself.

"I love you," Mike blurts out suddenly. His hands don't rubbing soap onto my thigh, and his eyes don't meet mine. "And you don't have to feel the same way, but you should know that I do."

There's another long moment of silence, dread filling my chest.

"Why are you saying this?" I finally ask. He looks up at me with an unintentional glare.

"What?" He asks sharply.

"Are you saying this for me or for you?" I ask. His brows furrow.

"I don't know what you mean," he says.

"Earlier I said I love you and that was a mistake-"

"You don't need to remind me."

"No, my timing was a mistake. You were vulnerable," I say quickly, sliding quickly down the shower wall to join him on the floor of the bathtub. "Are you saying this because I said it or because you mean it?"

Realization seems to finally sink through, Mike blinking at me slowly.

"So, you love me?"

"I'm sorry that I was an idiot earlier-"

"But you love me?"

"I've been trying to say it for months, but I couldn't-"

Mike's kiss is hard and clumsy, teeth clicking together and making us both draw away in a fit of stupid, teenage like giggles from the way he'd tried to be romantic and jump on me, my face now covered in the orange scented soap from his hands.

"You need to lead with that next time," he says, laughing and covering my face in quick kisses without care that he's smearing the soap onto his face too. "You had me scripting our conversations for the next month in here."

"I was trying. You know I can't- that-" I can hardly respond between his kisses, tasting awful but so sweet I can't help but want more.

"I love you," he says. Then he says it again, and again. Like a dam has been broken and he can't stop the river spilling forth. "I love you."

"I love you too," I finally say, relieved and melting into his touch under the warm stream that he drags me under, holding me close to his body.

Later, as we lay in bed, I finally tell him the real plot of my book, to which he says "I take it back, get out," before dragging me under the covers to repeat his devotion again and again until we can't say it anymore. Coherently, that is.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I'm gonna be fr, I haven't been happy with my writing lately and that's mostly due to my packed schedule. This is a draft I've been working on in bits and pieces for the last couple weeks when I've had a spare moment at work, and honestly will probably regurgitate at some point in the future when I have the time and energy to get more detailed with this concept in a more detailed fic. But for right now, I did want to put this out as a drabble. So, I hope you enjoyed it, and I promise I'll try to get some more properly fleshed out content out soon for y'all <3

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

I'm Your Man

banner by @/cafekitsune

Pairing: John Price x fem!oc (3rd person pov)

Word count: 3.5 K

Warnings/tags: mask and glove kink, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, p in v sex, established relationship

A/N: this skin awoke something in me. Written with only slight description of the oc, but better safe than sorry to not mark it as an x reader fic. Title based on the Leonard Cohen song.

Step by step she moves through the house, checking that each light is switched off, windows are closed and locked, doors too. It's a ritual she's used to now, one that keeps her safe. Secure. Of course she knows if someone did try to break in, some thug in a ski mask, she could easily take care of the fucker. Pressure points, weak spots, faster reflexes – she was no weak link. However, it was always better to be safe than sorry. 

In the bedroom, she peels off the restraints that bind her to society. In the safe haven of her home, in its heart, she no longer needs to keep up appearances. Stripping herself down to the woman underneath and not the elegant mask of a lady. The cool sheen of the silk robe she slips on gently grazes over her flesh. A soft rose-petal pink that makes her glow in the warm golden light of the bedside lamps that cast shadows in the room. 

There's a serene comfort to this room, one she feels more than in any other in the house. It's the place where she is most firmly protected. The confines of her bed are a kind reprieve from the stressors of the day and the madness of the world outside. The sheets are freshly washed, the comforter is thick and warm, it's an embrace she looks forward to as the moon rises higher in the night sky. 

Padding into the en suite to wash off her makeup, truly baring herself before bed, she turns on the faucet. The water runs, the constant stream blocking out the noises of the city streets below. Another step in the process as she massages the cleanser on her face, starting with her cheeks as a froth collects. The splash of water that comes next rejuvenates her tired eyes for a fleeting moment. Each drip down the contours of her face taking with it the remains of the day. Skincare, like everything else in her life, had an order. Something that gave her a sense of control in a world that often proved that was a concept that rarely ever truly existed.

The silence of the house seemed to follow her as she went about her business. A quieting blanket like the hush from fresh fallen snow. Her bedroom left exactly as it was when she returned. The curtains at the balcony doors fluttered. Thin, phantom-like sheers drifting and dancing in the breeze. Shutting the doors, locking the latch, the antique brass chilled from the night air sends a shiver through her starting with her fingertips. 

Taking a moment, she gazes at the world outside steeped in silhouette, the lights in the windows mirroring the stars in the sky. She's lost in thought. A hundred plans and expectations spinning through her mind at once. Grocery lists, dinner plans, the odd chores she needs to take care of before she has to go back to work. Her hand drifts through her hair, pushing back the silken strands as she sighs wearily. Even when she's given time off she still finds ways to fill every ounce of her time. It's easier that way, it keeps the memories at bay. 

When she turns back around, she doesn't notice the dark shape in the corner of the room at first, there's just enough shadow to obscure and enough on her plate to dull her senses. That is, until she's grabbed, tugged into the imprisoning grip of two strong arms that clamp around her like an iron vice.

Her heart races, she yelps out a choked squeal, her eyes wide like captured prey as she chastises herself for being caught off guard. Until she recognizes the all too familiar scent of smoke, heady and thick. The pungent aroma of tobacco seeping from every fiber of clothing. Whiskers rasp against her cheek leaving a prickling trail before plush lips purr into her ear. 

“Did I scare you, love?”

She rolls her eyes, unimpressed by the antics. Her heart rate steadying, flattening out to its usual beat and she relaxes with a huffed laugh. “Bloody prat.”

Elbowing him in the stomach, she finds herself colliding with padding, pockets and straps. Hard ridges and stiff plates. He's in his gear? 

The low, rumbling chuckle that graces the tight space between them fans warm breath over her face tinted with a hint of whiskey and she glances upwards. Her brow lifts in surprise and, to be honest, mild bewilderment. 

He's not just wearing his gear, tac vest, leather gloves, and all. He's wearing a mask – half his face is covered in black, something near resembling a skull, but not quite. A hood covering his head like he's the bloody grim reaper. 

“What the hell’s all this?” A quiet little giggle bubbles out of her at the sight. John’s arms loosen just enough to allow her to turn and face him. “Are you dressed like a comic book villain's henchman for a reason?”

A heavy hand swats the round rump of her making her jump once more as she continues to laugh, dimples carving into her cheeks. 

“Bloody cheeky,” he rasps, gripping her arse and squeezing. “For an op,” he adds as if it was perfectly normal for military men to dress like that on any given day.

“And who decided on the outfits?” Her eyes roam over his figure with a playful gleam. “Riley?” she snickers. “Almost happy I'm on another assignment.”

His piercing eyes narrow from behind his mask, a mischievous glint in them she knew all too well. The only parts of his face revealed are his mouth and jaw which quickly stretch into a wry smirk. 

“Can't tell me it doesn't do a little somethin’ for ya, darlin’,” he drawls.

She sighs and tuts her tongue, shaking her head. “Not even in my top ten fantasies, love.”

Leaning down towards her, the shade of his hood blanking out the light of the room, his smirk transforms into something damn near wolfish. Cold, blue eyes as hungry as a predator. “Is that right?” His voice, husky and deep, is a taunting whisper that leaves her mouth going dry and a heat beginning to bloom in her core.

“Perhaps you’d like to change my mind,” she murmured softly, breathless with the arousal gathering inside her. 

A growl builds in his chest, as thunderous as the ocean in a hurricane. His eyes becoming just as stormy, the grey flecks seeming to flare with his own desires. 

“Tha's my good girl.” 

She swallows thickly as he stalks towards her, guiding her back to the bed with a hand gripping her hip tightly. His calloused fingers toying with the silk material under his touch, the only barrier between him and his prize, kneading at the flesh below. 

“Is the gear staying on too?” she asks with a lift of her brow.

“You bet your arse.”

His smirk damn near makes her melt once more. Her chest rising and falling with short, sharp pants. The flush rising up her skin from her chest to the tips of her ears, floods her with warmth that radiates outwards. Her doe eyes half-lidded as her lips part and she wets them before biting down on the full lower pout. 

“D'you have any idea how much I've been wantin’ you, sweetheart? All soft and sweet and laid out f’me. Draped all pretty across the bed. Been thinkin’ about that gorgeous little cunt o'yours all day.”

She moans softly, a quiet whimper slipping past her lips. The little twist in her gut is the only warning before she knows her thighs will be slick with her need. 

“Get on the bed, darlin’.” He directs her with another gentle tap to her arse. “Want you nice and comfortable.”

Settling onto the mattress, her head resting against the pillows, she focuses on him. Watching as he climbs up and the bed creaks with his weight, concaving under the strength of his hands and knees. He moves with practiced measure, slow, unbothered. It's clear this effort isn't for him, so much as it is for her. There's no need to rush what's about to come. 

His hands slide under the silky garment, climbing up her thighs and increasing the anticipation that flutters in her core, the rough leather leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he spreads her legs wide for him. 

“So goddamn gorgeous, you know that? Absolutely perfect,” he purrs, lunging forward as if to pounce but instead meeting her mouth in slow, deep kisses. Encouraging her lips to open with a sweep of his tongue along their seam. 

His mustache tickles her lip. The stubble on his chin burns her soft skin each time it rubs against her. It's the stark difference of sensations that leaves her breathless, head spinning as she moans into his mouth. Tongue sliding against his, it curls with each pass. The spice of whiskey and the richness of his cigars spreading over her taste buds and filling her with his essence. 

Her hands, so used to roaming over his body in moments like this, grazing over scars, muscles, and freckles, don’t know what to do with themselves met by armor and tactical clothing. She can’t feel him the way she wants to. The cold carbon of the mask pressing against her forehead throwing her for a loop. 

“John,” she mewls against his mouth, her hips starting to roll and grind against him. The opening of her robe having split open, her bare cunt rubs over rough material and the hard press of the zipper that strains against his stiffened bulge. 

He shushes her, his words a low, throaty whisper as his mouth finds its way to her ear and nibbles on her lobe sending a thrill down her spine, “Lemme take care o’you, darlin’. You know I know best. Just sit there and be your pretty self f’me, love.”

Facial hair pricks her sensitive skin as he scours a trail down the column of her neck, taking the time to suck her salty-sweet flesh and lavish her in open-mouthed kisses leaving red marks from his attention behind. He groans against her, nuzzling into the crook of her neck as much as his gear and mask will allow as his hands begin their ascent along her waist. 

Deft fingers pull the neckline of her robe open and reveal the swells of her breasts. Her nipples pebbling with the growing heat between them, hardening into stiff buds as leather clad digits pinch and twist at them with just the right amount of friction and force. 

Back arching in reaction, whining, growing desperate and needy as he draws out her sweet torture, getting her ready to surrender, she grips at the straps of his vest, holding on for dear life as he begins to dry hump against the wet folds of her mound.

“Christ,” he mumbles, “Love those bloody sounds you make, sweetheart.” His tongue drags against her pulse point before he nips her gently with his teeth, grazing them along her skin to make her shiver.

Slowly working his way down, he nibbles on her collarbone, pressing kisses to the hollow of her throat. The vibrations of the deep purrs that emanate from him travel through her skin right down into the marrow of her bones. 

Lost to him, completely his.

He leans down, glancing up at her from under his hood, eyes glinting. Something primal stirs within him as she lays there at his mercy. His hot breath warming her flesh as he calms himself, regains control. His tongue teases her nipple, circling the areola, before wrapping his lips around it and suckling. Alternating between gentle and rougher tugs on her stiffened bud, biting down gently to make her squeal and grip him harder.

The dark chuckle from his lips makes her eyes flutter shut, she'd think he was being cruel and teasing her if she wasn't so sure of what he was building up to. 

Undoing the waist tie of her robe, it fell away from her like the petals spreading on a newly sprouted flower, opening her to him. All smooth, soft skin for his eyes to feast upon, dragging over her like he was a starving man as ragged breaths crawled up from his lungs.

“Never gonna get tired of that sight. Bloody perfect.”

She didn't think she could feel any more flushed. However, even with the simple compliment, her ears began to burn and her cheeks grew warm. A bashful grin curling her lips.

“Oh, darlin’. Now if that ain't the prettiest sight.” His grin was downright smug, barrel chest puffed up and proud at the way he could still get her to blush like a schoolgirl.

“Shut up,” she giggled, covering her sheepish face with her arm.

His gleeful smirk, darkened by the mask and hood, revealed pearly whites. The hunger in his eyes is all the more prominent as he settles between her thighs, gloved paws wrapping around them, maintaining their distance, keeping them spread wide as he maneuvers each leg over his shoulders. John licks his lips, pink tongue darting out, tasting her in the air like a serpent. 

Breath hitching, she bites her lip, waiting for the inevitable. Time slows to a halt, lingering in that moment like staring down the barrel of a gun. 

Sharp eyes snap to her heaving chest and the shuddering breaths that make her breasts lift and fall, staring at the soft peaks with the attention of a sniper waiting for the perfect shot.

And then the moment strikes –

His tongue travels over her inner thigh, his saliva mixing with the glint of her arousal that has spread over the skin. The small offering imparted to him, gifted to stoke the pangs that have burrowed deep inside. He groans once more as he kisses her slick flesh, the bristles of his beard burning her as he tests her folds with his tongue, licking a long stripe through them before pursing his lips together and blowing softly against her mound. 

She mewls, gripping the sheets on either side of her, sparks shooting through her nerves. Fire and ice tickling every synapse in her brain. 

Flinching, her legs shift as her hips buck and he coils his arms under her thighs, gripping her hips and pulling her back into position. “Stay right there, darlin’,” he orders, a strictness to his command that shoots through her and causes her cunt to clench in response and her body to freeze.

“Tha’s better,” he purrs. “Always such a good girl f’me.” His focus shifts back to the glistening cunt before him and he delves in once more with an unforgiving hold on her thighs, suffocating himself between them. Tongue teasing her clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking, making her grind against his mouth, moaning and whimpering. He growls against her, and once piercing eyes turn glazed, the lids growing heavy with lust as his tongue drifts through her folds. Pulling every little whine and mewl from her that he can as he sinks deeper into his drunken state on the taste of her. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles, words slurred and almost incoherent with how far he’s drifted, letting his control fall away before returning to his duty. Her hands reach out, pushing back the hood he wears and burying her fingers into his hair. Nails drag over his scalp, massaging at his crown as she finds herself slipping and falling into the pleasure he delivers her.

The room fills with obscenely wet noises as his mouth works her cunt, his tongue slithering, lips sucking. Building her up to the very edge, and bringing her over it, again and again. A man on a mission, aching to make her as much of a begging, weak mess as he feels burying his face in her delicious core. Stomach fluttering in conjunction with her breathless pants, she writhes under his constant touch. Fisting his short hair and trying to pull him away so she can have just a moment to get a hold of herself. She’s losing the ability to think, to speak. Words won’t form, just nonsensical moans as she stumbles into an ecstatic delirium. Her cunt clenches around nothing, walls fluttering as heat pools in her core and at the base of her spine. Clutching her tighter in response, he’s a dog with a bone and he’ll never let it go. Lost in his own moment of peace. A man whose whole life has been defined by his loyalty to his work, his persistence to defeat every obstacle in his way, and here – in this bedroom, between her thighs – he only has to worry about one thing: giving her every ounce of perfect pleasure he can reward her with. 

John ruts against the bed, the friction against his clothed bulge enough to make his eyes roll back in his head as his tongue sinks into the tight entrance of her cunt. This is the only home he needs, doesn’t matter where he is as long as she’s there too. And as she starts screaming, crying out, her voice damn near hoarse with how many times he’s brought her to completion, that coiling knot in his gut makes itself known, tightening like a noose. Their eyes meet, vision hazy, blurred by satisfaction and drunk on the high. The entire lower half of his face is soaked. His beard slick with her juices, mustache glistening in the warm light as he lifts his head and pleads, desperate to relieve the ache in his groin. 

“Please, darlin’...” Blue eyes beg her for release. His ragged breaths are the only evidence of the way he’s worked himself up. The sweat, the reddened face, hidden by his mask. “Please,” he mumbles, flicking his tongue against her swollen, pulsing clit. Her puffy cunt is sensitive, overstimulated. Her thighs covered in her arousal, and the bed covers below her are wet with her slick and his spit. As his tongue grazes her, barely touching the skin, she gasps and moans once more, too weak to make a louder noise. She nods her head, catching her breath, her chest straining to collect enough air as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly, his throbbing cock springing free, drooling with precum. 

It’s a sight that always brings her back up to the heights of desire. Even when her mind is a foggy mess she can still recall just how good it feels when he stretches open her velvet walls. While his tongue can work wonders, and his fingers know exactly where to stroke, it’s his cock that she dreams about when they’re apart: the way it fills her with each demanding thrust, the heavy drag of it. 

She collects his chin in her hand and pulls him up towards her. The smirk on his face is intoxicating, his dimples driving her crazy as she cradles his jaw and kisses him, tasting herself on his lips. 

“You’re bloody amazing, love,” he rumbles against her mouth, his hand curling under her, holding her tight to him as she wraps her legs around his waist. 

His cock slips into her easily, she’s so wet there’s barely any resistance at all. Grunting with each pistoning of his hips, John has to close his eyes as he presses his forehead to hers. He’s so close already, it’s easy to tell with each stuttered drive into her depths. There’s no rhythm – as much as he tries – the heavy gear he’s wearing is a burden, slowing him down, adding to his work load. It doesn’t take long however, before he can’t hold out and his eyes squeeze shut, his body tensing. 

“It’s okay, love,” she moans softly, her voice a breathy whisper as she strokes her thumb through the drenched bristles of his facial hair.

He groans, panting heavily, and he can’t stop himself as his come escapes him in hot ropes. His thrusts grow shallower, riding out his orgasm before slipping out of her, leaving a trail of their mixed fluids behind, collapsing beside her on the bed.  

“Fucking hell,” he drawls, pulling off the mask he was wearing and putting it on the bedside table. Puffing out heavy breaths as he rubs a hand down his sweat-drenched face. “That was… something else,” she breathes. Rolling over, she curls up beside him, resting her head on his chest and wrapping an arm over his stomach. “What in the hell gave you the idea to do all that,” she asks, gazing up at him with her large doe-eyed stare, as pretty and sweet as can be.

“You know how I feel about you, sweetheart.” He nuzzled against the top of her head, brushing his nose through her hair as his big hand cupped the back of her head, fingers carding through the soft strands. “I’d do anythin’ for you.”

[iamthemain-character]

To Fall

xaden riorson x fem!reader

CW: Canonical violence, brief suggestive language

A/N: I'm currently reading Iron Flame so this is just based off Fourth Wing knowledge! Don't come for me lol

Song: I, Carrion (Icarian) by Hozier

I feel lighter than I have in so much time

I've crossed the border line of weightless

One deep breath out from the sky

I've reached a rarer height now that I can confirm

All our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world

The first sensation you notice when you stir from your rest is the weight of your lover’s arm around your waist. You can feel the way his hand rests just under your breast, gentle compared to its touch just a few hours ago. You keep your eyes closed, savoring the peaceful intimacy of this moment. Your hand lifts from the mattress, trailing your fingers over the lines of his forearms, not needing sight to trace the familiar scars. You’ve gazed at these arms long enough, felt their strength, that you know each muscle as if it is your own.

“Good morning, beautiful.” The husky morning voice of Xaden curls around your ear, the sound traveling straight down to your heart. You feel his hard chest press against your shoulder blades as he pulls you in closer, his warmth permeating your skin, heating you up from the inside out. You could feel the bridge of his nose as he pressed his face into your hair, lips finding the bits of skin through the curtain of hair that fell over your shoulders. His hand pressed a little firmer against your ribs, as if he could meld you into his body through sheer strength. Not that you would have minded; you never felt as complete as you did when you were right against Xaden.

It was difficult to say what moments with Xaden were your favorite. He was an all consuming sort of lover, always giving his most in every second he spent in your presence. Yet the soft mornings, when the sun had not yet dared to cast her gaze over the earth, you perhaps cherished most. Xaden was entirely yours in those moments; not a Wingleader, not the leader of a rebellion, but just the man who loved you. And the man you loved fiercely in return. The bond between the two of you felt as fierce as dragons’, a desperate need to be near one another, to share in every part of your being.

Unlike dragons, however, the world tore the two of you apart. Your assignment to the front lines brought a chill into your bed, one that not even all of Xaden’s affection could brush away. You longed to give into his touches, the kisses that made you feel as if you were high above the world, but the knowledge that every minute brought you closer to your departure forced you to be sensible.

“You’re thinking.” Xaden murmurs, the plush of his lips ghosting over the curve of your ear.

“Always.” You sigh in return, turning your head to look into his eyes. There’s a shine in his Onyx irises, a light that you proudly note you bring to his life. You reach up your hand, trailing it over the path of stubble that covers his jawline. He makes a sound of contentment, one that you feel rumble in his chest, and he presses his head further into your touch.

“You’re going to need to write down all of those pretty thoughts for me.” He murmurs, brushing his lips against your palm, following the map of its creases.

“Most of them are going to be about you anyways.” You give a soft breath of laughter, knowing you would willingly write down every word for him if he asked.

“Even better.” He insists, moving his kisses to the pulsepoint at your wrist, as if he could kiss your very heart. “That means they’ll match mine.”

Your chest swells, and suddenly it's like your ribs have been cinched in, making your throat close in on itself. Your eyes prick with tears, and you blink rapidly, trying to push them away. You slip your hand to the back of his neck, intertwining your fingers with the messy curls, savoring the silky sensation. “I’m going to miss you.” You whisper, the words only audible for Xaden, as if the walls themselves will hear you and shame your vulnerability. But here, in the bed, with only his ears listening in, you know you can allow yourself the emotions too often denied in the life of a rider.

“As will I.” Xaden replies, his tone low and gentle. “But you will be back soon.” He says the words so easily, voice as calm as the morning itself. But his arms tighten their hold on you, his hands pressing flat against your hip and your stomach, pulling your body as tightly against his as possible without crushing you. There's a desperation in his hold, and you think that he may be clinging to you rather than holding. Every time you leave, there's the unspoken knowledge between the two of you that you may not return. The uncertainty of life comes with the job, and with the warlike state on the front lines, mercy has turned her gaze away from the world.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” Your words are soft, but your tone is underlined with a plea. You know all too well how Xaden pushes himself when you are not there, pushing himself beyond his limit in his efforts to fulfill all the roles that fall on his–alebit perfect–shoulders.

“You’re the one we should be worrying about.” Xaden murmurs, his hands turning your body over so you’re facing him. His hand leaves your hip, coming up to stroke back your messy hair. “I hate knowing that I won’t be there to protect you.”

“I can protect myself.” You reassure him, your words truthful. You have more than enough skills to fend for yourself, and years of experience have trained you to be a dangerous opponent.

Xaden’s thick brows furrow, drawing together between his dark eyes. “You shouldn’t have to.” He growls, his fingers on your waist digging in a little, most likely adding a few more bruises to his marks littering your body. “I should be there to protect you, to make sure that you’re safe. I don’t want anyone laying a hand on you.”

The fire in his words burns straight to your heart, making your skin tingle with the warmth. Even though it's not possible to let Xaden defend you at all times, the very knowledge that he would so passionately protect you from all harm makes you fall in love a little more. “You’re needed here. The cadets have so much to learn, and they really can’t protect themselves.” You pause, your voice softening. “Especially yours.”

He nods, and you watch his shoulders tense as he is reminded of all the people he is responsible for. You’ve traced those 107 scars more times than you could count, kissed everyone as a silent promise to help him. So much rode on keeping those boys and girls safe.

“Just promise you’ll come back to me.” He says, his dark voice tinted with need.

“Always.”

And though I burn how could I fall?

When I am lifted by every word you say to me

If anything could fall at all, it's the world

That falls away from me

The hands of smoke are curled around your esophagus, choking out every last clean breath from your lungs. Your entire body ached, encrusted in your flight leathers from the amount of blood that you had been bathed in. Furthermore, it was unclear how much was yours versus the enemy’s, but you kept pushing yourself, knowing there would be no peace until every one of the Poromish fighters backed off, or more tragically, were dead. Your heart hurt even more than your wounded body when you thought of the innocent people who were dying, wondering how Nevarre would twist this battle to be blamed on the Gryphon riders and not the true enemy.

You climbed back onto your dragon, the two of you taking to the skies to evaluate the battlefield. The landscape was a nightmare painted by the cruelest of artists, the dirt turned to reddish mud from the sheer amount of blood spilt. It was a small relief to see the battle finally winding down, though it may only be because there was no one left to fight. You and your dragon flew out to the edge of the wards, continuing to look for anywhere that your aide might be needed.

Suddenly, your stomach turned into a sinkhole, swallowing up any seed of relief that might have been planted. The edge of the wards had moved, evidently from further weakening of the stones, and suddenly you and your dragon were exposed. Your dragon quickly banked left to dive back into the safety of Nevarre, but just a second too late. You felt metal hit your neck, right at the junction of your shoulder, pain shooting out like lightning from the point of impact. Your functionality disappeared with the jolt of pain, as suddenly you felt nothing at all. Except, the world was tilting, and rather than seeing the neck of your dragon, you were looking up at it, watching as it grew smaller and smaller. In the haze that surrounded your brain, you wondered if you were falling.

You wondered if Xaden had eaten that morning.

And then you thought nothing at all as darkness consumed you.

You have me floatin' like a feather on the sea

While you're as heavy as the world

That you hold your hands beneath

Once I had wondered what was holdin' up the ground

But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down

You were warm. Your entire body seemed to protest against its existence, but you were warm. And surrounded by softness. You opened your eyes–the action taking more effort than it should–and had to blink away the blearyness that blurred your vision. As you looked at the ceiling, noting the beams of dark wood that arched the ceiling, you couldn’t help but think that this looks like Xaden’s bedroom in Aretia.

Your eyes confirmed your suspicions as they slowly moved over the room, spotting the familiar wardrobe, dresser, and desk. All of which were places that you were familiar for far less than innocent reasons, but knew nonetheless. Hope slipped out of its cocoon, fluttering her new wings in your heart as you looked towards the door, looking for the owner of both the room and your heart. And your hope took flight, soaring through your body as you saw Xaden’s head resting atop his arm, his tall body slumped over the edge of the bed. His other hand grasped yours, a desperate need in his grip even as he slept.

You had seen the way his hands could wield daggers, swords, clubs even–not to mention the dark and powerful shadows that he could conjure with barely any movement at all. But to you, those hands held up your entire world. You knew that his calloused palms could hold you in a way that took away any fear, could convince you of his deepest affections, and could bestow a love within yourself so deep that you forgot to be insecure.

Softly, you ran your thumb over the curve of his knuckles, smiling to yourself as you gazed at your beloved. Despite your stiff muscles, you pushed through the ache to shift downward on the bed, curling up beside his head. At the sensation of the mattress dipping, Xaden’s head shot up, his hand constricting around yours. For a moment, his eyes are dark and wild, as if he’s ready to manifest that darkness around whoever threatens him. But then he focuses on you, and immediately they soften into the gentle depths that you’ve lost yourself in countless times.

“My love…” Xaden’s voice is hoarse, the usual strength gone as water wells in his eyes. His fingers flex as he resists gripping you so tightly, afraid he’ll break you.

“Hi.” Your own voice is soft, scratchy as it begs for water. But what’s more important is having the love of your life closer, and so you open your arms, wanting to feel Xaden fill them. He immediately responds, up from his seat in a flash and letting the mattress take his weight. His own arms envelope you, barely restrained from simply crushing your body to his chest. Your arms feel weak from lack of use, but you grip onto the man as tightly as you can, your fingers finding root in his dark curls.

You press your nose into the little gap between his neck and his uniform, inhaling deeply. An ocean of scent fills your mind, washing your body over with comfort and ease. He smells like the tall pines that surround Aretia, of the dark leather that was molded to his form, and the warm skin that laid underneath. It was the scent of home.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” Xaden’s voice is a growl, but you know him well enough to hear the worry and care in the rough words.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” You whisper softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his stubbled jaw.

Xaden lets out a shaky breath, hands tightening on your nightdress, seemingly unconvinced that you’re not going to suddenly disappear. “I should have been there.”

“There was no way you could have been.” You counter, trying to soothe him.

“I should have been there to protect you.” Xadens voice comes out dangerously low, frustration dripping off his words.

“You have a duty-”

“My duty is to you, dammit.” He takes a deep breath, trying to control his voice. “There is nothing I would prioritize over you. Let them strip my rank from me, let this whole rebellion fall apart again, I will not lose you.” Xaden murmurs the words like they’re an oath, like he needs you to let him dedicate his life to you. “If I need to live and die at your hand, then so be it. You are the only thing that matters. Nothing else.”

For a long moment, your words fail you, Xaden’s passionate vow stealing any protest or promise from your mind. “I love you” simply wasn’t enough to convey the depth of emotion and connection the two of you shared.

You leaned back a little, fingers brushing the curls at the nape of his neck as you gazed into his gleaming onyx eyes. “Then live at my hand.” You softly request, your own voice as insistent. “I don’t want your sacrifice. I want you, here, with me, until we both draw our final breaths.”

Now, it was Xaden’s turn to lack a response, the words weighing heavily on his heart. His whole adult life, he had been prepared to die for his cause, for what he believed in. But to live for something? To live for you? It was something he never considered; but if it was all you wanted, then by the gods he would do it.

“I’ll live for you, my love.” He murmurs, and he brings your empty hand to his lips, lightly kissing the tips of your fingers, then down to the palm, and finally kissing your pulse point. Your wrist throbbed steadily, reminding him of just how precious living was.

Leave it now, I am sky-bound

If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me

We'll float away, but if we fall

I only pray, don't fall away from me

Xaden meant it literally when he said he would live and die at your hand. He did not leave your side unless absolutely necessary, and even then he’d always drag one of his friends in to watch over you, despite your protests that you were fine. Still, it was a little endearing, seeing how much he cared for you.

The healing process was slow, the poison from the arrow having done a lot of damage to your body. But you made steady recovery, taking the medicine you needed to, getting rest as well, though the latter often had to be enforced by Xaden himself. It worked both ways, however, as you would often convince the man of shadows to rest as well by welcoming him into the warm bed.

Walking proved to be the most difficult task during your healing period. Your body had been so violently ill with the poison, as well as the wounds you took during the actual battle, that you had been greatly weakened. That, in addition to you being bed ridden for some time, only added to the issue. When you started to literally get back on your feet, however, Xaden’s arms held you, preventing you from collapsing, encouraging every step. In the moments when you would grow too fatigued, he’d scoop you into those same arms to return to his room.

At first, you were frustrated with your inability to do such a basic thing, feeling like a dead weight on Xaden’s shoulders. But as each day passed, you came to cherish those walks through the halls of his home, his arm around your waist, warm and sure. Xaden himself relaxed more during those times, allowing himself to speak freely and enjoy the borrowed time you two shared.

It was during one of these outings that the two of you wandered down a hallway you had previously not explored. It was quiet, with a few pieces of art or items that had been salvaged from the original house. And then your eyes landed on a portrait; it was vast, spreading across the majority of the wall, showing off the smallest of details the artist put in. There was a man, strong and proud, and a woman beside him, looking gentle and wise. But what drew your eye the most was the depiction of the young boy between them, head held high, dark onyx eyes staring directly at the viewer.

The same onyx eyes that stared at you.

“Thats Mom and Dad.” Xaden’s voice is soft, sounding more vulnerable and childlike than you have ever heard before. You glance at him, seeing the bittersweet smile that ghosts over his features. His strong hand grips at your waist a little tighter, as if he needs a reminder that you’re still here, that he didn’t lose you too.

“You look just like your father.” You remark, your voice as tender as your beating heart for Xaden and his family that you’ll never get to meet. “But your smile is like your mother’s.”

Xaden’s smile grows more real, his eyes looking over you, full of gratitude and hope from your words. “She would have liked you. Both of them, I think.”

“I would hope so.” You muse, studying the people in the portrait. You wonder what it would have been like to actually know them, to be able to note what traits your beloved shared with his parents. Seeing the portrait of his father seemed so different from the traitorous man depicted in all of the history books. “What was he really like?”

Xaden tensed beside you, as if the thought of what you must “know” about his father made him defensive. Yet he just squeezed your waist, perhaps a reminder to himself that you weren’t there to burn his memories too. “He was a good man. Not perfect, but a good man. The kind I wish I could be.”

For a moment you let the weight of his words sink onto the two of you, the air thick with the hopes and fears that formed your very lives. You both knew that you and Xaden would carry the blood on your hands for the rest of your lives; even if you won the war, there would never be a moment you could truly say that you were good. But perhaps Xaden’s father felt the same.

“We’re going to finish what he started.” You say quietly, placing your hand over Xaden’s heart. The motion draws his gaze to you, his eyes seeming to come back from whatever far off place his mind sailed to. “We’re going to make this world the kind he would have wanted.”

Xaden doesn’t say anything, just placing his calloused hand on top of yours, his thumb stroking your cool skin. “He wanted things to be better for me.” He whispers, his voice raspy with choked emotion. “I want things to be better for our kids. I want them to be able to choose who they are.”

The idea of “our kids” doesn’t go unnoticed, making your heart flutter as you are reminded just how much Xaden truly wants a future with you. “We’re making things better for all of us. For our friends, our future kids…” You pause, smiling a little, “For us. And we’ll be able to share the story of just how wonderful your father truly was.’

You could have been an angel from above, the way Xaden gazed at you as you spoke; his eyes were reverent, full of devotion, holy and unholy. “For us.” He echoes, like it's another vow to strengthen his heart. A vow that he seals with a kiss to your lips.

I do not have wings, love, I never will

Soarin' over a world you are carryin'

If these heights should bring my fall

Let me be your own

Icarian carrion

Once you fully recovered, Xaden still wanted to keep you in Aretia. The very idea of you returning to Baisgaith just to possibly be sent away again didn’t settle well with his protective heart. Still, you were determined, and just as stubborn as he was, so he begrudgingly agreed that you would return with him.

Despite your lover’s disgruntled attitude towards your decision, the flight back was gratifying for both of you. Side by side, your dragons never strayed from one another, and neither did the two of you. During the few stops that were made, Xaden was quick to encase you in his arms, often allowing himself to indulge in some kisses that increased the time of your journey. If Xaden had been doting before, the near loss of you had only made him even more devoted to claiming every moment he could.

This only became more apparent once the two of you returned to Baisgaith, reciting your perfected story of your terrible injury and how Xaden had managed to nurse you back to health. Leadership, of course, wanted to take you away so they could get the full report;you could have sworn Xaden was a dragon himself from his barely contained irritation at being forced to leave your side.

It wasn’t until the sun had set that you were finally allowed to return to your quarters, having had the details of your experience laid out and rehashed time and time again. Leadership could not find a flaw in your story, however, and eventually let you go with a welcome back to the citadel. You were a little tired, pent up with frustration at your lying authorities, and ready to be back in Xaden’s arms.

Your feet barely had time to step through the door, however, before shadows consumed you, slamming the door shut, nearly splintering it off the hinges. Immediately, heat rose in your body, Xaden’s desire palpable through the little control he had over his powers.

“Finally.” His voice whispers, low and husky with lust against your neck, his nose pressing into the soft skin. “I was beginning to think I’d have to come get you myself.”

You inhale deeply, the distinctive smell that you know and adore filling your senses as you lean back against his strong body. He’s already shirtless, his heated skin making you wonder how long he was waiting for you, like a predator ready to pounce and claim. “You know how long these things go. Trying to make sure I’m not a traitor.”

“Of course.” He darkly chuckles, pressing warm, open mouth kisses up the curve of your neck, biting softly behind your ear. “Don’t you know I’m filling your head with all kinds of nasty plans?”

“You certainly fill my head with filthy thoughts, my love, but I don’t think it's the kind the government cares about.” You hum in reply, smiling to yourself as you feel his hands wander down your body.

His long fingers find the buckles of your flight leathers, popping them open with practiced ease. “Well well, perhaps it should be my turn to interrogate that pretty little mind of yours.” His voice curls into a coil in your stomach, stirring up your desire. “I would love to know just what I can make you imagine.” His hands continue their work on your pants, continuing the progressive removal of your layers.

Once you’re undressed, he spins you around, his hands ghosting over the shape of your body before settling on your hips. His thumbs press into the hollow below the bone, his fingers splaying over the curve of your ass. It’s not unlike watching your dragons lay claim to their possessions, the way he grips onto you, but his possessive nature only stokes the fire in your belly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, dipping his head down to kiss over your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin. “Gods, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You murmur your honest reply, your skin tingling with the sensation of his touch.

“I mean it.” He murmurs, biting at your collarbone before lifting his gaze to meet yours. “My whole heart, it belongs to you. I am completely, madly, and truly in love with you.”

Xaden is always such a man of action that you’ve never really had to doubt if he loved you. But as the words melt over your body, casting warmth like the early morning sun, you are taken by just how truly loved you are. “I feel the same.” Your words hardly seem equal, but Xaden’s smile reassures you that he is pleased.

“I want you to always be mine.” His voice has dropped, as if he wants only you to hear his words. His dark eyes glimmer in the little light of the room, making your stomach turn with anticipation. “I want to be able to love you for the rest of our lives. I want to have a life with you by my side.”

You watch as Xaden takes your left hand into his, his calloused palms comforting against your own smaller hands. His thumb brushes over your ring finger, sending a thrill through your heart.

“I can’t make you any promises right now.” Xaden murmurs, love radiating off of every single syllable that leaves his lips. “And I want to do this properly when the time comes, with a ring, and a beautiful setting. I want to get down on one knee so you know that I’m serious when I say I want to worship you for the rest of my life.” He looks up, finding your eyes, giving a small, tender smile. “But for now, all I can ask is that you’ll be mine. In whatever comes our way, whether we have one minute together or one hundred years, I want to know that I get to give my time to you. If you’ll have me.”

You blink, your eyes filling with water as you listen to his words. “Xaden…”You whisper, your voice choked with emotion. You swallow your heart, unable to contain the smile on your lips as you cup his jaw, thumbs stroking the stubble there. “No matter how far we go, no matter what we do…I am yours. Truly and irrevocably. Even if we fall, I won’t fall away from you.”

Xaden feels his own eyes smart with unshed tears, and so he gathers you into his arms, burying his face into your neck. You can hear him murmur soft “thank you”s and “I love you”s against your skin, his hands running down your back. You smile at his reaction, and you slip your hand into his hair, lifting his face enough so you can press your lips against his, pouring out your heart to him through your touch. Xaden immediately reciprocates, his heart always hungry for you, and his lips move demandingly, pulling you in deeper.

He lets out a needy huff, and his hands find your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. “Let me show you how much I love you.” He requests against your lips, sounding like a man desperate for water.

“I’m all yours.”

Xaden holds nothing back as he kisses you again, his tongue demanding its way between your lips, savoring your taste on his lips. He swiftly moves across the room, his bed becoming his altar as he lays you down onto it. He takes a moment, eyes moving over your body, as if he could commit every mark and line to memory. He takes your hands, his own strong and capable, but gentle as they hold you, and he presses kisses over the ridges of your knuckles. “And I, my love..I am all yours.”

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall

Allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

If I should fall, on that day

I only pray, don't fall away from me

“Fen Xander Riorson, be nice to your sister!”

Xaden smiled to himself, hearing your voice carry over the springtime air. The sun was setting over the mountains of Aretia, the new grass soft under his body. As far as his eye could see, he saw the prosperous new settlements, the homes and businesses of his friends and family thriving within the new age. It was a sight he thought would only ever be fantasy at one point.

As he feels your familiar hands smooth over his shoulders, your soft lips pressing against his temple, he is reminded just how real his life is.

“That is your son.” You murmur in his ear, coming to sit beside him on the flowering hill.

Xaden chuckles softly, reaching out to snake an arm around your waist. “Our son.” He reminds you, nuzzling into your hair, inhaling your scent. Even after all these years and two kids, he still feels the intense need to just have you. “He gets his stubbornness from you.”

You huff, feigning indignation, but your wide smile gives away your true feelings. You lean against Xaden’s side, watching as your son ignores any reprimands and continues to chase his squealing little sister through the field. “He gets his rebellious side from you.”

Xaden lets out a small snort of laughter, his arm tightening around your waist. He doesn’t deny it, knowing that the two children both take after their parents. It was his greatest joy, being able to watch the very humans the two of you had created grow up and discover themselves. You had fulfilled your promise, after all; the world they knew was much kinder to them than it had been to him. His marks and his scars would always remind him of that.

Xaden’s gaze looks over you, the form of his beloved wife, and it only makes his smile grow. Gray hairs are beginning to intermix with your natural color, denoting the time that has passed within your body. You moan and complain about them, but he sees them as a mark that you two not only survived, but lived. Truly lived. And now, the fruits of your labor only grew in abundance every day.

“I love you.” He softly murmurs in your ear,, his hand brushing away the hair so he can press a kiss to your neck.

You smile up at him, a little surprised at the sudden words, but delighted by them nonetheless. “And I love you.” You reply, your words full of truth and affection.

The two of you return to watching the children play, and the sun continues to disappear with the last few moments of day. But now, you and Xaden simply note it as a passing thought, your love no longer on borrowed time. The night will only bring another day, with the promise of letting you cherish every moment, never to be parted again

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: H for Heat

Summary: Dream comes back victorious, helm in hand, after his duel with Lucifer but he comes back to you amidst a horrible heat.

Notes: ~ 1.5k words, this seems like a violation of my Animal Science degree

Warnings/Tags: MDNI - 18+, ABO-adjacent (is that a thing?), reader is a dog/human hybrid, knotting, biting, Jesus stop destroying the furniture around you, if you're a dog you gotta do it in doggy!

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G for Grinding ⇆ I for Incubus

You smell him before you see him, the scent calming and riling you up all the same. He smells different this time, a mix of his natural scent with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. A whimper leaves your lips as you rut your hips into your pillow. A hot flash burns across your body as it screams out to be touched, to be properly fucked. 

The curtains are drawn, the blankets pulled around you as you nest deeper into the mountains of pillows and anything you can find that smells like Morpheus. Your tail twitches impatiently from side to side as his scent comes closer and you’re able to pick apart where he’s been. 

He smells like salt, and brimstone, and a dash of adrenaline that has you biting down on your tongue as his pheromones dance across your nostrils. When Dream comes into your room, your arousal is thick in the air. He can hear the wimps emitting from your mouth and the way you're drawing him in has his jaw clenching. 

Morpheus finds you sweating and pathetic. Your ears are pinned back to your head, your tail tucked between your legs. His helm which he had recently reclaimed in his battle with Lucifer is thrown to the side and easily forgotten. 

He swallows hard, his throat dry as he takes you in the dim room. Your pheromones were like a leash around his throat that willed him closer to your side. No words were exchanged, just a pleading look with your teary and desperate eyes. 

“I’m here,” Morpheus whispers in a promise, kneeling by your side on the bed. 

Before you next whimper, his lips are crashing over yours, already knowing what it was that you needed from him. They’re so cool and smooth, a perfect remedy to your overheating body. You sigh happily into him, running your nails down the leather of his battle suit. 

It rips at the leather and you chase his lips as he tries to pull away. Your canines grow in desperation, the one sole reason of making you feel better is leaving your side. He tastes like ashes and salt and in your heat muddled brain, you couldn’t imagine a better taste on his lips. 

Morpheus rids of his clothes quickly before he’s back on you. The rest of his body is just as cool as his lips, pressing against your sweaty skin like a nice dip on a hot summer day. 

His tongue dashes forward, deepening the kiss by gliding across the extended canines in your time of need. You only bite back, drawing blood from his lips and tasting the iron mix with his saliva. It was drool worthy, it tasted like an addiction on your lips and you couldn’t get enough of it. 

“Faster, need you… now,” you plea, panting and pulling at his midnight strands just to do something with your hands. 

Morpheus grunts at your request, his lips trailing down your neck, feeling the erratic pulse on his lips. He bites down, just over the artery and you give him a whelp that has him smirking into the skin. 

A cool tongue soothes over the bite, but the satisfied sensation only lasts a few moments before he bites down again. Your fingers turn into fits in his hair, eluding a groan deep in his chest. 

Morpheus continues down further, ghosting his lips over the swell of your breast, feeling them perk under his breath. Another tantalizing lick has you arching your back into his mouth as he circles the sensitive mound in his mouth. 

Your legs part, wet, slick, and inviting as he slots himself between you, his hands keeping your squirming self still by your rutting hips. Morpheus’ mouth never leaves your skin as he trails to the other breast, giving it the same treatment as the other. His hunger for your flesh is just as desperate as your own. 

Your back is taut with tension and unfulfilled desires as Morheus continues to tease at your skin. You can feel his erection press against your wet folds, each slight movement tantalizing against your nerves. 

His mouth moves back against yours, tasting his blood on his tongue from when you bit him. Your hands trail down from his hair and down his back, not caring as he hisses from the pain of your nails drawing blood from his skin. 

You rut against his hips again, egging him to enter your slick folds, to release you from this mind consuming need to get your brains absolutely fucked out. But, Morpheus is always patient, ignoring your bucks and desperate whines in his mouth as he trails cool fingers over his new and blooming love bites and the sides of your trembling form. 

At your wit’s end, you push his lips aside and latch your teeth into the meat of his shoulder, letting out your own growl of satisfaction as he shudders beneath your lips. 

“Yes, my pup, let out your frustrations on me.” His fingers go to toy at the soft fur behind your ears, finally agreeing to your need for his body inside of you. 

When you’re raking your nails against the mattress and the down feathers of geese start to float into the air does Morpheus give into your whims. He turns you around until he has you vulnerable and presented to him on your knees. 

You peek at him behind the mess of your hair, still panting and your kiss swollen lips coated in his blood; a sight to behold. Your muscles shake as Morpheus lines himself against the swell of your ass, the promise of true pleasure on the cusp of reality. 

He presses his hips forward, giving in to one last tease. Morpheus watches with a knowing smirk as you whine at his tease, pushing your ass against his hips as you arch further, squirming in unbridled want and need. 

“What do you say?” He asks in a low breath and his fingers wrap themselves around the base of your tail. 

“Please… please,” you gasp, begging on the brink of tears. 

Morpheus hums his approval and with a sharp tug of your tail does he sink himself into your warmth. Your breath catches at the intrusion but you welcome it greedily, sucking him into your warmth like a starved man to his last meal. 

Morpheus starts out slow, much to your dismay, but he  merely wishes to enjoy the way you try to take control by pushing into him instead of letting him take care of you. 

He adjusts himself slightly, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan as his brushes against a spot that has the edges of your vision blurring. 

“There?” Morpheus asks rhetorically, for he knows the way you tremble beneath him is an answer in and of itself. 

You can’t respond, too distracted in chasing the high of your unrelenting pleasure. Morpheus snaps his hips forward again before drawing them out slowly only to snap back. His other hands reach in your hair, entangling them with your hair and he pulls.

Your moans are unfiltered in the air as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, you back arching more as if it were at all possible at this point. Each push of his cock deep in you sends you spiraling down a slippery slide of ecstasy. 

“Knot me!” Your panting, nails ripping at the pillows and feathers surround you two amidst the sound of moans and whines. “Please, please, please.” You chant.

Morpheus’ thrusts deepen at your words, driven solely by your pleas and his own desperation to please you. Your moans grow higher and your cunt tightens around his cock. 

The burn of your orgasm runs down your spine and you call out his name as the release of your arousal drips down your legs. Morpheus' hips stutter for a moment, losing himself at the sudden warmth that surrounds him. But, he follows soon after, thrusting as deep as he can before he dumps his seed into you.

To your request, he feels himself swell inside of you, a satisfied growl emitting from him as he feels your cunt spasm around him. The walls of your cunt tighten around him as his size grows, locking the two of you together. He lets go of your tail and runs a finger down the length of your spine as he stays panting above you. 

You relax as his fingers message the taut muscles of your back, sighing into the broken and ripped pillows beneath your head. Lifting your head from the pillow for a moment, you notice a very obvious wet spot where your drool had accumulated, something you didn’t even remember doing amidst the throes of passion and desperation. 

“Oops…” you mutter, laying your head back down on the pillow and simply enjoying the touch of Morpheus. 

“Do you require another round?” Morpheus taunts and his hands return to your hips. 

You think for a moment, your heat was still shimmering beneath the surface even though it was just quelled.

“Yeah.”

Does this count as monster fucking or is it just a gateway drug to being a furry?

♡ Yours, Layla

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G for Grinding ⇆ I for Incubus

[munson-blurbs]

Argyle x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: literally just Argyle being the sweetest during sex with his pregnant girl.

WC: 820

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), pregnant!Reader, Argyle calls Reader "mama" (but no mommy kink), allusion to daddy kink

A/N: shoutout to @chatteringfox for being the most feral over Argyle with me--not only for this fic, but also 24/7. Also, happy birthday Eduardo Franco. Sorry that we want to have your stoner babies.

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Argyle was always gentle during sex. He held you as though you were the most precious thing to him, pressing soft kisses down the column of your neck. Even when you were on top, he’d languidly roll his hips upwards to meet yours, never once rushing through or chasing his own orgasm until he was certain you’d gotten yours.

Part of that could be attributed to the marijuana haze he kept himself in, but the primary reason was simply because he loved you so much and wanted to savor every moment.

Now, he braced his arms on either side of your body, groaning as he slid inside you. You were so wet for him, so eager and ready, a regular occurrence since you’d entered your second trimester. The nausea had subsided and had been replaced with an influx of hormones that had you craving his touch every second of the day. 

“Fuck, princesa,” Argyle murmured, sucking in a sharp breath. “How do you always feel so goddamn good?”

You could only whimper in reply, relishing in the way his happy trail brushed against your bump. Your fingers dug into his back, drawing him even closer. His raven curtain of hair draped over one side of you and tickled your bare arm.

Now fully seated within you, Argyle lifted one hand and let his thumb graze over your left nipple, his tongue swiping over the right. It was too much; the feel of him playing with your breasts was overstimulating on its own, but then adding in the additional sensitivities of pregnancy…

“A-Args,” you whispered, your breath hitching in your throat as he kissed you.

“Yeah?” The word, said against your lips, sent vibrations through your body.

It was impossible to concentrate with him filling you so perfectly. Every thrust was both lazy and intentional, the kind of movement that simultaneously said ‘I’m safe with you,’ and ‘I’ll take care of you.’

“S’too much.” Your eyes met his, and all at once he understood. This wasn’t you being a brat or teasing him for more. 

The hand on your breast moved to your side and caressed your bump with a tenderness you’d only ever imagined before Argyle. You relaxed into his touch and allowed yourself to be immersed in all of him. 

Argyle would always be Argyle, true to his core. The whites of his eyes were tinged pink from smoke. His fingers were strong and perfect for massages (a back massage was, ironically, how you’d ended up pregnant). The scents of cologne, weed, and flour mingled together and created an aura so utterly and uniquely Argyle. 

“‘S that better, Mama?”

And, oh, did that denomer do it for you. 

Your half-lidded eyes widened, your own movements temporarily stalled as you processed what he said. 

The corners of Argyle’s mouth curved into a gentle smile the moment he clocked your reaction. “Such a beautiful Mama, having my baby. Y’know,” he nipped at your bottom lip, “I always thought you were beautiful, from the moment we met. But now? Holy shit, s’like I didn’t even know what beauty was until now.”

Wrapping your legs around him, you pulled him in even deeper, eliciting a groan from both you and him. 

“Little faster,” you urged him. “I’m so fucking close.”

Argyle tucked his lips into his mouth, focusing solely on giving you what you needed. He thrusted into you faster than before, each movement sending a ripple of pleasure through your body. 

“C-Can’t hold out m-much longer, Mama.”

You nodded and threaded your fingers through his hair. “S’okay. I’m right—right—oh my god, yes!”

Your orgasm wasn’t gradual; it crashed into you with unfounded speed. You could feel every inch of him, the ridge between the head of his cock and the shaft hitting your sweet spot and making your toes curl. 

“Baby—Princesa—I’m c-coming,” Argyle panted, his breath warm against your neck. “That’s it, fuck, take it. Take my cum. Take it all…unngh.”

Argyle spilled into you with everything he had. His grip tightened around you as though he was grounding himself, lest he wake up and realize it was all a dream. 

Lucky for both of you, this was reality. 

He flopped down on his back, his bare chest heaving as he came down from the high. Perspiration darkened the thatch of hair between his pecs. 

“So.” Argyle turned his head to look at you. “Being called ‘Mama’ really does it for ya, huh?”

You gave him a wry grin. “Apparently.”

“Good to know.” He breathed out. “Good to know.”

“Why, you plan on using that to your advantage?”

He laughed and pulled you closer, letting his hand rest on your tummy. “I would never,” he said mockingly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Good.” You shifted so you were facing him, mischief dancing in your eyes. “Because then I just might have to see how you’d react if I called you ‘Daddy.’”

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