#Or worse a one sided love affair and the only way he can be with Feyre or Lucien is to be someone else

[nocasdatsgay]

I saw a post about Tamlin’s shapeshifting and- I’m goin to hell for this- but like. Do you think. He would have shifted into Rhysand if Feyre asked? Or Elain if Lucien asked?

[imaginedisish]

Is It Casual Now? (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: So this one is a couple of requests rolled into one. I got some asks about dancing around feelings, and some others about a fight/make up sex...and this is what I came up with. This is (very obviously) inspired by "Casual" by the queen herself, Chappell Roan. (Gif is not mine--from a user called trashy on Pinterest). Enjoy!

Summary: I know baby nooo attachment, but we're...KNEE DEEP IN THE PASSENGER SEAT AND YOU'RE EATING ME OUT IS IT CASUAL NOW?

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cockwarming, so much smut, feelings, friends w/benefits/secret affair to lovers, Logan is afraid to love but goddammit he loves you, angsty asf, cursing, happy ending :), fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,405 short...not...

Over the course of his very long life, some of Logan’s memories have shifted, melded together. Days become nights and nights become days, an inescapable cycle with an indeterminate end. But Logan remembers the day he met you vividly. You tripped him up; sucked him out of the monotony of what at times felt like a meaningless existence. You changed everything. 

The summer air was hot and stuffy. He was standing in the hallway with Jean, Scott, Rogue, and Kurt. The door opened, sunlight filling the dark foyer. And then there you were, stepping inside, with Charles and Storm flanking you. 

Your eyes found his immediately. “My X-Men, this is our new recruit,” Charles had said, introducing you to the team. But you were only focused on the man in the middle. The man with the leather jacket and the dark black hair. 

“Hi,” you said shyly with a wave of your hand, eyes still focused on Logan. The rest of the team excitedly introduced themselves, but you weren’t listening. 

Logan smiled. “Hi,” he said back. He was all you could see. 

And he still is. But you’re dancing around your feelings—the both of you. You allow yourselves to give in, but only under the cover of darkness. Only in bed. Late at night. When the rest of the team is fast asleep. It’s always quiet; rushed steps down the hallway and soft taps on doors. Tripping into the darkness of a room to find the bed. A mess of limbs tangled together, moon high in the sky, cold light trickling through the curtains. 

It’s the early hours of the morning, the dawn creeping in through your window. Logan’s arm is wrapped around you, his hand holding your breast. It’s so domestic, so intimate. But you know he’s going to leave—one of you always leaves. Lately, it hurts worse every time the bed goes cold. 

“I should go,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. He tugs you closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He’s still hard, his erection brushing against the curve of your ass. You push back into him teasingly. 

“Stay,” you beg, your hips rocking against him. 

He kisses your neck. “Can’t. You know we can’t.” 

Your heart drops. You don’t know how much more of this arrangement you can take. The leaving. The hiding. The secretiveness. “Why?” You ask, separating from him. You roll over onto your other side to face him. “Why can’t we?”

“We just can’t,” he grunts, pushing himself up and out from under the covers. He finds his clothes on the ground and starts to dress himself. You sit up too, tears suddenly brimming behind your eyes. 

You shake your head. “That’s not an answer, Lo.” 

“Please,” he says, tugging his beater across his chest. He leans over you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “You have to understand.” 

You nod, but you don’t understand. He kisses you once more before stepping quietly towards the door. His hand hovers over the doorknob, like part of him can’t take this either. Like he has to fight some demon deep inside him not to crawl back into bed and pull you close. You know him; you can see it in his face, in the way he stands.  

“See you later?” You ask, swallowing nervously. You need to hear him say it—need him to remind you that this isn’t over. You’re desperate for anything—desperate for him. 

Logan smiles. “Yeah,” he nods. “Come to my room tonight, okay?”

You fight back your tears, plastering a fake smile on your face. “Okay.”

And then he’s slipping out the door, softly shutting it behind him. 

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

Later that night…

His sheets are soft under your back. His arm holds you down, latched tightly over your hip, keeping your lower half glued to the mattress. His face is buried deep in your cunt. He’s lapping at you hungrily, needily. 

“Thought about you all day,” he mumbles against you, the bassy vibration of his voice sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. His fingers pump in and out of you, fast and hard. “Wanted to taste you so bad, pretty girl.” 

“Logan,” you whine as he takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly. “F-feels so good.” 

Your walls flutter around him as he sinks his fingers deeper inside you. There’s a hunger in his eyes, a desperation you’re well acquainted with. You feel it whenever you’re around him, whenever he’s pressing himself closer to you, pushing himself inside of you. 

“Doing so good for me, darlin’,” he soothes, his thumb drawing circles into your hip. “Tastes so fucking good, so sweet.” His words are practically throwing you over the edge, destroying you, and then building you back up. 

He’s knuckle-deep inside you, lapping at you, watching your every reaction to see what makes you feel good. The sight of him is overwhelming—his mouth latched onto your clit, hair a mess, sweat on his brow, lust darkening his eyes. 

You throw your head back as he hits your sweet spot, his fingers scissoring inside you. “S-so close,” you stutter as he sinks into you. “Need you, Lo,” you whimper. 

“Need you too, beautiful,” he murmurs between laps. “More than you’ll ever know.” The words—their vulnerability and meaning—push you over, your orgasm crashing in waves. “That’s it,” he coos, plunging into you. “Give it to me.” He talks you through it, soft praises slipping from his lips as his tongue drags along your clit. Lemme taste you come, sweetheart. So good. So fucking beautiful. 

He pulls his fingers from your cunt long after you’ve finished. He licks one long stripe through your folds before crawling up your body and settling in between your legs. His lips find yours, and you can taste yourself on his mouth, on his tongue, wearing you like a badge of honor, like proof of his commitment to you.

Commitment. Right.  

He made you feel so good that you almost let yourself forget. Your arrangement. This stupid, goddamn arrangement. 

No staying. No telling. You. Him. The moonlight. And then nothing. 

Logan’s face is buried in the crook of your neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive spot underneath your ear. 

“Lo,” you whisper. He hums against you, not stopping. “Logan,” you chide again. 

He pushes himself up, looking down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What is it, princess?” You swallow harshly, blinking back your tears. The expression on his face shifts as he recognizes the pain in your eyes. “You okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head. “I want you,” is all you say. 

“I want you too,” he says back, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“N-no,” you choke. “I want you.”

He pulls up a bit, putting some space between the two of you. “You have me,” he says, confusion painted across his face. 

“No, I don’t,” you mutter, shutting your eyes. 

Logan rolls off of you and sits up against the headboard. “What are you talking about?” 

You open your eyes, looking up at him. “I can’t do this ‘sneaking around’ thing anymore,” you start, tears flooding your eyes as you struggle to hold them back. “I want—” you cut yourself off. You can’t play down your emotions anymore. “I need you, all of you. Always. I’m tired of leaving, of hiding, of this whole casual thing.”

“Casual?” His voice is harsh, accusatory. “This isn’t fucking casual to me. You think I don’t care about you?” He reaches out to touch you, but you turn away, swinging your legs around the side of the bed. You grab your clothes from the floor and dress quickly. 

You turn back to face him. “Why don’t you want to stay with me, then? Why are we only together when no one is looking?” You shake your head, your hands balling into fists. “Why don’t you want me all the time?”

He scoffs, standing from the bed and striding over to you. “You don’t get it. I do. I want you. I just can’t—”

“You can’t what?” You shout. You don’t care who can hear you. You’re not even thinking about the others right now. You’re only thinking about Logan. And then, the words shoot out your mouth, cold and angry. Empty. Strained. “Can’t love me like I love you?”

Your eyes widen, shocked at what you’ve just said. Your chest heaves, and you rush to the door. 

“Wait, please,” Logan calls, running to catch you before you leave. “Don’t go.” 

You twist the knob. “It’s too late now.” You open the door and slip out, trying to shove it closed in his face. But Logan pushes against you, keeping the door open and stepping out into the hallway. You turn around and storm down the corridor, ignoring his footsteps following behind. 

He grabs your wrist, and you yank it away. You’re in front of your bedroom door now. Logan is just a few feet away. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

His eyes search yours frantically. “No, let’s talk. Let’s—”

You cut him off. “I don’t want to anymore, Lo.” You open your door, ignoring his pleas, leaving him on the other side as you slam it shut behind you. You rest your back against the cold wood, sliding down to the floor. You pull your legs into your chest, your head resting on your knees. 

Your tears flow freely now, running down your cheeks. You sit like that for what feels like hours, sobs racking through your chest. But when your tears finally subside and you look up, you see the moon is still high in the sky. 

You force yourself to stand, your knees weak as you push yourself off the ground. Your throat is dry from all that time spent crying. You decide to go down to the kitchen, to get water, to calm down. But when you open the door, you’re met with him. 

Logan. He’s on the other side, his hand gripping the door frame, muscles flexing, towering over you. You try to slip under his arm, but he doesn’t let you, grabbing your waist and holding you in place. 

“We need to talk,” he mutters, backing you into the room and shutting the door with a kick. 

You cross your arms against your chest. “There’s nothing left to talk about.” But he isn’t standing down. Your thighs back into the edge of your bed as Logan leans down over you. You look up at him, doing your all not to give in to the voice that screams to touch him, to taste him. You take a deep breath. “We want different things. You don’t want me the way I want you, and that’s fine,” you lie; it isn’t fine at all. 

“I never said that,” he huffs, his fingertips tentatively stroking your arms. You can’t pull away as his eyes find yours. “I just…” he trails off, taking your hands in his. 

You scoff, shaking your head. “You can’t even tell me how you feel. You can’t even—” “Because it’s hard!” He says, his jaw working. “It’s hard when you lose everyone you love.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “You don’t get it,” he murmurs, squeezing your hands, his chest heaving. 

“Logan—”

“You’re always around, always on my fucking mind.” He pauses, his eyes glossing over as the words fall from his lips. “I have never loved someone the way I love you. And if I lose you…if I can’t have you…” He trails off, pain clear on his face. “I will never be the same again. You changed me. And that’s terrifying. I felt safer keeping you at a distance but…” His breath catches in his throat. “I can’t go back to how I was before you.”

Your lips part as you stammer, searching for the right thing to say. “I-I didn’t know. I just assumed that you—” “That I was just fucking you?” He asks, tilting his head in disbelief. “This has never been just fucking.” He slots his knee between your legs, tugging you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I love you. Always have. From that first day.” 

You lean into his touch. “I love you, too,” you whisper. 

He presses his forehead to yours. “I can’t lose you,” he says. There’s a tremble in his voice. “It’s just you. It’s only ever gonna be you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you reassure. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” 

He nods against you. “I never meant to hurt you,” Logan husks. “Never meant to make you feel like I didn’t love you.”  

“Logan, it’s okay,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. You need him closer, and you know he needs you too. His hands slip underneath your shirt as his knee nudges against your center. “Always gonna need you.” You can’t help but grind down on him, the pressure relieving the building ache in your core. “N-need you now.”

“Need you too, pretty girl,” he soothes. He guides you down onto the mattress. His palms spread across your stomach, tracing over your ribs—just under your breasts. “Wanna make you feel good.” He cups your tits, squeezing softly, his thumbs ghosting over your nipples. 

Logan settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm, his knee still pressing into your all too-clothed cunt. He knows how much you need him—the way your hips roll against him, how you arch up to meet his touch. 

“L-Lo,” you stutter, dragging your heat against him again. “Fuck me, please.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his erection hard against your thigh. You can feel his resolve slipping. “Gonna give you what you want, pretty girl,” he groans. “Give you anything you want.”

Everything is rushed, frantic, needy. He’s sitting up, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head, practically ripping it in the process. He hooks his thumbs into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, tugging them down your legs in one quick movement. 

He takes you in, his eyes flitting up and down your body. “So fucking beautiful,” he breathes, his hand squeezing your hip reverentially before tearing off his beater and throwing it to the floor. He slips his sweatpants down his legs, and then his boxers. 

Logan pushes you into the center of the bed as he climbs over you. He balances on his forearm while his free hand wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your entrance. 

You can tell he wants to shove himself inside, to take you greedily, but he doesn’t. He’s holding back; going slow like he’s remembering this so he can think about it later, when he needs it most—savoring the feeling of you against him. His tip slides through your folds, teasing your entrance. He nudges against your clit, spreading your arousal. 

But his composure quickly cracks. He’s suddenly sinking inside you deeply—down to the hilt—with no warning, taking up every inch you have to give him. He stretches you out, the size of him still no easier to take than that first time he fucked you. “Logan,” you whine, hands pawing at his back for support. 

He swallows your whimpers with a kiss. “I’m right here.” His voice is honeyed as he talks you through it. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Not going anywhere.” He pulls out and shoves himself back inside, deeper this time. His fingers are on your clit now, circling softly. “So fucking tight, so wet. Perfect pussy.”

His cock rubs your inner walls deliciously, pumping in and out. He’s on top of you, inside you, and he’s yours. He’s all yours. You wrap your legs around his waist as he rocks into you. He’s building his pace, letting himself go. 

“It’s s-so good.” You stumble over your words, already fucked out. “Y-you’re so good.” 

His thrusts are faster now, his hips snapping roughly into yours. “So soft,” he murmurs, biting your bottom lip and then licking away the sting he left behind. “So fucking soft and pretty. Taking me so good, darlin’.”

His words spark that fire in your belly. You can feel it spread down, down, down. The ache between your legs blooming, turning into something bigger. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him. He groans at the feeling as you take him deeper. All you want, all you need, is him. Logan. “Yours,” you whisper. “L-Logan I’m all yours. Not going anywhere.”

“Shit,” he curses, pounding into you, all the way hit after hit. “You’re all I need,” he confesses between thrusts, panting. He flicks your clit, pinching, circling hard. “Mine, all fucking mine. Never gonna let go.”

“Don’t,” you beg, his forehead pressing to yours. He’s all-consuming; he’s everywhere and he’s everything. “D-don’t let go,” you finish, your lips ghosting his. He takes the hint, and his lips crash down onto yours as he ruts into you. 

You can feel yourself cresting, ready to let go. “I know you’re getting close for me, beautiful,” Logan growls, pressing a kiss to that sweet spot under your ear. “Can feel you squeezing me.” Your walls clench around him, and he groans. “Yeah, just like that, sweetheart. Feels so good.”

“L-Lo…” you stutter, unable to form a coherent thought as he fucks into you, stroking your clit faster and harder. You’re falling apart underneath him, every thrust pushing you closer to that peak. You throw your head back, your eyes fluttering closed. 

“Eyes on me,” Logan demands, his voice thick and raspy. You listen, looking up at him. His eyes are locked on yours, lust-filled and dark. “Wanna see that pretty face when you come, darlin’.” 

You can feel his pace faltering—can feel him getting closer too. But he’s relentless as his hips roll against yours, fingers still working your clit. It’s too much. “Logan,” you whimper. “I-I’m gonna…” “I know, beautiful,” he says softly. “Let go for me, wanna feel you come on my cock.” 

He thrusts again, flicking your clit. And that’s all it takes for you to crumble. He watches closely as you come undone. You’re trembling underneath him, his fingers still circling your core. Your muscles contract around him, sucking him in, taking him deeper. You moan his name like it’s a prayer, something holy. But this is beyond that. This is something more, something different. 

“L-love you, Lo,” you murmur, pleasure still coursing through your veins. 

Logan curses under his breath, your words unlocking something trapped inside him. His cock throbs against your walls, and you know he’s almost there. “Love you too, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Love you so fucking much.” He slides his hand up your body and under your back, pulling you closer. You need the contact, and so does he. 

“W-want you to come inside,” you whine, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. 

“F-fuck, yeah?” He stutters. His cock twitches again. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart, give you what you need.” His lips find yours as he comes, kissing you hungrily. He’s warm inside you, painting your walls, filling you up just like he said he would. Logan’s head falls to your shoulder as his thrusts slow. He stalls inside you, staying there, not quite ready to slip out.

“Lo?” You call. He hums a yeah, sweetheart, into your shoulder. “D-don’t want you to pull out. Want you to stay inside.” 

He mutters a fuck and presses a kiss to your collarbone. He maneuvers the two of you under the covers, careful not to pull out. You’re a tangle of limbs, still connected, still together. He’s half hard inside you, and you know he’s not quite finished just yet. But there’s later, tomorrow, forever. Everything feels perfect—the way it was always meant to be. 

There’s one thing left to do; one thing left to ask. 

“Logan?” You call again. He smiles at you, pressing a chaste kiss to your nose. “Can you stay?”

His smile widens. “Always gonna stay,” he soothes, pulling you tighter to his chest, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “You never have to ask again.”

You hum, burying your head into the center of his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says against the crown of your head. “Always will. Always gonna stay.”

Always.

tags: @babygirl-4986

[tokoyamisstuff]

Delicate

Homelander x F! Reader

Summary: You and Homelander have been official for a while now, but you have yet to understand why things never went beyond a certain line.

Warnings: slight angst, slight manhandling, somnophilia, masturbation, explicit smut, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex

A/N: not proofread as always bc I cringe at my own writing. take it or leave it

Homelander had never learned how to be gentle.

Of course he knew how to touch someone without breaking them if necessary, but there's limits to his self-restraint. Especially when it came to the intimate kind of encounter.

This sadistic side of his was an expression of his desperate need for control, an inability to truly let himself fall and be vulnerable with another person.

For decades his mantra was that normal humans only exist for supes' - and mostly his - entertainment. Your weakness was his thrill, the sheer difference in power so ridiculously high that you might as well be filthy bugs - and Homelander was like a cruel child with a magnifying glass.

Usually his mates were supes themselves and even they could barely handle his violent urges, but you are a mere human. So fragile and precious that it terrified him at times.

What if he loses control in the heat of the moment? What if he breaks you? Or even worse: What if you see him for the monster he really is and run away like everyone eventually does?

A while ago Homelander heard the story about Ice Princess' fling, some Vought employee nobody. She accidentally froze his penis off during climax. Hilarious, honestly. The first time he heard this story he had a very good laugh, and he still can't look that guy in the eye without cackling when he passes him in the hallways.

But now, being romantically involved with one of those weaklings himself, the possibility of something similar happening to you made his stomach turn...

...but of course, as Homelander always does, he chose to ignore the problem at hand instead of addressing it.

Why bother with an unpleasant conversation if he can just prolong this innocent, chaste bond for as long as possible? He'd rather have you like this than unnecessarily putting you into harm's way.

You on the other hand slowly but steadily grew impatient with your boyfriend.

At first you thought he was merely being chivalrous, but it's been three months and still nothing. He's famous, so you had involuntarily learned about his past affairs - and he's definetly not old-fashioned.

Then why is he hesitating so much?

Most of the time you don't dare talking about what's bothering you, simply because any issue of yours seemed so insignificant compared to the horrible things John's been through.

Admittedly, he once literally lasered a guy's head into mush just for throwing a can to his son's head. So while his reactions can be a bit unpredictable, John cares so deeply about the few people he loves that you want to spare him any more trouble.

Unhealthy way of handling things, admittedly.

Last week you had planned it all out: What you could only describe as the perfect date was supposed to continue in his apartment, and you could literally see all blood flow from his brain to nether regions as you entered the bedroom in finest lingerie.

Anyways, you had initiated several times up until now, and initially he'd always go along with it. However as soon as your make-out-sessions turn more heated, he'd abruptly end them and practically storm off.

Everything went so well at first, with you straddling his waist and tentatively grinding against his lap. His hands moved against his will as his resolve crumbled, finding the curves of your body and relishing in the feeling of your exposed skin under his gloves. His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to go all out, fearing dangerous consequences.

A proper dosage of pain can function as aphrodisiac, at least in your opinion. So you didn't tell him to stop, in fact your senses were too clouded by desire to even notice the way his fingers dug into the cushion of your hips.

Yet there was just the tiniest microexpression, just the fraction of a second where your heart sped up and your face contorted in pain...

...and Homelander, shocked with himself, threw you so frantically off of his lap, you landed face firsr on the floor instead of the bed.

Against all reasoning, you laughed hysterically at his not-so-subtle rejection, and god knows you'll tease him about it until forever. But also, understandably, on the inside you were as hurt and confused as never before.

Doesn't make it any better that your boyfriend had been avoiding you like you were the goddamn pest ever since.

Just like today, when Homelander comes home to you way past midnight, double checking with his x-ray-vision whether you were already fast asleep.

John was aware that this topic has been tormenting you for a while now, and while he never intended to hurt you - quite the opposite, really - he also clung to this pleasant illusion he had created with you.

Lucky at cards, unlucky in love, or so they say.

The course of his life had convinced him that all remotely good things happening to him will be taken away again. A farce prepared by destiny itself just to mock him, maybe evening out the scales since he had been blessed with too much power.

On days as shitty as this one however, nothing compares to having someone to come home to - even when he made sure that you weren't awake to confront him. He tosses his boots aside, grateful for you to be a sound sleeper as they fell to the floor with a loud thump.

Your boyfriend's heart sinks as he pulls up the blanket, being greeted by a handprint-shaped bruise on the side of your hip. Seems like it still hurts too much to sleep on that side. His fingertips run over the dark purple-ish mark, a pained groan escaping your throat when he gives in to the temptation to squeeze your ass.

He really is the worst.

Homelander freezes until he's certain you continue sleeping undisturbed, the sound of his own heart hammering against his chest drowning out all other noise. His palm is still lingering on your body, running up and down your sides and earning relieved sighs in return.

Before you'd feel his excitement too much, he manages to tear his body away from you, his erection twitching painfully as he rolled onto his back.

John really had pure intentions when he embraced you from behind, simply wanting to distract himself and fall asleep while cradling you in his arms - yet instead his already hard cock buries itself neatly between your thighs, the friction making him utter vile things.

Damn it Y/N, why the fuck do you always sleep in underwear only?! Is it to taunt him or to test his limits? Because it's working.

A breathy moan escapes his lips as he spread his legs wide, cock already leaking precum when he ran his thumb across the slid. He grabs it fiercely, pumping hard to make quick work of it, while roaming every inch of your skin he can get his other free hand on.

"Need some help with that?"

Shit.

ShitshitshitshitSHIT!

Seems like he was a little too busy with getting off - so much that even his heightened senses didn't catch you waking up to this scene. Your boyfriend had a habit of sleeping naked, so right now there was none of what he did left to the imagination.

"Heyyy sweetheart..." John tried to put on his trusty showman attitude, an awkward grin stretched across his face while trying to cover himself with the next best pillow. "Sorry babe, didn't wanna wake you up. Just go back to slee-"

"And miss out on the show?" you chuckle half-sleepily and he wants to die. He's done worse things in his life, way worse to be precize - so why is he fucking shy nowy just because you caught him? "Aww, you're blushing." He contemplates lasering your lips together to make you shut up.

"C'mon, John, I know you're holding back for some reason, but we don't have to go all out." Shuffling closer to your boyfriend, you give him those damn doe-eyes he can never say no to. "And I'd love to lend you a hand, if you know what I mean."

John instinctively closes his eyes as your face moves closer, lips eagerly awaiting yours...

...but just when you were about to touch him, he takes a hold of your wrist. "Y/N, I-" he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. "Just- just let me go to the bathroom, okay?"

You frown. Worse, the humiliation makes tears dwell in your eyes. Pushing your partner is wrong, but without context you really start doubting yourself here.

Suddenly the stench of fear was lingering in the air, and your heart starts racing like a hummingbird. Trying to calm yourself was a fruitless attempt in front of a man that could perceive almost anything, even your pathetic strangled sobs.

So he was right: You're afraid and maybe even disgusted by his behavior, and just offered yourself to placate him.

Maybe he should just snap your neck to escape the inevitable heartbreak.

"A-Are you cheating on me?"

"Huh?" That question caught him off guard. He was prepared to hear anything, seriously all kinds of insults or accusations, but that? "Are you dense? Why the fuck would I cheat on you?"

And that's when it dawns on him: You are scared - but not of him.

To your defense, he did have a reputation of not being able to keep it in his pants. Maeve had remarked that fact more than once so you wouldn't forget. And him constantly being swarmed by the prettiest celebrities didn't do any good to your self-esteem either.

You're scared of him leaving you.

"Then what is it?" you sniveled, shrinking into yourself as you hugged your own legs. Seeing you like this and knowing he's responsible was somehow even worse than his earlier apprehensions. "You always react as if you got burned whenever we touch. Did I do something wrong, or- or am I not attractive enough?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" John scoffs in an almost irritated tone, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes. Comforting people didn't really come easy to him, even if he hated himself for not being able to let the shielding facade drop just this once. "You're gorgeous and you know that! C'mon, you women are always causing arguments out of thin air. Stop making this about yourself, would y-"

Seeing your glossy eyes turn into a glare at his ramblings made him shut up immediately, but the damage has already been done. "You know what, I'll-" For a while, you sit on the edge of the bed thinking and with every passing second of silence, Homelander's anxiety skyrockets. "I think it's better if I sleep at my own place for a while."

That's exactly what he's talking about, damn it! The line between control and insanity is a thin thread, and he is not willing to take any chances - when it comes to you at least.

"No!" he almost screams at you, jumping up from the bed and pointing a warning finger at you. "You're not going fucking anywhere!" When he sees your wary expression John's eyes soften, instantly regretting his outburst.

Why does he always fuck up? Why can he never seem to keep what makes him happy? Why can't he be what you need?

Homelander buries his face in his hands, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself just like you taught him. "Look, I-" He reluctantly put his hands on each of your shoulders and when you don't flinch away, he starts rubbing circles on your back. You always do it for him when he's upset, so he figures maybe it can help you too. "Please...I'll tell you the truth, okay? Just...don't leave."

You turn around to face him, nodding mutely as he wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. Seeing you cry was gutwrenching, moreso when he was the reason. "I..." he helplessly gestures around, wishing there was a script to this like he was usually provided. "I tend to become...rough."

"So?" The initial hurt now turned into confusion, suspicion even about whether he was telling the truth. You defendingly cross your arms, like a barrier so you wouldn't falter before you got answers.

"I'm not made out of glass." Compared to his strenght, you might as well be. "And I can talk. If you become too wild I'll let you know."

Stubborn as always. But he loved that about you, too. "It's not that easy, Y/N." His head falls in defeat and exasperation. John's about to cry himself, and he hates you seeing him anything less than perfect. "I'll hurt you, and then you'll hate me. Or worse..."

Consciously ignoring the worse part, you cup both sides of his face, making him look up to meet your eyes. "John..."

You straddle his waist again, feeling relief now that you finally understood. Peppering kisses across his face and neck you whisper "I was so, so worried you had grown tired of me..."

"Never." Homelander wasn't someone to apologize often, let alone sincerely. The times he did ever since leaving the lab he can count on one hand.

But despite him being...well, him, John knows best what it's like to be plaqued by insecurities. He hugs you tight enough to make you feel the sincerity of his words. "I only wanted to protect you. I never wanted to make you feel this way."

"Next time talk to me from the start, okay?" You smile softly as he aggrees, and he doubts to be deserving of all your sympathy.

Your hands never leave his body, featherlight touch reassuringly calming his nerves. And yet together with the fact that the only thing currently separating your bodies was your thin panty, it was no wonder that his body reacted the way it did.

A moan disrups your conversation when his cock stiffens again, and you can't help but buck your hips against him in response. Your panties were already soaking anyway, due to the friction and his dirty little deed earlier.

The scent of your lust wipe all negative emotions from your boyfriend's mind, replacing them with something else.

"I want you, John" you breathe against his ear and he whines. "We could just take it slowly..."

"I don't know how" he admits, and you smile at his reluctant aggreement. Gently being shoved down on his back again, it feels like he melts beneathe your fingertips. "Then I'll teach you."

Goosebumps rise on his skin as your fingertips ghost over his body, and you lean over for a longdue kiss, so tender and affectionate John thinks he will fall apart.

Homelander's groan gets swallowed by your lips as you pull your panties aside, slick folds now grinding against his cock. Your name falls from his lips in meek whimpers and you refuse to believe this wonderful man could ever harm you.

"Let me take care of you." Shit, how do you always know exactly what to say?

Raking your hands through your hair as you sit up, air gets stuck in Homelander's throat at the sight, making him choke.

You look fucking magnificent.

Hell, he'd pay an artist to paint you like this so he could look at it forever. If only it didn't require another person seeing you naked...

"You know, I thought it was just my imagination..." A mischievous smile plays on your lips now that you think of it. "But my panties have been disappearing a lot lately."

Your boyfriend didn't respond anything else but a whimmer, shame washing over him at being caught. Not that he was really subtle to begin with.

"Speak up" you tease, giving his shaft a soft squeeze and he instinctively thrusts into your hand like a dog in heat. "Did you use them to get yourself off to your fantasies, huh? Naughty boy." His cock twitches in your palm at the words. "From now on, I want you to come to me for release. Always."

"I trust you" you add as doubt is clearly written on his face, voice firm and as unwavering as your loving eyes, driving tears into his own. You lower yourself on his cock, savouring the feeling of being filled out like this. "Mhh...you feel so good inside of me. Will you behave, John?"

"Y-Yes..." was all he managed to wring out, since it takes every ounce of strenght inside of him to not cum to your sweet affirmations right away. John clutches the bedframe so hard that it crumbles under his grip, but to his surprise you don't wince at the sound - quite the opposite, it shot a wave of heat right through your core.

"John...look at me." You guide his hands away from his eyes to cup your breasts instead, looking at him like he's the best fucking thing in the world. The intensity of your gaze causes him to shiver, makes him wanna hide.

Yes, this is too good to be true.

Whatever you see in him right now he will taint with his own hands given time.

And yet he can't stop anymore, now that he's aware of the depht your love helds for him.

You read him like a damn book, noticing his internal struggle so you silence the voices in his head with a passionate kiss. "So good for me, John" you cheer him on, moving your hips at a low pace.

Tension finally leaves his body and he dives his tongue into your mouth, groaning deeply as he moves his body alongside yours. His touch was careful yet bruising, sending pleasant tingles down your spine.

"I love you, John" you cry out as your foreheads touch, eyes never leaving his. "I love you so damn much!"

That declaration was enough to drive him over the edge.

Homelander pulls you as close as close as humanly possible when he stills momentarily, jackknive-like thrusts chasing after his high. The sounds he made as you got filled up bordered on obscene, as did the amount of cum spilling out of you.

"Shit" he speaks breathlessly against your skin, covering a bitemark he had just caused with kisses. "M'sorry..."

And yet he wasn't willing to let go off of you just yet, this amazing orgasm unable to ward off the embarassment of his poor performance.

"Never apologize for having a good time, silly" you chuckle, brushing your nose against his. "I'm flattered, if anything."

John never knew that sex could be so...satisfying, more than just physically. Filled with carefree laughter instead of expectations.

After all, he was conditioned to never wanna disappoint.

"Nah-a-ah." You yelped as he spun you around effortlessly, now him being the one howering over you, bearing his canines like a starved predator. "I refuse to let my goddess go unworshipped."

"John...I'm okay, really. Sex between lovers is not just about that..." And yet when he opens your legs, you don't resist.

He bets you taste just as fucking good as you smell, feisty little thing. Driving him crazy all those weeks. Do you have any idea how hard it was to endure this sweet torture for your sake?!

A shiver runs down your spine when he licks his lips at the sight of your leaking entrance, taking a deep inhale. There's a hunger in his eyes that no sane person could ever comprehend - but you indulged in it, craved in his twisted kind of love.

Heh, you were a goddamn freak just like him all along, isn't that right?

Homelander takes his time kissing a path down to your navel, admiring the marks he left on your body he was now able to see as the lovebites they are. He briefly looks up to assure himself of your consent, an answering smile all he needs to continue.

"Myyyy tuuuurn" he chants so cheerful, you almost thought he had put on his formal persona.

A relieving finger finally has mercy and slides into your already overstimulated sex, making you arch your back when he curls it inside. Pleads and curses falling from your lips as he enters a second one and then another, and you desperately try to move yourself deeper onto him.

"Attagirl!" Seems like his confidence has returned, at least judging by that damn smug smile his tone indicated. The frustrated pout you wore right now was so adorable, he decided to end your misery and bury his head between your legs as well.

You were still fucking yourself on his fingers while he relished the taste of himself on your pussy, before enveloping your clit with his tongue. "That's my fucking girl right there" he mouths as he ate you out, pumping his fingers keenly on your weak spot he so easily found. "Come on, I want to hear you."

When you came it felt like you were ascending to the afterlife, screaming his name at the top of your lungs before collapsing into the sheets.

Your legs had long since gave out but John put them over his shoulders, humping the mattress while his tongue still ran over your nerve endings, shooting jolts of overwhelming pleasure through your system.

"Oopsie" he coos, a predatory glint in his eyes as he crawled on top of you again, his kiss giving you a taste of your own spent. "Made me hard again."

You eyes flutter open after the last bit of your climax had ebbed out, exhausted yet invitingly batting your lashes as your limbs entangled once again.

"Seems like I found the Homelander's weakness."

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾:

𝒪𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Its been five months since you started sleeping together, and you're having second thoughts about your "relationship" with Javier. But what does it matter to him? he hasn't even kissed you yet. 🍒 Continuation of “Off to the Races” and “Your Face is Shameless” but can be read alone.

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, thicc age gap [Javi is in his 40s reader is in her early 20s], mentions of anxiety, major angst, situationship, guilt, unrequited love, self loathing, kissing [they did it!], Javier is emotionally unavailable, petnames, major dom/sub dynamic [dd/lg ish vibes], mean!Javi then soft!dom!Javi, degradation, dumbification, minor objectification, major size kink [Javi is bigger than and can lift reader], praise kink [finally some good girl action], daddy kink, choking, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral [f receiving], unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if i missed anything 🫶

Word count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello!! I'm back!! thought it would be fitting to revisit these two post hiatus. Sorry in advance for the emotional torture that is about to ensue, but I couldn't help myself. Big thank you to @pixelsandothernonsense for being a big supporter of these two and fuelling their return on the blog time and time again. Lotsa plot, lotsa porn– as always. Hope you enjoy, nasties. Mwah

🍒Off to the races 🍒Your face is shameless 🍒Masterlist

You wanted it to be easy but it’s difficult. You wanted it to be over, but it was not. 

While Colombia seemed to be all fun and games at first sight, the longer you remained stuck in the American embassy’s city centre building the more you longed for home. 

Your research was hitting a roadblock, and things were hard. Funding was running out, and your professors were running away. Better jobs, better prospects. But your degree was the least cause for your troubles. 

You were smart. You were controlled. You didn’t know what you were thinking when you got yourself involved with Javier Peña. It seemed fun at the moment- fooling around, messing with a man double your age and four times more qualified. Trying to wrangle his true intentions out from under his furrowed brow and frown. 

Looking back you felt stupid. Embarrassed. A little ashamed of what you had become. How you let him treat you. 

He used you like a walking sex doll. Didn’t give you one look afterwards. Maybe a pat on the back but somehow that was more insulting. He had never kissed you. And there you were, fixing your makeup in the office bathroom after an evening under his desk had ruined it. 

It had been five months since the first time he'd bent you over his desk but you were only half way through your trip. Five more months seemed too long to bear. It made you sick. 

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, and sleepy and your clothes weren’t crisp as usual. You felt a little bit like the tissue you’d just dabbed against your cheek. A little flimsy and a little dirty. A little used, perhaps. 

It felt a little worse knowing it was all your doing. You weren’t expecting a man like Javier to change. Objectively, it wasn’t possible. But you still asked for more. For him to use and then forget about you. You wanted to leave. You wished he’d never seen this side of you. Frankly you wished you hadn’t either. 

Because you were smart and funny and interesting and could talk about all sorts of things. You liked music and books and movies and trying new food. But he’d never seen you that way. He never would. 

You hadn’t spoken to him once. Not about anything that wasn’t strictly utilitarian. Especially not after he started fucking you. It was far too awkward and far too intimate. 

For him. 

Your feelings flip flopped every day, from the casualty of the affair seeming rather appealing, to it making your chest ache. And yet you couldn’t seem to help yourself, unable to understand not only what this thing you had going on with Agent Peña was, but why you couldn't seem to stop. 

Five months camping out in the office and you hadn’t missed a single day. No matter how bad the hurt in your chest you rolled out of bed and reminded yourself of why you were where you were. It worked. It hurt, but it worked. 

But after five months it seemed like getting out of bed was suddenly impossible one morning and you thought it best to stay home. You got a few calls. One from Fiestl and Van Ness. Connie Murphy sent Steve over with soup when she heard you weren’t feeling well. 

No news from Javi Peña. 

You slept most of the day. With your computer shut and materials put away. You didn’t want to think about it. You fixed yourself dinner- instant noodles, and headed to bed once again. 

You thought it was temporary but the excruciating pain only lingered and carried you on to another day confined to the four walls of your bedroom. 

It was a bad idea- ignoring your work for as long as you did. You should have known that you wouldn’t be able to put it on the back burner- considering the neurosis surrounding your work, the fact you took a two day break was impressive. It wasn’t long before your anxiety was eating away at you, an impending deadline hanging over your head and reminding you the world didn't care about your little pity party. 

Stupid as it was, you found yourself crossing the street at the witching hour of 23:00- clad in the soft cotton dress you forced yourself into earlier that evening. The friday night had persuaded everyone out of the office, and you weren’t surprised when you found the top floor of the embassy building cold and empty. 

You were glad, and perhaps it was the only way you could stomach being there– alone. 

Your desk was exactly how you’d left it a couple of days ago- your books piled in one corner, papers thrown all over the place. It was disorganised and untidy– very unlike you. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you began to sort things out, a feeling of complete exhaustion and defeat threatening to force you into your office chair. You glanced over at Javier’s office, signs he was out for the week prompting the slight relaxation of your shoulders. 

When you finally sat down to get to work, your eyes couldn't help but flutter shut every few moments, the screen of your computer zoning in and out of your vision every now and then. The words seemed to escape you, four lines on your document all you could manage before you were pressing your forehead against the wood of your desk. 

After spending the past two days sleeping somehow all you wanted to do was climb right back into bed. 

Music, surely that would help! Or at least you thought, to no avail, a whole album played once, yet you could only manage another paragraph. Turns out burnout was real.. and it had decided now was the best time to get you. But you weren’t ready to pack up and banish yourself to your studio apartment just yet. So you upped the volume, and sat up just a little bit straighter in your chair, and got back to work. 

Something about the loneliness of working in that drab, white, characterless office was especially miserable. So miserable in fact it was almost comforting, it was so miserable it was funny. It wasn't long before you were sitting completely straight in that sad, uncomfortable office chair, laughing at yourself with a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. You were stupid, and acted silly, and had all these big feelings, but what did it matter? It was diabolical; the capacity Javier had for ruining your life, but soon enough you’d be out of here and one day you’d probably be laughing at the whole ordeal. 

It was exhausting, but what could you do? The words came just a little bit easier from that point, and you felt yourself accept defeat and immersed yourself in your paper. At the end of the day you couldn’t control how he felt about you- you just had to take it or leave it. Not everything is that deep, you rolled your eyes at yourself, but you knew truthfully the lack of his care and affection was more than a little sting. You decided you were better off defining the “relationship” for yourself, and maybe showing a little bit more restraint. Who said everything had to be that serious, maybe you should've taken a page out of Javier’s book! 

Yes that was it, not everything was that serious, was it?

You really wished you’d had the foresight to gauge the stupidity of trying to drown out your surroundings in a public space in the middle of the night. Sure, no external threat could get you inside the excessively secure embassy building, but what did that mean when the real threat to your sanity was the DEA attache. 

Truth be told, you'd have jumped in fear if anyone had tapped their fingers on your computer screen, but when Javier rounded your desk with a raised brow and waved his hand in front of your computer, you were particularly startled. 

“The hell are you doing here?” 

Any other time you’d probably met him with a snappy reply, something to get him going, maybe rile him up enough till he was pressing your face against your papers and fucking you from the back. You wished you could have given him that response that day, but you were so completely out of yourself, you settled for a shrug and a normal “trying to finish this section”. 

“That why you disappeared these past two days?”

“I wish.. probably would have been done by now.” His brows kit, somewhat confused and just noticing your tired, puffy eyes now that he was closer. 

“When’s it due.” he leaned to sit on your table , and traced your features with his fingers. You felt your eyes flutter shut as the tip of his index ran along the bridge of your nose, and feared your new policy was at risk of being thrown right out of the window at his attention. Sighing, you leaned into his touch. Unhappy, but unable to resist it. “Next week.”

He pitched your damp cheeks between his fingers, gently shaking your head from side to side. “You've got time.” 

You hummed and took a moment to look up at him- yellow table lamp doing his golden features all sorts of favours, ones that he didn't even need to begin with if you were being honest.The weight of his hand, the roughness of his skin against yours had a soft sigh escaping your lips. 

Javier's hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, to the back of your neck, and he gently guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you helped yourself up long enough to watch him rise beside you, stepping closer. He stepped around you, positioning himself between yourself and the chair, his breath warm against your ear. 

"Sit," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. His hand moved to the back of your neck again, this time pulling you down onto his lap. The gesture was possessive, not tender. 

You obeyed, lowering yourself onto him,  your legs on either side of his waist, dangling off the seat. Javier's hands rested on your waist momentarily, heavy and harsh, before drifting lower to your hips, pulling you further into his lap till you could feel his bulge swell against you. You felt yourself get wet, he lifted your hips and then pulled you back down against him, allowing you the slight relief of the friction as you felt yourself embarrassingly throb against him. 

The proximity was suffocating, his scent—cigarettes, and aftershave. He leaned closer, and for a moment, in your delusion, you thought he might kiss you. Instead his fingers squeezed around your throat, breath fanning your lips. “You want to be daddy’s good girl, dontch’ya?” his voice was low, and biting, and you knew you were in for it, for avoiding him, when he tightened his grip at your lack of answer. 

Slick pooled in your panties, and he let you press your hot core against him, undoubtedly able to feel how easily he could unravel you. You shifted your gaze up at the ceiling to avoid his own. 

You squeaked out a feeble “yes”, already delirious. “Then why the fuck, did you think you could disappear without telling me?” He reached for the string that held together the top of your dress, rather aggressively tugging it undone, watching as it unravelled and revealed the soft cotton of your lingerie. “Busy” you whined when traced your skin with his pointer finger, palm coming to squeeze at your breast and then pull your bra aside. 

“Not looking too busy now, are ya?” your nipple pebbled under his palm, his hot breath fanning against your skin as he trailed open mouth kisses along your neck. You whimpered, reaching to tangle your fingers in Javier’s hair. Surprisingly, he let you tug on his locks, allowing you to ground yourself as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your bud. He came up to nip at your jaw and you whimpered  a soft “M’ sorry”. 

“What was that?” Javier rolled his eyes and growled in your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth, and pinching the flesh of your thighs, prompting you to speak up. And speak up you did, heat seeping into your panties at his tone and words. He didn’t respond to you, just hummed his assent and pulled you harder against him. 

His hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and his big arms crossed under you to support your weight. Continuing to kiss along your neck he plopped you on the table, but you couldn’t lie, you much preferred being carried so gently in his hold. Thank god the desk had been cleared– giving him enough room to push you back against it. You didn't really want to unwrap your legs from around him, but he grunted disapprovingly before prying your legs from his waist. Your heart jumped as he took a seat on your dingy rolly chair, his large palms lifting your legs by your calves till your feet were planted on his thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows. 

Javier's eyes caught sight of your untied shoelace, a small hazard in the midst of your hurried night. As usual, without a word, he leaned down, fingers deftly working to tie the lace in a swift, fluid motion, securing the bow with a final, firm tug, patting the top of your shoe before returning to the task at hand. 

His eyes were hungry like they always were, deep brown, alluring, the only readable emotion in them- lust. Those large palms parted your knees, making space for you between them. A tingle ran up your spine when he brushed the tips of his fingers against the inside of your thigh, dragging them along your skin till he was toying with the hem of your panties. He shifted forward in the chair, meeting your eyes as he planted a kiss on your calf, and then hoisted your legs up on his shoulders. 

Javier took a moment to admire you, letting his rough hands roam under your skirt. You always wondered what those hands were doing; how they wrapped around his gun when he ran out of the office with it, how small they made the cigarette he was smoking look. You watched him grab, and hold, and type from across your desk when he hadn’t fucked you in a day or two, imagined those hands grabbing at your flesh and wrapping around your throat. You imagined him pumping his fingers in and out your pussy with your own hands between your legs in the middle of the night- unable to go mere days without him fucking you, salivating at the thought of those hands wrapped around his thick cock, wondering if he too couldn’t go without your touch. 

Lost in your thoughts you shuddered when you felt him drag his tongue up the cut of your slit, the already moist fabric of your panties sticking to your skin as he nudged your clit with his nose. Your head fell back involuntarily, and you felt your arms ache as you continued to struggle to hold yourself up on your elbows. Seemingly, he had decided that day he wasn’t going to make you work for it- you looked like you were working far too much already. 

“Look at me.” Javier sharply instructed from between your legs. Nipping the inside of your right thigh till you yelped in his hold. You weren't going to last very long at the sight of him, eyes glancing up at you as his mouth ghosted over your soaked pussy. You watched intently as his fingers pulled your panties aside, softly grazing your swollen flesh in a way that had you pulling your lip between your teeth to contain the pornographic moan that threatened to spill from your mouth and alert the security guard across the hall. 

Your leg twitched on his shoulder as he licked a long, firm stripe up your aching pussy. Both your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue softly explored your folds. The sight of Javier between your legs was enough to send you over the edge, one that would live in your head for a very long time. 

You struggled to hold his eyes with your own when he licked at your entrance, increasing his pace ever so slightly before he was softly sucking your clit into his mouth. Letting yourself lean back against the table you reached to continue to tangle your fingers in his hair, hoping he'd let you have his fluffy locks in your hold. Turns out you were lucky the first time, because as was more common, Javier reminded you of his “no grabbing at daddy” attitude by grasping your hand in his. 

“No grabbin at daddy, babygirl” he murmured against your wetness and you shivered. His fingers engulfed yours, stroking your skin and moving your hands to your chest. His large palm covered yours and squeezed your fingers around your breasts. You moaned, and arched your back against the table up into both your palms as his tongue achingly slipped inside you. 

The feel of his mouth against you was more than perfect, the way he expertly ate you out till you were wiggling your hips against his face, his nose nudging your clit as he fucked you with his tongue. Slow and soft then faster and rough, just how he knew you liked it. 

He seemed to be enjoying the feeling of you just as much,  groaning against your wet cunt everytime you twitched and shuddered against him, the taste of you prompting him only to bury himself deeper between your thighs, pull and grab at your hips, hold you close against him as your chest rose and fell. 

Javier lashed his tongue at your entrance, then plunged it into your slick cunt. You felt your core tighten, and you knew you couldn’t hold on much longer. “Please…” barely able to complete your sentence you squealed when he circled your clit with his tongue. You could feel him grin against the inside of your thigh, and you reached for his hands on your hips to tug at his fingers feebly. 

Making out the sound of his chuckle over your heavy breathing you whined, and then proceeded to melt in his hold when he responded with a rather gentle, yet delayed and somewhat playfully annoyed “You can come for daddy, babygirl.” 

The grip of your fingers on his tightened, and you sighed, finally letting go as Javier worked between your legs. Your cunt clamped down on his tongue as he finished you off, licking you through your orgasm and holding your hips down as you shook and squirmed above him. 

He kissed along your seam gently as you caught your breath, your breath hitching when he pushed two fingers in your still sensitive cunt to gently stroke your walls. He stifled a groan. You looked down between your legs as he withdrew those fingers and began to stand up. “She so fuckin wet for me, hmm?” He rubbed slow, soft circles on your clit, not caring to watch you intently for any giveaway that would instruct him on the perfect rhythm. He already knew what you liked- he didn’t need to bother. “Slutty little pussy achin’ to be fucked… after all these days, aint she?” 

He took a second to get a good look at you as he moved closer between your legs, and you propped yourself back up on your elbows and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him in. 

“My good little slut” 

Bringing his fingers to your lips he urged them open, pushing in and watching you suck gently on his digits. You shivered at the taste of your own arousal. As always you felt a little fuzzy when he did something like that– letting your eyes droop until he nudged you to release them with a pop. He ran those fingers across your lips, watching you struggle to keep your eyes on him as his hand drifted downwards to wrap swiftly around your neck.  “That's better isn't it?” he pressed his clothed cock against your bare, swollen pussy, your panties surely on the verge of ripping the way they’d been pulled aside. Javier seemed to be thinking along the same lines as you, because in a moment he reached for them and urgently dragged them down your hips, unwrapping himself from your hold and holding your ankles in one hand as the other slid your panties all the way off of you. 

When you whined at the loss of his body against yours he tutted, raising his eyebrows at you in warning. 

He then grabbed your thigh with his hand once again, squeezing it and holding it in place against his waist. You heard the jingle of his belt as he undid it. A rough edge on said belt scraped against your skin, but it was difficult to pay attention to it when you felt him reach between your bodies to tease your dripping slit with his length. 

It was sad to admit, but nothing took the weight of your shoulders much like the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your wet pussy, head bumping your clit till you were shivering and then notching at your entrance. You heard him mutter a strained curse under his breath at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in. Javier didn't waste much time, as much as he seemed to enjoy the sight of you deliriously wiggling your hips under him. 

He leaned down and traced the curve of your jaw with the bridge of his nose, breathing in your scent as he pushed in– slowly and gently. Much slower and gentler than he had ever been before. Your legs tightened around him, hips lifting pathetically as you felt him stretch you open. It had been far too long since you’d had him inside you. 

“Such a good little girl..” His hips snapped towards yours. 

“Aren’t ya?” It was an out of body experience, so overwhelming and dizzying you could almost see yourself in the act. Your brain couldn’t comprehend that tone and that gentleness as is, forget when Javier’s cock dragged deliciously against your aching walls. 

Your elbows caved from under you, letting you fall completely back against your little desk. Your head went to fall back soon after, but Javier had managed to snake his hand behind your neck– cradling your head and shielding it from the hard wooden table. Instinctively, you buried your nose in the collar of his dress shirt. He let you seek respite, palm holding you against his warm body, and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck. 

Your skin felt like pins and needles, little sparks bounced off your exposed waist and prompted you to wiggle your hips away from him at the intensity of the sensations. “Nah uh” yanking you back in his direction Javier squeezed your hips in his hands, refusing to let you escape the death grip he had on your body, pulling you towards him with every deep, slow, thrust. 

“Silly little thing” He laughed against your lips, so close they brushed against you. You couldn’t help it when your mouth fell slack against his. He took your bottom lip between his teeth. He released it as your walls clenched around him, brows knitting at the feel of your warm, soft cunt around his cock. 

“Mine aren’t ya? Daddy’s good little slut?” Unable to catch hold of anything on the table, your hands flew to his shirt, your fingers twisting the fabric as you gripped it as tightly as you could. He let you pull him towards you, one hand sneaking between your bodies to grab and squeeze at your breast. 

“Then you’re gonna take it like I give it to ya?” You tried to nod, head lulling side to side and mouth hanging open, desperate noises leaving your lips. When your back arched against the table he  pulled you into his chest, letting you wrap your legs around his waist so tightly you felt the leather of his belt cut into your soft skin. 

Eventually he picked up his pace, and you could make out the sound of your pens clattering to the ground as your back moved relentlessly against the desk. The dim grey flood light above you came in and out of your focus, the heat that swelled up inside you hindering your ability to concentrate on absolutely anything.  “Getting all cock drunk on me..” Anything but him. Yet another orgasm stirred in your tummy, your entire body hot and tingling with overwhelm. “There’s my good girl”. 

He pulled you into him with every thrust, his hard length throbbing inside of you. “Just how I like ya’– no thoughts in that head’ve yours.” Your bare chest pressed against his soft shirt, but you longed to feel the heat of his body against your skin. 

“Can't think ‘bout anything but daddy can you?” he managed to laugh, his thick cock dragging against your wet walls in a way that had your mouth falling open in a gasp. “Just daddy, ain't that right?” As usual he grabbed at every part of you he could, hands seeking purchase on any exposed skin. 

He grazed your earlobe with his teeth as he spoke. “Poor baby, going dumb on daddy.” All you could do was whine. “Can’t hear ya..” you whimpered again, strained and hasty “yes”s leaving your mouth at record speed as the tension in your core threatened to burst. 

“S’ how it should be” your dress made it easy for you to slide along the surface of the table as he fucked into your tight, wet heat, railing you as you twitched around him. You struggled to form a broken “daddy” between your lips. 

“Stupid little girl can’t do anything but be daddy’s little sexdoll hmm?” you shook your head, but he grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. “‘S okay babylove, s’ how daddy likes ya best” he shook your face gently, “when ya ain't runnin that smart mouth of yours.” 

He grunted and sighs above you, seemingly lost in his own pleasure, not bothering for the first time to make you beg. It was as if the two days you spent apart had him prioritising other things. “Better this way isn’t it, nothin you gotta worry that pretty head about…” you felt your cunt squeeze him. “Not when daddy’s fuckin’ ya’” 

You could tell he was close by the way his thick cock throbbed against your slick walls, the way his Texan accent came through just a little more than it usually did. Your thighs quivered against his waist as the heat continued to pool in your belly. 

You knew he was close when he straightened up again, hands wrapping firmly around your throat as he angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you over and over. “C’mon baby, be a good girl and come for daddy” he tightened his grip, thumb reaching up to swipe gently at your slack lips. 

You felt your pussy clench around his cock, finally letting go as you writhed under him. You heard him groan over the ringing in your ears, your own eyes rolling back as your orgasm rolled over you in waves. You gushed around him, your own release prompting his. 

Watching his brows knit as his thrusts got sloppy might have well sent you on a second release, aftershocks making your hips wiggle against his palms as he squeezed them, his cock throbbing inside you before he erupted with a shudder. A string of strained curses escaped his mouth, chest rising and falling rapidly as he rode out his high. 

You laid there, the heat from your exertion slowly dissipating. You felt Javier pull out, his spend trickling down your thighs, and slide your panties back up over your legs. A heaviness tugged at your limbs and made your eyelids droop. Every muscle felt loose, languid, as if all the tension and energy had been drawn out, leaving behind only a deep, satisfying fatigue. 

Javier put his hands on your waist and lifted you off the table, you returned to your habitual silence, this time albeit far more satiated than before. You were dizzy, feeling like a small ghost floating in front of him, engulfed by his towering form. The world around you began to fade, sounds muffling and blurring into an indistinct background hum.

Every blink became slower, your vision narrowing to slits before closing entirely. You let yourself drift into that warm state between sleep and wakefulness, the exhaustion of the week catching up to you in more ways than one, uncaring of the sense that Javier’s eyes had been lingering. You felt him trace the bridge of your nose, reducing any prospects of you actually getting off that desk. 

He fixed your lingerie and tied the bow of your dress back up, one hand returning to stroke your cheek. His other arm came to support your back as it wrapped around you, pulling you towards him. You looked up to find him watching you, with an expression you couldn’t bother to decipher at the moment. 

You couldn’t help but fall into his chest as he stood above you, his arms reaching behind you as he packed your things in your work bag. You felt your eyes flutter shut again, complete exhaustion taking over your weak form. He placed a kiss to your temple, lifting you off the table once and into his hold once again. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking securely at the ankles. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, fingers digging into your flesh.

You felt cold again suddenly, and Javier readjusted his arms to hold you with his right while his left rubbed along your shoulders to warm up your skin, prickled with goosebumps. 

Your head rested against his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a comforting, rhythmic lull. You nuzzled deeper into the curve of his neck, tilting your head till your nose was brushing the cut of his jaw. 

Javier shifted slightly, and you could feel the subtle change in his posture as he leaned towards you, and his face came level with yours– you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a stark contrast to the cool air around you. His hand cradled your cheek. 

With your eyes still closed you felt his lips press gently against yours, so pillowy and soft you barely registered them. He tasted how you’d imagined so many times before– cigarettes, and whiskey. Melting into his touch your hands moved to ball the fabric of his shirt gently in your fist. His lips moved against your’s with a carefulness you couldn’t really understand, but the fact that they were at all was enough. Exhaustion aside, you had a feeling the triviality of the whole ordeal, its comfort and normality seemed expected. And just as quickly as it began, it was over.

Perhaps it had always meant a lot more to you, than it did to him. 

The hand that was cupping your cheek pinched it and then snaked around your waist to help you find your footing on the ground, the same hand coming down to slap your ass as he pushed you towards the door. 

In usual Javier fashion he checked his phone, uninterestedly murmuring a soft “you can start again tomorrow” as you stood in the elevator. He let you lean against him, his palm coming down to pat your head momentarily before it was back to sorting the files in his hands.  You looked up at him, his mind now completely diverted to whatever he had come to collect in the office in the first place, so unbothered by what seemed to transpire between the two of you. 

Perhaps nothing really did. 

You wished his words gave you some motivation, but it was turning out to be really difficult to want to be anything more than his dumb, silly, little girl. 

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

They would rue the day I was alone, without you

You're lyin' with your gold chain on

Cigar hangin' from your lips, I said, "Hon'"

"You never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man"

sakjdlakd I'm sorry I just can't let them be happy lmao. Hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you think. Thank you to everyone who reblogs and comments on my content, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @/sardika 🐝✨💗

[latenightdaydreams]

hi!! i love your work sm. can i request knight!könig saving princess!reader from a bad arranged marriage and then running away with his beloved pls!!

yes! thank you!!💖

Knight!König x Princess!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, sexual thoughts, minor angst, mention of toxic relationship

1.3k word count

👸

.

.

You stand in front of a mirror as help goes around you, dressing you for your wedding day. After a few months of negotiation your father, the King, decided to marry you off to the Prince of France. The thought of one day becoming queen and having even less freedom lingers over you. Even worse is the thought of losing your knight, König.

König stands outside the door, guarding it as he usually does. The difference is that this time, you’re getting ready for your wedding. Underneath his helmet is a deep frown as his mind runs through all of the time he’s spent with you over the last decade since he’s become your knight. This isn’t how he imagined things ending for you both, but realistically he can’t marry a princess.

In the back of his mind, he keeps replaying all of the times he had the pleasure of holding you in his arms. The way your tender, supple flesh molded perfectly against his muscular body. His mind focused on the way your breasts felt under the warmth of his soft lips as he would kiss every single inch of you. In the moment, it felt as if your affair would last forever; he felt like you were his. Now he realizes that he was loving you on borrowed time.

Time passes and finally the women leave your room. You stand alone in the mirror. This day was always supposed to be joyous. Never did you think your father would actually marry you off, especially with your other sisters being unmarried and more popular in politics.

Just then your eyes shift to the side as the figure of König comes into view, he pulls off his mask. Your frown deepens as your eyes lock with his pale blue eyes. The feels you’ve been trying to push down come flooding to the surface the moment you see him.

Königs eyes travel over your body, admiring how beautiful you look in the luxurious dress. When his eyes meet yours again he can see the shared sadness creep across your expression. He knows seeing each other in this hour only makes things worse.

“You look beautiful, Prinzessin.” König’s voice is low and soft.

“König…” Your voice cracks as you reach your hand out to him.

With no hesitation König grabs your dainty hand and wraps it in his, holding you tightly knowing full well this is goodbye. He steps forward and takes his time to trace your face, trying to commit every detail to memory. With his thumb, he gently wipes away a stray teardrop that falls from you. He leans in to kiss your quivering lips, his kiss delicate as he lingers almost scared to pull away. Your last kiss.

Two years pass and you’ve been living in France with your new husband. König has heard rumors from the castle worker about how he treats you; like trash. It’s as if you’re not a human to him. He speaks down to you and very openly has affairs with the women that work for his court. The more serious rumors of abuse König tried to push down, but every second of everyday he is consumed with the fear of him hurting you.

On the day of a royal wedding, you arrive with your husband. Your eyes move all around the crowd of guests, subconsciously looking for König. You’ve heard that he’s taken on the duty of watching over your younger sister. Yet, you cannot find him in the sea of people.

You stand with your back to König, but he knows it’s you. His eyes travel from the back of your jewel lined bun to the sensitive skin of your exposed neck. Those familiar stirring bubbles up in his chest as he takes a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself. He’s here to guard the princess, but he can’t help but to be a man in love.

You stand fidgeting with your dress as your husband converses with a group of people. The wedding ceremony finished only a short while ago and you still haven’t seen König, nor your sister. Just then you feel a hand rest on your lower back.

As you turn you look up to see those familiar blue eyes. It’s like seeing him for the first time all over again. Only two years apart seems like a lifetime, yet here you both are again, face to face. Everyone and everything around you fade into the background; he’s all that matters.

“Meine Prinzessin.” König’s voice cracks as he speaks, too many emotions flood him at once. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Tears pool in the waterline of your eye.

König holds his hand out to you, waiting for you to place yours in his palm. You hesitate for a moment, looking over to your husband to make sure he isn’t paying attention before slipping your hand into his. A relieved smile crosses König’s lips as he turns and walks away with you to find a private area to talk.

Once away from the large crowd he simply looks down into your eyes. He doesn’t know where to start, so he pulls his gloves off to be able to caress your hands, your face, and neck. Feeling you again after all of these years is electrifying.

“How have you been?”

“Fine.” You lie, not wanting König to worry about your new life.

“Don’t lie to me, Liebling.” He whispers as he raises one of your hands to his lips, planting small kisses across the back of your hand.

“I- I hate my life. I think about just killing myself because maybe I might be happier in death.”

“Don’t talk like that.” König looks at you with a mix of hurt and anger, angry because he knows your husband is the reason for this.

“It’s such a depressing life, König.”

König’s eyes leave yours to look around, making sure that your husband hasn’t noticed your absence yet. He pulls off his helmet and leans in to kiss you, his lips desperately clashing against yours. Being able to feel your soft lips, smell and taste drives him wild. Not caring to waste time his tongue quickly pushes past your lips and swirls with yours. The soft moan you let out causes him to moan in response.

“Prinzessin, run away with me.” He whispers breathlessly between kisses.

“I can’t leave.” Your voice comes across with a heavy sadness.

König pulls away from the kiss and cups your face in his hands as he gazes down you. His eyes search yours before he speaks. “I’ve heard about your marriage. You deserve more. You deserve true love.” He caresses your wet lips with his thumb. “I can build a new life for us.”

“But-”

“Shhh, no buts. Do you still love me?”

“Of course. I’ve only ever loved you.”

“Then please, Liebling. Come with me.”

The thought of leaving the royal life to live as a normal woman sounds…terrifying yet tempting all at the same time. You can easily see a future where you are living in the village with a swollen belly in König’s arms. Anything with König is better than this.

“We need to go.” You nod your head as you speak, surprising yourself.

König puts back on his helmet and grabs your hand, pulling you behind him as he speed walks ahead. His horse is just outside the gate and his feet can’t move him fast enough. He looks back at you to make sure you’re okay to be greeted with wide eyes full of excitement for the future.

“Where will we go?”

“We will go an old friend’s house.” König looks back at you again with a smile hidden under his helmet. “Don’t worry, Liebling. You’re safe with me.”

[sanaexus]

pass pass- oh smash.

the inarazaki volleyball team was nothing short of chaos. be it the twins bickering, suna recording every fight, aran cheering them on, omimi's loud sighs of disappointment, kita's scolding and the manager's threat was something that happened on a daily basis, it was normal.

but despite all that nothing changed the fact that they were all extremely close, specially with the manager. in the past all most all the managers quit because of how patient you needed to be dealing with the havoc they created. but you were different. dealing with their bullshit every day, helping them with whatever they needed and just being a friend they really needed.

while to anyone outside it may have seemed like you have romantic feelings for one of them and that's why you chose to become the manager, so you could be closer to them. but that really wasn't the case. the last thing you'd like was one of those hooligans.

it was supposed to be a normal practice match with aoba johsai, but this was inarizaki they were talking about, of course it wasn't.

no one knew you were dating oikawa. no, everyone just automatically assumed you were with atsumu. they weren't exactly to blame, you were close to him but that's what happens when you know someone since your childhood.

to say you were tensed about the match was an understatement. not only about how this was going to end on the court but about how the teams would react if they somehow got to know you were with oikawa.

but it was as if luck decided to make a complete fool of me their entire team came barging in, the loud entrance made everyone flinch for a second as they stared at the door.

now you were panicking and omi being the actual saint he was asked you, "are you alright?"

"no, fuck shit no, do i look alright?" i was pacing back and forth trying to hide my face thinking about ways to hide myself from oikawa or at least let him no that he shouldn't approach me.

"are you alright you look like you just saw a ghost"

"that's because i saw someone worse than a ghost! oh my godd can i call in sick please?" you pleaded with him, trying to find any excuse that would get you out of here.

"no. why would you want that, what happened?"

"i'm kinda maybe sorta might be dating someone from seijoh"

"what's the problem, he's in seijoh this is volley- wait you have boyf- WHAT?"

the yelling had caught the team's attention as they look at the both of you confused.

"WE'RE FINE, NOTHING HAPPENED" as you glare at omi "shhh are you trying to get me killed here? the problem is he is the volleyball team and is kinda the captain of the team. i'm just gonna pray he isn't stupid enough to approach me here with these creatures all around me"

"praying isn't going to be enough for what the twins might do to him if they find out."

cue the bad luck as kindaichi and kunimi wave at you, surprised you're standing at the other side of the court. your hands frantically making the cross sign across your chest mouthing "stay away, you don't know me"

"oh wait how about you text him or something to like not come up to you and you'll explain later"

"ohhh my god you're a genius i love you omi"

as you whip your phone out going to text iwaizumi with your hands shaking.

-IWAIZUMI HELP

why do you look like you're about to pass out? are you fine?

-it's because i might pass out any second. my team doesn't know i'm dating oikawa

oh

-yeah tell him to not approach me please if they find out i'll be dead

i'll do it. good luck w this mess

-thank you i owe you big time

you look up from your phone to talk to omi- "i told his bestfriend to tell him to not approach me that should work right?"

"why didn't you tell him directly? what if he thinks he's just saying it so he stays focused"

"ohhh you're like SUPPER smart, i dont know what i'd do without you"

"probably have your little affair get caught"

you just mutter a little "rude" before going to text oikawa. but before you can, he comes in yelling.

"Y/NNN CHANN I MISSED YOUUU" his whiney voice can be heard to everyone as he jogs his over to you.

you sigh, knowing what's about to go down. "hi oikawa, i missed you too.." you whisper so only you can hear it. and before you can process the entire inarizaki volleyball team (and seijoh) is surrounding the two of you.

suna could careless about who you dated, if you were happy he didn't mind it. but this was something that was both surprising and funny, so of course he had to record it.

it was confusing to the team because up until now they were under the impression you were dating atsumu.

"wait wait wait what does he mean by he missed you? are you two friends?" osamu was curious, he knew you weren't dating his brother but he thought you liked him.

oikawa dramatically turned towards you "you haven't told them?"

"ladies, ladies there's enough of me to go around" which only brought you deadpan looks from both the volleyball teams "ok sorry, my bad for being funny"

"wait what does he mean you haven't told us??"

"we've been dating for a year, the last thing we could be is friends-"

"you're dating him? I thought you were with atsumu?"

"atsumu? i thought you were dating suna?"

"why me? i didn't even do anything keep me out of this?"

"NO WHY WOULD I BE DATING EITHER OF THEM?"

"what's wrong with us?" suna and atsumu asked offended.

"shut up i've seen you eating sand and you ask me what's wrong with the two of you?"

"y/n chan, what's going on?" kunimi asks curiously. the seijoh's team just stood there watching you, oikawa and the inarizaki members going back and forth.

"all of you shut up, we didn't even let y/n explain properly"

"oh my god thank you kita-"

"you don't like the twins?"

"KITA?! no oh lord i don't, i've been dating toruu for the past year, i never did and never will like any of these hooligans, no offense"

"HEY! that's rude-" before atsumu could whiney any further osamu smacked him in the back of his head, which shut him up immediately.

"what about the rumors of a girl making out with atsumu? that wasn't you?" suna finally asked, genuinely wanting to know more.

"Y/N-CHAN YOU MADE OUT WITH PISS HAIR? WHAT?"

"no oh my god toruu I didn't-"

"oh, that wasn't her that was just a junior i dated."

"yeah that wasn't me wait ew juniors? really atsumu?"

"she was cute! don't shift this on me"

"but guys seriously i never had have or will like anyone from the volleyball team. i'm sorry i hid it from you guys, but i was just scared of what you guys would think"

"are you happy? does he keep you happy?" aran asked borderline choking atsumu.

the question caught you off guard but instantly a small smile replaced the shock on your face "yes, he does, he's stupid but he really does make me happy"

"then that's all that matters"

"aww thank you-"

"nuh uh, i don't approve, what if he's a playboy?" atsumu disapprovingly shook his head praying aran's hands off him.

"oh god no one wants to hear that from you" suna shut atsumu up.

atsumu quietly huffed a "rude"

"well now that that's sorted, we should probably get back to warming up"

"yes thank you kindaichi, finally a normal person"

"y/n?" aran called out to you.

"yes?"

"just because your boyfriend's in that team doesn't mean we'll go easy on them, we'll just be rougher with them"

"if it makes you win, be my guest."

this was a bit awkward to write and I'm not proudest of this either but we'll js roll with it

@daisy-room here you go mam hope I did your idea justice

[kittwix]

What are the Joestars like in a Relationship?

Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna, Jolyne Cujoh, Johnny Joestar, Josuke Higashikata (Gappy), Jodio Joestar x Neu! Reader

tags: mostly fluff, there might be some sugestive content for joseph and jolyne specifically but you have to squint to really catch it,

Jonathan Joestar

Perhaps this might be a bit predictable, but he's a total sweetheart and would treat you with the most care in the world. Honestly, it can be a bit overwhelming how affectionate he can be.

To start things off, he's very much the type to always ask you for minor things. To walk you home, to hold your hand, to go out on a date, etc. It was how he was raised, he'd put your feelings first as the gentleman that he is.

He isn't one to initiate a lot of things, he isn't used to romance that often honestly. You had to initiate the first kiss and he allowed you to. However, once he gets the silent approval from your end, that lets him know that he needs to be bolder in order to at least impress you.

Will always defend you, no matter how right or how wrong you are, he will be at your side and believing everything that you have to say.

He isn't the best cook, it wouldn't be too wise to ask him for some help around the kitchen. He may be a gentleman but he is still a very clumsy man. But he would gladly be a taste tester.

He will refer to you with loving, old-fashion petnames (ex. darling, dearest and sweetheart are his favorites)

Very solid relationship, 10/10 he treats you the best out of all the joestars in my personal opinion.

Joseph Joestar

It's never gonna be boring with him, that's for sure. He makes sure you have the time of your life whenever you're around him, even if it means risking your lives.

Seriously, at times you hate to be the party pooper but he takes things a little too far. Though, the last thing he'd ever want is to put you in danger for his own foolishness. A good talk or two would really put him down and keep him in his lane.

He very much does initiate a lot of the activities you do together, as well as the affections that he shows you. And that also means being extra touchy with you too. Seriously, he can't keep his hands to himself.

The kind of guy to go out of his way to really impress you in a way that it feels like a competition. Who is he competiting with? Well any other man that looks your way, of course! He'll always have your heart and you'd have to tell him that since he goes above and beyond in getting you gifts.

Some of the petnames he has for you is very classic (ex. baby, babe and sugar are his favorites).

Pretty strong relationship, however he is prone to have an affair, so take that what you will. 7/10 just because he's hot.

Jotaro Kujo

He's a tough cookie, alright. Honestly, it was a bit of a shock for anyone to see Jotaro act so... soft around somebody.

Part 3 Jotaro would take his time to really warm up to you, as long as you're patient with him and know that he can rely on you, then he'd slowly lower his guard and the most you'll get from him is a little kiss on the cheek. Everybody would be surprised and wonder about how you manage to break this man.

Part 4 Jotaro is a way more mature, with some experience up his sleeve and a career that he could only dream of, he isn't necessarily shy to show his appreciation for you. He'll hug you and his words run a lot deeper than what he would've said if he was in highschool.

Part 6 Jotaro has no shame in calling you his, of course he isn't openly affectionate but behind closed doors he can be a little clingy. But because his job requires him to move a lot, he can be a bit neglectful.

Petnames that I could see him use are a lot more classic and sweet names (like honey or darling).

He still has some hiccups here and there but it could be worse. 6/10. He's trying.

Josuke Higashikata

In his own words, he's a very romantic type of lover and likes doing things the old-fashion way. He doesn't take you for granted, that's for certain.

Because of this, it means that he preferes a much more slow burn of a relationship with you. Expect to see him by your door with a bouquet of flowers just for you. Or how he always stays by your side, walking you home or accompanying you to the store. Sometimes it takes Okuyasu and Koichi to pull him away from being around you so much. Now he's the real loverboy.

He wears his heart on his sleeve and he's a pretty emotionally sensitive guy. He takes good care of himself and he likes to always look good for you, even when you tell him he's perfect no matter what. On date nights, he takes a lot longer to get ready than you, mostly for doing his hair to which he might even ask you to help.

Initiation goes both ways honestly, sometimes he's a little shy to ask for a kiss or to hold hands; Other times he's carrying you bridal style with Crazy Diamond behind him spewing all kinds of lovey dovey crap to defend in your honor.

Petnames he likes to use for you are really classy and unique (such as babe or lovebug).

Pretty good relationship status, I'd say he's second best because he cares and wants was best for you as well as wanting to just have fun. 9/10.

Giorno Giovanna

He's pretty reserved, it can take a bit for him to open up about himself and especially with you since you are his partner. I like to think Giorno has little experience, sure he has a lot of charisma and it's easy for him to use that charm to get what he wants but when has he ever actually been on a date before? Be in a relationship, for that matter? Probably nothing as as serious as the relationship he's with you now.

Which leaves room for him to learn more personal and intimate affections that casual flings won't happen, like discussing the future and actually expressing how much you love each other.

He's gentle with you and surprisingly obedient. He has a heart of gold, yet mischief lies behind those eyes of his that leaves you a giggling mess. His sense of rebellion keeps you up on your toes and yet he was always so gentle with you.

He can be surprisingly pretty protective and almost terretorial for you, always having you behind him of all cause and his hands always seem to gravitate towards your hips just to keep you close.

Once he's mob, leader of them all, Giorno then he'll make sure to spoil you with everything and anything you want.

Petnames that he likes to use for you are sweet and sincere italian nicknames (like caro/cara or bello/bella).

He really cares and he shows that he cares, despite setting his priorities over you at times, you'll always matter to him. 8/10.

Jolyne Cujoh

She definitely warms up to you quicker once you've gained her trust, using any excuse to wrap herself around your arm and is at your side at all times. She can be pretty clingy, being away from you for so long is straight up torture for her.

No literally, everything about her softens whenever she's near you just from how soft her voice gets or how gentle she is with her touches.

Initiation goes both way, though she catches you off guard and at times she gets a little too bold; Not like you're one to complain.

She's an experimental lover, she isn't one to really turn down the adventures you have planned. And I mean that in more ways that one.

She knows that she can be a bit complicated and all she wants is someone who is willing to fight at her side and someone to rely on, much like her dad.

Of course, don't take yourself too seriously, she still likes to have fun and mess around.

Petnames she likes to use are things like babe, baby, and cutie.

Overall, 9/10 relationship! It isn't perfect but she's a lovergirl and if she trusts you enough, she'll swoon over you.

Johnny Joestar

Definitely likes teasing and making a mockery out of you but it's all for love, it's really nothing personal.

Is also the type to be a little clingy, though he likes to deny it from time to time and uses an excuse that he was just worried for you. Honestly, he just wants to be understood and you're one of the few that listens to him.

At first he may seem a bit closed off, but he really likes the attention you give him and honestly he'd be upset if you weren't as affectionate. Thats why he prefers it whenever you take the initiation, he likes being caught off guard and pampered with kisses. But don't worry, he has some tricks up his sleeves as well and he'll return the favor.

I'd like to think that he was still raised to be at least a bit respectful, though that certaintly backfired since he can be a bit of a jerk. Though, not towards you, he has a soft spot for you and doesn't see you as some rich person who he sleeps with when he was at his prime.

Some petnames I could see him use is along the names like Sweetheart, Honey and Dear if he's feeling extra affectionate.

8/10 , he likes to put an image that he's tough but with you around he acts soft.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

You are his everything and he loves you so much, he just likes to express it a little differently. His main priority is to retrieve his memory back and trying to figure out who he is, but in the process of that he turns to you because you are one of the few people that truly understands him.

He doesn't know what he wants or how he is, he was drawn towards you because you're nice to him and is willing to help him out of his situation.

You had to do most of the initiation, he's a little clueless and oblivious to your advances unless you're really direct with it and let him know what you want or what you're gonna do. If you're gonna kiss him, tell him that and he'll close his eyes and pucker his lips just for you to take the intiative to lean in and lock lips.

He loves hugs, being embraced by you calms him down and puts him at ease. Sometimes he thinks a little too much or thinks of nothing at all, only to be reminded that you're still with him and he appreciates you for it. He cries just a little and you poke fun of him for that, just for him to say that he wasn't crying at all (he is).

As for petnames, I can only really see him just call your name.

7/10 , He doesn't know what the hell is going on but he knows for sure that he likes you and we'll do everything in his power to keep you from harm.

Jodio Joestar

A somewhat stereotypical, awkward, highschool relationship where you both have no idea what you're doing but holding hands for some reason is such a big deal.

He's kinda a loser, perhaps you don't say it out loud but because of his inexperience to talking with anyone or being in a relationship in general, he lacks the ability to muster up the courage to do anything further than just hand holding and hugging. So when you surprise him with a kiss, he kinda just stands there with a blush before resorting to just expressing how cool he is (he's freaking out).

The money that he gets from selling drugs and getting himself into trouble, he'd use some of that up to buy something nice for you or at least something that reminde him of you.

Sometime's he's a little mean, a bit of a jerk at times but you learn to bring him back and help him keep his cool. He just likes to run his mouth and at times it can get the both of you in trouble. A little kiss or squeeze of his hand will instantly shut him up.

Petnames he likes to use are a bit obnoxious just to make everyone around him annoyed. So something like babe, honey and baby.

7/10 , you're both young and dumb and its not perfect and yes theres ups and downs but at the end of the day.

[callooopie]

Modern!au Davos who's hooking up with one of his friends from their big friend group but they have to keep it a secret

Situation Situationship // Modern!Davos

I don’t want your body. But I hate to think about you with somebody else — Somebody Else // The 1975

chat I think I went too sad and not funny with this

What Davos offers you is a beneficial relation between you two. A humble friend’s with benefits scenario, a situationship if you will. An agreement between two friends born out of boredom and driven by the need to just fuck things out. This would have to not affect your friendship, with both of you sharing a friend group; the possible chaos of a relationship between you two would be too much. Rules were then set out: no pda, no posting, no exclusivity.

Plus you were already sorta talking to someone and he was a guy who didn’t like being tied down. And both of you knew that a breakup between you two would make the friend group weird. So Davos couldn’t really complain when you would talk about your other dates or some other guy. He bit his tongue as he let you vent about what went wrong, or what could’ve been better. Oh, that guy didn’t pay? Damn, you should always pay for the pretty girls. This was his grave, and he would lie in it.

Despite this being his idea, Davos really hates it actually. Which is a little funny. The thing that he insisted would not happen, happened to him. It’s a little hard not to fall in love, or not to become attached to you when you’re the only one who seems to understand him. In the daylight when you’re hanging out with the group, when your eyes don’t leave him as he talks, when you text him throughout the day about anything and everything. Your closest friend—Davos. Even worse when it grows into night and he’s in your bed or you’re in his. He does want to tell you to stop doing aftercare so good; the way you caress his face and card your fingers through his hair makes him feel too many things better left unsaid. He refrains from saying anything.

And maybe he thinks the no PDA rule is stupid too. He sees how his friends touch and hold their girls, his own fingers twitching by his side as he watches the displays. He wonders if you think about it too. If you think about the feel of his hand in yours, how different it could be in the daytime. How your held hands could swing back and forth as you walk along a path. Maybe he would pull you into a store that catches his eye, or down an alley to press you against the wall. He wonders if you like it when he holds your hand at night. Do you like it when his fingers press open your closed palm, interlacing his fingers with yours? He always thinks about how your hand is smaller than his. He knows it makes you shiver, his fingertips trailing down your back; he hopes his calloused hands feel gentle against your soft body, maybe just as soft as his kisses. He likes when you sit in his lap, because then he can look into your eyes as his hands slowly run down your spine. No matter the reason however, Davos knows his hand wouldn’t leave yours. Day or night, rain or shine. If the rule did not exist.

Secretly he either blocks your social media accounts or simply deletes the apps off his phone. He wasn’t a big user on those anyways, and to see you post about dates or what you’re wearing to them drives him up a wall. Davos doesn’t wanna think about it but he does; he lets his mind wander to what you would wear to a date with him. Would you like something more formal? A nice restaurant? Or maybe a laidback affair, a movie at his place where you could snack and hide under the blankets. He would offer you his hoodie, would you take it? You already wear his clothes when you’re around anyways, rifling through his closet like a little animal in search of the softest fabrics to wear after you two finish. Sometimes when you’re looking with your back turned to Davos, he’ll stare at you as you pick up shirts or toss them aside. He’ll say he’s attracted to your body, the way it curves or shifts with each singular step or movement. But Davos also knows different; he’s staring past the skin, past your intricate body, and looking—hoping—for you to turn back to meet his gaze. You never leave with them, no. You always give them back before you leave.

He wonders if you’ll think him pathetic or weird, if he begs you to stay. Davos isn’t sure what’s come over him this early morning. It’s your usual routine; you both get up, he makes coffee, you get dressed to leave. Davos knows he’ll throw up if he so much as takes a sip of the warm coffee, feeling too tense and anxious about what he could do—what he wants to do. You’re oblivious maybe, or you’re just ignoring how strange he’s acting today. His thoughts are racing: Don’t look at your phone, keep your eyes on him. Don’t turn away from him, don’t step toward the door. Don’t, don’t, don’t. Davos can’t believe it himself that he’s reached you before you’re even out the door. His breathing heavy as his hand remains wrapped around your wrist. His stomach does somersaults as you look back at him. Davos swallows thickly, he’s this deep in already, might as well keep going.

Whatever the outcome of his stupidity this morning; he hopes you’ll be at least somewhat kind in letting him down as he spills his heart out to you…

[ornii]

“I Do not love you, …I Tolerate You.”

Daenerys Targaryen X Male Lannister Reader

(Y/n) Lannister, King of House Lannister, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, and the Father of Golden Lions, Mourning the Death of his Love, an unknown force calls claim to the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons.

Warning: Hey, you like thighjobs? No? Well too bad we got them!

Kings Landing, the final destination for kings and queens to either rule or die trying. For you it was the first, but it came with much loss.

Being born a Lannister you had some obligations to uphold, son of an Imp, you had much to live up to and deal with. But more importantly, you had fallen for one woman specifically.. Margery. Unlike Tommen and Joffrey, you weren’t as Naive and Foolish as them, Tyrion made sure of that. Teaching you the way the game of thrones is played was essential to survive in this world. She respected your opinions, ideals, wishes. Her Marriage to Joffrey was one of necessity, yours was out of love. A love that was quickly shattered and burned by one Cersei Lannister.

Joffrey was Murdered, Your father Tyrion put on trial, and in return he escapes, Kills your grandfather Tywin, and escapes. Leaving Tommen to pick up the pieces, Tyrion was never seen in Kings Landing again. Still keeping your relationship a secret you continued your affairs, but it only had gotten worse, the Sparrows using their holy influence to capture Margery, Tommen, nothing but a mere child in the mind did nothing, and his Mother Cersei was also taken, her plan backfiring. You only wished that was the end of the nightmare.

Cersei executes a plan that lead to the explosion of the Sept, killing Margery, her brother, The High Sparrow and so many more. Your cousins, Grandfather, Father, and now your Love, all gone. All of that set in motion your path to the crown, forming the Golden Roar rebellion you overthrew Cersei and took the Iron Throne as your own, it didn’t take much of course, using your connection to the people you exposed her true nature, and her actions. The people rebelled, you rebelled, it was perfect. With all obstacles moved, you now have the power to change everything, to change the world, but one obstacle stood left; The Last Targaryen.

Sitting upon your iron throne, and Gregor at your side, you listened to the concerns of not only nobles but of the people. They were small at best, tedious. It wasn’t until your kings guard, your Uncle Jamie knelt down to slightly whisper.

“There is something I must speak to you about when time is available.”

“Is it important?” You asked calmly, your eyes darting to him. Jamie nodded, it was rare your uncle often spoke during your court. You ended the proceeding for now and walked to the high chambers with your uncle.

“It’s about—“ Jamie began but you had an idea of what he was going to ask.

“As I have said before uncle, I shall not Kill Aunt Cersei, as much as she deserves it.. I made that promise to you, I intend to keep it. She will be locked away. And when I have complete control, you can live out your days with her in Casterly Rock.” You said, while your blood boiled at the idea of Cersei living, for your uncle who treated you as equal, you honored your promise.

“No, House Tarly might consider to support the Targaryen.” He began, you knew about Her, but you didn’t care at the time. You picked up your pace, trying to focus and Jamie kept up.

“Really now?” You asked intrigued.

“They’re the only house that has not claimed loyalty, and if we lose their house—“

“We might have a problem.” You finish the statement for him. “We had the Tyrell’s but Cersei made sure of that.. although.” You slowly had an idea coming together, Jamie halted in his footsteps as a smirk crept on your face.

“We won’t need the Tyrells… if the False Queen truly wishes to take the throne. Then I should at least hear the woman out..” You said, admittedly you wished to see this last living Targaryen. Stepping into your bedchamber you overlooked Kings Landing, the debt slowly being pushed down, people attempting to rebuild after the sept, all your doing. And if this Targaryen Pureblooded Freak wished to take this from you, then she must kill you in order to take it. Your mind wandered until you stepped out to the balcony, enjoying the warm air, smells of earth and rock, but something else caught your attention.. something was moving across the horizon of the ocean.

Standing on the massive port gate of Kings Landing, You, Ser Jamie, Maester Quburn stood at the port, watching ships slowly enter, but they were not yours. They belonged to the Greyjoys. Standing with soldiers surrounding and arrows ready to massacre the platoons, you wait. They dock and descend out, and your eyes laid upon Euron Greyjoy, the sadistic cold bastard of what’s left of the Greyjoys, that shit eating grin was unsettling, as if he had some master plan for you. He gave a fake bow and kept his sly eye on you.

“My King.” He said, having your hands behind your back you calmly raised your hand, and placed your fingers down, allowing the archers to put their bows down.

“You must be, Euron.” You said, what could a Greyjoy Possibly want here?”

“It’s a simple request, although I expected the queen to be greeting me.” He replies, look around slowly, as if to expect Cersei.

“Unfortunately she’s been.. replaced. Allow me to welcome you and your men to kings Landing, Respect our Laws and you shall be respected in kind.” You offer him to walk with you, and he does.

“Your business here must be important if you wished to speak with me.” You look around, noting that there are still arrows trained on Euron, for your safety after all.

“Yes, what I ask requires some.. finesse. Finesse only the true king of Westeros would have.” Euron plays it up, but you knew better and cut though his words.

“What would you wish?” You reply, entering the throne room you said. “How would.. command over the waters of All Westeros sound?” He said, you halted, and slowly went up the stairs, ascending to a higher position than him. You sit down upon the throne, gently placing your hands together.

“I have the power to give this, but why would I give it to you, a Greyjoy in fact.. I gain, nothing.” You explain, and Euron snaps his fingers laughing.

“You see that is where you are wrong, my king. My loyalty, I will swear to you, and the entire Greyjoy fleet will be yours to command at your demand, all I ask is reign over the waters.”

“That is an imposing proposal.. but how do I know you will keep your word?” You reply, and Euron grins. “I have a.. gift.”

Minutes pass as you sit in your Throne, Jamie by your side waiting. Hoping this “Gift” will be of some worth. And it was, the doors open to Euron and his men, having three women captured and tied like cattle to follow. You looked at them, while two were from Dorne, the other wasn’t. Jamie gripped his saber hilt with his good hand. You noticed the shift in his emotion, and tilted your head.

“I believe these women are from Dorne.. why do you have them?” You asked, you vaguely recognize one as Oberon’s lover.

“This is Ellaria and Tyene Sand.. your Cousins Killers.” Euron smiles, presenting a good gift, your eyes slowly filled with malice and hate, a feeling you’ve only ever truly felt a few times in life. The feeling came back with a vengeance and you calmly but somehow with boiling fury stood up and walked down the stairs, you calmly approached Ellaria her eyes were wary off course, you were a Lannister unknown, meaning you were unpredictable.

“Ellaria sand… for your daughter’s Sake, tell the truth.. did you kill my cousin Marcella?” You whispered so coldly and raspy into her ear, like a growling lion before he pounces and tears apart zebras flesh. You watched her quiver, heavy breathing, and in the last moments of reality she nodded, confirming the truth. You took a step back and bit your lip to keep from showing tears. “The Cell.. all of them.” You gave the shallow order and the guards took them away. You could care less about the last one and allowed her to be taken away as well. Sitting back on your throne you looked to Euron, and gave the nod.

“The seas.. are yours.”

It had been a Week since Eurons reign, and all was calm, until you had an unexpected visitor, standing at the gates of Kings Landing with your men and council, you watched as an army of Unsullied and Dothraki approach, you couldn’t make out anyone you knew and prepared to rain Wildfire on them, but someone’s presence was well known, you heard the intense roar and the echo of massive wings in the sky, you saw the dragon, the most powerful beings in Westeros, they land on the ground. And its blood red eyes looked at you, admittedly a wave of fear hit you.

“Quburn.. are the Dragon Slayers reader?” You asked.

“Ready to launch, my King.” He replies, you sigh with relief and then watched a tiny figure step from the army.

“..Father?” You said, almost speechless. Tyrion approached, looking older, more stern. You signaled to let him in.

Sitting across from each other inside a Tent. You didn’t have much to say to him, even after all these years.

“You.. did it.” Tyrion said, seeing his son as king was, an unreal feeling. “You achieved greatness, as I always expected. Besides you’re half of me, so you should have.”

“Amusing father.. but, are you truly with this woman?”

“She.. has a vision for Westeros I simply cannot allow to go to the wayside, besides this place needs someone willing to show mercy instead of the blade.” Tyrion responds, you could somewhat understand his predicament.

“I suppose, but I won’t allow my throne to be taken by some Targaryen child. I will lead Westeros to peace, and she can go back to ruling whatever sand hill she wishes, as long as it isn’t on my soil.”

“That.. may not be your soil for much longer.” Tyrion quips, your eyes glare at him as he sips his wine.

“Not by us, the Winter.. the cold.. the undead. They’re real, and it seems their plan is to go from the wall and destroy along. Westeros, it would not be long before they raid Kings Landing..”

You consider your father’s words carefully, if this is true. Then the Queen of Dragons isn’t your main focus. “Is there a way to stop them?” You ask.

“Dragons glass and fire, that seems to be our only two, unfortunately the Queen lost one to the White Walkers. If we’re to survive and surpass this darkness, you and the Queen must come to an understanding and work together.”

“I.. see..” You rubbed your chin, truly considering all of this. “And where is the Queen?”

“Winterfell.”

“I can spare twenty thousand Men, leave a few here to run while I go.” You said, standing up you look out to the army still awaiting.

“May your return back to your Queen be swift father.. but know that when this is done, you must choose a side.” You left your father with those parting words, and Made way for The North.

Entering Winterfell felt like a death sentence, you felt eyes all over you, knowing at any moment you could be swarmed and killed, thankfully your army surrounded the rest of Winterfell, so a siege would immediately commence if you were killed. Standing in the Great Hall, you were gazed upon by Many house, and sitting at the center of the table was none other that the Queen, Denreyes Targaryen. You have a bow of courtesy.

“Your Grace, my father informed me of the.. issue we’re facing, this night king, these.. white walkers. They’re a plague slowly burrowing into the heart of Westeros, and it would take us all to stop them, so I fully intend to lend aid.” You said, it was silent besides a few Murmurs, some surprised you came here, others surprised you’re actually helping, Lannisters are usually selfish.

“Your help will be paramount to stopping this invasion. And I suppose the terms of your surrender was spoke about as well?”

“Apologies but I have no intent to surrender..” you reply, and smile. “A beautiful and intelligent woman such as yourself should know I am not here to surrender but to lend aid. We can discuss the throne when we know there will be a throne left.”

It was silence in the room now, and before Dany could say something she bit her tongue to keep it. “Understandable.. we shall discuss this when ample time is available. Please, enjoy Winterfell for the time being.” Her words sounded kind, but obviously it had a hint of malice behind it, knowing better you didn’t call her out, and simply went to your bedchambers. Walking along the frozen planks of Winterfell you felt unease, as if someone was watching you. You hit a corner and kept up the pace, knowing someone was there. As you turned the corner you prepared to face your chaser, you stepped out to attack but, no one was there. Something was wrong, but unfortunately it was too late.

You felt the cold steel against your neck and the abrupt grip of a hand around your wrist. Death was mere moments away, but it didn’t come, a voice came from behind you.

“Still too slow for your own good.” It said, it may have been years since you’ve seen her, but you recognized that voice from anywhere.

Arya.

“Always too slow for you.” You replied in jest and the cold steel was removed, you sigh and turn around to see her, she’s taller now and, you couldn’t help but notice that she’s a full fledged woman now. You met Arya when her Sister and Father were taken to Kings Landing, she had this tomboyish attitude that made you adore her, always being so friendly and practicing her fighting skills even as a girl, and now you both had grown up.

“You look..” you started, your eyes going up and down and back into her eyes.

“Scary?” She responds

“Amazing.” You said, she had a sly grin and gave you a playful poke with her finger. “And you look like a real king now.”

“I try.” You respond, “Arya.. about Kings Landing—“ you start but she stops you.

“You saved me when you made me leave when my father was killed, if not I’d end up like Sansa, your family isn’t you.” She said to you, so earnest and kind. That weight was taken off your shoulder. You nodded and Arya walks past you.

“I’ll see you soon. I’m sure you, have a lot deal with.” With those words Arya parted. You watched her leave, and the curves she developed would make a man’s steel resolve melt. You shook your head and pressed forward, entering the room you took a step in, and closed the door behind you, unfortunately you weren’t the only one in the room, Daenerys. She sat in your chair, as if she was awaiting your arrival.

“That did not take you long.” You said, ready to debate.

“Your presence has made it an issue with the northerners, not only do they question my rule as Queen of the North because of Jon, but so does yours.” She clenched her jaw slightly and you chuckled. You calmly removed your cape. You noticed the bottle of wine on the counter and didn’t hesitate to take it.

“Stop clenching your jaw. It’s bad for your teeth darling, you’re too pretty to lose your teeth now.” You calmly placed your cape on the table and approached to sit across from her.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Your Grace flattered has gotten me into a lot of things, thankfully one is the throne.” You gently combed back your hair, looking into her eyes, She was ferocious like a dragons, but also a merciful side. They were.. beautiful.

“Well I hope your flattery will work against the Night King and his horde of undead.” She obviously has a chip on her shoulder to say the least, a chip you intend to knock off.

“I doubt, he doesn’t seem the type to be swept off his cold decrepit feet.” You tapped the table, just to annoy her. “I say a good dagger to the heart does the same thing, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose it does. I am.. surprise you came.” She admits, you raised an eyebrow.

“You think of me as a liar?” You asked, She didn’t want to say yes but obviously you had your answer, your smirk fades and you calmly sit up, you popped the cork off the bottle and took a swig of it.

“I am nothing, if not a man of my word, and I came here to fight them myself as well. I said I would, so I would. And so you would know I truly mean it when I said.. I would Marry you and Make you Queen Denyeres Targaryen, you wouldn’t have to take my last name.” You meant every word, you offered the bottle of wine to Deny, she stared at it for a moment and took it for a drink of it. A warm smile was already on your face, hours of talking and drinking left you two actually getting along.

“You have no idea, it’s fucking cold, I hate it here, everyone cannot understand why I deserve the throne because I dont have a cock between my legs.” Deny rants on, and you slip up and said, “You could use mine.” You blurted out, jokingly but, she didn’t see it as a joke. She tilts her head a way that make you shutter a bit. You saw a sly smirk creep along her face.

“Is that a true request?” She asked you. You blinked a few times and decided why not and took the risk. “Sure, I don’t see why not. Just put it between your thighs.” You shrugged and watched Dany stand up, slowly unblocking her lower garments. You watched her smooth legs for show and an eyes trail upwards to what’s between her legs. A soft slightly trimmed bush, the blood stopped rushing to your head and to your dick. Kings Landing didn’t Lack whores and women, but something about Dany felt fresh, and desire burned. She giggled, seeing your thousand yard gaze at her privates. She knelt down, her soft legs stroking your thighs, and looking into your eyes. “Am I.. going to have to take them off myself?” She said, and you shook you head, gripping your trousers and pushed them down, and Dany got an eyeful of the Lions Tail.

“It’s… wow.” Dany was taken aback, but didn’t hesitate, she turned around, and plopped right on your lap, her bare ass brushing against your legs, she gently opens her legs and watched your dick fly up and softly slapped her couch. A dumbfounded giggle comes from her and she closes her legs. “So.. this is what it feels like.”

“It feels, amazing.” You leaned your head back, her soft thighs brushing and warmly gripping your dick. And softly moving around. It was mostly a Slightly Drunk Dany moving her legs around to play with her “Kings Cock.” Once it brushed against her crotch and a sensation catches her off guard. It felt good, and she wanted more. Dany placed her hands on the chair’s armrest to balance herself as she motions around, her breathing getting deeper and softer, the sensation you were feeling was something beyond imagination. Your hands gripped her waist to assist her.

“This is.. better than… i expected..” panting, Dany leaned her head back, and your hands slipped up her shirt, you slid your hands up, feeling her soft supple breasts underneath her. You leaned in, planting soft but deep kisses along her neck and it drove the Dragon Queen, a soft pinch of her nipple, a deep kiss on her neck. Her moaning filled the room, and you decided to give the dragon Queen what she deserved. Adjusting your cock you pressed against her pussy.

“Now, slide~” you held her body so warmly.

“Y-Yes~” she whines in your ear.

“Yes.. What?~” you replied.

“Yes.. my King~” she gasped, and with his Queens request you gently lowered her down on it, you felt your dick immediately get swallowed by warmth and wetness. Her gasp and deep moan signaled that she’s ready, you wrapped your arm around her waist and held onto the arm of the chair thrusting upward, you were stronger than her, making it easy to handle her body around with each punch and thrust, she bit her bottom lip to keep from yelling in pleasure.

“D-Dany.. you feel so.. fucking good! You squeezed tighter around her, the hot and sweat bending off your bodies hit the hard wood floor, which creaked slightly as you rammed your dick inside her.

“Damn you… for being so good!~” Dany let out a heavy groan. You felt the clenching of her walls on your cock, trying to drain it. You let her have it, bucking like a horse, making Dany bounce. “Fuck!” You held her waist, letting your seed erupt from the tip and into the air tight hold her pussy had on your cock. You watched her body stiffen up and her legs quiver as she has an actual orgasm. Panting, Dany leans back against you, panting, didn’t know what to say.

“Was that.. your first Orgasm?” You asked

“My.. First what?” She asked, still a bit confused of what she just felt, you laughed, softly putting your arms around her as she rested.

“.. So, you must love me now.” You say jokingly, “To have sex with me when you’ve barely known me for a day.”

Dany realized how it looked, and scoffed.

“I don’t.. I don’t love you, I.. Tolerate you.” She replied.

“Oh, well when we marry.. you can tolerate me like this for years.” You joke and snuggle up with her, Dany didn’t have the energy to argue with you, feeling your hot sweet pour down her leg. She thought to herself that yes.

She can tolerate you.

[meiieiri]

LATE NIGHT SNIPPETS [FT. JUJUTSU KAISEN]

❁—CHARACTERS: suguru geto, gojo satoru, nanami kento, megumi fushiguro

warnings: mentions of death and violence in megumi’s part ( T ^ T )

a/n: now this one got so bad it took me two days to write. ALSO, have ya’ll seen the new episode? WASN’T IT SO GOOD? like the symbolisms and the many artistic references to buddhism and enlightenment was just so GLORIOUS??? and yea, my heart hurts knowing what’s about to come. anyway so much for that. here are some new drabbles to keep us relatively happy in the meantime, prompts are open, btw!

༊*·˚ GOJO SATORU

you think it's charming to see satoru try. he's not as half-assed as people think he is when it comes to devoting his time and effort to the things close to his heart. and for better or for worse, that included you.

his hands gently rakes a hand through your hair, your back pressed to his broad chest. he stops every now and then to untangle the unruly bits with the wide-toothed comb he held between his lips as he painstakingly lathered your locks with the new shampoo he just bought for you, the same one you’ve been eyeing whenever the two of you are out on your supermarket runs.

he treats the entire affair of doting on you, bathing together, as if he were perfecting an art form, and he — a mere blushing apprentice — utterly lost and in ruin in the presence of his ethereal muse. his head drops against your shoulder where a loving kiss makes a picture perfect landing that not even the most proficient trapeze artists can achieve. he cradles you close to his naked form but there was nothing overtly lustful about the entire affair (which is unlike the both of you, by the way, satoru was normally insatiable when it comes to his sexual desires).

there was only an intimate quiet — the kind of passing moment devoid of any unnecessary words and contemplations of love or adoration because there was no need for such futile philosophical bullshit when faced with an absolute truth that needs no explaining, no theorizing, no rationalizing for satoru knew, that in this horrible world riddled with lies, his love for you extends into the limitless void.

“i love you,” he mumbles sleepily into your ear, his eyelids drooping, his breath becoming more even by the second owed to the comforting warmth of the water in the bathtub.

it doesn’t hurt to say it every now and then, though.

༊*·˚ NANAMI KENTO

the warm ambient light of the overhead lamps above you illuminates the dark space of your living room, revealing the adonis-like features of kento, the shadows only seem to accentuate the contours of his defined cheekbones, the slight outline of his perfectly-shaped lips and his masculine jaw. you don’t know how you could have caught the eye of someone so beautiful, so…otherworldly.

he was like a monarch butterfly, a warm ball of fire that danced in an evergreen meadow, so guarded and scarce in his movements in fear that he’d burn the entire valley down with just a subtle flutter of his wings. but since you so desired to burn into cinders, who was he to deny your wishes? a yelp of half-surprise and sheepish laughter slips out from your lips when he suddenly sends you into a romantic dip, catching you by surprise, your heart racing in your chest.

“kento!” you lightly slap him on the arm which only causes him to throw his head back in delighted laughter.

and to the sound of the piano’s crescendo, and the singer’s luscious alto tone, he picks you back up, righting your positions, leading you in a slow dance. he sways both your forms side to side, sometimes hoisting his arm up to allow you enough space to innocently twirl around in time to the climax of the song playing on the vinyl player and in time to the sound of his heart breaking.

oh, how he desperately depended on you and you don’t even know it.

you wouldn’t even understand it if he articulated just how mystified he was to hold your smaller hand in his larger hand, to walk beside you for a thousand miles and not even feel an ounce of fatigue, to naively dance with you like this barefoot in the kitchen at two in the morning, to be able to call you his and him yours.

the song nears its end, the bell-like notes dissipating into the air. you try to pull away, suddenly remembering the dirty dishes from dinner earlier which you so carelessly abandoned in the sink but kento only tilts your chin towards him, his breath hot against your lips, “i’ll do the dishes later. dance with me again?”

༊*·˚ GETO SUGURU

a snort of laughter escapes suguru upon hearing the latest gossip you caught wind of in the teacher’s lounge earlier today . “so, i take it kento has a girlfriend now,” his eyelids flutter close when your dainty fingers lightly massage his forehead with a cool moisturizing balm that smelled absolutely divine with the earthy undertones of tea tree balm and aloe vera.

“engaged, at least that’s what shoko told me,” you correct him and he scrunches his nose in displeasure. you smooth away any of his stray bangs, and the soothing action causes him to sigh contentedly, basking in your butterfly-like touch.

to suguru, this was home — spending the midnight hours braiding one another’s hair, chatting away about anything and everything with your silly little skincare masks on, the humidifier in your room in its maximum settings spewing out the comforting aroma of yours or suguru’s favorite essential oil depending on who wins your little match of rock-paper-scissors, chaste kisses and most of all, you. “what are you staring at?” you ask, breathless, when you notice how his raven eyes stared up at you with so much wonder.

his hand lazily comes up to cup your cheek, memorizing each crack and bump of you as if tonight would be the last time he could ever do so. maybe he was selfish — as many mortals are — to want to beg the gods for time and the stars to stop turning, halting their perpetual orbit, so that he may savor this moment just for a while longer. and a while longer. and a while longer. ‘till eternity herself, in her humiliation, feels cheated.

“my entire world.”

༊*·˚ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

you were woken up by his shikigami, the arctic dog wagging its tail excitedly as it tries to climb up your bed. you blink away the remnants of your slumber, yawning. “what are you doing here, cutie? where’s your dad?” you affectionately pat the creature on the head and it lets out a happy bark, leaning into your touch. wait a second. if the shikigami had appeared, then, megumi must surely be up and about somewhere in the house. you pull on your silk robe to go look for him when you find only moonlight on his side of the bed.

you eventually find yourself in the living room’s main balcony which functioned as a sun room of sorts. you find megumi hunched over, watering can in hand, seemingly in a daze, he diligently waters the many potted plants you’ve collected over the years. you shake your head, beguiled at the sight, leaning against the glass door.

“your orchids were starting to wilt,” he replies when he senses your presence, a touch of sadness in his voice. he’d gotten you those orchids for your anniversary as the two of you were on your way home from a backbreaking mission in shizuoka. he’d been horrified to see it practically wasting away in the scorching summer heat. “…i…i had to do something,” he swallows thickly, a few tears pooling at the crescent of his green orbs.

you instantly understand. you walk over to him, hugging him from behind as he works. his breath stutters, his grip on the watering can slackening. it falls to the ground in an unceremonious clang! something uncoils within megumi and right then and there…he weeps, falling into the sanctuary of your arms, his tears staining the fabric of your robe, glistening like the most precious of jewels serendipitously unearthed in the forgotten mineshaft that is his heart. “shhh,” you hush him as he continues to cry.

he could have saved that little girl.

if only he’d been faster. if only he didn’t freeze up in front of that curse. if only he hadn’t been his usual second-rate mediocre self even for just a second, maybe she would have lived. “what if it had been you?” his ivy green eyes are filled with abject fear. “what if—?”

“—then, you’ll come get me,” you reply without a second thought, your voice as soft as a spring night’s dewfall, your hand comfortingly raking through his disshelved raven hair. “i know you will.”

[tayloralisonswift]

What are some of the songs you think are most likely about Karlie?

Ooooooooooh i love this question sm! thank you 🫶

i’m gonna break it down by album ! this is gonna be a long post lol. disclaimer that this is my interpretation of the songs and if it's not yours, that's ok! but this is my post.

also disclaimer i'm gonna use the term 'motif' loosely.

1989 /

welcome to new york (the beginning of the new york motif; you can want who you want)

you are in love ("on the way home" caption; beginning of the best friend in love motif)

new romantics (switch sides like a record changer; uses the same plural first person pronouns as wtny)

now that we don’t talk (totally influenced by a fic i read last night that said the 'do you feel anxious though, on the way home' was about being anxious that people saw them together; can't pretend it's platonic)

reputation /

end game (joe didn't have a big reputation before they met. he just didn't)

don’t blame me (daisyyyyy; is it a sin to love you motif; everyone thinks that they know us but they know nothing motif)

so it goes (cages motif! gold motif! wear her like a necklace!)

king of my heart (boys never did it like you did motif; trying on clothes; love is a secret)

dancing with our hands tied (this could be about dianna, too - it's about a relationship that's over now imo, ripped apart because it's queer)

dress (best friend motif; everyone thinks they know us motif; so much secrecy and pining)

lover /

cruel summer (unsure if karlie is the devil or the angel but she's present in this for sure; love is a secret)

paper rings (i'd marry you with an imaginary ring, i'd choose you in every lifetime including the one where our love is a secret)

cornelia street (new york motif!!!!!!!!)

false god (new york motif!!!!!!!; it's a sin to love you motif; everyone thinks that they know us motif)

it’s nice to have a friend (best friend motif)

daylight (i don't think daylight is DIRECTLY about karlie. i think it's more a coming out song, even if it's a coming out to yourself song.)

folklore /

the 1 (rose flowing with your chosen dinner with the kushners)

cardigan (gold cage motif; you broke me worse than they did)

exile (like he's just your understudy???????)

my tears ricochet (wedding motif; about karlie's betrayal; you broke me worse than they did)

august (other woman motif)

illicit affairs (other woman motif)

peace (love is a secret)

hoax (you broke me worse than they did, new york motif)

evermore /

champagne problems (i personally think this was written from karlie's pov. taylor was putting herself in that perspective to better understand it imo) (all of this is imo)

gold rush (gold motif; hair falling into place; it just is about karlie this is a fact)

happiness (hope you and your baby are happy motif!!!!!!! it happens twice but i'm calling it a motif anyway)

coney island (failedcomingoutlor, apologizing to karlie)

ivy (other woman motif; cheating on a male partner; it's about gay sex)

cowboy like me (another one that could be about dianna too - definitely a girlfriend)

closure (oh she was mad mad)

right where you left me (hope you and your baby are happy!!!!, hair pin drop????????)

it's time to go (the twin lyric hits hard after down bad)

midnights /

maroon (best friends motif; new york motif; lips so scarlet?????)

bigger than the whole sky :(

paris (where the culture's clever???)

glitch (best friends motif)

hits different (boys never did it like you did motif, the karrrrr lyric that exists only in my daydreams) :(

ttpd /

my boy only breaks his favorite toys (best friends motif; boys never did it like you did motif)

down bad (LIKE I LOST MY TWIN?? also everyone thinks that they know us)

loml :(

imgonnagetyouback (closets? bubbly? this one could go either way - karlie or matty - but i prefer the kaylor interpretation)

thank you aimee (explanation here)

i look in people’s windows (secrecy and pining) :(

peter (secrecy and pining, reference to dwoht with 25; closets mention)

[hrefna-the-raven]

Hot as Hades

Misc. Masterlist - Masterlist

Chapter 1

Words: 1939

Summary: the fate of yours and Hades' is bound but the Fates advise caution while Aphrodite is meddling in the Lord of the dead's affairs

Chapter 2 - Prophecy

Hades rushed down the steps, seething with anger towards Pain and Panic for neglecting to inform him of the Fates' arrival. The most important inhabitants of the underworld, aside from himself of course, were waiting for him and his good for nothing imps were too busy with hell knows what to even tell him. They had one task, just one damned task. Hades pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before swinging open the doors.

"Ladies. Hah. I am so sorry that I'm...", he began, attempting to apologise, but the Fates cut him off.

"Late", they finished in unison.

"We knew you would be", Lachesis chuckled.

"We know everything", Clotho proudly stated.

"Past."

"Present."

"And future", Atropos added, nudging Pain, "indoor plumbing. It's gonna be big."

"Right, anyway ladies, I was at this picnic kinda thing and I lost all track and wanted to ask abou-", Hades tried to explain, only to be interrupted once again by the Fates.

"We know!"

His hair momentarily flared up in a deep red before returning to its usual blue flames as he took a series of deep breaths, attempting to regain his composure. He knew that losing his temper in front of the Fates would be counterproductive, despite how frustrating they could be to deal with. However, Aphrodite's words continued to swirl in his mind, leaving him wondering if there was any truth behind her teasing remark.

"I KNOW, you know. Anyway, Aphrodite... Ms. Lovey Dovey, Ms. "Hey I always know when someone's in love", now she has told-"

"About the mortal being in love with you. WE KNOW!", the Fates interrupted him yet again.

Hades couldn't help but slam his hand against his face in exasperation, a painful reminder to himself to maintain his calm and charm.

"I KNOW YOU KNOW! I got it, I got the concept!", he clenched his teeth, forcefully contorting the twitching corners of his mouth into a distorted smile, "so let me just ask. Is Aphrodite telling the truth about that mortal? Will she love me back? What do you think?"

Clotho released a sorrowful sigh, parting her lips, but before any words could escape, Lachesis seized the edge of her robe and swiftly turned her around.

"We're not supposed to reveal the future!", she reminded her sister, fixing a stern gaze upon her, despite the absence of an eyeball.

It didn't go unnoticed by Hades that a disagreement was brewing between the Fates. He found himself in the perfect position to extract information from them, all it would take was a touch of his usual charm and he would attain his answers.

"Ladies ladies", his voice was smooth and alluring, "time out, please. Can I ask you a question by the way? Did you cut your hair or something? You look fabulous, like a fate worse than death."

His slender fingers gently touched a strain of her hair, which popped out and wound its way along his arm like a poisonous snake, ready to strike. Hades' expression briefly contorted into disgust before he regained his composure and tucked the hair back into its rightful place. Clotho couldn't contain her giggles, resembling an infatuated teenager, prompting Lachesis to nudge her in the side, causing their shared eye to pop out and roll towards Hades. He swiftly retrieved it, plucking a hair from it before gently taking hold of Lachesis' hand and placing the eyeball on her palm.

"Ladies, please", he purred with a seductive voice, "my fate is in your lovely hands."

Lachesis and Clotho looked at each other, sighs of awe leaving their lips.

"Alright", Atropos grumbled, taking hold of the eye and letting it hover among the other Fates before transforming it into a radiant dark blue sphere.

"In 18 nights precisely, the hearts will align ever so nicely. The time to act will be at hand, free your aching heart, bodies to bend."

"Mmm-hmm. Good, good", Hades chuckled, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he attempted to push sudden thoughts of your naked form out of his mind.

"The once lonely receives all and her heart be yours to call!"

His heart skipped a beat. After eons of torment from his lonely, aching heart, trapped in the desolation of the demanding underworld, he caught a glimpse of a flickering light—a small flame ignited by a glimmer of hope deep within him.

"But a word of caution to this tale", the Fates' tone darkened.

And there it was, the usual punch in the face, the cruel reality swirling around him, teasing him with the notion that all the beauty and happiness in the world was meant for every god except himself.

"Excuse me?", Hades spoke, his voice cracking with sorrow.

"Should Zeus deny, love will fail.", the Fates cackled before disappearing.

The Lord of the Underworld screamed, his furious roar echoing through the realms of darkness like a wave of scorching flames from the depths of hell, threatening to consume and obliterate everything in its path. His fists pounded against the table in the chamber before he hurled it against the wall, the stone shattering into countless fragments as the sound of his frantic breath filled the room, while Panic and Pain slipped away silently, hoping to avoid being maimed.

You finished work, helping your boss cleaning up before you headed home. Daily life had become more bearable since that night with Hades. With a joyful tune on your lips, you happily skipped through the streets towards your humble abode. As you collapsed onto your bed, a gentle sigh escaped your mouth, your mind filled with thoughts of when it would be fitting to reach out to the god once again. You yearned for his presence and the ache you felt in your belly while laughing at his silly puns.

"Thinking about the Lord of the Gloomy and Grumpy?", someone chuckled.

You jumped up from your bed and turned towards the voice, its origin being the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on.

"Are-are-are you?", you stammered as every muscle on your body tensed.

"Aphrodite, goddess of love and desperately needed in this household", she smiled warmly at you.

"Do you?", your hands waved around, unsure what or how to ask.

"Know about the blooming love between you and the Lord of the dead? Of course my dear and I dare say that I wasn't even involved in all this. He fell for you loooong ago on his own. Whoops!", the goddess threw her hands up and laughed, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "shouldn't have said that."

You blinked in disbelief at the goddess' statement. Could it be that Hades felt the same way? That you actually charmed a god? Capturing his immortal heart even before you met him? It felt surreal, your head was spinning at the speed of light, different thoughts pestering your mind while a thousand questions whirled around demanding answers and all while your heart seemed to beat so fast that it almost felt painful.

"Poor little mortal", with an air of amusement, she paced around you, her voice dripping with curiosity, "but I'm not surprised, Hades is one of kind, thankfully, I think everyone on Olympus would scream if there were more like him."

"What will happen now?", you hesitantly asked.

"You two are linked by fate, my sweet little mortal", the godess whispered in your ear, "but only the Fates can tell what fate was, will be or will become."

A surge of emotions swirled within you - excitement, anticipation and a tinge of fear. Your lips parted to pose more questions but Aphrodite had already vanished, leaving only a faint trace of her delicate fragrance behind. It felt as though you were running in circles, every new piece of information throwing you back to the exact same spot you had started from. Unable to find solace in this confusion, you resolved to seek answers from the only god you felt comfortable talking to, so, the next day after work, you made your way back to the shrine in the forest.

Unbeknownst to you, Hades had been expecting your arrival, his piercing eyes watching you from the underworld. He paced around in the throne room, cursing at Aphrodite's involvement. The revelations from the Fates had deeply unsettled him, he now also had the goddess of love meddling in his affairs, as if his situation wouldn't have been bad enough. He didn't know of what exactly and how he had to convince his brother to prevent a tragedy from happening, but he was determined to find a solution in due course. He possessed a certain resourcefulness and would not allow his brother to ruin his life any further. But that would be for another day, one absurdity at the time. For now, he had to devise a plan to counter any inquiries about his...what did mortals call them again? Ah, yes, feelings. He intended to conceal his emotions for as long as possible.

As he frantically sought a solution, his train of thought was interrupted by the faint whispers of your prayer. A defeated sigh escaped his lips, and he materialised beside you.

"You heard that sound? It was the sound of your little prayer fluttering all the way down into my realm and babe, you wished for it and baboom, here I am", he exclaimed, a smug grin hiding his nervousness, wiggling his eyebrows.

"So", you mumbled, avoiding his gaze while nervously shuffling your feet on the ground, "Aphrodite..."

"Yeeeeah I know I know", Hades said, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted between you and the ground.

"Is it...?", the question lingered unspoken for a moment.

"True? I would guess so", he sighed.

"So what...uhm...now?"

"We dance, we kiss, we schmooze, we carry on, we go home happy. If you want to of course, unlike my dear brother, Mr. High and Mighty, I'd actually prefer if we were on the same page for those kinda things."

You chuckled at that, feeling your heart flutter at the prospect of a date with the Lord of the dead.

As you locked eyes with him, you noticed a flicker of vulnerability hidden behind his typically stoic expression - a mix of affection and apprehension. It occurred to you for the first time that even a god like Hades might be plagued by insecurities. After all, living under the weight of a notorious reputation for eternity, while the other gods lived their best life on Olympus, didn't leave much room for love. Perhaps he had even given up on it altogether, until you wiggled your way into his immortal existence. He grasped your hands, intertwining them and raising them towards his lips, where he planted a gentle kiss. The sensation elicited a soft sigh from you, his unnaturally warm lips against your skin sending a delightful, tingling feeling throughout your body. A blush crept up to your cheeks as your gaze remained fixated on his thumb, softly caressing your flesh.

"The full-time job my brother so charitably bestowed upon me is waiting. I'd really love to stay but I can't. I'll pick you up tomorrow night for a proper date. Be here at sunset."

With those words, he vanished, leaving behind a faint trace of smoke. A real date with a real god...tomorrow...you internally screamed of joy, trying to keep a stoic expression, just in case he'd be watching. You strolled back home, thoughts racing around what he could possibly come up with for tomorrow evening and what a mere mortal like you could wear to impress the Lord of the dead.

Chapter 3

[cinnamonest]

okok we’re all aware of the idea of diluc wanting a traditional housewife bla bla ok fine.. but IMAGINE his daughter, his beautiful, precious daughter darling who he’s been conditioning to becoming that ideal traditional housewife (he says he does it so you’re more charming to rich suitors in the near future buut he really just means himself) finally rebels against him. goes out drinking, partying, tries to attack monsters and men alike (poor diluc failed to notice how much she’s been hanging out with her uncle kaeya..) and now she’s starting to have arguments with him and talks back… gosh, imagine the heart attack he’d have.. bless his poor soul..

Your brain anon?? Impeccable, I see the vision

Envisioning it one of two ways — one, single dad Diluc that is struggling to rationalize your behavior, ultimately blaming it on your mother in some way. If she’s remembered fondly, perhaps her untimely death left you without a proper female figure, or if it was a less amicable relationship that spawned you, perhaps he blames himself for poor judgement, reproducing with someone who ultimately abandoned you both (which indicates very poor behavior in the genes and all).

He gives you chances to rectify your actions, tells you to behave in a way that honors the family, but you refuse. You continue to talk to boys (ones of a lower class than you at that!), even disappearing overnight with them, smearing the family name. It crushes him, makes him upset at you, makes him furious with them, to the point that he has to stop the murderous urges before they become too strong.

But they’re boys — of course they’re going to take the opportunity when you hand it to them like that. What, it’s not as if they should be expected to control themselves — the fault of it all falls on you, naturally.

If you're going to keep up the unsightly behavior, then, the only real option is to keep you confined to the home, where you can't embarrass him and disgrace the family name by whoring out and engaging in casual relations.

But the damage is done — you’ve already tarnished your reputation, he tells you, beyond the point of repair. He can’t arrange for you to be married at this point. Even if he did, you’d probably just make things worse by being an unruly wife, maybe even, gods forbid, continuing to run around and have affairs. Since you chose to bring matters to this point, the only option is to keep you at home, where he can monitor your behavior and actions, for the foreseeable future.

But alternatively, with wife!reader, the man is obsessive both towards you and your daughter, the latter platonically — but still, he can barely fathom the behavior he’s witnessing.

This is obviously the result of your influence. You're rubbing off on her, when he very specifically warned you that there would be consequences for not instilling good behavior. You've been teaching her what, to be some kind of temptress, rather than setting her up to be a good wife? Do you want to completely ruin her future?

He's one of those fathers that has a soft side for a (platonically loved) daughter, though, so he can't be too harsh on her… besides, it's ultimately your fault anyway, so it's only logical to punish you whenever your daughter is said to have slept with some boy or done something unsightly. You're the one that gets taken behind closed doors for 'talks’ about what you've done wrong and made to promise that you'll fix things, that you'll stop encouraging and allowing this behavior. It's for both of your sakes, after all.

[thedreamlessnights]

Someone to shed some light - pt. 2

Astarion x gn!reader (Upcoming NSFW)

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: During your honeymoon, you learn that the prince is much more than meets the eye.

Warnings: Blood drinking, brief mentions of nausea, neglected parenting. Brief, non-graphic descriptions of injuries. Insinuations of abuse.

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support on the first chapter! This idea has taken over my life and I'm so happy to see that you all feel the same way about the concept of Prince Astarion. All the comments truly made my day and inspired me so much, so thank you! Without further ado, enjoy chapter two!

You’ve been infected by this place from the very first day.

You hadn’t realized it then, standing in front of Erelin with shaking hands, swallowing down a feeling that you couldn’t quite describe. It was nothing as simple as loss, or raw as grief; not large, or sharp, or invasive. Just a small, quiet numbness that you couldn’t pinpoint the cause of. Not at the time, at least. 

You certainly hadn’t known that it would spread through you like a disease. Little pieces of aching, eating you away from the inside out until you became one big, empty thing. And yet, now that the feeling is whole, it’s become all too clear. Now, as you lay in a warm bed with a stranger at your side, you can finally place it. 

Your own life is being robbed from you. 

One by one, experiences that should be yours, that should be special, are stolen away. They’re replaced by memories that are boring, or empty, or tainted. Occasions that come without an ounce of substance. Your wedding… gods, it was meant to mean something. It was supposed to be a day shared with someone you care about, not someone you barely tolerate. 

And now, here you are, about to be dragged off for your honeymoon, and it feels more like an extended form of torture than time spent with a loved one.

Granted, none of this is Astarion’s fault. He’s lost just as much as you have from this whole affair, if not more. Still, that knowledge doesn’t stop the sensation of loss. It’s bad enough to not be in control, but it’s so much worse knowing what could have been. 

Even before the sun rises, the thought disrupts your sleep, keeps you awake in the early silence. Perhaps you should let it go, but you can’t bear to discard the pieces of your old life so easily. If you’d had your way, your wedding would have been fun. Dancing, singing, laughing - real laughing, that is. Cal would have given a toast, and you wouldn’t have had to lie about being in love. It would have been the truth. You would have just been allowed to be. You and whoever it would have been, that is.

Gods, the only time you’d really even felt anything of substance yesterday was during the kiss. And you hadn’t meant to. It had just… happened. His hand on your jaw, your hand fixed tight to his shirt. It’s not even been a day, but you already know one thing for certain: that small, sweet taste of something real is going to drive you mad for the rest of your life.

You’re almost grateful when a knock comes at the door, even though you don’t move. You’re warm and entirely comfortable, and getting up means talking and feeling used and a number of other things that you can’t quite force yourself to face yet. Then another knock comes, louder this time, and the person next to you stirs.

From his side of the bed, Astarion sits up, swearing under his breath. “Yes, we’re up!” he calls, his voice tinged with sleep.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, and despite his promise of being up, Astarion slumps right back into bed. He looks… peaceful, almost. Mussed hair. A completely relaxed face. You’d like to join him in sleeping, but you don’t dare. He may not be afraid of his mother, but you certainly are.

When you finally get to your feet, you find that the servants have left you an outfit in the nearby closet. You’re halfway through getting dressed when - from the sound of it - Astarion finally gets out of bed, letting out another round of curses. When you emerge from the curtain, he’s combing his hair, not bothering to use the mirror. 

The mirror that… isn’t there, you realize. There’s not one to be found in the entire room, not even on the vanity. Do they want you to go out looking like a mess?

Astarion doesn’t seem concerned in the least. He grabs a change of clothes, slips behind the curtain, and looks as pristine as ever when he comes out. You envy him and despise him all at once.

After a short while, another knock sounds at the door before it flies open, revealing a very tired Erelin. Dark circles rim her eyes again. She moves slowly, grimacing - as if the very act of having her eyes open brings her pain. “Good. You’re dressed,” she says. “Come along now, you’d better eat. The carriage will be here soon.”

Once you get to the kitchens, you start shoveling food in your mouth to get out in time. Astarion, meanwhile, disappears. You’re not sure where he goes, but he doesn’t return until after you’ve eaten. When he gets back, he says nothing to you, and you suppose it’s not any of your business. Which doesn’t stop you from wondering where he’d gone.

After being shoved into the carriage along with some pre-packed suitcases, you and Astarion mostly sit in silence. He looks deep in thought, and you have no idea what to talk to him about. You’re not sure if you even want to talk to him. After a while, he pulls out a book and begins reading, and you curse yourself for not thinking to bring anything to keep yourself entertained.

You haven’t the faintest clue where you’re going. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if you knew? Is Astarion in the dark just as much as you are, or has his mother been giving him the privilege of actually knowing what his life will look like? 

A sudden flare of anger tears through your chest like a heated dagger, and you have to clench your hands into fists to avoid doing something you regret. 

You hate this. All of it. How powerless you are to it, the loss of the control you’d once had. Two months ago, you were waking up in your own home, going wherever you pleased, never being told what to wear or how to act. Now you’re stuck in this world, being used, ignored, or having your skin practically scrubbed off, and for what? A selfish political move? A kingdom you’ve never even seen? 

These rebels - they’re putting their lives on the line with their displays, but can the kingdom of Calthir really represent something worth that much risk? You don’t even have a clue. Perhaps if you’d been raised with a better knowledge of it, but no, Cal had taken special measures to keep you in the dark . You’re really only certain of one thing: if the queen had wanted you to marry her only son, then she must have been scared. These can’t have been miniscule protests. There must be something larger at hand; a movement, or uprising. 

You’re curious about what these people are like, but you’re far more interested to see what they would think of you. Would you disappoint them? Do they despise you for having taken the safe route - for choosing this life over torture, or dying for a kingdom you’ve never known?

Yet… Erelin hadn’t wanted to kill you. She’d still had a use for you then. What would happen if that use suddenly went away, now that it’s been put into motion? You hadn’t considered it when you were in front of her, honestly. You’d thought only of survival, because that’s all you’ve ever really known. How to take care of yourself.

So what would happen if you were to swing open the door of the carriage and jump? To run as fast as your feet could carry you, hiding among the woods until finding shelter?

You have nothing with you but the clothes on your back - the ridiculously heavy ones. Not exactly an ideal for sprinting through the woods, and that’s not even mentioning all the other factors. No weapons, no supplies. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that it’s been set up that way. 

Still, you do know your way around plants, and you can track and hunt. You could probably pick up some meals here or there. You doubt Astarion would really care if you left. He’d probably be delighted, in fact.

But would it be enough to get by? Could you outrun her men, hide your tracks well enough to get away? Would you live a life of freedom, or would she drag you right back? And for the love of the gods, why hadn’t you thought about this before getting married? 

It’s like you’ve been sleeping for the last month. You’re finally awake, finally aware of what a full life of this will mean and just how suffocating it is. You want nothing more than to jump out and never return, but the side of you that wants you to survive rather than live is holding on by its nails.

For a long while, you consider it - adding up your skills in your mind as if they’ll reach a threshold that says, alright, jump, you’ll make it through. But the threshold doesn’t exist. There is no ‘right’ number of skills that will tell you whether or not you’ll get away, or if you’ll make it out there and find your freedom again.

“You shouldn’t do it, you know,” Astarion tells you, stirring you from your thoughts. His book has been set on his thigh, and he’s watching you intently. He couldn’t possibly know what you’re thinking. Could he?

You force your expression into something nonchalant. “Do what?” you ask.

“Run.” He tilts his head, analyzing your expression as he drums his fingers on the book’s cover. “You are thinking of it, aren’t you? She’d never let you get away.”

You don’t have to ask who he’s referring to - though, part of you wonders whether he’s trying to scare you. His loyalties surely would lie with his mother over you. He could be trying to get you to stay, knowing that your disappearance will cause her a massive headache. Or… knowing that you actually have a chance to get away.

When you say nothing, he shakes his head. “Don’t be a fool, darling. She took your blood. It’ll be used to track you, and she won’t be so polite when you get dragged back. She can’t stand when something of hers gets taken away.”

You’re so repulsed by being described as something of hers that your nails dig into your palms, stinging at the already-raw flesh. Erelin doesn’t own you. You aren’t… some trinket of hers. Gods. Can you even believe a word Astarion is saying? Your head is telling you that he’s lying for her, but… for some reason, your gut is telling you it’s the truth.

Then, a horrific thought crosses your mind.

“Will she hurt you if I go?” you ask.

He scoffs. “Her cherished heir?” he asks mockingly. “She wouldn’t dream of it. It’s you she’ll hurt, dearest, not me.”

A million questions run through your mind as you stare at him, trying desperately to decipher his motives. “Then why say anything? You don’t care what happens to me.”

He tilts his head. “How very true - I don’t! So glad we’ve gotten that out of the way.” He pauses. “That being said, this carriage ride is incredibly long, and if you jump out and run, it’ll take even longer. We’ll have to stop the carriage, the guards will have to get off and find you - oh, and they will find you, by the way. In the meantime, I’ll have to sit here, waiting even longer for your ridiculous debacle to end. So, pretty please, spare me your little escape, and just keep put, hm?”

His words sink in slowly, seeping through you like poison. Spite has never been so potent. It floods your senses, settles on your tongue with a strangely metallic aftertaste, washes over your vision in a sheen of red. Your hand places itself on the door handle of the carriage and almost, almost, tugs it open, wanting nothing more than to make him sit and wait. 

Gods, he’s intolerable. 

Still, you have the feeling that your opening to escape has come and gone. You’re not exactly keen on getting tortured, so... another time, maybe. When you have a better chance at survival. For now, you don’t dare to speak to Astarion again, lest you bite off your tongue in anger - or worse. 

When the two of you finally arrive at your destination, a guard opens the door for you. Behind him, a cool breeze floods into the stuffy carriage, and you’re more than happy to jump out and follow as long as it means getting away from Astarion. 

This place is so large you can hardly believe it exists. Thick stone pillars form the foundations of a giant building, looming in the midst of thick brush. There are trees as far as the eye can see, and birds sing in the distance. You can hear a stream somewhere near - you’ll have to take a look around, if they let you. You have to admit, this place really isn’t so bad. 

If only Astarion wasn’t here. 

The next few days pass by quickly, half decent and half miserable. The guards let you take walks as long as you’re in clear sight, and you spend most of the time in an open clearing with your feet dipped into the nearby stream, reveling in the plant life around you. You start sneaking things, too - foods that’ll keep for a while, a silver necklace, a knife from dinner. It’s not very sharp, but it’s better than nothing. 

The miserable bit comes any time you’re forced to spend with Astarion, which - unfortunately - is a large amount of time. The guards take you both into town, and the two of you walk through the shops arm in arm, pretending that you don’t hate each other. His pet names become more pointed. You often fantasize about digging an elbow into his ribs. You go to bed at an early hour to avoid speaking to him, and you ignore each other in the mornings. It’s better that way.

A few days into this schedule, something strange pulls you from your sleep. Half-awake, you just manage to register the soft, nearly imperceptible sound of Astarion slipping from the bed. You keep your eyes closed and remain silent, listening to the whisper-quiet sound of his footsteps before the door creaks open and clicks shut. 

And where are you going, Astarion? you think to yourself. It’s much too late for any remotely normal activities to be taking place out there, but you aren’t in much of a mood to move. For a few minutes, you lay in bed, waiting for him to return, but when your eyelids grow too heavy to keep open, you decide that it really isn’t that important to you. 

He’s back in the morning, and you don’t mention his absence.

The next night, though, your growing curiosity demands an experiment: staying up to see if he’ll leave again. It takes hours of waiting in silence, trying to keep your mind active so you don’t drift off. You think about everything you possibly can: Astarion, Cal, your home. Erelin, the wedding, Astarion. Damn him. If only you could wipe your mind clear of him and be done with it. 

Just as you’re about to give into sleep, he finally stirs. 

He slips out of bed like a ghost, nothing but the whisper of sheets and soft, cautious steps. Has he been doing this every night? Is it a form of strange royal ritual? You wouldn’t put it above him or Erelin to be bathing in blood to keep forever young, honestly. But when the door creaks shut behind him, you shoot up, wide awake and heart pounding like a drum.

You really shouldn’t follow him. Gods - of course you shouldn’t. Who knows what the hells he’s up to, or what he’d do if he catches you. Still… the image of him in the gardens, bloody and imperfect, hasn’t left your mind for even a moment since you’d met him. Not fully. 

The unsaid question churns like an itch in your mind, never finding any relief and never, ever waning. If what he’s doing now is any explanation for that, then you need to know. Your feet are on the floor before you know it - you’re following after him like someone possessed, gingerly shutting the door behind you. Well, if nothing else, this should be interesting.

Astarion is already much further down the hall, stepping quickly and lightly, and within moments you’re trailing him - which is not an easy task. He’s surprisingly stealthy and you have to keep a healthy distance, ducked into the shadows and desperately trying to keep quiet. The air is so cold that your teeth nearly start chattering, and all the moving around you’re doing barely helps.

What is he up to at this hour, sneaking around like this? And where in the hells are all the guards? They’d been there earlier, staring at you as if warning you not to try anything. Now, they’re all missing. Or… posted somewhere else.

When you realize he’s headed straight into the forest, your suspicions triple. You even pause a moment, frozen as you take in the dark shadows of the trees. There could be any number of things in those woods, and you’re not dressed for any of the possible occasions. Then again, neither is he, and you don’t want to have come all this way only to turn back now. 

Apparently, your self-preservation is particularly lacking tonight. You keep following.

Astarion treks through the woods with velvet tread, slipping nimbly across the branches and roots. Your feet mirror his movements as best as you can, but it really is a marvel how he moves like that. When he comes to a sudden stop, you’re forced to shield yourself behind a tree and wait it out, praying you won’t lose him. 

For a moment, there’s only the faint howling of the wind and the rustling of leaves. Then, a sharp squeal. Your hands start trembling. Your mouth goes dry.

As you finally find it in yourself to look, it takes a moment to find Astarion among the shadows, the silver veil of moonlight that streams through the leaves. When you do, you just about bite off your tongue trying not to make a noise.

Below him is a dead boar, and - well, he’s drinking from it. Or, to be more specific, drinking its blood. 

Something in you gives way. Your ears ring, and your body shudders - a dark realization churning deep in your gut. Something else, too. A strange sort of heat, coursing through your veins. You have to lean against the tree just to avoid slumping to the ground. 

As soon as you’ve gained an ounce of sense again, you hide yourself completely, press your forehead against the dry, rough bark, and try to gather your thoughts. 

Astarion. A vampire. Well… it’s one thing. But he also happens to be the prince and heir to the throne, and that’s what’s making this realization so impactful. If people got word about this - if they found out what he really was - gods, there would be… riots. An amount of protest you can’t even fathom. No wonder Erelin’s been hiding him away. No wonder the wedding was full of pompous idiots - people who wouldn’t even consider putting two and two together. 

Really, when you think about it, this answers a lot of your questions: why he never eats with you, why he’s so cold to the touch all the time. Why his shirt collars are so high and stiff on his neck, and no mirrors ever seem to be in your room. Gods. You’re pathetic. All this time you’ve been thinking about him, studying him from the sidelines, so how could you have not connected it sooner? Gods.

Still… it’s insane. Absolutely insane. And there are several things which don’t add up, frankly. For one, he’s able to stand in the sunlight without burning up. You’ve seen that with your own eyes. If he’s really a vampire, then how does that work? 

But who knows - all those tales might be myths. After all, you’ve never actually met someone who could verify their truth. Maybe… maybe you’ve got it all wrong. Or, maybe, you’re simply dreaming.

You decide to chance another glance around the tree, but when the forest comes into focus, Astarion isn’t there. The only thing that remains is the sudden, bleeding silence, the boar’s corpse, and the moonlight. 

Well, shit.

As you stare at the empty space, wondering if he’d noticed you, a strange sensation trickles down your neck - one you can only just place the feeling of. 

You’re not alone. 

Without another thought, you take off running. The wind whips past your cheeks, as stinging as ice in the forest’s chill. Adrenaline floods through you, fiery and restless in your veins, dulling down the rest of the world. The outside world and the inside of you are brutal contrasts - fire and ice, melding into your skin. You’re just thinking you’ll make it out when something locks around you from behind, knocking you off balance. 

You hit the ground hard, tumbling against the dirt and dry roots, scraping your knees and drawing a vicious sting, and immediately push yourself back up. Something in your leg twinges, but it fades. Then, a pair of hands grab you, and despite the incredible show you make of punching, kicking, and squirming, Astarion has you pinned against a tree within moments, breathing heavily. 

“Enjoying the show, were you?” he asks.

You attempt to kick him again, and quickly find your leg pinned against the tree, too. “Settle down,” he instructs.

Once it’s clear that he has you completely trapped, you relent into his grasp and try to calm yourself. “You’re a vampire,” you say breathlessly.

“Guilty as charged,” he purrs. “Any other obvious statements to make, darling?”

You struggle to get away once again and he presses harder against you, his face inches from yours. “Careful,” he murmurs, leaning toward your ear. “I bite.”

You can smell the fragrance on him. Bergamot. Rosemary. You hate him. 

“Let me go,” you demand, struggling again in vain.

He tilts his head, studying your face in the darkness. “No, I don’t think I will,” he says. “I want to know what that pretty little head of yours is up to.”

You take in a deep breath, attempting to slow your thoughts into something coherent. “Does your mother know?”

He scoffs. “Of course she does. She’s the one keeping my… ‘condition’ hidden.”

“Who else?”

“Oh, her advisor. A few servants. The guards. Why?”

“But… you can walk in sunlight. How?”

“So funny you should ask,” he says. “You see, I went to bed one night, cozy as can be, and woke up the next day unable to move and in blinding pain. Turns out, my mother had some form of magical object placed in my head. But now, I can go in the sun, cross thresholds all I please, and break all sorts of other vampire rules. Convenient, isn’t it?”

You stare at him in horror. “I thought you said she would never hurt you.”

Something flickers across his face for a moment before he’s back to scowling. “Yes, well,” he says. “That depends on your definition of hurt, doesn’t it? To her, she’s doing me a favour. Making me… ‘normal’ again.”

Anger coils in your gut, hot and dark - but for the first time, it’s not directed at him. “And to you?”

“What I think doesn’t matter,” he says. “Not to her, and not to anyone else.”

“That’s not true,” you respond.

“Of course it is. All that matters is that she gets what she wants.”

Your jaw clenches. “I… I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you run from her, then? The guards don’t follow you around like they do with me.”

“Run?” he asks incredulously. “Gods. Didn’t you hear what I was telling you earlier? She can’t stand having something of hers taken away. And I, darling, just like you, happen to be on that list.” His weight on you loosens a little. “Besides. I’ve had quite enough of running for my tastes, thank you.”

So he has run. That must have been how he knew what you were thinking about. But if he’d run, and it wasn’t from his mother… “Then who did you run from?” you ask. “And - your mother clearly isn’t a vampire. Who turned you?”

His hold on you tightens almost imperceptibly. “That,” he says, “happens to be none of your business.”

He finally releases you, analyzing you for a moment as he steps back. His exhale comes out in a sharp rush of air. “You should go back to the room,” he says. “I wouldn’t run if I were you, but… you already know that, don’t you?”

There’s a long beat as you try to decide how to answer him. 

All thoughts of running have faded to the back of your mind. You’re intrigued, horrified, and who knows what else, and with the way your mind is spinning, you barely know how to speak, much less pick yourself up and make a break for it.

“Alright,” you finally reply. You hesitate for a moment, turning to look back at him, and he doesn’t meet your eyes. “Astarion…”

“Yes?” 

“I… I’m sorry for what happened to you. Really, I am.”

He doesn’t react, even though you’re watching for it like a hawk. “The way you’re shivering, you’re going to catch something, you know,” he replies. “I’d rather not have to explain to my mother why you died of hypothermia.”

He’s right. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, you’re shaking like a leaf. And… you have no idea what else to say. Without another word, you trek back to your room as if in a trance, and find yourself asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Astarion is absent the next morning when you wake, but you find him on your usual visit to the clearing, basking in the sun. His head is tilted back, his eyes are closed, and he looks, frankly, like a sleeping cat sunbathing under a patch of sunlight.

How long had he gone without feeling the sun on his skin? You can’t even imagine it. It sounds completely miserable. No promises of life-long youth or power could ever get you to sign that away - though, for some reason, you get the feeling he hadn’t had much of a choice.

“Nice place, isn’t it?” you ask, taking a seat a few feet away from him.

With a sigh, he opens his eyes and straightens up, propping his arms over his knees. “You know, my sweet, following people around is typically considered to be rude.”

“You’re in my spot, actually,” you inform him. “Ask the guards. I come here all the time.”

“Is that so?” he asks. “In that case, deepest apologies. I’ll only intrude a little longer.” 

He goes back to sunbathing, and the two of you sit in silence for a while. You take to your usual habit of dipping your feet in the stream, running your hands over the soft ferns nearby. When you glance back at Astarion, you find him watching you.

“I wondered what the hells you were doing in the gardens that night,” he muses. “Fond of nature?”

You give a light shrug. “I’m fond of anything that gets me away from that castle. I couldn’t sleep that night.” You hesitate for a moment, hands going still among the ferns. “As for here, well… it’s the same thing. I can’t stand being cooped up in there, so I come out here and sit.”

“And what a charming little spot you’ve found,” Astarion replies. “I suppose I’ll have to be faster next time around.”

You shrug. “I might consider sharing it if you behave, you know.”

He quirks a brow. “Oh? And what does this ‘behaving’ involve, exactly?”

You lean forward, gesturing loosely. “Not being a… how should I put this. Devious bastard?”

He smiles, flashing a hint of his fangs. “Darling, that happens to be my best feature.”

Have you never seen his fangs before, or had he never smiled with his teeth? You can’t quite recall, but it must be the latter. 

You huff in response, skimming your fingers along the surface of the stream. You doubt he really cares about this place, but he had looked very comfortable sunbathing. Is it something he does often? If you were in his position, you’d be in the light as much as you could.

“The first time you went in the sun again - was it strange?” you ask him. “I… can’t imagine what it must be like. Only knowing darkness.”

He tilts his head, mulling over the thought for a moment. “Well. I was rather afraid I’d be burned into a crisp at the start, but - once that’d passed, it was…” He pauses, measuring his words, and his expression softens, as if he’s reliving the feeling of it now. “It was nice. I hadn’t felt warmth on my skin in years... I could scarcely believe it. Sometimes, I still think I’m going to be burned alive.”

Something deep in your chest aches for him, locked in the dark for who knows how long. Had his mother forced him out into the sun? Had they even known if the object in his brain would actually protect him?

“Can I ask you something else?”

He gives you an amused look. “You already have, but do carry on.”

You go back to running your hands through the ferns, gently tugging the plants against your fingers. “Do you ever wish they hadn’t put that thing in your head?”

His brows rise, and that softness briefly runs over his features again. A flash of genuinity. “I…” He shakes his head. “You’re a nosy little thing, aren’t you? No. Of course I don’t. Being in the dark, having to be invited in… it was miserable. I’ve never felt better. Naturally, I wish they’d asked first.”

“Then why didn’t they? It benefits you more than them, doesn’t it?”

He fixes you with a pointed look. “Asking is not something my mother is used to.”

Before you can formulate a response, Astarion sighs, getting to his feet and dusting away stray flecks of grass and dirt on his trousers. “On that note, I suppose I’ll see you later. I’m sure they’ll be driving us into town and parading us around again.”

“Wonderful,” you reply dully. “I can’t wait.”

He smiles again. “My dear, neither can I.”

It’s only a few days later that the two of you wind up in the carriage ‘home’ again, waiting out the long journey back. Once again, you have no entertainment for yourself, but your thoughts occupy you. Astarion naps and reads, mostly.

Until the carriage comes to a sudden stop, much too early. He opens his eyes and sits up, looking out the window with sudden interest.

“Is it too much to hope that we’re already there?” you ask.

“No, we can’t be there yet. Something’s happening,” he replies. He leans closer to the glass to see, and clicks his tongue. “Well, my sweet - looks like we’re taking a detour.”

“A detour?” you echo. The view outside your window shows absolutely nothing, and you’re itching to know what’s happening. You prop yourself up to your feet, hunched over in the tiny box, and just as you lean over him, the carriage suddenly jolts - sending you tumbling straight down into Astarion’s lap.

Then, the horses start running like the gods themselves are chasing them, and everything turns into a state of sheer chaos. You’re trying to push yourself off of him, he isn’t helping you at all, and every sharp curve of the road sends you straight back where you started. 

“You know, darling, if you wanted to sit in my lap, you could have just asked,” Astarion tells you. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you tell him, grimacing with effort as you try to push off of him again. “Astarion, will you help me?” 

His hands finally grip your waist, and you can feel their chill even through the fabric of your clothes. Then, as you leverage your arm on the side of the carriage to push away from him, he lifts you off - neatly placing you on the seat. Only, the carriage tilts again, and this time you find yourself smushed into his shoulder.

Astarion curses under his breath, bracing against the carriage wall. “Really, you’d think they were trying to kill us!”

You shut your eyes, letting out a huff. “How do we know they aren’t?”

“Because if they do, my mother will most certainly kill them.”

The wheels are rattling now, bouncing along what must be cobblestone. Acid churns in your stomach, threatening to make an appearance - but, if you are determined of one thing, you will not throw up on Astarion.

“What if we got kidnapped?” you ask, swallowing hard. “What if the guards are dead?”

“Trust me,” Astarion says. “I would have smelled their blood.”

It isn’t very reassuring, but it’s something. 

It seems like hours that this goes on, but it can’t be more than a few minutes before the carriage finally slows and rolls to a stop. You fling the door open and stumble out, gasping in fresh air and trying to settle your stomach.

“Apologies for the, er, rough ride. We had a change of plans,” the guard says. “Urgent orders from the queen. We’re to keep you here until further notice.”

You only see where here is when you straighten up, looking around. This place could not be more of the opposite from where the two of you had just come from - no trees, no greenery. It’s a small stone building in the middle of a deserted alleyway. You’re somewhere in the city.

“Did she happen to say why?” Astarion asks.

The guard shrugs. “Confidential information, I’m afraid.”

He throws his hands up in frustration. “Of course. What else did I expect?”

With a sweep of the guard’s arm, the two of you are ushered inside. And so begins the worst part of your honeymoon. 

For the next several days, the two of you are locked inside with the guards. The building is hot and stuffy, and there’s no reprieve in any of the rooms. You’re not allowed to leave, not even momentarily, and there is nothing to do.

Most times, you find yourself pacing around, wanting to rip your hair out in frustration. Astarion seems to feel the same, although he keeps his distance from you. The loneliness only makes the suffocation worse.

At night, you toss and turn, aching for any amount of freedom. It’s bordering on unbearable. If the guards weren’t on such high alert, you’d make a break for it, but there’s no doubt you’d end up skewered rather than free. The only good thing about being here is that you end up adding two things to your little bag of stolen objects: another knife (a good sharp one, this time), and a small flask of whiskey for the unbearable moments.

The food they serve is bland and stale, but you’re at least being fed. Astarion, as you come to realize, is not so lucky. There’s not a living creature to be found in this place that he could feed on. Even the rats stay away. 

You only notice it a few days in - the restlessness in him, the way he can’t seem to stand being around you. The dark circles under his eyes, and his unusually quick temper. He’s starving. And, if the guards have noticed, they’ve done nothing.

Had Erelin even thought of how this would affect her son? Does she even care? What kind of a mother is she, leaving him like this, keeping him like a prisoner? The thought of her lounging around in silk robes, any food she wants at the tip of her fingers, is enough to have you scathing. 

Well, if she won’t do anything, you will. You just have to figure out how, considering that Astarion avoids you like the plague as of late. In the meantime, you’ll think of what to say.

For the next few days, you two dance around each other. You don’t want to overstep or press his boundaries, but he seamlessly spends as much time away from you as he possibly can. He even sleeps in a different room. When he is with you, it’s in front of the guards - which is most certainly not how you’d like the conversation to go. So you wait.

Until, one night, in one of the empty bedrooms, you finally manage to corner him. Or, at least, you enter it without him immediately leaving. It’s progress, at least. You shut the door behind you and try to ease the shaking of your hands.

You’d had a whole spiel planned out about how he shouldn’t be treated like this, how you would like to give his mother a piece of your mind, about how you’re happy to give him some of your blood, but the sight of him wipes it clear from your mind. What instead comes out is this: 

“Astarion, I… um. Are you hungry?” 

As soon as the words are out, you find yourself cringing. Gods, of course he’s hungry. That’s why you’re here!

Astarion turns to look at you, wearing an expression that’s incredibly unimpressed. “Why?” he asks sharply. “Planning to bake me a treat?”

You fold your arms over your chest, fighting the urge to sigh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Astarion, but I do happen to have blood.”

For a moment, he actually looks… stunned. His brows raise, and his expression softens up as he stares at you, as if he’s somehow imagined the words. “Hm? I - of course I know that.” He scowls at you, then, after a moment of hesitation, softens again. “It’s just that… well, people aren’t usually keen on me taking that blood.”

“You could have asked me,” you point out. “We are married.”

Astarion tilts his head. “Darling, I honestly didn’t think you’d agree,” he says, taking a step toward you. His gaze is inquisitive, intrigued, and most of all, slowly growing dark with hunger. “Need I remind you - you did run from me in the forest.”

Your cheeks burn, but you manage to spit out the words. “I ran because you caught me spying on you, Astarion, not because you’re a vampire.”

He tilts his head, suddenly looking incredibly smug. “Oh, so you admit it? That you were spying on me?”

Gods, this is not going well.

You bury your face in your hands for a moment and take in a deep breath, collecting yourself. “Alright. Yes, I was spying on you. I woke up when you were leaving one night, and I was curious. Are you satisfied?”

“I think I am,” Astarion answers, smirking as he looks at you - the cat who ate the canary. “You were saying?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “I was saying that - that I have blood, and… gods, Astarion! You know what I was saying.”

“I do,” he replies, stepping closer again. Close enough to wonder if he can hear your heart racing. “Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you,” he continues, his eyes lingering on your neck before moving up to your face. “Volunteering like this. But if you’re sure…?”

Despite the slight shiver that runs through you, you keep his gaze. “I’m sure.” It’s all you’ve thought about for the last few days, after all. You’d much rather go through a short little bite than watch him suffer any longer.

“Well then,” he murmurs, and his tone has turned smoother, deeper. Almost… sensual, you realize, suddenly feeling like you might melt away into nothingness. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

He motions to the bed in the corner, and you slink over to it like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. You really, really shouldn’t be affected by this. By him. Usually, this sort of thing wouldn’t work at all with you. For some reason, he’s different.

Or, just very, very good at it.

The bed is soft when you stretch out on it, trying your best to relax as the silky sheets slide against your fingers. Astarion sits next to you, leaning onto his side and propping himself over you.

Your heart starts pounding even harder.

“Don’t worry,” he says in that same sultry tone, skimming his knuckles over your jaw. “I’ll be gentle.”

As if that’s supposed to help you relax.

He leans in, and you barely have time to register the ghost of his breath against your skin before his fangs sink into your neck.

The pain is sharp, stinging, and cold - spreading through your skin like a shard of ice. It fades away after a moment, leaving nothing but the slight pull of your blood leaving your body, and - more noticeably - the feeling of Astarion over you. However intimate you’d imagined this would be, it’s a hundred times more. Every little sensation is intensified to the point that you can barely breathe.

He’s all you can think of. You’re acutely aware of the hand that lightly grips your shoulder, then slowly slides up to support the back of your head. The smell of him is everywhere now, heady and enticing as he leans further into you. And… there’s the knowledge that the taste of you is on his tongue.

Gods, you almost don’t want it to stop.

Almost.

Because beyond everything else, there’s a growing numbness that frightens you. A… coldness. Like something in you is slowly being stolen away. You’re just about to ask him to stop when a loud metallic crashing rings out just outside of the closed door and sends you flinching into his teeth. Astarion comes back to himself and gently pulls away, breathing heavily.

Slowly, he sits up. For a moment, there’s only silence, and you’re worried that - well… You’re worried about a thousand things. That something had gone wrong. That it hadn’t been enough. Or, maybe, that something is so very wrong with you that it’s seeped deep into your blood and tainted the taste. 

When you push yourself upright, a faint wave of dizziness washes over you, blurring your vision over as your head swims. The sensation passes quickly, leaving behind only a slight throbbing in your skull. You’ve felt much worse in your life. 

“Are you alright?” you ask Astarion, your gaze sweeping over him as if it might help you read his thoughts.

“Alright?” he repeats breathlessly. He swipes his thumb over the corner of his lip, letting out a light, airy laugh. “I - I’m more than alright. That was… amazing. I feel strong. Happy.” He pauses a moment, catching his breath. “Gods, I… I don’t know the last time I felt like this.”

His cheeks have the faintest bit of flush when he comes out of his euphoria, finally seeming to actually see you. You like that flush, but not as much as you like the way he’s looking at you. He regards you in a way you haven’t seen before - almost admirable, if you didn’t know better.

His head tilts, and he leans back, resting a hand on the bed to support him. “I have to admit… you’re full of surprises.”

For some reason, your cheeks turn as hot as the hells. Was this room always this stuffy? You can’t even remember. All you can recall is Astarion’s cool, soothing touch against your skin. Fingers skimming over your jaw. His teeth in your neck. 

Gods, you’re done for.

“Am I?” you manage to ask. “Good ones, I hope.”

“That,” he says teasingly, “remains to be seen.” He glances at the door, frowning, then slowly gets to his feet. “Well. I’d better go see what that noise was. We wouldn’t want our guards in danger, after all.” He hesitates for a moment, his back facing you, and when he speaks again, his tone is soft. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

And with that, he leaves the room.

It’s only about ten minutes later that you’re finally able to move.

tags: @awesomebabyyoda

[dairy-farmer]

I love love LOVE the idea of Tim being on the other side of an affair! And not the mushy "but then they fall in love with Tim and leave their wife for him" stuff (which is good in its own ways ofc!), I'm talking about unapologetic slutty homewrecker Tim

He fucks these men bc he wants to, he's completely independent otherwise. He doesn't need these men for anything other than good dick, and he can find that anywhere. He gets a thrill out of making married men cheat, what can he say?

But my favorite idea with this, is Tim starting out these affairs when he's still way too young. Like his first successful affair isn't even a cape, it's one of his tutors when he's 13. They only do it the once, but Tim loved it! He would seek out more opportunities, but then he becomes Robin a few weeks later and his priorities shift

So when he's 14 and alone with Superman and somehow finds himself on his knees sucking down a huge cock? He takes the chance where he can. It ends up becoming a regular thing despite Clark's guilt over cheating on Lois, and it gets worse when Tim gets pregnant at 17, in the aftermath of him and Clark fucking for the first time since Tim saved Bruce from the time stream

Clark is conflicted on what to do but Tim is like "whatever, nbd. I've always wanted kids one day anyways, even if this is a little early. Honestly I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner with the way I sleep around" and then Tim realizes why Clark is upset and adds "oh, no one will know the baby is yours, ofc. It isn't any of their business, anyways. And you don't have to take any responsibility, tho it would be nice if you visited on occasion. But I get that Jon and Lois are your priorities and stuff"

So Tim goes through with the pregnancy, as a darling baby boy that he kicks ass at raising as a single mom, and everything is just fine (except maybe Clark's paranoia at being found out). Tim finds out he's pregnant again about a year later tho and he's just as fine with it as he was the first time, and reassures Clark that he knows the baby is someone else's in the JL. By the time Tim is 25 he has five kids, all of them clearly having different fathers (and if you look closely, you could definitely figure out who fathered who. Clark for his first baby, Barry for his second, Oliver for his third, Arthur for his fourth, Wally for his fifth, and a recently married Bruce is responsible for Tim's belly filling out once again with baby number six). The only thing they all have in common is that all of his baby daddies (aside from being JL members) are happily married husbands

Tim never thought he would let it get to the point where he was having these affair babies, and so many to boot, but honestly? It makes him feel sexy, desired, and powerful. After all, it's not everyday you have blackmail over some of the strongest members of the JL

its universally acknowledged that all the bats are a little screwy, they all have a little something something wrong with them. for tim his thing is homewrecking, there's just something about married men that draws him in so much closer than anything else. but not just any men, its the weak ones. some part of tim revels in sniffing them out like a shark, that no matter their words, no matter how much they posture, or how they hold themselves- tim knows that at the slightest opportunity they'd risk losing everything just to fuck him.

so tim's just a little disappointed to find so many capes fit that criteria, just a little bit though. tim only wants their dicks not to lecture them. plus once his short affair with the tutor his boarding school hired, tim had been looking for someone else. someone older, closer, someone who could really fuck tim, not the quiet quickies he'd been having up til then.

and so clark comes to him! bruce is in space and he and clark apparently had some agreement where he'd fly by the manor to check on jason and dick, make sure they weren't in any trouble. only tim doesn't live at the manor and suddenly clark is standing in tim's room, unsupervised and alone with tim who had just been under the sheets and playing with his little cunt. tim barely has to even try. he's horny and desperate and clark is there and big and his hands are so large they drawf tim's head and force him close as he swallows his cock into his wet, tiny mouth. he begs clark to fuck him. and he does, tim's pajama covered bottoms hang around his ankles as clark kneels and wetly sinks into tim's pink baby cunt with a thick wet sound while tim is laid on his bed and whining. clark's cock is so big that he's only able to get half his cock into him, the rest is stuck outside getting steadily dripped on by tim's wetness. clark's cum is hotter than a normal human's and so liquidy it drips down like a broken faucet out of tim's cunt.

for the rest of the time bruce is gone clark returns to swing by, marveling over tim's body an stroking his sides as he rides him, the stretch having been made easier with the help of the lube tim found in his dad's bedside drawer.

clark is tim's longest lasting affair, and while he'd never admit it to bruce, his favorite. after all you can't carry on an affair for years and not grow at least a little fond of someone. its why tim is a little excited when he does get pregnant. he'd been thinking of settling down and retiring for awhile. damian was now robin, bruce was doing better mentally than he ever had before, the rest of the family was mostly at peace and talking rather than estranged. it's perfect for him to retire.

so when he finds out he's pregnant, he does.

tim doesn't actually tell clark he's pregnant, he doesn't see the point, he and clark see each other sporadically so tim could just tell him the next time clark swung by to fuck him, maybe tim would already have the baby by then and they could work on baby #2.

bruce tells clark, lamenting to him about tim retiring due to pregnancy and not seeing how clark goes ghost white.

tim assures clark he wasn't going to tell anyone, that he had no obligation to tim, that this was TIM'S baby and he'd handle everything about it and it was alright that tim wouldn't tell anyone clark was the daddy.

and tim doesn't.

he keeps his promise.

but the baby thing does scare clark away for a little, he comes back eventually but not until tim has already started fucking barry. oh barry, he's so kind and thoughtful. he hears about tim's "unfortunate" teen pregnancy (at least that's what the other heroes were calling it) and takes it upon himself to gift tim supplies and a crib that once belonged to his own children and was so expensive it was a shame to leave it rotting in the attic. tim is visibly pregnant and living alone in his apartment because bruce had not been too happy about tim's pregnancy. and barry is welcome company who chats and asks tim questions about his baby plans while building the crib even though tim knows that with his superspeed he could have it done in under a minute and cut the visit short. but he doesn't and tim appreciates the company while talking about his birthing classes.

barry really is a swell guy even if he accepts the advances of a pregnant teen that he has on his back and fucks on the floor of a baby's future nursery. barry is very into fucking tim, tim suspects a kink but he's not sure which one. tim was already pregnant so there wasn't much use in condoms which barry was particularly happy about as he buried his cock heatedly into tim's reddened cunt.

clark comes back eventually. a few months after tim gives birth to his baby he brings enough diapers to last tim months and fucks him while tim's baby naps in the other room. when tim gets pregnant again tim makes sure to tell him before anyone else does and also assures him that he's not the father which clark just blinks at and it occurs to tim that he probably hadn't realized tim had been fucking other people aside from him. tim doesn't say who (no need to open a can of worms with the information) but does admit they are also in the JL.

tim's affair with oliver is a natural progression as a result of his affair with barry. of course barry confides to olly. they run in the same circles, are "bros" to an extent, and when barry comes to him freaking out about having gotten tim pregnant well of course oliver gets interested. he's curious, wants to feel out the extent of the affair, maybe softly interrogate tim. tim is certain green arrow came to his door fully intending on doing something about barry's affair, instead the only thing he ends up doing is tim.

pregnancy makes tim horny, almost as horny as married men do and so tim getting bent over his washing machine and thoroughly fucked was the natural result.

oliver swings by to see him every time he's in gotham, he swings by even more frequently after tim gives birth to a sweet little girl with a head of blonde curls that he gets weepy over.

aquaman hears about his fellow married leaguers all having affairs from their drunken rambles. the husbands in the league have a bit of a boys club, something that initially started out as a way to bully bruce since he was the only unmarried man. he hears about their shame, but also how they can't help going back, how they secretly check on their kids, and how they're happy that tim's such a loving and wonderful mother, how tim has the best cunt any of them have ever fucked. arthur starts it out of curiosity. he loves his wife, he does. but...arthur has gotten a bit of a reputation among the husbands as a bit of a bore, not really someone who would take risks, who would do something as aghast as having an affair. tim seems like the best option, he's clearly discrete, is very capable of managing league personalities, does well in bed. its a no brainer. arthur is only planning to do it once, just so he can have the badge of honor of having successfully had an affair. but then he finds himself returning. finds himself...attracted. timothy is good company, he's humorous, he's curious, he listens to arthur's laments, he's wonderful company in more ways than one. arthur finds the little mother of three very attractive and before long he's the reason he's become a mother of four. arthur is the only one of tim's affairs that tries making it more, offering to bring tim and his children to atlantis, offering them a safe haven to learn and grow, to support tim and even legitimize their child. mera may be upset with him (very upset) but arthur was still ultimately king.

tim rejects it. insists to arthur he's fine, that he wants to raise his babies on his own terms and that tim wasn't looking for commitment.

besides if arthur's affair came out, if the fact that he sired a child outside his marriage came out- surely that would incense some people, shake atlantean's view of him?

arthur hesitates but its enough and tim tells him to drop it. that tim will send him pictures of their child through email occasionally if he wants, its what he does with the others afterall.

bruce is the last of them. he was also the last to get married but still. the ink is barely dried on the marriage certificate when a tipsy bruce fucks tim in the bathroom, right next to the baby changing station. tim's dress is hastily shoved up, the top pushed down to expose his milky tits from nursing arthur's baby. bruce's voice is deepened to a near growl and he whispers about how he's needed tim for so long, that this was his last chance to ever fuck him before being tied down forever. bruce's cock is almost dripping with need, the tip messy with precum as he presses into tim's warm cunt with ease, a benefit to having four babies.

bruce fucks tim so hard he nearly leaves a permanent imprint on the tile as he hoists tim's legs up to wrap around his waist.

it's a good wedding night. for tim at least.

the next morning bruce is at his door with an apology, an excuse with his drunkenness. but it doesn't last because it ends with bruce and tim on the couch, bruce buried inside tim again.

bruce is the most possesive of tim's affairs. tim's not sure when he starts looking into it but shortly after starting his affair with tim bruce threatens the others away from him, somehow it got into his mind that he wanted to be the only one fucking tim. but a quick threat to out him to selina and all of a sudden bruce is okay with sharing.

which was the point, it was the reason tim was able to peacefully enjoy his many affairs. there was a built in backup plan. if they ever tried to do something he didn't like, ever tried anything- it would be over for them. people could forgive affairs but affairs with a much younger person, someone he mentored, someone that was more of an honorary nephew, someone they'd gotten pregnant, someone they'd been seeing for years? there was only one natural result to all their marriages if they found out and tim knew they knew it, knew they loved their wives too much too lose them, but they were also unwilling to lose tim.

it was perfect. tim had everything he wanted and things were just as they should be.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

CW: LONG

World building question::: since Theseus did die and the minotaur escaped, how did that affect history and myths? Like a great demigod has been slain by a monster and a priestess not only led him out of his captivity BUT MARRIED(?) HIM!

Did the great writers write myths about them? The witch and the monster or because they were never cursed by the gods maybe it's written in a beauty and the beast style, like the priestess and the wild man? Or, desperate to hide the fact their great hero failed and the supposed monster was actually just a very large man abandoned by his family, the great writers lied about Theseus' victory over the minotaur, and Ariadne!reader + Minotaur!Konïg are just known as this really odd couple.

Speaking of which, besides being seen as very odd because of their love for each other, how else are they treated? Is reader still given the same respect as a priestess? What does she do while Konïg is gone? Does she deal with any harassment? What about Konïg? We know he sails but does he become a hero or legend? Does the crew he sails with know he's the minotaur? Or do they just regard him as this unsocialized large man and that's it?

Ahhh so many possibilities!!!! Sorry this is so long I just love these twoooo ugh :(((

Heyy! These questions are so super cute!! 💕

Knowing how crazy and unfair these myths usually are, I’d bet the tales would paint the priestess as the villain of the story, even worse than Pasiphae or even the bull himself. She not only unleashed the Minotaur but also allowed him to hit so that's like super naughty of her! :((

Also no storyteller was there to see their love or how they lived after they left Crete so these two were written down as deformed monsters who killed the king, wrecked the island of Crete, fornicated in the wilderness and probably ate children along the way. If they ever heard any of these stories during their lifetime, they must’ve laughed!

--besides being seen as very odd because of their love for each other, how else are they treated? Is reader still given the same respect as a priestess? What does she do while Konïg is gone? Does she deal with any harassment?

Reader becomes a weaver and a healer beyond the sea. She’s no longer an “official” initiate but knows that Hecate is still with her (because that's how it is when a powerful goddess claims you as her own!)

She uses her skills and knowledge for healing which makes her a respected member in their new community. Because of the influence of her dark goddess she’s a bit of a loner still, and does not easily make friends. But now that she can dabble in the so called “worldly affairs”, she wants to help others if she can, and by saving lives she gains a widely honored reputation.

If anyone harasses her while König is away–which would be rare because anyone can see her husband is a beast—she might show a darker side of herself and the goddess at her back. People will rather leave her alone than test the power of the foreign woman’s curse, and besides, most men respect her out of fear. Which of course makes König smile with pride :)

What about Konïg? We know he sails but does he become a hero or legend? Does the crew he sails with know he's the minotaur? Or do they just regard him as this unsocialized large man and that's it?

No one knows about König's past and he likes to keep it that way. If he could decide he’d rather not be perceived at all, any kind of reputation just inherently feels wrong to him. He especially doesn’t want to be thought as the true heir to any throne: king is a synonym for tyrant in his mind so he doesn’t want to have anything to do with his royal past.

König never becomes much of a legend except in his home town and with his crew, and even then he’s mostly celebrated as the big buff guy who doesn’t talk much but who always keeps his word and fucks and fights like it’s his last day on this earth. For König, it’s enough that his wife is pleased with him and that people who know him think he’s a good man. He’s very happy with this kind of legacy!

This couple wants to be left out of the history books altogether, they want to live a happy, peaceful life that's uneventful and lovely in it's simple beauty. No one remembers who they were after a few centuries have passed, and they wouldn't have it any other way. ❤️❤️❤️