#SO IT STILL MADE SENSE TO ME BUT IT WAS SO MUCH MORE VIOLENT THAN THE ACTUAL SIGN AJSKSKSK

[whumpshaped]

smth ive been thinking of.. do other countries also do the person shaped signs on the side of the road where accidents have happened that say "they also had someone waiting for them at home" (hungarian has one third person pronoun its gender neutral)

is this just us. im sure it isnt. it must be like a european thing? or is it also in america

edit: actually lemme do a poll why not. i love polls

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do 2. ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!daemon’s daughter reader

⋆˚࿔ read part 1 here ˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

summary: blood and cheese, where daemon [the best dad (satire)] also orders for his daughter smuggled back to him, violent aftermath

an: there is no brothel Aemond subplot involved

word count: 5.2k

warnings: blood and cheese, canon violence, violence, daddy issues being mocked, arguments, once again blood and cheese

The war was afoot, degeneracies increasing, treacherous plans and endless councils. Amidst all of that y/n still found time to pay Haelena a visit as frequently as she could. Both of them had found impeccable friends in each other and the twins were always a delight. Striding through the halls of red keep, prodding her head inside with a soft knock on the queen's doors which were wide open as it is, "look!" y/n entered with a wide smile on her face. Twirling around she showed Haelena the dress she wore, it was a dress Haelena had embroidered for her with special spiders and other custom animals. Haelena had remarked on y/n's elegantly plain dresses, the edges could all use embroidery and y/n was more than glad to let Haelena design on her dress. "You made it so much better, the small bugs in blue thread it’s so beautifully assembled-" before she could comment more on the beauty of her queen sister's embroidery she was there to showcase, y/n was under attack of her niece and nephew, "why good morrow to you two!" she giggled as the two tugged at her dress for consecutive raise-me-ups. 

"I am very glad!" Haelena said offering her a smile as she scanned those designs, Haelena was warmly elated that y/n chose to wore the dress she had embroidered and the fact that she let her do it in the first place.

"You must teach me your ways" y/n commented whilst actively engaging with jaehaerys and jaehaera, she couldn't carry both the babies at the same time but she was trying to entertain them regardless, the two were latched to their auntie's knees like monkeys.

"I could always make you more, save you the time!" Haelena offered instead, she tried to distract whichever one of the children with a toy but both were way too smitten with their ever so busy aunt, now that she had the council she spent supposedly lesser time with the twins.

"That too would be so convenient!" Y/n said, Jaehaera was raised on her back, making mischief with her aunt as she tried to close her eyes with her tiny hands from behind. Both the twins laughing as she did so, regardless y/n laughed along trying to maintain her balance the best.

"That is enough..." Haelena trailed off in amusement as she helped Jaehaera off of y/n's back. The babe did not let go before whining about it, jaehaerys still tugging at his aunt's dress to get her to bend down so he could talk.

"It's alright" let out a small chuckle y/n's attention was caught down to the little heir pulling at her dress, for her to bend to his level. "Yes little prince?" She asked, attentive to her nephew's whims and demands.

"You said you were going to read to me" Jaeherys reminded her in a rather witty sense, having a sense of one upping her since she forgot about it.

"Oh did I now?" She paused for a second trying to remember when exactly was the reading session arranged for.

"Yes! The-the one with the fox and the-crows...where you do the voice!" The little prince was soon to remind her of which exact story they had left off from. He liked it better when his auntie read it to him than the wet nurses or his mum because she often did those giddy voices and the stories she read in were more entertaining than the ones with septa.

"Gods I must have forgotten" she said in a somewhat melodramatic tone to make the child think she took their reading session as a serious matter, "I have got some work on my hands at the moment but I assure you I will come continue the story-"

"When!" Jaeherys whined with a sort of tired expression given the delay in his story.

"Tonight." She answered genuinely, "Right after dinner!"

"Do you promise?" He asked wanting to take her aunty's word for proper surety.

"I promise." She said holding his tiny hands in hers giving them a gentle squeeze to assure him of her promise. Kissing both her niece and nephew on the forehead as she stood up, in attempt to take her peace Haelena stopped her.

"Are you not afraid?" Asked her sister in law with a tense look on her face, like those times when she would be out of it. As if she spoke another language and saw other things. "When the stones call you back?"

"What...what stones?" She asked, at first y/n thought Haelena was referring to some palace. Could this be in correlation to something with the council, is what y/n presumed.

"The stones. They will call you back!" Haelena gripped her elbows tighter, to emphasise the gravity of the situation she felt. "They'll take you away!"

"Nobody is taking anyone away..." y/n trailed off, shaking her head slightly as she ran her hand down Haelena's in a soothing way. "We are all safe here and there is nothing to be scared of. I promise you. I am not going anywhere." She assured her. Y/n assumed that it would worry Haelena to lose the best friend she had in herself if she were to go back because of the war waging. In her father's name perhaps, her worry was not unsolicited but y/n was sure her father's was a house not hers that is even before her marriage with Aemond.

Haelena could never seem to get her point across for some reason, she couldn't digest her wearies in a coherent way herself so she nodded with a small smile. The restlessness still consistent within her as y/n took her leave. Ever since the intimate moment with Aemond, their relationship had grown rather awkward. Aemond was closed off as always, unable to convey his infatuation. Awkward in this area, the young lovers found it difficult to navigate through a conversation. Bristling fingers through glasses, stealing glances, speaking out their love in small gestures.

That did not account for the fact that the council matters too seeped into the newlywed's marital bliss phase. Aemond too had a seat now, on the king's word. He would attend those meetings and at times the two would have drastically counter opinions. His lady wife, she would sit in the same line of seats after the hand and his mother. Speaking their minds against him, just as they had intended for her. A council within the council. "All you do is account for grand sire and mother, no such thoughts of your own. A mere puppet." Aemond scoffed as they were currently in a conversation in their chambers reflecting to that day's council meeting.

The day was at its end and as was y/n, end of her wits. His bickering was just what she needed, "And you?" she said in a tone more accusatory than his, rightfully so "all you add to the discussions is the warpath Ser Criston weaves."

"I stand for it, you just chew out what the council within the council spews" he scoffed, coming out harsher than intended but now this had become usual."I know you informed the hand of my meetings with Cole."

"Didn't do it as a snitch, had you asked me I would have told you I informed the hand." Y/n said trying to counter his condescending remarks. She wasn't a 'puppet' how he implied "Just because I do not agree with you doesn't make me a puppet to those with better judgment than yours."

"Better judgment than mine?" He let out a low huff finding it absurd that she believed Otto and his mother had a better judgment over the war than his, "you think writing to other castles, pleading, awaiting their help whilst we have three large dragons is a better judgement?"

"And what? What do you plan to do with the dragons? Burn all those against us?" She asked him growing agitated having this conversation again, "You are in favour of a lot of unnecessary bloodshed-"

"It is necessary. To make an example, to lay out a path." Aemond interrupted her, taking in a small breath "Raise your banners or watch them burn. This is what the blacks are already set to implement whilst we sit hand on hand sending out messengers!"

"You want to create a sense of fright! That is all you will accomplish with burning houses." She said in an assertive tone as she crossed her arms. This is what Ser Criston had told him too, the words struck him a small remembrance.

"Are you eavesdropping my meetings with Cole?" He questioned, as the reference resembled similar words to Cole's. Cole didn't exactly have the same notion as his wife but the words were vaguely same.

"You sit right across this room" she gestured to the adjoining room after their bedchamber. The small opening after their room led to the table against the wall where Cole and Aemond had their meetings, "The meetings you have after you assume I'm asleep, as it is too loud enough for me to not eavesdrop or be able to sleep."

"Of course" he couldn't help but roll his eyes, "You must have told the hand about it word for word yes? Like a parrot"

"Don't think of yourself too highly, your conversations are rather predictable even to those who aren't present" she replied. He wasn't wrong that she informed the hand about it but she took accountability for that.

"At least my conversations hold a spine" in two strides he reached the table she was leaning on to pour himself a glass of wine, "Unlike yours, but well that is what was intended for you" he shrugged.

For a moment, y/n sighed shutting her eyes "What are you implying?" She asked trying to maintain a calm composure because she was aware he would have words that would make antagonise her.

"You know, why you are in the council in the first place" he said in casual harshness. "Otto needed someone to voice his opinions like the righteous little lady that you are."

"I am on the council because of the seat I have inherited through my father." Y/n referred to the original conversation for her being on the council, he wasn't even part of that decision yet acted like he knew better than anyone. Smugly sipping his wine as he set his cup aside, the inherent smirk on his face irritated her to no end.

"You are claiming the father's seat who didn't even want to claim you?" He scoffed, Aemond could attest for the fact that he did not hate her in full surety. Rather fond of her too, but he was fond of his lady wife. The soft lover he did not knew he needed, big eyes that held love for everything they were laid upon. Tenderness and warmth seeping out the cracks of her which would mend the hollow cracks in him but it was the council member in her, otto's silent weapon which he could not stand.

In the process of wanting to get back at righteous council member he couldn't stand he truly hurt the daughter that begged for her world to sun, tears brimmed her eyes and she could not help it. She struck him across the face, the nerve of him. Shattered the home she thought she might finally have. He simply flinched at her action, his eyes widened a bit not at her gesture but at her tears. Registering her tears before the slap she landed her, at loss of words. "Leave." She spoke with a shuddered breath, couldn't even meet his eyes. Feeling stripped of the hope and pride she spent days building. Y/n had never raised a hand to anyone, that didn’t exactly harm Aemond in any way still the gesture in itself made her feel ugly after a moment’s silence marinated the interaction.

Without saying a word Aemond did leave, he didn't want to retaliate with her in any way. Because in that very moment both of them took a misstep and he did not want that moment to last longer. In a few strides he was out of their chambers. Y/n gripped the table to steady herself as the tears streamed down her face, a restlessness made home within her chest as she took heavy breaths.

The weight of all her despair was so heavy, at times she would just shut them in case and shove them deep inside her heart and inside her mind so she wouldn't have to face them in retrospect. It all just felt so inescapable, how she begged to be her father's daughter and how she was rejected the whole time. Now, farther away from him, bit by bit being at peace with the people she now surrounded herself with. Even in such state of distress she didn't feel alone any longer, she even felt loved. As far stretched as it sounded she even felt at ease with Aemond and he shattered all of it with just one sentence.

She lost the track of time since the moments of Aemond walking out as she just stood there falling apart, but when she felt some footsteps behind her she wiped her tears trying to compose herself. If there was anything she learned from her father it was that, nobody ever cared how much you fall apart so don't give them a reason to hold against you. Daemon always hated weeping children. Quickly she wiped her tears, she wouldn't want Aemond to think of her weak in these times. With a deep sigh she turned to face the footsteps she assumed was Aemond.

Apparently it wasn't. "Yes?" She asked with furrowed brows to the stranger who just walked into the room, not even a knock or an announcement like the guards or servants. The man wasn't even dressed like a guard or a servant. She stood alarmed taking a step further into the table as the man forwarded towards here without a word. "Guard-" she tried to yell as loud as she could but the man grabbed her head in a swift motion and shoved her into the table's edge. As if to knock her unconscious.

"Not another word or I kill you." Blood said with his hands around her neck, about to choke her as she struggled against him. Trying to grasp against his hands on her, trying to suffocate her she kicked her legs. Tried to scream regardless of his warning. With an extreme distaste for her, obviously, in blood's eyes the princess wasn't even worth so much and too much trouble to smuggle out. "Your daddy wants you back."

-

By the time the guards did find the princess, in the hallways, she was already half unconscious. Immediately rescued into the safest place in the keep, the council. Retrieved but not at all unharmed. The council was already set into course for the subject of the young prince when Larys walked in with y/n. He had previously informed her of what had happened with her nephew, his passing it hadn't really struck her yet given she could barely process all that had happened.

Queen alicent gasped as she stood up quickly running to y/n's side, all the bruises on her face, open cuts and bleeding out the torn sleeves in her dress. "Gods..." she exclaimed in horror as she helped her onto her seat. "What happened to her?" She asked Lord Larys.

"The guards found the intruder, trying to smuggle the princess out of the keep. A gold cloak known for his brutal nature, found with her, having inflicted his brutality upon her and...the prince's head, in a sack." He briefed the council as they all listened to him, everyone else but the king at loss of words. As Lord Larys left alicent was still tending to y/n, cooing at her, she seemed to be in a half conscious state.

"I am alright" she muttered to her mother in law as Alicent nodded but held her hand in hers to provide her whatever consolation she could. Just the sight of having suffered such assault sent the queen into a huge distress. Weakly holding her hand back as if to steady herself into this nightmare. When Lord Larys told her of Jahaerys's tragedy she did not believe it at all. She was confidently positive there must be some mistake in his information because that would not be possible at all.

If it wasn't for Aegon screeching in the background, y/n couldn't make out if she was actually awake in this very moment. The ringing in her ears still hadn't gone out and she wished that she would perish with that same ringing if it were to happen because living through this seemed so difficult. No way to navigate, circumstance so heavy she felt paralysed to meet anyone's face. Aegon was screeching as he wept for his son, blind with rage to kill the man found guilty for the crime. The member advised otherwise saying the king has a lot of enemies and they don't know for sure whose hand it could be.

"I suppose you are right..." Aegon trailed off slowly pacing down the table back to his seat, with an accusatory demeanour towards everyone else "it could be anyone of you, in this room."

A small silence fell, strengthening the tension and grief in the room as y/n just stared at the empty seat beside her. That very morning, just the day prior, where her nephew sat. Then Aemond after him, empty now. "It was Daemon." She declared of what she knew for sure, first time in her life she referred to Daemon with his first name instead of her father. After everything that he did, every misery she endured at the hands of her father, what happened now made her want to be distanced and foreign from him as much as she could. "His doing." She breathed and looked at the council, the drained colour on everyone's face she just registered-it was blinding her. "The man—the gold cloak" she continue, "trying to get a hold of me, h-he—he said 'your daddy wants you back.'" Repeating the words sent a chill down her spine as if she was in that very moment again, she still felt those hands on her, suffocating and heavy. A disgusting play in the mix. “That man came here, on Daemon’s order.”

The rest were comprehending that still, how a man could be so crude not only killing a child but having his own assaulted and kidnapped back home like this? " In one sense, as we determine what happened and...if we in the keep are still in peril. In another sense of course...it doesn't matter." Otto said and looked at Y/n. The princess surely did not seem to understand the hand's implication.

However Lord Tyland did so, "You mean to blame Rhaenyra." He said in a beat. "Tell the realm she had done this." Tyland spoke out Otto's implication.

"I'll have the realm told nothing! We were assaulted within our own walls, within our own beds!" Aegon spoke up almost immediately "Y/n, my brother's wife! The fucking princess almost beaten unconscious—being smuggled out?" He emphasised on the word brother, enraged even for his sister in law and the lack of his brother's presence when it must have mattered the most. "I will not be seen as weak!"

"You are already seen as weak aegon." Otto replied once again sending the king into a manic breakdown as he threw around more cups and vases. Otto theorised about how important it was to name Rhaenyra as a cruel person. Killer of infants, despite of whose direct orders those were. The narrative would be what they made.

"You would change, the blood that is on daemon's hand just to spite Rhaenyra." Y/n questioned, red eyes and characteristically on the verge of tears since she walked in here. Alicent found it so hard to look at her face, the cuts and bruises, poor thing. The heavy torment inside her head must be unimaginable, Alicent thought whilst holding y/n's hand a bit tighter. It felt like one of those moments when she was just a child, so many years ago. She would recall, the girl child was such a loner, always speaking in short words that is if spoken to. The shy little girl, who would just sit in a corner and colour or read. So much like her Aemond yet so different. When they would be in public settings, too many people, she would meekly hold Alicent's hand. Amongst all those unfamiliar faces. Little y/n just deemed Alicent familiar, comfortable. What was so wholesome years ago held such horror now. Alicent holding the lady's hand to provide her comfort her words won't be able to, the protection she could not. "Why won't you paint that man for the monster that he is?!" Y/n spoke as her voice broke, it felt unfair. Daemon not being held accountable yet again.

"Because, Daemon isn't the pretender to the throne. He would be the king consort. Banners are being declared for Rhaenyra, not in his name." Otto explained, to his preference narrative was just a useful toy. One name here or there did not make a difference.

"That is unfair." She said shaking her head, tears brimmed her eyes, taking in short breaths. In all these council meetings she did not speak up against Otto considering him respectable and more learned yet today, "how can you keep on accounting for him...again and again?!" Y/n asked but she was begging in agony. "Y-You were here. Always present. And you never did anything—all his heinous crimes! You always had the opportunity to hold him responsible and you did nothing!" She exclaimed, not being able to help herself as she thought back to a conversation at this very table. A conversation she must not have been there for, but the hand would have.

"It is perhaps your shock and grief speaking for you." Otto replied, not moved by the young lady's accusations at all. "I for one, do not understand your place of reference"

"When he murdered my mother!" Y/n said, growing more and more restless with her speech. Otto must be right, it was all the piled up grief inside of her speaking for her in this very moment but she could not let the monster that was her father be off the hook again, "You could've held a proper council, had him pay for what he did and we wouldn't be seeing this day today! We have that chance now and yet again you would rather Rhaenyra take the blame for his barbarism!"

Otto felt silent for a moment, the girl's rage was justified to the extent of him having no answer for her but he knew to trust his wit more, "I cannot undo...my regrets. I assure you I hold a lot of remorse in having a part in letting daemon go from daemon to the rogue prince and now this...monster. But if we don't do this, he would become king consort. The word consort is a feeble adjective." What he said was supposed to make sense to y/n but she could not see past the rage and need for vengeance she held against her father. Looking away, she wiped her tears. "A funeral progress. Let them see the child. Let them look upon the works of this pretender to the throne." Otto proposed once y/n was assuming-ly settled.

"Father" Alicent said with weary and concerned eyes, such tragedy being shouted out as a public funeral procession sounded so vain.

"My king..." Otto waited for Aegon's presumedly understood voice.

"No..." Aegon answered firmly "I will not have my little son's body dragged through the street like a dead dog." As he said that y/n felt nearly faint. To this very moment she did not accept that the child had passed.

"Not dragged, honoured." Otto corrected. "Escorted to the dragon pits to be burned as a Targaryen prince!" Otto went on and on about how he loved his grandson, his heart was in the right place with the grief yet the path he set was in accordance with the warpath. Just plots and schemes. Falling silent, paralysed y/n looked down to her lap. She refused to even register this conversation because it meant registering the fact that a darling child, Jahaerys...was gone.

Aegon couldn't stomach this proposal which came as an already arranged firm announcement either, looking around the room nobody said a word against the hand's plan. "You would say nothing?!" He demanded of y/n, why won't somebody help this mad notion. "Your dear nephew, have you nothing to add?" He was almost begging, hoping she would get the hand to change his mind for this funeral procession. She didn't, y/n just looked up at Aegon and then Alicent, tears in her eyes which just didn't seem to stop flowing. "Mother." Aegon called out when y/n couldn't speak up.

Leaving y/n's side Alicent walk's up to aegon, "the hand sets a difficult path, my darling. But it might be the right one." She told her inconsolable soul.

"Let the silent sisters ready the prince for his final journey." Otto said without waiting a moment for the king or anyone to come forth with opposition "And riding behind him, his mother the queen, the princess and the queen dowager."

"No, I do not wish to be spectacle." Alicent opposed instantly, the weariness and fright in y/n's eyes speaking the same "Especially y/n, not in this state. She can barely talk-stand, she has been terrorised. You can't simply—"

"The realm must see the sorrow of the crown. A sorrow best expressed through its gentle souls." Otto said followed by alicent sighing, then he looked at the side to y/n, "We need to display our heavily victimised as well" he said, the bleeding wounds on her face seemed like little trophies of sympathy to Otto. "I think you'll all agree the king himself must be spared."

-

A deafening silence lingered within Aemond, he had been out, sharpening out his swords, practising. Fucking practising on jute bags when he should've been there. Y/n was in Alicent's chambers because she could not walk into her own, couldn't even take in the sight of it. The thrashed furniture, from her struggling against the intruding gold cloak. The...the sack. In which he had stored the boy's head. Where the man had placed it in her chamber, at the entrance, it had created a circular stain of blood. Jahaerys's blood. She could not even think about the room within those four walls without picturing the insidious crime. She sat on the floor against the bed, windows open and soft white light of the day seeping in yet to y/n it still felt like a night of hailstorm. She didn't even look up to the footsteps of the stride coming inside the room, Aemond. He walked to her, kneeling down to the floor to her level.

Aemond was drenched with so much guilt in his heart, he felt pathetic to even breathe the same air as his lady wife. She had her face turned away from him, he could just see the small cuts on her face, the torn dress, still seeping out dried blood, her weary stature. It was all mortifying in the first place. He was so livid, with himself, with the intruder. Even with Larys, who informed him about the happenings at the last. By the time he rushed back inside the council was already done with. He had nothing he could say to y/n, no way of consoling her either.

It's not as if she would want to be consoled by him too, the emotional support he would want to offer her walked out with him when he walked out after their fight the previous night. With the disturbing things that had happened with her, she had almost forgotten the words he said. She couldn't even remember why she was crying before it all, that sick with grief. Aemond gently held her chin, hesitantly afraid she would turn him away. She had every right to do so. She didn't move him away, had no energy to do so. His heart sank as he saw the blood streaked stitches, poorly done and most of her wounds left untreated. "Why are these open?" He asked her softly, referring to her wounds, "Where are the maesters?"

"The hand, has asked for these to be left raw as they were planted." Y/n briefed him, her voice was so wavering, all that crying. "He means for them to be displayed for the funeral procession...so the realm can see" y/n scoffed softly as she repeated otto's exact words.

"You don't have to go." Aemond told her in a firm way, sure that he could get the hand to change his mind whether he liked it or not because y/n's comfort was his priority.

"No..." she trailed off, in agreement refraining to look at him her voice held no emotion. "But I do. I have to." She continued "Wouldn't want Haelena to be alone"

"Mother would be with her." Aemond added taking her hands in his softly, finally getting her to react to his presence as she looked down upon his gesture. Apparently to take her hands out of his grasp.

"But then I would be alone here..." She trailed off, a hint of frustration and fright in her tone. "I don't want to be alone."

"I would be with you, y/n." Aemond cooed softly fixing the loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear as he leant forward. “You won’t be alone.”

"I find myself unable to put faith in you, Aemond." She breathed looking down, she felt like a cornered animal, just so scared and full of distrust. "...in your assurance. I'd rather not."

Aemond had nothing he could say to that. She did not trust the integrity of his principles and rightfully so. He knew he had broken that trust of security within her. "My heart, I apologise for the distress I have caused you. I did not mean any of it" he told her but the heaviness in his heart told him his words would change nothing. She couldn't talk either, bursting into tears and her stitches seemed to hurt because her face moved but she was so much numbed to the physical pain in comparison to how she felt inside. Aemond could just offer her his embrace in this time and that is what he did. Enlacing her into her arms, rubbing her back in soothing circles her let her cry into his chest. "They will pay for this." He muttered softly as he continued to hold her. Even with the pain he made her feel, the distrust and hurt she felt just in seeing Aemond could not let her turn away the familiarity of his comfort. His was the only comfort she had ever known.

-

Once again clarifying that the brothel subplot is absolutely NON EXISTENT in this fic Aemond Targaryen is a lot of things but not a cheater <333

Pls let know what you think about this + added to the tg list🫧

-

🏷️ @love-is-a-dagger @daddzawa @1109002 @void21 @annedub @teapartydreams @batmans-love @ih8books @oopsdownloadedrumblragain-blog @aemondwhoresworld @unsweetenedpeatea @immyowndefender @aleemendoza2425-blog @vane282-blog @atargaryenlover @targaryenswhxre @sabii5 @vibescanner @darylandbethfanforever9

[quin-ns]

Knuckle Velvet (Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: Aegon is desperate for the love of the sister he truly wants, even if he has to take it

Tags: (18+), cw: non-con, cw: sibling incest, targaryen!reader, dark themes, choking, fingering, unprotected sex (obvi, it’s hotd times), hair pulling kinda, forced orgasm, aegon is lowkey pathetic but also threatening

A/N: first aegon fic. I’d been wanting to write for him but with the new season and him getting hotter (maybe he looks the same and I just got more into him idk) I had to write him

HotD masterlist + main masterlist

Aegon’s head weighed heavy on your lap, but even as your legs began to grow numb, you let him be. Your fingers lightly carded through his silver hair in the way you knew he wanted.

“I like it when you take care of me,” your brother had told you many times. It had to be the truth, given how often he’d seek you out just to curl up next to you.

Sometimes he’d sit like this, his head in your lap like some kind of dog, wanting his hair stroked and your words of assurance. He could fall asleep like this, or let tears slip down his cheeks. Other times he’d crawl on top of you and take the love he was desperate for. He could kiss away your silent tears, or muffle your cries with his lips.

Either way, he kept returning to you, begging for your attention and affection.

It might’ve been amusing, how weak he could be to you, if he wasn’t so terrifying at the same time.

Tonight, as Aegon muttered about his most recent council meeting, you thought perhaps you’d be spared his touch tonight.

“I should have been wed to you,” he muttered, voice holding onto a bitterness he had yet to let go. “I can stand your company and I already spend more time in your bed. I’ve suffered enough cruelty in my life, being allowed to marry who I please should’ve been a mercy I was granted. It makes no difference to our line.”

You had had this conversation many times to the point you were beyond tired of speaking about it. Helaena was the eldest sister, it had made sense to your mother and grandsire to pair the two together. They couldn’t have known the resentment that would build in the king.

Helaena was the correct choice for queen. You would not have the stomach for it. Helaena had already given birth to two of his children. Aegon was occasionally amused by them, but it was your sister that doted on them. She was a good mother. You didn’t think you could bring yourself to be. You were grateful to the maesters who would bring you tea and turn a blind eye to Aegon’s doings. The rumors that would circulate him would not ruin his future the way they would you. You’d yet to marry and if word got out you lacked virtue, you may never. You didn’t want Aegon to get the satisfaction.

You suspected Aegon no longer laid with his wife, and she was fortunate for that. If he loved you as much as he claimed and still had to kiss bruises in the morning, you didn’t dare to imagine what he could’ve done to her. She had given him a son and a daughter, and perhaps that was enough for him.

Aegon sat up and you flinched, even as he looked at you with tears in his eyes. You wondered if he recognized how insulting it was to hear him whine about his responsibilities, to listen to him say he loved you and list off the things he wanted to give you, only for him to not lift a finger for either. Duties went ignored. His love remained violent. You were tired. So very, very tired.

A hand found your face, fingers pressing into the skin of your cheek. Aegon’s thumb dragged down your lips, pulling the bottom one apart from the top. His gaze pierced yours as he let your lip go in favor of letting his thumb tilt up your chin when you tried to look away.

“Do you love me?” Aegon pleaded.

He stared at your mouth, waiting for you to speak. Your lips remained pressed together. Tears spilled further down his pale cheeks. Aegon’s face twisted as something other than just begging shined through his eyes.

Your lack of response rewarded you with a hand around the throat. Then again, you could’ve said exactly what he desired and received the same. He enjoyed his power over you as you’d never been one to fight back. At least this way you could remain somewhat defiant.

Aegon kissed you like he was trying to bruise your lips. His kiss was all teeth and tongue, forcefully claiming you as he left his mark. Aegon took what he wanted and cared nothing for charm or patience.

Hands fell to your shoulders, gliding over them for only a second before they pressed. Your back hit the mattress with a gasp. Aegon’s teeth found your neck as he crawled on top of you. The weight was already crushing. With each button on your gown he undid, the faster your heart raced.

“You are beautiful, sister,” he said, sounding wrecked already as he admired your naked body. You believed he meant it, but it didn’t spare you. “If only you weren’t being so stubborn with your words.”

Aegon’s hand on your neck was no more welcome than the first time he’d gripped it, but at least you’d grown better at controlling your breathing.

He made himself comfortable between your legs. The hand on your neck remained firm, while the other disappeared inside you.

You hated how he knew to do this. To prepare you for him. Something you were certain he’d learned at a pleasure house. That was the last thing you wanted to feel. At least if it hurt you could remind yourself you did not want this. You did not want Aegon to touch you or kiss you or fuck you. But when a warmth began to form inside you and slick coated his skilled fingers, your mind would always begin to blur and doubt crept in, while a smirk would appear on his lips. It happened every time without fail and this was no exception.

“You’ll have to speak to me sometime,” Aegon goaded, fingers stroking your walls. He leaned down over you, his lips pressing to your ear as he whispered, “Perhaps it’ll be when you scream my name.”

When, not if. Arrogance was a most undesirable feature of your eldest brother.

You tried to shut your thighs when Aegon withdrew his hand, but a harsh slap to your skin reminded you of your place. You grit your teeth and close your eyes as the head of his cock pressed into you. You’d lost count of how many times he’d done this, but it took your breath every time when he slammed into the hilt.

“Look at me,” he grunted. You could feel air hit your face, knowing his face was above you.

You cracked your eyes open when he squeezed your neck. His eyes would’ve been beautiful if they didn’t have such a lifeless quality to them.

Your throat bobbed against his hand as you swallowed, but no words left you. The sole purpose was to frustrate him. Tomorrow you’d speak to him as usual, but tonight, like you did some nights, you wanted to make your resistance known, even if his cock was buried in you.

He kissed you when he began to move. The hand on your throat remained as his lips attached to yours. His other hand groped at you, running over your hips, your waist, your breasts—anything he could touch. He thrust into you with power, forcing your legs apart. All you could do was lie there and take it.

Aegon breathed heavily against your mouth as your body welcomed him. Your mind had no say in the matter. Your warm, wet walls clung to his cock as he fucked you hard. Your legs wrapped around him without your say and that really drove him mad with lust.

His hand finally left your neck as both rose to run through your hair. Aegon’s hands were rough as he held your face in place by your scalp. Your winces of pain went ignored as usual. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room and your face grew even more heated at the sound of your own slickness that joined. He parted from your lips to watch your face.

“I can see your pleasure, sister. Your body does not lie. Your face does not lie.”

You wanted to turn your head but you could not. You gripped the sheets as he pressed into you harder with each motion, letting you feel the thick length of him inside you even longer. Your legs began to shake as heat throbbed in your belly.

“Ae—” you cut yourself off, but it was too late.

You’d begun to give him the satisfaction of winning but had snatched it away. Aegon wouldn’t have that. He couldn’t.

His eyes looked wild as Aegon fisted your hair. “Say it,” he hissed. “Say anything.”

One would have mistaken his tone for anger, or something else, but you knew what it truly was. The desperation in his voice might’ve conjured pity if he wasn’t busy splitting you open on his cock. His thrusts picked up again and you felt your body beginning to tighten around him.

Your back arched off the bed as his harsh movements forced your legs further apart to make room for him. Aegon was growing frantic, chasing his desires with fervor.

One hand stayed in your hair while the other snaked between your bodies. A moan tore through you when the palm of his hand pressed to the top of your cunt. Another trick you were certain had been taught to him to find the most pleasure. Your hips bucked down against him, the need from your body for the pressure causing it to act on its own.

It was all so overwhelming, the word slipped from your lips before you could think to stop.

“Aegon!” you cried out. You didn’t even know what for. Surely for him to stop, but a blinding pleasure began to rattle you. Your legs locked around him, holding him deep inside you as your body quivered and clenched around him. You could barely breathe as the feeling of release wracked your entire being in a sudden instant.

Aegon cursed above you, his breaths coming out harsh. He gave quick, sharp thrusts, barely able to move with the grip of your legs. You felt his cock throb of you before he spilled inside of you with a deep moan. He shoved his hips forward, encasing himself in your body as he forced you to ride out your pleasure alongside him.

Finally, when your vision began to clear, you forced your legs to drop. You laid limp beneath him as Aegon collapsed on top of you. You shivered as his face pressed to your neck. You clenched your teeth as he nipped at your bruised neck. You even felt a tear stream down your cheek.

“You love me,” Aegon stated. It was not a question this time. He lifted his head, silver hair sticking to his forehead as his eyes searched yours. “You can deny it, or refuse to speak it, but you do.”

Whether he believed that or not, you couldn’t be certain. He spoke with conviction, but as you left him without a response, you noticed the familiar glint of sadness in his eyes as he fought back tears of his own.

With a quiver to his voice he added, “And I love you.”

As much as your body ached and your neck throbbed, deep down, you knew with certainty that he believed he did.

[bunicate]

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍. lucifer x fem reader

warnings ꒱ྀི daddy kink. prbly excessive use of princess/little girl/human. size kink. praise. nipple sucking. fingering. possessive luci. unedited as usual. wc ꒱ 6k ﾉ 18+

note . . ᘏ⑅ᘏ ﾉ i dunno if this is even a repost anymore bcuz the original fic was only 2k words :c . . i also thought I wasn’t cwazy abt luci anymore but boy . . wus i wrong. i still luv him dearly. i hope anyone who reads this enjoys. thankuuu ^_^

lucifer could never understand why humans, beings fettered by something as meaningless as mortality, could possess the ties to control and bind demons.

how such frail bodies of small messes, succumbing to sicknesses, phobias, and other little weirds are able to form pacts with such powerful creatures

it’s a polarizing thought that he’s never challenged or sought to change. he understands them for what they are. arguably worse than demons, and he wants nothing to do with them. they are violent, weak, and fickle, and somehow—in the irony of it all—the universe plays a trick on him.

he lowered his defenses and foolishly got ahead of himself. he was unlike his brothers; he didn’t need love or companionship, and yet, of all the powerful beings and creatures, it’s a human that turned him into something unrecognizable.

it was faceless, sneaking up on him, and he was unable to remedy it as he slowly felt it consume him whole.

a bond was webbed between the two of you, and he’s certain, frighteningly so, that nothing could break it.

granted, that level of trust surely didn’t form overnight, as you proved to be quite troublesome. you were used to peeking your nose where it didn’t belong and going into places mortals should never be, making his job more difficult, but still, he trusts you.

with six younger demon brothers and a human to look after, discord became frequent. secrets wrapped tightly were easily unveiled just from your existence in devildom.

he kept a mental checklist of all your wrongdoings, and now your invasion of his heart was another.

his heart.

nothing but proof of his existence, only meant to pump blood and oxygen, has now expanded far too much to fit within his ribcage. it was suffocating.

it made room for a different kind of love, for someone else, and he didn’t think it was possible. he became spoiled by your affections.

he yearned so much for you that he was convinced that his carnage and sadism might have withered. at least, that's what he thought, only to realize it’s been tucked away in a cavity that you simultaneously filled.

he’s unfortunately reminded that it never really went anywhere. he’s respected and feared by all, and yet it wasn’t enough to deter his brothers from causing any mishaps, especially one in particular.

♡ . . ♡

it’s dinner when lucifer decides to strike.

chatter and the smell of only the best food in devildom fill the room. he almost feels bad for souring the joyful atmosphere—almost, but as always, there's an impending conflict that would render him irritable for the rest of the night.

he sits at the head of the table as the eldest brother and strongest demon, earning everyone's stare from the shift in the atmosphere. you and his brothers could sense that he wasn’t going to make a meager announcement. lucifer moves slowly, careful to prevent any of his heedless anger from slipping through.

he looks at everyone in the room, but his gaze lingers on you a bit longer.

“forgive me for interrupting dinner, but it’s come to my attention that someone here has stolen something valuable of mine.” his voice is deep, stern, and accusing. it echoes in the candle-lit hall.

“my credit card.”

maybe it's his sadistic streak, but he knew asking that question was ultimately trivial. he knows which of his brothers is guilty; you all did.

there’s only one demon dumb and desperate enough to steal from lucifer of all people, and while the perpetrator was obvious, it didn’t make anyone any less anxious.

the avatar of pride is infamous for his punishments, and no one wanted to be on the receiving end. when anything goes amiss, they must answer to him, and you were no exception to that rule.

you point your manicured finger at mammon, and his expression morphs into utter terror. he yelps at your tattling, already plotting at least three different ways to make his escape.

“oh my,” asmo laughs.

belphie yawns obnoxiously, unamused by the series of events. it was just another typical night in the house of lamentation; nothing should surprise anyone, and still, lucifer let a troubled sigh escape.

mammon throws a fit of indignation, as if his culpability wasn’t already obvious.

tossing his hands in the air, he whines, “damn it. why’d ya’ have to tell?” he slides down the seat of the chair, trying to avoid lucifer’s angered stare as much as possible.

you don’t think to reply, almost even rolling your eyes at him. everyone knows it’s him, and like the well-behaved girl you are, you figure it makes no sense to drag out the inevitable.

but when everyone’s eyes settle on you in curiosity, you slouch in your chair and blush at the sudden attention. you feel nervous, like you made a blunder of some sort.

they expectantly await your answer, but you don't have one.

“s-sorry, mammon,” you squeak out.

your hands in between your thighs and fidget under their stares.

you couldn’t, at least not confidently, admit that lucifer has you wrapped around his finger. he expects far too much of you, and you couldn’t possibly ruin that because of mammon, but that didn’t lessen the slight guilt from easing in.

“don’t apologize,” lucifer says, bolstering his voice—his attempt at scolding mammon while reassuring you.

“it’s not up to her to entertain your lies. perhaps if you weren’t always up to no good, she wouldn’t have to confess to your wrongdoings,” he lectures.

he sneers at him, and you watch as the younger demon slinks back further. “you’re the second oldest. act like it.”

mammon huffs.

“ahhh, lucifer, you’re no fun.”

admittedly, the brothers would get away with a lot more if it weren’t for your honesty.

make no mistake, they all love you dearly, but the troublemakers couldn’t tolerate your obedience when it comes to lucifer.

when he asked you who ate all the food satan prepared for breakfast the next day, you didn’t hesitate to say it was beel. when he asks you who wrote ‘lucifer sucks :p’ on his wall, you don’t stutter to inform him of satan’s and belphie’s not-so-secretive plan of his tormentation.

anything he wants, anything he asks, you obey. that was just the nature of your relationship.

after mammon realizes pouting won’t get him out of trouble with lucifer, he goes back to eating, and the others follow suit. soon the lively atmosphere returned, but you felt rather self-conscious.

you looked over at lucifer in the hope of finding something that you're weren't sure of yet, only to see that he was already staring at you. you nibble on your spoon, suddenly feeling bare from his lowered gaze.

there is a sense of security that you crave. his look of approval serves as a reminder of why you’re faithful to him. it was rewarding to know that your loyalty didn’t go unnoticed.

you look away quickly to hide your flusteredness by sipping on your tea, but the sweet taste of earl gray isn’t enough to distract you.

dinner begins to slow and wrap up. one by one, everyone bids their goodbyes. mammon is the first to depart, knowing he’d need as much of a head start as possible. when you finish the remainder of your dinner, you get up to leave as well.

you think about how to spend the rest of your evening, and your mind wanders to cramped thighs and ruined pillows.

you grow heated by the memory of previous nights. you touched yourself too many times to count after constantly witnessing lucifer’s disheveled state after his long day of reprimanding.

you stuffed your cunt with your fingers nightly, trying to mimic the feeling of something much larger. it was difficult to commit such acts quietly in a home full of creatures with nearly perfect hearing, and still, you wonder what fantasy will tether you tonight.

maybe the one when he fucks you in diavolo’s office, or your personal favorite, he punishes you.

you fantasize about him pulling up your dainty dress to put you over his lap and spank your plump ass until cum soaks your thighs, but tonight, you don’t have to conjure up anything.

lucifer stops you in the middle of your daydream. grabbing your wrist gently, he catches you by surprise.

you clumsily turn. frazzled eyes meet unwavering carmines. you’re almost certain he could hear the thump beating between your legs.

the prideful demon pulls you close, forcing your bodies to collide and connect like missing pieces. his breath is warm against your ear.

“would you like to come by my chambers later tonight?”

you look up to search his face, wondering if there’s even a sign of doubt. after countless days and nights and all sorts of muddled feelings between sheets, there is a part of you that can’t truly accept that he sought you.

one of the most eligible bachelors in all of devildom, known for his fearsomeness, is holding you like you were glass, asking for your company.

you soak in his expression, and it’s nothing less than firm and impenetrable, and it's then that you realize it was not a question. he was not asking.

struck with a whirlwind of desire from that revelation, you nod weakly, but the demon only shakes his head in response.

“words, my little human.”

your head tilts on its axis only for a moment. your chest had to be wide open, bearing your insides to him. the effect he had on you must have been that obvious. you’re a puddle.

was it normal to feel the static every time he was around, after every word he spoke?

you feel hazy, but also a small sense of relief that you no longer have to question if he still wants you. you’ve exhausted your fingers and toys, and finally, what you have been needlessly craving would be fulfilled in a room only a few doors down. his gaze flickers to your lips, and they shine with promise.

you mustered up all the courage you had left.

“yes, i would love to come by later.”

you’re amazed that it didn’t come out as wobbly as you anticipated. you’ve gotten better at pretending, you suppose.

lucifer gives you a sweet smile. he’s pleased with your answer, and butterflies erupt in your full belly.

his gloved hand then completely engulfs yours to bring it to his lips. not once breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckle before he departs. a hopeless romantic.

he sets out to find mammon, and that gives you enough time to prepare.

you stalk up the stairs, declining levi’s invitation for a night of competitive gaming pitifully on the way. you’ll make it up to him next time.

by ushering yourself into your room, you act immediately. you don’t spend too long getting ready. a steaming, hot shower would suffice. you wash up with a bar of gentle soap, then follow through with too many to-count spritzes of perfume and faint-smelling lotion.

white with pastel pink trim.

your night clothes are simple and short enough to keep him on his toes. you look over at yourself in the mirror.

when did you become so daring ? you didn’t know. maybe asmo’s tips on charm and seduction were finally rubbing off on you. you wonder what his reaction would be if you told him you were using them on his brother. maybe he already knew.

you turn off your light and open your door. you peek down the hall.

it’s silent and empty, just as you predicted.

quietly, you shut the door, cursing to yourself when you hear the faint cry of the rusty hinges. your trek down to his room was anxiety-inducing, but in a good way. you feel refreshed, your body is more than ready, and you’re excited.

you hoped no one would drop by unexpectedly. beel would most likely wake up in the middle of the night for a snack, but the kitchen was in the opposite direction of lucifer’s room. not that it mattered anyway.

it wasn’t really a secret—not that those lasted with you around—but it would be. . . awkward. you’d much rather not have to deal with anyone overhearing all the naughty things you’ll beg him to do.

you stop your train of thought when you reach the end of the hallway. you’re in front of his door, and you sway from your heels to your tippy toes. the fluttery ache in your chest was making you skittish.

you take a breath to compose yourself, and then you knock with three light taps.

“come in”

it takes a good chunk of your strength to open his heavy door, but you appreciate the time it grants you. it gives you the space to calm yourself down and ease your prickly nerves.

when you enter, you let your eyes wander around the room first. nothing but books, old records, and silhouettes of things you couldn’t make out in the dark. you walk in and find him leaning against his unusually messy desk.

there's soft light from the lamp that hugs his frame and illuminates his coat discarded on the nearby dresser.

he fiddles with the strap of his gloves, giving you a small smile at the sight of your presence.

“you don’t have to knock, my love.”

he allows his gaze to explore, drinking in the outfit you picked out specifically for him. already, his trousers are suffocating and distracting him, but he’s quick to recover.

you bite your lip out of habit under his lustful stare.

“i know, but i wanted to just in case you were busy . . .”

there’s an amused huff.

his long legs carry him over to where you stand swiftly. his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, and he presses a kiss against your forehead.

“sweet girl.” and the way it skirts the edge of sensuality could make you melt. “even if i am, feel free to steal me away,” he whispers.

you swallow down a moan at the thought. maybe one day he'll eat those words.

his hand trails from your face to the nape of your neck and pauses.

“you washed your hair,” he observes.

you shake your head.

“it got a little wet in the shower so I’m just letting it air dry for a bit, luci.”

you pull at a wet strand and watch it dutifully bounce back in place. “ i was too lazy to dry it.“

he watches the notion with careful eyes. you wanted to giggle at how serious he looked.

“i wish you would’ve asked me to help you. i don’t want you getting a cold.”

you smile at his sincerity. you realized very early on that lucifer enjoyed tending to you. he likes consistency and being depended on.

‘it’s for your own well-being,’ he says, but you think he likes to have a pretty girl to fuss over

you offer him a small pout. “i did think about it, but i assumed you were still scolding mammon. i didn’t want to bother you.”

“besides.” you turn away, “i don’t think he wants to see me right now”

already, you’re embarrassed by the thought of facing mammon again. flustered, you recall tonight’s dinner and the look on their faces. you are definitely going to avoid them at school tomorrow.

you slouch, "he totally hates me.”

you say it half-heartedly, but lucifer looks at you with seriousness.

he softly grabs you by your chin. “don’t speak like that. he doesn’t hate you—none of us do, and i’m not sure we are capable of harboring such thoughts.”

you smile. “i dunno. i’m pretty sure you guys hated my guts when i first came.” you chuckle, thinking he’d at least join in, but he frowns. his heavy hand strokes the top of your head in an affectionate rhythm.

“we had our differences, and i was far too harsh. that i know.”

there’s a faraway look in his eye, and you know there’s a silent storm forming. you reach out to cup his cheek, and he melts into your touch.

“i never hated you,” he says.

you knew that your actions played a part in straining the early stages of your relationship. you also had to come to terms that not only lucifer, but multiple brothers harbored resentment towards humans,

its not a perfect story, but everything about this was completely unconventional. you’re just a woman who somehow found herself stuck in an attempt at other-worldly diplomacy, now sandwiched between the trying relationships of seven powerful demons.

things are rocky, but it’s the happiest you’ve ever been.

“i was only teasing, luci. i'm not mad or scared anymore.”

the hand you rested on his cheeks gets gripped by his larger ones, and he kisses your palm fondly.

“besides, i think we both know i wasn’t completely innocent.”

he takes a deep inhale.

“still, i think about how things were before.” he recalls the past in disdain; he blames his pride and then himself.

“my brothers and i . . . we are devoted to you, and we have the pacts to prove it.”

it’s a provocation you’re still not entirely used to. you had 7 demons who offered themselves to you, and the proof is imprinted on their skin.

in the human world, you’re everything and nothing at the same time. feelings of loneliness and insecurity that are far too loud and are still not enough to matter. you realized everyone lived selfishly, and your heart wasn’t hardened enough to follow suit.

lucifer's thoughts about humans didn’t change, despite his proximity to you. talks of your life as a young girl only cemented his thinking.

you were far too perfect for humans, too devious for angels, and too innocent for demons.

you were an entity on your own, and scarily he worshiped you. all of you.

he’d never tire of sinking his cock into your wet cunt, filling you with his seed, and hearing those saccharine moans that fall from glossed lips. he was ravenous, but you truly didn’t know the extent of it.

“my brothers care for you deeply, as do i, but you must know.” his eyes seem darker and much more predatory, and you can’t bring yourself to look away. like a bunny trapped in a hunter's cage, your doe eyes double in size and tremors rattle through your frame.

“you’re mine alone. your mind and body belong to only me.”

lucifer is well aware that six other cocks competed for your attention. a crass choice of words, but nothing less than true. they vied for the human girl, with nearly everyone wrapped around her dainty fingers. you are a color in the world shrouded in sisyphean darkness.

his lips part on your skin. “they can touch and taste you because i allow it.”

rough hands pull up your skirt, and he grabs a handful of your ass. “this . . . this is all mine.”

you make sure to turn and give your butt a little wiggle. it's more than a sultry gesture, and lucifer thinks a human so docile posing erotically might be the one thing to kill him.

how do you make soiled underwear look so pretty and enticing? there’s a possessive streak, a soft darkness that opens its curtains upon your presence. it peers over his shoulder, urging him to devour you. to pick at your remains until he’s consumed you.

“you're beautiful,” he groans. he inches close to you, and you think your lips are going to meet halfway, but he kisses your forehead.

then, your eyelids, your nose, and the side of your mouth, you look at him with half-lidded eyes, and he doesn’t budge when you try to squirm.

lucifer steps back and leads you to his chair. he settles into the squeaky leather until his back is comfortably cushioned.

he pats his firm lap.

“come.”

you know he’s holding back. his muscles ripple beneath you, he slouches farther into his chair, his legs spread to give his groin space to freely twitch against the slackness of his pants, and it only invites you

you struggle to decide where to sit. his knee or over his lap, both very promising positions, but he decides for you. he pulls your hip so your cunt is nestled right up against his cock. you sigh breathily, already your brain turning to mush.

“i didn’t even touch you, and you’re already making such a mess, sweet girl.”

the angle you tilt your head hides your expression, but from the flutter of your lashes and the purses of your lips, he knows you’ve grown shy.

"you kissed me,”

your sweet tone and your faint aroma of honeysuckle and jasmine make his cock stir.

“is that why you’re so worked up? just from my kiss?”

not even on the lips—not yet at least, and you’ve already wetted the fabric with your sticky arousal.

“what will happen when daddy touches right here?”

it’s a feathery graze against your protruding bud. his knuckles nudge the seat of the moist cotton, right where the white turned nearly transparent against your swollen cunt.

“it aches, doesn’t it?”

slender fingers slip under the band teasingly. he studies the subtle twitch of your hole, pumping a stream of glossy slick.

“do you want me to make it go away, hm? do you want daddy to make it better?”

you nod, a broken moan falling from your trembling lips.

“ i wantmore daddy.”

you spread your legs wider, hoping he’d be more generous with his caress.

“soon, my love.”

his hands trail from your pants to your stomach to your shoulders.

his hands rub your stomach and under your breast, settling right on your hip. you know he is hyper-aware of the thin fabric separating his cock from your heat.

even in his lap, he’s taller than you, but only by a few inches. his eyes are low and hazy.

“i wish to take my time with you.”

his thumb trails over your nipple.

“you have no idea how much i missed you.”

his other fingers pull at the other nipple.

you’ve felt those same digits on your neck, in your mouth, curled around your wrist and threaded between your fingers, and now between your thighs

he begins to grope at your exposed flesh. he admires how supple they appear, and he has to restrain himself from sinking his teeth into them.

your body never falters, and it responds so well to his hot and addicting touch. lucifer tries not to tease you; after all, he is rewarding you, but the little sounds and pants that leave your lips almost make him rethink.

your skirt is wrinkled, and he flips it at your hip, and your entire bottom half is almost fully exposed. your bare legs are on display, and so is your clothed mound. he mumbles sweet praises into the side of your breast while tracing the outline of your pussy through your pants with his finger.

you pull him away from your chest to kiss him, and lucifer has to remember that you’re human. that your small and pouty mouth, which struggles to swallow, is as fragile as the rest of you. palms splayed about on your back remind him he can mold you.

his hands are in a constant of motion, tugging and squeezing at your flesh. it feels like he’s in awe of every part of your body no matter how it differs from his. his touches are messy and yet controlled. they search you in subtle restraint, fearful that they’ll hurt you.

you’ve never been touched this way. to have someone want you so desperately— to possess you almost. his hands are burning you and you feel on top of the world.

you moan at his caress and feel heat rush through your body. if it weren’t for the lack of air in his lungs, he’d never pull away but eventually he does. lucifer experimentally probes your clit and looks up at your face to admire your expression.

“do you like that?” he whispers. you bite your lip, and your voice raises in pitch, “mhm.”

lucifer smirks to himself and kisses your nipple. “what did i say about words, little one?”

he stops his ministrations on your cunt and licks at your areola teasingly. he settles the tip of his tongue on your heated bud, flicking it, sending a shiver down your spine.

“is my good girl acting up?.”

“n-no, daddy, never.”

between each breath, he plants open-mouthed kisses across your chest.

“i hope so. i would hate to have to punish you.”

he sucks diligently and roughly. his tongue aggressively strokes your nipple, addicted to how it feels in his mouth. he closes his eyes and continues his assault on your chest.

your soft cries filled his room, and the feeling of your teat on the surface of his wet muscles pleased him. the aforementioned headache was long gone because the plushness of your body took over his mind and soul.

you may feel an indescribable urge to obey him, but he's just as much under your spell as you’re under his. he’s the embodiment of pride, but he’s not against admitting that you invade every inch of him. you don’t know it yet, but anything you ask of him, he will deliver. he wonders if you could hear his heart thrumming against his chest.

you’re naked, but he feels equally as exposed.

he continues sucking on one breast, his other hand busied itself, rubbing the neglected one. you arch into his touch, your tit spilling out of his hand. the weight of it feels secure in his large palm.

the stimulation has you unruly within his embrace. one minute, your hips are still from his flicks at your pussy, and then it jerks up, wanting more from his skilled and wandering hands.

lucifer likes this side of you, desperate and unashamed of how you wanted him to use your body.

you’re so sensitive that any subtle movement sends pressure to your clit. every time you whimper, especially loudly, he's quick to praise you.

“such lovely noises. i bet you’d do anything to please me, hm?” he hums.

you remember his earlier warning eager to be on your best behavior. “yes, daddy.”

it was hard to verbalize but you were at his mercy. anything for his approval, anything for his praise, you’d do it, especially if it meant you’d get rewarded like this.

he then pulls up your soaked panties, and you gasp at the sudden gesture. they stretch across the surface of your wet pussy, and they snap from his brute strength. the break in the fabric spanking your cunt.

“what a pretty thing.”

he tosses your ripped panties to the floor, ruining your perfect set. but he’d buy you another.

“i just want to be your good girl,” you say, rubbing your legs together in anticipation.

“you’re always my good girl. isn’t that right?”

you nod and feel happiness bloom.

“the best girl for daddy,” lucifer sensually encourages.

at this rate, you’re dizzy and drunk on his intoxicating words and erotic touch. you’re babbling, and lucifer finds it endearing.

you whine when he finally takes his gloved finger and rubs slow and tight circles on your slippery bud. “dada—.” you cry especially loud.

“i know, i know,” he shushes.

you felt relief consume you at the friction of his gloves on your trembling cunny. he continues to rub and fiddle with it until you’re forced to bury your mewls into the crook of his neck.

he takes another finger and presses down on your twitchy button, and you flinch at the sudden burst of pleasure.

he knows your body like the back of his hand, and he knows how to make you fall apart. his finger continues to work on your sensitive nub, and you gradually begin to soak his lap with your arousal.

he drags his fingers over your labia and grazes over your desperate hole.

within a few strokes, he plunges two fingers into your heat. he watches you push your tits into his face from the pleasure that forces the arch in your back. and he takes a deep inhale. your pussy greedily latches onto his fingers, and you’re practically fucking his hand.

“you look so delicious in my lap. such a beautiful sight, and it's reserved for only me.”

the depth of his voice sends shudders through your body

he loved how his fingers slid right in. it felt like your pussy was made to take what he gave you. his big fingers fervently stroke your insides, and your legs shake.

just watching your tiny hole stretch to the width of his fingers threatened his self-control. he wanted to fill you with something much bigger, and he’d know you would take it because you're his precious girl.

he wants to see your cunt wrapped around his heavy cock, but he’d settle for now.

just seeing you so pliant in his arms from his tongue lapping at your breast and his large fingers was enough for him.

you drip all over his wrist, and it darkens his gloves.

lucifer’s fingers rub every soft ridge, and your cunt is more than happy for it. the wetness, the squelch, the tightness—it’s overwhelming for you. you feel as if you’re finally unraveling.

"i'm going to cum, daddy. please." you don’t know what you're begging for, but whatever he was willing to do, you needed it now.

lucifer knows you’re close—very close. you’ve nearly gone stiff, and you’re shaking against him. your toes are curled, and your first is clutched.

“oh, is this princess’ pussy going to make a mess?” he coaxes. you open your mouth, moaning, and lucifer leans down. your foreheads are touching, and you unabashedly mewl, your minty breath fanning his face. “is she going to cream for me?”

you feel your orgasm sneaking up on you. lucifer only increases the pace of his fingers thrusting in and out of your cunny. he becomes more brutal, only wanting you to be within his arms as his only goal.

he’s so close to you that your lashes touch his skin. sweat simmers on your chest, and he sucks on your now bruised bottom lip from all your biting.

with two fingers still buried inside you, stroking your walls, he presses his thumb to your clit once more.

“that’s it, it’s pretty girl.”

you felt it coming; you had ample time, and you tried to keep yourself contained, but the force was still too unbearable. you had no idea how much he was holding back.

“i’m so much bigger than you. so much stronger, and you’re so little, princess.” he chuckles in a state of disbelief.

“and you’re not even scared.”

“you’re too trusting, but i suppose that’s why i love you so much. daddy’s brave little girl.”

like a lick of lightning, lucifer feels his desire threaten to snap. his human—his sweet mess full of little weirds, kind eyes, and a soft mouth was going to make him lose himself. he's growling like a beast with every chant of his name.

“daddydaddydaddy —hiccup— love you lots, b-but. i-i can’t think anymore. can’t take it.”

drool collects on the side of your mouth.

“i know it’s a lot for you right now, but you’re doing so well, princess.”

he re-adjusts your body on his lap. “just think about daddy and his fingers.”

the appendages stretching your cunt pull out briefly.

“look at that precious pussy.”

he spreads your labia watching the uneasy throb of your hole that begged to be stuffed.

lucifer wants to mount you, but he remembers what he is when he can smell the blood pumping through veins and the feeling of your heartbeat under the tips of his fingers.

he needs to treat you like a prized dolly to dress up, to kiss, and to fuck.

you don’t need to think; he knows what’s best, and he wants to keep you on a shelf for his own use.

you made him a beast, luring him into darkness, but he was never good at hiding. he felt like he was defiling you. you were truly an entity different from anything he’s ever known. sweet as brown sugar, and he’s tainting you.

still, the thrust of his arms grows stronger. nothing but the milky, wet sounds of your drenched cunt

“your little pussy is crying. you can let go for me.”

your hearts swell with another wave of heat. the sweet babbles of you wanting to reciprocate his love die on your tongue when your body stills. you toss your head back with a pretty wail nearing your crescendo. noisily, his fingers pump your pussy with trickles of wetness spurting out.

your hips jolt forward and erratically hump the heel of his palm, hoping to reach your end much sooner.

“m right there, —!”

he's going to make you cum hard. everything from the sound of his voice to his rough fingers to the shape of his cock could make you cream. his skill never fails you, always leaving you nearly boneless. you’re always going to come crawling back for more, without a doubt.

lucifer feels your walls pulsate around him, warning him of your impending orgasm, and it strokes his ego.

“daddyyyy,” you pant deliriously. his thumb drags at your clit repeatedly and with the sensation of your insides being drained, you sob. you’re too loud, but you can't remain silent any longer.

lucifer kisses your forehead to soothe you, and with a slight pinch of your throbbing cunt, you erupt in the middle of his embrace. the dam finally breaks, and your pussy convulses angrily like it's trying to push his fingers out.

“thaaaaat’s it, baby. daddy is so proud of you.”

he increases his pace, draining you of all the cum your cunny could pump out. until your knees buckle around his wrists.

your chest expands, desperate for more air. your head is fogging up, and you’re exhausted. your limbs are strewn across the demon, lacking complete strength.

lucifer lets you cool off from your high, and he slips his fingers out of you. without hesitation, he buries them into his mouth. the taste of you fills his taste buds to utter satisfaction. you're delicious, sweet and sour, and addicting. he would inject the very essence of you into his veins if he could. but maybe he's already hooked on you; that would explain his racing mind filled with thoughts of only you.

this demon that he’s become terrifies him, but he doesn't want to change. his family and his precious human are all he needs.

he wraps you up in his arms and hugs you. your back is now pressed into his chest, eyes closed blissfully. lucifer tucks your head under his chin, and you rest safely in his hold.

he silently admires the number he did on your body and feels the familiar feeling of pride bursts within him. he looks at your beautiful face, your puffy nipples, and used pussy and he feels gratified fulfillment engulf him.

“perfect human,” he mumbles.

he graces you with another kiss on your heated skin.

“my obedient little girl.”

[sutorus]

JUST THINKING ABOUT VIRGIN!GOJO. . .

getting close to gojo satoru was hard. like limitless was not only a technique but a way of living — of getting by. and you understand; having someone means having something to lose. being the strongest sorcerer alive means you have to be self sufficient, for the entire world’s sake.

but even though most would insist he is more god than human, there was nothing he could do to keep himself from falling into you. it’s the first time he feels okay relinquishing control, accepting unpredictability. he wonders, morosely, if this is what it feels like to be a regular teenager, even if he’s well into his 20s. to make dumb decisions like stay up late on the phone, to make out in the movies, to get nervous about meeting your parents, to buy matching phone cases.

gojo is obsessed with the feeling. he didn’t know he could want someone as much as he wants you, body and soul but god — your body. the way you get on top of him and make his abs seize, his hips grinding up of their own accord. you always laugh so sweetly at his desperation, licking into his mouth and letting your hands wander.

he gets hard embarrassingly fast, every time. whines anguished little moans, not knowing what he wants next. gripping your hips over his like it’s a lifeline, fucking up into you and rubbing your clothed crotches together like he doesn’t know how much better it can get — and he doesn’t. and that excites you beyond belief.

the first time it happens, it doesn’t last long. you told him you could ride him, that it wasn’t a problem, he could just focus on being as comfortable as possible. but the utter heat with which he said “no. no, you’re not fucking me. i’m fucking you,” left you weak in the knees.

he’s hurried, but he takes time to kiss every inch of your body once your clothes are off, murmuring sweet nothings about how you’re so perfect and all his. he’s been hard as a rock ever since you started kissing, not letting you get your mouth on him or even roll the condom on, too afraid of ruining it that soon.

when he slips inside, it’s so much better than he could’ve imagined. there’s no comparison, no feeling in the world, not even healing his deadly wounds and coming back to life can compare. you’re soft, warm and wet, gripping him just right, massaging his length like you were made to take him.

he can’t keep his mouth shut, can’t keep the surprise out of his voice. he fucks into you violently, unable to comprehend that it can feel this good. you feel perfect, like he never wants to leave, wants to be inside of you forever and just fuck you again and again and again.

“f-fuck, fuck, hang on,” gojo has to pause halfway, abs contracting rhythmically as he stills inside you. he looks up, huffing out an overwhelmed breath, and you can’t help but let out a giggle. “yeah? this funny to you? i’ll give you something to laugh about, just you wait.”

he starts moving again slowly, and you caress his face, singing him praise about how good he’s doing. he mewls at the compliment, wanting to please, needing to be the best you ever had no matter the circumstances. and he is, he was made for you and you for him.

“aahh, fuck baby i can’t stop — can’t, sorry, i can’t, i’m gonna cum, god i’m gonna cum,” he chokes out, pistoning in and out of you at an unforgiving pace. you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist. “oh fuck, fuck don’t do that, if you do that i’m gonna—“

“it’s okay, satoru,” you whisper, finding the timing to catch his lips in a kiss. “i want you to.”

his groan is guttural, like it’s been punched out of him, and he buries himself so deep inside you you can hardly swallow as he gives a few final, short thrusts into your pussy. he cums so hard that he loses all sense, his grip bruising you, he’s pretty sure he’s crying, whining your name like you could save him right now.

it’s a heavenly sight, so hot that it has you clenching around him chasing your own high. when he comes to, he presses two long fingers to your clit, kissing your face all over until you’re tumbling over the edge as well.

you lay there, side by side, catching your breaths in sync. which is why it comes as a surprise when he wastes no time getting on top of you again, fingers chasing your entrance.

“satoru,” you laugh, in part amusement and part desbelief. “just gimme a few minutes, okay? i just c—“

“nuh uh,” he kisses you to shut you up, then takes his mouth down your body. you notice, a little horrified, that he’s already hard again. “you already came on my cock. now i’m gonna make you cum on my fingers, and then my mouth. and then we’ll see who’s gets the last laugh.”

[kentopedia]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ REASSURANCE — nanami kento

kento comforts you when you're feeling down

contents: gn!reader, insecurities, pet names, this was written in like 30 mins so idk, 700 words, sfw

“kento?” you asked, resting your hands on your lap. from the other side of the couch, he turned, smiling softly, placing his thumbs between the pages of the book to save his spot. your head was buried in the cushion, and you stared at him, blinking slowly. “you still love me, right?”

at first, he laughed, a small little sound that left his throat. then, when your face fell further, he cut himself off immediately, eyebrows drawing together tightly. “of course, i love you, sweetheart. i love you so much. why are you asking me?”

you shrugged, embarrassed, and looked away from him, at your hands locked together. “sometimes i just don’t know why. it makes more sense that you wouldn’t love me than that you do.”

a heavy frown drew on kento’s face, and inched closer, reaching out. “what do you mean? did i do something that made you feel unloved? if i did, honey, i’m sorry—”

which only served to make you feel worse, because, most things weren’t ever kento’s fault. he was so patient and caring, the sweetest man you’d ever known. and you weren’t sure that you deserved that kind of love at all.

“of course not, kento, you’re perfect.”

he smiled a bit, then, but that didn’t erase the concern in his eyes. “i’m certainly anything but perfect.” his fingertips ran along the back of your own, softly. “tell me what’s wrong, my love. i don’t like seeing you upset.”

you sniffed, willing the tears away as you looked past him once more, unable to meet his gentle eyes. “it’s stupid.”

“don’t say that. nothing you feel is ever stupid.”

and when a tear fell down your cheek at the kind words, you wiped it away before kento could see it, scrubbing violently at your skin.

“i’m fine, kento.”

“you’re not.” he paused, softened his voice. “it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. i won’t make you. but don’t keep it all bottled up just because you think you’re being silly. okay?”

you glanced over, blinked, stared at the way his smile was slightly tilted. the plumpness of his lips, the gentleness of his eyes. his soft, blond hair falling over his forehead, because it was sunday night, and he hadn’t bothered to style it.

how dearly you loved him. you’d rather die than live a life without him.

a sob broke loose from you, and you covered your face with your hands, sniffling. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.”

kento said nothing, but drew you closer, pulling you onto his lap. tears fell down your cheeks, and though you didn’t want to look at him, he drew your lips to his own, the touch barely there, before he kissed across your cheeks, your forehead.

“why are you sorry?”

“i didn’t mean to cry. i’m being so dumb. and sensitive.”

“honey,” he sighed, stroking your cheeks, eyes almost pained from the sight of you so upset. “it’s okay. don’t apologize for crying. i love you. i love you, i love you.”

you breathed deeply, trying not to cry harder, hating how difficult it was for you to accept him irrevocable affections, sometimes. “but why? why would you choose me, kento? i don’t think i’m an easy person to love. i’m so… boring, and average, and you are amazing in every way.” you squeezed his hand, still resting on your cheeks, and leaned into it.

kento stared, forehead wrinkling, before he pushed you down to his chest, holding you close. a long inhale breathed deep into his body. “you aren’t any of those things, you know? you’re so lovable. you’re beautiful, caring, intelligent. anything but boring. anything but average.” he ran his fingers up the knots of your spine. “perhaps, i was put on this earth to prove you otherwise.”

you gave him a sad little smile. “you might be working on that for a while, ken.”

"that's okay." he laughed, soft, gently, enough to shake you against his chest before he kissed the top of your head. “that’s what love is, isn’t it? i'm not going to leave when things get tough.”

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and SA

A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)

P.S. header = pov change

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry Styles was not one for regrets.

His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.

Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.

It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.

Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.

He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.

He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.

He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.

He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.

Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.

Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.

Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.

Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.

Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.

"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."

Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.

"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:

"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."

"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.

It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.

"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.

"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"

"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.

She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?

It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.

Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.

They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.

Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.

Until a few months ago.

It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.

It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.

The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.

They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.

"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He  complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.

"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.

Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.

Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.

"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.

"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.

"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.

"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.

"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."

"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.

"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.

"I— I work on a different floor."

"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.

"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.

"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.

"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.

"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.

"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.

Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.

She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.

Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.

Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.

Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.

It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.

She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.

When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.

He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.

Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.

"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.

"Harry, this is Y/N."

For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...

She looked so... innocent?

He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.

"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.

Angel.

That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.

"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"

The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."

Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.

This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?

Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.

His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.

When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.

"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle.  Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.

"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"

Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."

"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"

Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.

"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.

Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.

"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.

"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.

"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.

"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be."  He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."

Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.

"I can teach you, if you want."

The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.

"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.

"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.

"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,

"Just think about it, alright?"

Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.

"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.

"Anytime." He winked at her.

"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.

"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.

He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.

Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.

In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.

Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…

[theostrophywife]

darling, you look divine.

pairing: regulus black x reader.

song inspiration: eyes don't lie by isabel larosa.

author's note: screaming, crying, throwing up. if regulus looked at me like that, i'd be wetter than the black lake. please enjoy my darlings 🤎

The first symptom reared its ugly head early Monday morning. 

You were in the Great Hall eating breakfast with James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter when your skin suddenly felt like you were being engulfed by fiendfyre. The burning heat spread through your entire body, making you feel flushed and flustered. Your fork clattered against the table while you wiped the sweat off of your brow with clammy hands. 

“Are you feeling alright, love?” asked Sirius. 

You shook your head, fanning yourself. “Does anyone else feel hot all of a sudden? It feels like I’m getting burned alive.”

The boys shook their heads. Remus laid the back of his hand against your forehead. “You’re burning up, Y/N. I think you might be pitching a fever.” 

James pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and squinted. “Moony’s right. You’re sweating profusely and you look a bit peaked.” 

Peter nodded in agreement. “It might be that new dragon flu that’s going around. Maybe you should head back to the dorms, Y/N.” 

“I can’t miss class. There’s an assignment due in Transfiguration.” 

Just then, a violent cramp seized your lower abdomen. You gripped the edge of the dining table so hard that you felt the wood splinter underneath your palm. Padfoot’s eyes widened at the appearance of your claws. It had only been a month since Sirius helped you summon your Animagus form and while you still had much to learn, you’ve never lost control like this before. 

You needed to get out of there. Transforming into a giant snow leopard in the middle of the Great Hall would be very, very bad. 

“Don’t worry about McGonagall,” Sirius said in a stern voice. “We’ll cover for you. Now come on, I’ll walk you back to your room.” 

Fortunately, you managed to reach Gryffindor tower with no other incidents. After Sirius escorted you back to your dorm, he barred the door with magic and promised to check up on you after class. 

The cramps only worsened. It felt like someone had buried a dagger into your stomach and was now twisting and turning it as they pleased. You doubled over in pain and clutched the poster of your canopy bed before curling up into a ball in the middle of your mattress. Not even your period cramps compared to this torment. 

When you thought it couldn’t get any worse, an overwhelming ache blossomed between your thighs and made you groan with need. You twisted in your sheets and pressed your legs together to counteract the wave of lust coursing through your veins, but it only made it worse. You felt empty and hollow and the overwhelming desire to be filled was the only thing you could think about.

This was different from the surge of adolescent hormones that you had grown so familiar with. The desire was a living thing, sinking its claws into your very being. You felt feral, animalistic. 

You burrowed into your pillows, your breaths growing ragged as you tried to regain control. A demanding knock against your door broke your concentration. You sniffed the air, whining softly as the intoxicating scent of eucalyptus, bergamot, and sandalwood overpowered your heightened senses. A part of you recalled the warning Sirius left you with. You were not, under any circumstances, supposed to open the door unless it was him or one of the boys on the other side, but the temptation was too strong. 

As the knocks grew more insistent, the scent shifted into something sharper. You felt yourself drawn to it and before long, you were opening the door to satiate your curiosity. The person standing on the other side made your stomach lurch. 

“Regulus,” you said through gritted teeth. The very presence of the younger Black brother made your entire body shake as you contended against the urge to transform. It was a losing battle. You could feel your canines elongating, making your gums feel sore and achy. “Now is not a good time.” 

In fact, it was the worst bloody fucking time. On a normal day, you could barely tolerate Regulus. His surly attitude and cutting glare certainly left little to be desired. Then there was the matter of his falling out with Sirius, which only served to heighten the tension between you. When Professor McGonagall chose to make you partners, you at least attempted to keep things civil. Whatever was going on between your best friend and his younger brother was none of your business, but Regulus had practically made it impossible to stay impartial. 

You had never met a broodier, haughtier, snootier arsehole than Regulus Arcturus Black. The pureblood prick acted like he was a prince amongst peasants just because he happened to be born into the right bloodline. Yet a muggleborn like yourself had managed to take the top spot in every class. A spot that previously belonged to him. 

To be expected, Regulus wasn’t the least bit pleased about this. He was even less thrilled when McGonagall tasked him to drop off the latest lecture notes so that you wouldn’t fall behind in class. If she hadn’t threatened to deduct points from his house for refusing, Regulus would’ve never set foot in the godforsaken lion’s den.

He pushed his way inside, not bothering to wait for a proper invitation. “Here are the notes from class,” Regulus stated stiffly. “We’re required to transform a thimble into a thestral. I suggest you read up. I’ll not have you dragging me down just because you fancied playing hooky for the day.” 

“I’m not skipping for the bloody hell of it,” you snapped. “If I had a choice, I would be in class not doubled over in pain—” 

Regulus caught you just before you hit the ground. The dizzy spell had come out of nowhere, nearly knocking you to the floor from the sheer force of its effects. As Regulus snaked his arm around your waist, you almost wished it had. His scent hit you all at once. You whimpered as he tucked you against his side, feeling the heat of his touch even under all your layers of clothing. 

The ringing in your ears subsided enough for you to hear the panic in Regulus’ voice. “Y/N, can you hear me? Are you alright?” 

You pushed him off with what little strength remained in your body. “Thank you for the notes, but I’d appreciate it if you left.”

“No,” Regulus said. 

“What do you mean, no?

“I mean, no. Do you want to hear it in French? Non.” 

You frowned, clutching your stomach. The cramps were starting again, but it was different this time. The ache in your lower abdomen was excruciating and your current proximity to Regulus only seemed to make it worse. The slickness between your thighs certainly didn’t help the matter. It was humiliating, plain and simple. 

“Get the fuck out, Regulus!” 

Regulus caught your wrist. His fingers felt like ice against your overheated skin. “You don’t want that, darling. Not when I’m the only person who can help.”

“You know what’s wrong with me?” 

He sighed. “Of course my brother would convince you to turn without thinking about the side effects. Classic Sirius, honestly.” You glared at him to get on with it. “You’re in heat, Y/N.” 

You grimaced. There was no way in Godric’s green earth. “Like…a cat?” 

Regulus smirked. “Is that what you transform into, little kitten?” You pursed your lips, which caused him to roll his eyes. “Please, I know your merry band of misfits have all conjured an animagus form. There’s no use hiding it. So what are you? A fuzzy little Persian cat?” 

“No,” you said rather haughtily. Did he have to be so irritating? “My form is a snow leopard.” 

“Still a kitten,” he responded with a shit eating grin. “The same rules apply. You’ll be in heat for at least a week, mon chaton.” 

“You mean I have to suffer for seven whole days? This is hell. It feels like my uterus is being ripped apart. How am I supposed to endure this pain for an entire week?”

“Well, there are ways to find relief.” 

“What kind of ways?” 

Regulus gave you a knowing look. “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out. What’s the purpose of heat?” 

“Reproduction,” you answered almost instantly. The realization left your mouth before your brain could even process it. Oh, you have got to be kidding. This was some sort of cruel joke. For Merlin’s fucking sake! This was horrifying. Downright humiliating. “You can’t possibly mean…” 

The grin on the stupid twat’s face was growing wider by the second. “You don’t necessarily have to have sex,” he said in an amused tone. “An orgasm will do. I’m sure you can manage that with your fingers, can’t you princess?”

You swallowed thickly. “I—I’ve never—“ 

Was it possible to die from embarrassment? Discussing the details of your sex life would’ve been humiliating under any circumstance, but this? Standing here, telling Regulus fucking Black what you were about to tell him, this was truly rock bottom.

“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.” 

“No!” you snapped. You’ve had your fair share of experience in that department, no matter how awkward they might’ve been. “I’ve had sex, I just haven’t…”

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” Regulus said, entirely perplexed. “Not even once?” 

You crossed your arms defensively, which turned out to be a big mistake. On top of everything else that you were already suffering through, your breasts now felt sore and sensitive. 

“No,” you conceded with a sigh. “I don’t need you judging me for it either, so if you’re quite done then please get the bloody hell out of my dorm.” 

It may have been your imagination, but you could’ve sworn that Regulus softened just a little bit. He at least loosened his grip on your wrist, rubbing up your arm in a gesture that might’ve been soothing if it weren’t coming from him. 

“I’m not judging you. If anything, I’m judging whoever it is that failed to make you finish. It’s quite rude to leave a lady unsatisfied.” 

“What would you even know about satisfying a woman, Regulus?”

“Trust me, darling. I know plenty.” Your cheeks heated as he traced circles on your forearm. “Tell me, kitten. Have you ever touched yourself?” 

The conversation should have ended there. You should’ve put a stop to it. But this bloody fucking heat was doing strange things to your body. Your hormones were out of control and Regulus was standing way too close for comfort. So close that you could see the little golden flecks in his emerald eyes. So close that one of his curls was tickling your cheek. So close that those full, pillowy lips were mere inches away from your own. 

He smirked when your gaze dipped down to his mouth. “My eyes are up here, Y/N and I asked you a question. The polite thing to do is answer.” 

“Since when have you ever cared about being polite?” 

“I don’t, but I think you and I are playing a very dangerous game here and I quite enjoy sparring with you, ma cherie.” Regulus tilted your chin up and cradled your jaw. “So, have you or have you not touched yourself?” 

You glared up at him defiantly; a last ditch effort to keep your dignity intact. “No,” you said with your head held high. “I’ve never touched myself and I’ve never had an orgasm. Are you happy now, Regulus?” 

“Quite the opposite,” he murmured. Regulus caressed your bottom lip with his thumb and tilted his head back to study you. His eyes were almost black when they flickered back up to meet yours. “I could teach you.” 

“You want to teach me how to…” 

“Masturbate. Wank. Get yourself off?” Regulus listed matter-of-factly. “Yes. Yes, I do, ma chérie.”

It should’ve been a no-brainer. This was a terrible, horrible fucking idea. An absolute hot mess that would yield calamitous results, but the ache in your core was too painful to ignore and you were willing to try just about anything to find relief. Including trusting someone you absolutely loathed. 

“Fine. You can teach me, but that’s it. None of this goes any further than that.” 

Regulus smirked. “I won’t touch you, princess. Not until you beg me to.” 

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “So?” 

He nodded behind you. “Get on the bed.” 

That was easy enough. You crawled into your mattress and sat cross legged on top of your sheets. “Not like that. Lie down on your back and take those ghastly pajamas off.” 

Arsehole. You happened to like your red and gold striped bottoms, but to be fair, they were in the way. The mattress dipped beneath him as Regulus positioned himself at the very edge of the bed. He leaned against the wooden poster, his gaze transfixed on the sight before him. 

“I wouldn’t have taken you as a red lace lingerie type of girl, mon chaton.” You frowned in response, which only made him chuckle. “As pretty as those panties are, you’ll need to take them off as well.” 

You hesitated, hooking your thumb over the waistband of your knickers. Regulus raised a brow as if he were challenging you to back out. Like he half-expected you to be too scared to continue. He seriously underestimated that infamous brashness that Gryffindors were so well known for. 

He inhaled sharply as you slipped out of your panties and tossed the discarded lace next to him. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.” 

For once, you kept silent and did what you were told. Regulus nodded tightly. “Wider. Yeah, just like that.” 

“What now?” you asked, trying to keep yourself from blushing at this totally undignified position. You were way past embarrassment now. 

“Run a finger through your folds,” Regulus said, his voice sounding huskier than it did a second ago. He watched with dark eyes as you stroked your core. “Fuck, you’re soaked. I can see it on your fingers.” 

You took a deep breath, feeling that tension coil in your lower abdomen. Every fiber of your being buzzed with lust. “Stroke yourself, kitten. Imagine that it’s someone else touching you.” 

With your eyes closed, you let his voice guide you through the steps. You hated to admit it, but he was good at this. “Use your own slick to make it easier, darling. Gather it before rubbing your clit. That’s it, just like that. There’s a good girl.” 

The words spurred you on, your fingers working that sensitive bundle of nerves to find release. You could feel the budding orgasm. It was spreading through you, setting your teeth on edge. You were close, so close. 

When the momentum dropped, you nearly cried out of frustration. If you thought you were in pain before, this was ten-fold of that. For some reason, there was some sort of mental block that you couldn’t get past. 

You looked up, your lower lip trembling. “I can’t do it. There’s this block and I freeze up and I just can’t do it on my own.” 

Regulus looked unhinged. Like he was going to jump out of his skin any second. You’ve never seen him like this. Anything other than calm and collected was out of character for the youngest Black. 

“Will you help me?” you whispered. To be honest, you weren’t above begging at this point. 

He looked utterly conflicted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N. You’re in heat. I don’t want to take advantage when you’re in such a vulnerable state.” 

You shook your head. “You wouldn’t be taking advantage. I know I’m hormonal, but oddly enough, I trust you. You know how to keep a secret. Just please, Regulus. I’m in so much pain.” 

Regulus was silent for a moment. He seemed to be in deep contemplation. “Are you absolutely sure?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you’re aware of what you’re asking for and who you’re asking it from?” 

“I am perfectly aware, thank you very much. Is this the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had? Fuck no. Do I still want to do it anyways? Fuck yes.” 

The two of you stared at one another. Regulus clenched his jaw and then unclenched it. Finally, he sighed in resignation. 

“C’mere then.” 

He positioned himself against the headboard, his back pressed up on the wood. Regulus bent his long legs and pulled you against him, your back resting against the solid plane of his chest. You sighed as he rubbed soothing circles upon your skin, his rings kissing your hips with their cold bite. He shuffled behind you, adjusting himself just as you caught a glimpse of the two of you in your vanity mirror. 

Regulus stuck his middle and pointer finger into his mouth, making sure they were nice and wet before he moved them lower. You whimpered as he caressed the inside of your thigh and clutched the sheets as he teased along your crease. When he stroked along your wetness, a choked moan escaped from your lips. 

“Gods, you’re fucking dripping.” His cold breath fanned over your neck just as he plunged his fingers deep within you. “Salazar fucking save me, you’re even tighter than I imagined.” 

His strokes were languid, small ministrations as he buried his fingers inside of you. The cold metal rings that adorned his slender fingers hit your pubic bone every time he thrusted inside of you, but it wasn’t painful. In fact, seeing the Black heirloom ring soaked in your wetness might’ve been the most erotic sight you’ve ever witnessed.

You whimpered as his other hand disappeared underneath your shirt. “Can I touch you here, princess?” 

The sound that came out of you barely sounded human. It was a purr more than anything. Regulus caressed your ribs with his knuckles. “I need words, kitten.” 

“You can touch me, Regulus.” 

Fire skittered along your skin as his hand traveled further up. He palmed you through your bra before he slipped under the fabric and squeezed your breast. Regulus paid equal attention to both of your breasts, admiring the curve and swell of them as he picked up the pace of his fingers. You moaned as he pinched your nipples, which only made you wetter still. 

You fisted his curls in one hand as he curved them inside of you. Regulus chuckled darkly, pleased by your reaction. “Right there? Does that feel good, princess?” 

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, gods that’s perfect.” 

“You’re doing so well, ma cherie. That’s it. Ride my fingers just like that. Feels good, yeah?” 

You nodded, blinking at the image in the mirror. Regulus had his hands all over you, his lips pressed lightly against your neck as he watched his fingers slide in and out of your tight cunt. His eyes caught yours in the reflection, the green completely swallowed by dark pools of lust. 

“Look at you, all spread out for me. You’re fucking exquisite. The little moans you make are enough to drive me mad.” 

“Regulus, please,” you keened. He smirked against your neck and picked up the pace. Your head fell against his shoulder as that familiar tense built. “Oh gods. Oh fuck. Reggie—“

You felt him grip your chin, tilting it towards the mirror. “Don’t close your eyes,” Regulus growled into your ear. “Watch, kitten. Watch as I make you cum.”

When you dragged your gaze upwards, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. You were in a state of disarray, cheeks flushed, hair matted, and lips parted as Regulus pushed you over the edge. His fingers were magic and every stroke unraveled you, hips bucking, back arching, begging for more and more and more. The orgasm rippled through you like a monsoon, completely swallowing you whole. 

“That’s it, princess,” Regulus cooed. “Gods, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum. Darling, you look divine. Je suis raide dingue de toi.”

The comedown had you seeing stars. Behind your eyes was a whole galaxy, a cluster of constellations that you never would’ve reached without him. Regulus had made you cum so hard that your body felt like it was floating through outer space. 

When you finally regained awareness, you were surprised to find Regulus gently brushing your hair back. “How was that, kitten?” 

“That was—you were—fuck.”

“Well said, love. Shakespeare himself would envy your silver tongue.”

He slid his fingers out of you slowly and you tried and failed to suppress the little whine that escaped from the back of your throat. 

Regulus smirked, feeling the way you clenched around his digits in an attempt to keep him in place. He stared at his hand, mesmerized by the arousal dripping off his fingers. You stirred, having every intention to find something that he could clean himself off with. 

“Let me grab you a towel.” 

He gripped your hips in place and looked you straight in the eyes as he brought his fingers to his lips. “No need, princess.” 

Then he sucked, hard. The filthy image was enough to leave you gasping in shock. He lapped up every drop like you were the sweetest delicacy on this earth. Regulus groaned, his eyes rolling back as he savored the taste. The moan that rippled through him would forever be branded into your mind.

For Godric’s fucking sake, the man was downright obscene.

“That should hold you off for the rest of the day,” Regulus said. “You’ll still feel the effects of your heat, but it won’t be as bad. You might even be able to drag yourself down to dinner. If you can manage to walk on such shaky legs.” 

You rolled your eyes, but softened a bit. If it weren’t for him, you would still be in excruciating pain. “Would it be strange to say thank you?” 

Regulus shrugged nonchalantly as though you were merely discussing the weather. “Not strange at all. You’re very welcome, princess.” 

“You’re…” you took a deep breath, like your body was rejecting whatever compliment was forming in your mind. “You’re really good at that.” 

“Yeah? You think so?” 

You quirked a brow. “Fishing for compliments, are we?” 

“The only compliment I need is the sound of you moaning my name,” he said with a smile as he hooked your bra back in place and pulled your shirt back down. “I assure you that I intend to hear plenty of that in the near future. This is just the start.” 

Regulus straightened, trailing his fingers along the sheets before snatching up the red lace underwear you’d thrown at him earlier. He pocketed the lingerie and smirked. 

"You said something earlier," you recalled. "Before I..."

"Before I made you come so hard you saw stars?"

Heat flooded your cheeks at his vulgar choice of words. "Yes. Something in French. That's your native tongue, isn't it?"

"Thinking a lot about my tongue, are you love?"

You ignored the salacious comment. "What did you say?"

A devious smirk tugged at his lips. Regulus pierced you with his gaze, those emerald eyes burning with so much lust that you felt choked with desire.

"It's a secret," he whispered, his voice a deep and rough caress. "If you're good, then maybe you'll find out what my tongue and I have to say."

You rolled your eyes. "You're a pain in the arse, Regulus."

"Find me when you want to play again, princess," Regulus said with a dark chuckle. "I'll be waiting for those claws to come out. See you soon, mon chaton.” 

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying. 

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer. 

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm. 

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant. 

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines. 

John’s icon dims. 

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to. 

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you. 

He tried to call as often as he could. 

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down. 

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic. 

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.” 

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?” 

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening. 

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind. 

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?” 

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work. 

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth. 

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together. 

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad? 

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears. 

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.” 

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted? 

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him. 

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind. 

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with. 

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present. 

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…” 

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear. 

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?” 

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring. 

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts. 

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor. 

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs. 

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.” 

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin. 

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing. 

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?” 

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation. 

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.” 

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords. 

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else. 

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences. 

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips. 

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends. 

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute. 

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later. 

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?” 

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?” 

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name. 

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed. 

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click. 

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms. 

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat. 

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening. 

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh. 

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.” 

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod. 

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.” 

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room. 

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.” 

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight. 

You steel yourself and raise the box. 

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair. 

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully. 

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm. 

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead. 

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders. 

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed. 

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship. 

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!” 

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly. 

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.” 

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? 

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it. 

Pregnant. 

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly. 

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts. 

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss. 

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold. 

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again. 

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.” 

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.” 

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.” 

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.” 

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second. 

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.” 

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child. 

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.” 

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.” 

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave. 

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[running-with-kn1ves]

Congrats on 5k!!! Can we get the possessive facetime bf and "you should have known better than to cheat on me" please :D

A/N: Thank you! And tbh I made this a smutty smut smut as well b/c i feel like this is how possessive bf would handle the situation. Aka poorly.

CW: dubcon NSFW, gagging & bondage, penetration (GN Reader), reader flirts w/ someone else, reader & possessive bf originally both intoxicated

It was too late for this. Or maybe, too early. You lost track of time long ago, glowy green numbers on your alarm clock reading 1:45 AM when you first stumbled back home with the pissed drunkard beside you, dragging you inside by your arm. You were practically sober now, your headache screaming as you felt the blissful simplicity of being tipsy leave your throat. You wish you drank more, did something more outrageous than give some stranger your number. Maybe you should’ve kissed him, should’ve stuck your hand down his pants instead of batting your eyelashes. Maybe then, you wouldn’t have to face your boyfriend’s wrath-- he’d have been too heartbroken to even think of reprimanding you. 

But it didn’t matter now, not when he decided to deprive you of your senses while pumping round after round inside of you. It was a form of white torture, he hystericaly answered when your arms were jerked behind you, tied with what you thought might’ve been a makeshift restraint or a necktie, but was instead harsh braided rope meant for cattle or ransom victims. It scratched your wrists as he pulled your head back by a fistful of hair, promising that “you’ll be begging for his forgiveness by the end of this.”

With the blindfold he seemed much too prepared to have wrapped around your eyes, Malachi ripped off your skimpy underwear meant for the club, stuffing it in your mouth and narrowly avoiding your biting teeth. 

When you both went to celebrate his cousin’s birthday party at a nightclub, you had partly decided to ignore him for treating you so possessively the past month, logic being thrown out the window with the sudden accompaniment of lemon drop shots and a handsome stranger showing you more interest than your jealous, pissed off boyfriend had in ages. You felt wanted, desired. It was nice, even when you felt daggers in your back, and a tugging hand on your shoulder every five minutes. The last straw was when you wrote your scribbled, illegible phone number on the strangers’ arm. 

Saying Malachi was enraged was an understatement. You were jerked away, stumbling and laughing as you blew a kiss to your midnight affair. Did you want more? You didn’t know. All you knew, is you wanted a fun night out without having to cater to your obsessive boyfriend’s every need. You wanted to feel sexy, lusted after. 

But maybe you should’ve pulled that stunt at a time when Malachi wasn’t around. Then, you wouldn’t be sobbing behind the gag, hearing the wet squelches of cock being bullied inside of you. Your insides felt bruised, nipples tugged and bitten as Malachi slamed in, in, in from below. 

Normally, you’d have the power when sitting on top of him, grinding and allowing him to lay limp. But with your thighs spread apart on his flank, hands against your ass and every sense blurred, he thrusted into you as you barely held yourself up. 

“This.. is.. what.. you get--!” He huffed, snarling as he slapped the growing welt on your ass cheek. You heard his gasped gag, hips stuttering with his broken orgasm splaying inside of you. 

Which orgasm was this? You couldn’t remember, the vibrating toy milking out your sweet spot still going as a mixture of clear-white came to coat Malachi’s dick. He hadn’t eased you in, hadn’t given into the foreplay he’d usually tease you with, even when he normally hate-fucked you. 

“You know better..hng, been taught, time, and time again… hah,” You tried to squeeze your legs shut to keep him out, but the hands keeping you lifted moved to violently pull your knees apart. You fell onto his chest with a choke, the sweat dripping from your cheeks mixing with the caked layer on his chest. “You’re just making it too easy for me to punish you, huh?”

You muffled through the gag, prating incomprehensibly as the painful overstim of your lower half was worsened by this new, weak position. 

Malachi lazily rutted up into you while coming off his high, pressing your hips down each time to enter deeper. He always went to the hilt of his cock, so deep inside that it made your walls ache and splinter. 

“I’d almost say you’re a masochist fr’me,” He panted, lifting you by the jaw to look into his eyes. “ Wanna be pounded by me for flirting with other guys, cheatin like a common streetwalker, mm’?”

You shook your head, unable to see him but knowing those green eyes were boring into you. 

“Seems like you still don’t fucking get it then. Well, we’ll be here until you do.” 

The gag was pushed deeper down your throat with his thumb, hips rising as he let go of spreading your cheeks to stabilize you. Skin smacked against skin as he pounded up, letting your poor hips fall each time he burrowed out. 

“I can’t!” You muffled, the tight pain of another rising orgasm coming beginning to blind you. You couldn���t take this one, your body wouldn’t be able to handle it. 

Attempting to slide off, you tried to maneuver your legs away, arms still bound as you struggled to inch off of him. If he was as tired as you, maybe you’d get a chance away. 

“Oh no you don’t,” He growled, digging blunt nails into the fat of your thighs with one hand, while the other tugged at your scalp. “Think you get to rest? Get a chance to relax after cheating on me?”

The encircling vibrator was turned up tenfold with the sudden drop of your hair, fingers moving to tug at your ear. “No way, not leaving until I THINK you’ve suffered enough.” 

Malachi got close, licking a long stripe inside its canal as he jutted into your weeping entrance faster. The squeaks of the mattress made you cringe, hearing the wetness of his cum layering between your ass and thighs, falling to the sweaty sheets. 

His heaves for air grew louder, pushing your shoulders back to force you upright again. You still slouched, even with Malachi’s arm tugging your restrained hands down backwards. 

“Gonna take my cock like the.. Hungry whore you’ve been..take it till you’re sorry. And even then, Hah…” He laughed, a pissed and out of breath laugh that made him work harder to bruise your furiously drenched hole. “--still won’t stop cumming inside of you.”

You could only crack a groan each time his hips snapped up, in rhythm with his movement as you felt the vibrator bring you to the brink of another painful, consuming orgasm. Tears and drool dripped from your face alike as you prayed for him to nearly have his fix, lest you pass out from the ecstasy and suffering of another round. Atleast it wasn’t another painful edge session, your hazy mind tried to comprehend. Though at this point, you wondered if that’d have been better. 

“Waz.. Mnph, Drunk..” You tried to choke from the bundled up gag, hoping maybe he’d offer you some sympathy out of your previous lack of inhibition. 

“Sorry, baby. Doesn’t matter, still actin like you wanna fuck other guys n’ front of me,” He circled his hips upward, watching as your already open mouth created a sweet ‘O.’ You couldn’t help the noises you released anymore, not when he used what you liked and abused it--  but your moans seemed to satisfy Malachi.  “But you ready to say you’re sorry? Make it up to me, yeah?”

You nodded your head erratically,, wanting this to end no matter what you had to do. You were exhausted, the lessening vibrator making you sigh in relief despite the aching bruising still inflamed by the plunging cock hilted inside of you.

“Awe, you’re so cute. It’s not enough, though. Say sorry all you want, I wanna hear you.” The evil trick of the calming vibrator had snuffed your awareness, making you jolt when it was snapped back to a level 10. “But I’m not letting you off the hook when you still got so much left to pay for.”

[queerly-autistic]

One of my favourite things about S2 was that we got to see so much in terms of Ed's relationships with women, and it just made me love him even more (if that's humanly possible). We didn't see him interact with many women at all in S1 (I think it was only the posh ladies at the fancy party which was...yeah, not a good experience), so S2 actually giving us a glimpse into his friendships with all these (very different) kickass women was so, so special.

I love that, as messy and fucked up as they all are, and even with the 'well we're pirates, we're not normal and we will fuck with each other' threat that hangs over everything, Ed's relationship with Mary and Anne is still so affectionate, and they both thrown their arms around him the moment they see him. Even though Ed is incredibly tactile, I don't think we've actually ever seen him be hugged like this, and it's just so lovely to watch him be embraced and clearly feel very safe being embraced by these women (and I can't with the way he clings to them, as well). I also love that this is a wlw/mlm friendship; yeah it falls apart later and turns into delicious gay-on-gay violence (and I wouldn't alter a note of it), but I love seeing this sort of affection between queer women and queer men, there's not nearly enough of it.

Don't even get me started on the BFF handshake he has with Anne - I want all the history there, give me six spin-off films about their adventures please.

And then we finally get a glimpse of his relationship with Jackie, which is similarly just lovely, but in a different way? You get the sense that they could sit there for hours, talking shit about the world, all whilst casually ripping the shit out of each other (but affectionately). You also know full well these two have talked extensively about men and know pretty much everything about each other's sex lives - we didn't see it, but I'm absolutely certain that Ed went into full gushing details about sleeping with Stede, just like Jackie did when she talked about The Swede fucking like a jackhammer (historical accuracy ftw).

And, again, whilst they're still pirates, and it's messy, the entire thing feels incredibly...safe, particularly from Ed's perspective? He feels more comfortable around Jackie than he is around most other characters (apart from Stede), just like he was with Anne and Mary.

And then, just to hammer the point home even further that Ed has, generally, fantastic relationships with women, and connects with them, and feels relaxed and safe with them, you have Ed and Zheng becoming instant BFFs literally minutes after meeting each other. Ed goes 'ooh, very cool woman kicking ass and killing people, she shall be my best friend, immediately', and Zheng is automatically incredibly relaxed and open with him, too (suggesting she feels as safe and comfortable with him as he does with her).

All I want in life is to see Ed and Zheng get silly-drunk with each other (and this is why we urgently need a S3).

And none of Ed's relationships with these women are a fetishistic 'I love women because they're fabulous' thing, or an overly patronising paternalistic 'I love the women and I must protect them' thing - all the relationships he has with women are very equal, very comfortable, fully believable, just fantastic friendships to watch play out. I feel like, given everything we see on screen, Ed generally feels a lot more comfortable and safe and open with the women he knows than the men he knows (Stede is the only other person he is this physically affectionate and comfortable with). Which is probably very understandable? Yes, the women he's friends with are all violent pirates too (that's part of the joy of it - none of them are lovely demure morally pure women, they're all violent pirates), but Ed has a lot of experience with specifically overtly abusive men - right back to watching his dad abuse his mum. And that's a distinction that matters: the show treats the violence of normal piracy and the violence of abuse very, very differently. Ed is not used to being treated softly or affectionately by men, as we saw in his shocked reaction to Stede holding his hand. I don't think it's any wonder that he gravitates more towards friendships with women (or that the men he feels the most open and safe with, such as Stede, Fang, even Frenchie, are very pointedly the opposite of the abusive men he has experience with). I just love love love that being friends with women is such a core part of Ed's character, and that we got to see all of these fantastic relationships in the show.

[pirateshelly]

One thing that really fascinates me about interview with the vampire (the show) is this sort of tension between power and powerlessness in all of the characters. Because it doesn't present becoming a vampire as something that just gives you power and magically makes you completely detached from all human concerns and struggles.

And that seems to be something Lestat does very much want to believe, and he's in enough of a position of privilege that he's able to convince himself it's true, and it's a fundamental area where he just cannot understand Louis because Louis CAN'T pretend even if he wants to. (And of course Lestat cannot ACTUALLY separate himself from "human troubles" the way he likes to think he can, he just has an easier time pretending than most). Because as much as becoming a vampire grants these characters supernatural power it doesn't just magically take away the very tangible human ways that they were previously vulnerable or powerless.

Becoming a vampire doesn't negate Louis' struggles with racism; in some ways it amplifies them with how he is alienated from his own family and community; his closest connection becomes Lestat. He loses his economic independence and becomes socially dependent on Lestat in a way he wasn't to anyone as a human because in some ways becoming a vampire made him MORE vulnerable, despite granting him physical strength/speed/etc. The promise of freedom in vampirism Lestat presents to Louis (that I do think he does genuinely mean, but "freedom" means very different things to Louis than it does to Lestat) is never fulfilled.

Likewise Claudia learns the hard way with Bruce and later with the coven that she may be a vampire but the world still looks at her and sees a vulnerable young black girl and that will always put her in danger.

Claudia rescues Madeleine then turns her into a vampire, but rather than protect her from future harm the "crime" of turning her becomes the very thing that gets her killed by yet another angry mob.

And 514 years as a vampire will never be enough for Armand to truly trust or believe in his own power. Because the first 200 or so years of his life he was literally never once allowed any agency at all over his own identity or his own body (child slave sold to a brothel, sold to an abusive master, captured and violently indoctrinated into a vampire cult for centuries). No amount of material strength and power is going to undo the psychological effects of that. (And I know some people like to read his frequently passive demeanor as simply manipulation and a way of catching people off guard (because how could someone so old and powerful possibly feel a genuine sense of fear/vulnerability/etc 🙄) but to me that's an incredibly disingenuous reading of him. But that's a different rant for another time!). Being a vampire does not save him from being horrifically abused, nor does it save him from the lasting emotional effects of that abuse.

And I think there's something interesting to be said about the way that, in order to survive safely, they have to feed on the most vulnerable members of society (people undesirable and therefore least likely to arouse suspicion) in order to go unnoticed. If they want to live they have to prey on those vulnerable in possibly the same ways they themselves once were (and in many ways still are).

There's a frequent argument I dislike that we shouldn't be viewing any of these characters through too human of a lense because they're literal monsters (to be honest it's an argument I see most often made when people simply don't want to talk about the show's complex depiction of racism/misogyny/abuse/etc and used to dismiss those as issues "too human" to be relevant to a story about a bunch of monsters with a supposedly alien sense of morality), but I think the show itself makes a huge argument that for these characters there is no escaping or separating themselves from the very human struggles and vulnerabilities that marked them before they ever became vampires. It's like a sort deconstructed power fantasy.

[worldseer]

Unpopular JJK opinion.

If I die in flames for this, I may as well die standing. Fanon Toji is just wrong. Like- that's not him.

Walk with me-

First and foremost to remind y'all:

Toji was abused for much of his life growing up, and likely never recovered from that

Mamaguro is the first and only woman he loved, the one who changed him and made him better. His habit afterwards and likely before was to just go from rich woman to rich woman to get money. It's unsaid if he had relationships with them, but it's more likely he just did jobs for them in between assignments.

He has a gambling addiction, likely because it gave him a sense of choice and control over things in his life. He wanted to feel like he could win at something, if not at being loved and revered by the Zenins. He is not addicted to money itself, or frugal about things.

While not THE BEST father, he only wanted to have Megumi given to the Zenin Clan because he believed he would be treated better and thrive there. Living in luxury and adored for your cursed technique is better than living with a non-sorcerer who struggles to keep money. Hell Megumi is NAMED Megumi because he's a blessing.

Now that that is out of the way, here is the unpopular opinion part. TOJI IS NOT THE LOVER YOU ALL WRITE HIM TO BE! HE'S NOT SOME KINKY DADDY WHO WILL DEGRADE AND BULLY YOU OR STEAL YOUR MONEY. And now I will explain why- 1. By example of Mamaguro, Toji notably softened and let go of bad habits. Yes, including his assassin job and gambling (so no worries about him stealing money). If in fanfic we're writing that he loves you, then yeah, he's gonna be a sarcastic sweetheart. Probably teases you a lot, but still cares and makes effort to show it.

2. As a man who worked a job as a literal assassin, I highly doubt he would want to ever be rough in intimate settings. He wants to keep the violent sides of himself as FAR AS POSSIBLE away from those he loves. So no rough kinky stuff, sorry. He's not gonna consistently degrade you or leave rough marks and bruises from grabbing and tossing you around in bed. He wants you safe, and not to see the man he was before.

3. As a man who was abused, he will likely be polarizing at times. Sometimes he avoids touch, and other times he's all over you asking for attention. He will want comfort, care, and gentle touches. Like the biggest lap dog you've ever seen. Please just compliment him, kiss him and hold him, he needs the reassurance. Or give him his space, and let him be but don't forget to offer something to cheer him up (like meat and offal).

4. He can be VERY bitter, but not overly angry. We know he still has a deep grudge against the Zenin clan and jujutsu society as a whole. It wouldn't be uncommon to see him possibly seething and stewing in silence, or hold more grudges. That being said, they likely wouldn't be held against you (if he loves you). He's cool and level-headed, and rarely lets emotion get the better of him (save for combat).

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, I care too much about characters.

[miupow]

── ★ ˙🍓 ̟ tubatu as fanfic tropes !!

TXT x GN!READER ★ sfw, fluff, lowercase intended, alcohol mention, drunk!yeonjun, talk of marriage, jacket sharing, shy!soobin, kissing in the rain, best friend!taehyun, mentions of fighting (not w txt), meet cute this is a repost from my old blog! reblogs and comments are appreciated ^^

yeonjun -> drunken confessions

"i like you.." yeonjun slurs as you deposit him on the couch, cat eyes half-lidded and unfocused, limbs sprawled out everywhere-- you giggle, push his hair back, pretend he doesn't give you butterflies when his head lolls back and he gives you a lazy grin. "you're drunk." you shake your head, turn to the kitchen to get yeonjun some water, but the boy stops you with a drawn-out whine; "nooo, don't go, i mean it! i like you so much, you're so pretty, we should get married,," "i'm sorry?" you turn back to face him and laugh, cheeks heating up against your will-- you couldn't take a word yeonjun said right then seriously-- "we should get married," yeonjun repeated happily, already half-asleep just sitting on the sofa. "i'll be a good husband, just for you... i'll tell you i love you every day..."

soobin -> take my jacket

"are you cold?" soobin asks gently, frowning as he took in the way you were shaking like a leaf-- you hadn't bothered to grab a coat before agreeing to walk to the convenience store with him, not expecting the dark seoul streets to be this chilly... "i'm okay," you insist, wrapping your arms tight around your middle. "no you're not-- here," soobin scoffs, quick to shrug off his puffy jacket and drape it over your shoulders, "you can wear my jacket as long as you promise to give it back." you opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat-- soobin's coat was warm, engulfed you completely, and smelled just like him. you felt so cozy and small, wrapped up and surrounded by soobin... "thank you," you mumble into the coat instead, blushing furiously. "you're welcome-- you could catch a cold, you know. you need to be more careful." soobin was quick to hide his face, turning away to look out at the street, but you could see his red ears from a mile away.

beomgyu -> kissing in the rain

"beomgyu, i--" "shut up," he cuts off, diving in to capture your lips with his-- the height difference made you dizzy, beomgyu's deft fingers tilting your head up to face the pouring sky, protected from the rain only by his body melding against your own... it was raining so hard it was difficult to see, your clothes soaked through completely, your body chilled to the bone; you were freezing, shaking violently, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. you dug your fingers into beomgyu's wet hair, deepened your kiss with a lofty sigh he tasted like fireworks. countless tiny explosions overwhelming your senses and like something sweet you couldn't name. "don't tell me to shut up," you retorted when you parted, breathing heavy, fingers still tangled in beomgyu's hair; "you shut up." "okay." beomgyu giggled, leaning in for another kiss.

taehyun -> friends to lovers

“you’re okay, i’ve got you,” taehyun murmured into your hair, holding you tight as you cried into his shoulder— this was the third time he’s been the one to console you after a fight with your boyfriend, and at this point taehyun was really starting to get tired of the guy. “you’re gonna be okay,” taehyun wished you could see how perfect of a boyfriend he could be for you, how much better he would treat you than that jerk… he rubbed your back as you sobbed into his shirt, trying his hardest not to show how irritated he was— how could anyone treat a person this perfect like this? you didn't deserve this, you deserved so much better! he would treat you like royalty, spoil you rotten... if you would let him. but he was terrified that he was one confession away from ruining your friendship. so he'd never say a word. at least, not until the timing was right. he was willing to wait.

hueningkai -> meet cute

"oh, i'm so sorry!" you squeak, disoriented and mortified beyond belief. "i wasn't paying attention--" you weren't even sure where to start, knocked clean on the pavement, contents of your purse scattered everywhere-- and worst of all, your iced coffee spilled all over a complete stranger. And he was so handsome, too!! "no, no, I'M sorry!" he replied, sounding just as flustered as you were. he helped you gather your things, looking so apologetic despite you being the one to bump into him. "i should have looked where i was going!" you couldn't fathom why he felt the need to apologize when he was the one who now had a giant stain on his light colored sweater. "i'm so sorry about your sweater--" you repeated, rummaging around in your bag. "i might have some napkins in here--" "don't worry about it, it's fine!" the stranger giggled, offering you a hand-- you took it hesitantly but gratefully, face heating up at his pretty smile and strong grip. "i'm hueningkai by the way, what's your name?"

[trulyumai]

diverting your attention

pairing: carmy / reader

synopsis: bored, you show up to the restaurant, hoping to see your boyfriend and his infamous French fries that he only made for you.

warnings: cussing, light shoving. fluff mostly!

enjoy!

jesus, the restaurant was busy. a line ran out the door, swerved to the right and took up most of the sidewalk with customers waiting for their chance at the food.

carmy couldn’t blame them. he’s been on top of things— his team has been on top of things, listening, working together finally after what seemed like years of bickering and useless nonsense.

his hands moved fast. chopping meat there, seasoning and mashing over here.

there was no end, everyone had their station—their place.

“cus, your girls here!” richies voice boomed past him as carmy worked diligently to scrape away at the newfound mission to potatoes.

“uh huh,” not hearing him, but giving an answer he sliced the remainder of the vegetable before wiping his hands clean; always ready for a new task.

“Did you even fucking here me you dimwit?” A scowl remained on Richie’s face as he side eyed the white shirted man.

Another mumble left the cook and that was all Richie’s temper could take.

With a hard shove to the back, carmys attention was finally diverted. Turning back, the chef violently put his hand up from the startling touch.

“What the fuck, man?!”

“I. Said. Your. Girl. Is. Here.” With every pause on the intonations a poke found its way across carmys chest.

“Okay, okay. I fucking heard you.”

“No you didn’t!” Richie retaliated, moving past him to grab at the now chopped vegetable.

“And you took my fucking task you asshole.”

Carmy eyed him.

“Maybe if you weren’t so slow all the damn time.”

A high pitched version of carmys words came out as an argument, only making the man roll his eyes in such a childish play.

Rubbing his hands dry once more carmy moved towards the front of the kitchen.

And sure enough, there you sat.

all pretty and perfect and— did he say pretty?

sweating from a newfound nervousness carmy itched at his neck, a bad habit that he couldn’t seem to scrape away, no matter the amount of threats and glares you sent his way.

“hey pretty girl,” carmy stood just above you, next to your seated booth, more to the side and cut off from the rest of the avid enjoyers.

“bear!” you smiled, already opening your arms for a tight embrace.

he always smelled so good. musky, heavy. it was the manliest scent you’ve ever had the opportunity of smelling. yet there was always something sweeter there— cinnamon? no, cherries? possibly—

“baby?” warm fingers found their way under your chin, instantly bringing you back to the busy food chain your surrounded in.

“mmh, sorry hunny what was that?”

“i said I’ll be a little late tonight. more people showed up than i thought they would and uh, I’ll probably be pulling an all nighter.” guilt bit at the man’s tongue, already sensing your disappointment.

but you hid it well, a pretty smile lit up your face still, your hands met with his rougher one, smoothing and tending to it out of habit.

“that’s okay, i understand,” you looked past carmy to see Richie, motioning you to get the attention of the man.

noticing your distracted eyes, carmy turned his head and saw his cousin quickly motioning him over to the back.

“—I, i gotta go baby but listen,” eyes on your doe ones, he leaned in.

warm breath met with your cheeks and you couldn’t help but smile as the man bent down so close to your face.

“ill bring by those French fries you love so much,”

“with the seasoning?”

“with the seasoning.” carmy laughed

you couldn’t help but let out a little squeal, wrapping your arms around the neck of your boyfriends shirt.

“ill see you soon, okay?”

you nodded.

“okay.”

A kiss, light and soft was placed on your lips. It lasted only a second before the man waved sympathetically before turning his back to you, flipping Richie off in the process.

satisfied, you fled the scene with a hankering for a soda and heavily seasoned fries only your boyfriend could provide.

[sector38]

From Sector: 38

Entry: II

After my last "encounter," my mind was made – I couldn't just sit at the edge of the sector staring out at the abyss – a hunger had made itself a home inside of me, nested under my bosom and in between my ribcage. For what it was worth, I could now say I was the proud owner of a brand new sector pass (actually in date this time), meaning I could also now apply for a real job. Before, it felt like I was wading through murky waters devoid of a lighthouse: without any sense of direction or purpose, but now I knew where I was going, who I was to be, and what I was to become – a xenologist.

It wasn't the easiest job. When I told my friends, they outright laughed. Sure, the world wasn't what it used to be – fancy bits of laminated paper were all lost to the flood – but that didn't mean that anyone could just walk in with zero qualifications, no questions asked. This was especially so for jobs that didn't exist pre-flood (including but not limited to, you guessed it, xenology). Before, if the job existed, maybe I would have gone to some elite university and collected my certificate that, for some reason, was meant to equate four years of my life, with a smile – now, we had the circuits.

On the bright side, it was a shorter process, 6-12 months if you survived that long and shorter if you didn't. I didn't know the process that well (sue me), but I knew that I would be starting at the outer tier, maintenance (glorified clean-up crew) and working my way in, each stage more deadly than the last until finally I reached the core, or as its more commonly known, "The Arena." I could never just choose the easy path.

I knew I should have been nervous, but... I just wasn't. I guess after the encounter, it was hard to feel like I hadn't been given some top-secret information that put me ahead. I hadn't really had the time to think about it, or I did, but there wasn't really much to say or do. It wasn't like I could tell anyone – I don't know what would have been worse: them not believing me or their faces of disgust.

When all countries were dissolved, you'd have liked to think everyone would lose their patriotism (you know, considering there were no more countries to worthlessly devote themselves to) – wrong. The world became one big country, one metaphorical empire ruled by the human race. This meant anyone or anything not of the human race or not subservient to the human race (like my neighbour, Julie's pet squid) was technically considered an enemy of the state.

Wait, did I fuck a public enemy?

First-day jitters were nothing in comparison to whatever I was feeling, especially considering this wasn't even my first day more like a very short tester solo shift - in all my time on sector 38 I'd never felt seasick (probably because the plates don't move) and yet here I was suddenly greatly empathetic towards the poor souls who found themselves violently ill holidaying in pacific waters. I could barely walk straight, my legs felt like jelly, and my stomach was so heavy I genuinely wondered if I'd swallowed an anchor between breakfast and lunch.

Even now, i still don't understand why i was alone during my tester shift? I get that it was just three tasks, but typically, unless you're a high-level, you're not to be left alone - always followed by a superior. Still, as i said, it wasn't even like I was going to be doing much, according to the alerts who sent me my assignments the night before my shift

. Stack the crates

. File away medical instruments

. Clean the pods on deck Xv_2

Pretty standard stuff, to be honest. If i cared half as much as i should, I'd be outraged that they gave me such menial work - but i didn't, so i wasn't. All i cared about was getting to see more of them, speak to them, and understand them, and the only way to do that was to become a xenologist.

At that point, I couldn't care less about hierarchy and ranks - i didn't understand the tangled web of beurocracy or how clearing badges worked, well not until I'd spent less than five seconds on the deck and i was promtly told

"Attention!"

The wooden crate I'd be carrying dropped to the ground with a hollow thud, the solid wood colliding with the metal flooring, making an awful cacophony. I looked up at the figure and saw a man dressed in a black suit with a white under shirt and black tie, on his black hair sat snug a white naval cap and across his chest a number of metal pins. He looked at me expectantly, i hadn't been told anyone else would be on shift as far as I knew I was supposed to meet my peers next week.

While trying to carefully stack the box in the appropriate space, I gave an awkward smile

"Hi"

Somehow, in a moment, his face grew colder, from freezing to a subzero tundra in an instant - I could tell he wanted to say more, to reprimand me, put me in place - but promtly his alarm sounded on his right wrist.

He left without a word, his face coloured with urgency.

To say I was confused would be an understatement. In the new world, the navy took on a more active role with the marines following suit to a lesser degree and the army taking the least precedence out of the three - so seeing a navy officer wasn't unheard of or even uncommon, but a lieutenant?

It just didn't make any sense, especially considering my work for today was entirely made up of menial tasks - and the look on his face as he left or even before that when I greeted him? I'm not in the navy, clearly so why what was he expecting me to do? Salute? Bowe? Kiss the ground beneath his feet?

It didn't matter, I told myself, i quite literally had one job: keep my head down and become a certified xenologist...well, aside from cleaning the pods on deck.

After stacking the last of the crates and refusing to give into my temptation of opening them, I set about trying to look for the ever elusive deck Xv_2

I mean, would it have KILLED them to give me a map or something? All the corridors looked the same - eggshell cream walls with blue strip lights - every turn, every left, every right didn't feel like it was getting me any closer, to be honest, I wasn't sure if this was some sort of time warp zone, an after effect of some eldritch creature washed up during the flood.

Wandering through the halls, I passed numerous rooms with bolted doors and bright yellow signs with bold black writing, as if they were so afraid that someone might accidentally open the securely locked doors - aside from doors armed to the teeth I passed a myriad of people, i can't really use one word to describe them:

From white coats with slicked-back hair, needle-straight posture to black suits, black ties, white collars, and broze pins to white hazmat suits and black boots.

Like some sort of machine, my brain was fixed on identifying and categorising my colleagues (colleagues). Well, that was until I heard it, tapping against the walls

It was faint at first, easily missable, but then the sounds grew louder, the rapid patter of the metal walls surrounding me like rain against the window - except there was nothing to see, no visible trace of the source of the sound just the noise, just the polyphonic array.

If this was a film, the corridors would be dimly lit with no signs of life but my own heartbeat and panting breath ringing in my ears, but this is the real world, if anything the bright neon lights and the industrious workers who I chanced upon only led to an increase in my anixety - it was as though i was going insane, as though i was being followed

"Could no one else hear that?"

The noise was atonal and offbeat - seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, bouncing off the walls like an echo. My eyes darted around the corners of the walls as I discreetly tried to turn my head to locate the source of the sound only to be met with nothing. Whatever it was, it was quick. It was just too quick, the persistent creature darting always just out of sight.

Finally, after what felt like a literal millennia, I ran into a steal door labelled

Xv_2

I pushed both the persistent scurrying aside and the absurdly weighted door - inside a dimly lit room with large cylinders attached to the centre wall. To call it a deck seemed overly gracious, with the sizing being more akin to an office space or a large storeage room.

As i walked closer towards the cylinders, I understood why they needed to be cleaned - they were filthy, dust coating them in an opaque sheild blocking any possible view of whatever was sealed within them.

I grabbed the tissue pack I'd hastily shoved in my bra before leaving the house and stared at the cylinders - there was NO way they'd be enough. A part of me seriously thought about using my top, but the thought quickly vanished when i remembered I did actually have to leave the facility without being arrested for public indecency.

And that's when i felt it, a brush of cold air against my neck, raising my hair and sending a shiver down my spin. Instantly, I dropped my tissue pack on the small table and turned around but only to be met by nothing, empty space. I stared out at the room for a moment as though someone or something would magically appear it would probably still have only been the second strangest thing to happen to me as of last.After sufficiently staring out into an empty room I turned back around...

The tissues were gone.

I looked down at the floor, nothing. Half baked thoughts swirled around my head as i looked around the room

"I could have sworn i- did i bring them? Yes. Maybe i dropped them on a crate? No, i had them when-"

Finally, i got on my knees searching underneath the desk in hopes that somehow they'd fallen and I'd kicked them under. It was so dark I should have brought my phone or a flashlight or something, as I lent further under the desk the space narrowed which, if i was paying attention i would have known.

But, alas, i wasn't - instead, my mind was still fixed on how i needed to be more prepared in the future and how i shouldn't have a phone if i wasn't going to use it because the last time I didn't bring my phone i got-

Cold.

Cold air against my bare thighs, that feeling again. Except this time the cold felt more real? The touch more weighted less like the air and more like a person?

I stilled against the feeling, with every passing second the pressure grew till i could shape the outline: a hand.

I tried to move backwards from under the desk but promptly the feeling of another hand splayed across my waist - halting any movement. The hand across my waist kept a firm solid grip, with the cold air seeping through my clothes and onto my skin as though I were naked whilst the other fingers which previously splayed across my thigh began to move, inching ever so slowly towards my upper thigh.

Maybe it was the confusion or remnants of my first (but technically not first) day jitters. Maybe it was a cocktail of both, but I found myself slightly pushing towards the unknown force. Whatever it was must have taken that as a sign because suddenly, the fingers brushed in between my inner thighs dangerously close to my knickers.

I didn't know who or what was behind me, no-one else was in the room bar me and with only one entrance and exist it would have be impossible for anyone to come in without my knowledge - especially considering how heavy the door was.

This couldn't be a who, I thought. It must have been a what.

The thought excited me, that familiar warmth spreading in my lower stomach now juxtaposing the icy touch of the creature - I couldn't help but let out a breathy whimper. The creature must have heard because, within an instant, its cold finger pressed against my clothed entrance. The pressure was barely there, barely feelable almost imperceptible but that's what made is to so maddening - what made me push back against it despite the very firm hand on my waist.

We continued our dance: me pushing backwards, aching and desperate for any sort of relief or solid touch, and its outright reluctance to give it to me aside from the arctic hold on my mid section I could feel myself growing wetter, throbbing in a hot aching want. If i was capable of shame at that point, I would have been berating myself for wearing white panties instead of a more concealing black.

The feel of the wet material sticking to me and the mystery surrounding the strange figure was getting to be too much, I'd tried to bite my glossed lips concealing more whimpers and moans but i couldn't hold back anymore. I began to rock back harder, sounds slipping from my mouth like condensation down glass till the monster showed me mercy.

A cool finger began to push into me through my now presumably clear underwear, the sensation of wet cotton and the icy appendage dipping into me making me moan all the more - but it wasn't enough. I began to beg, pleas falling from my mouth faster than my brain could protest.

Cold and wet dragged along my cunt so abruptly I hit my head against the desk but I was too aroused to care - slowly the figure dragged its icy dripping tongue against me, lapping up my desire through my panties and adding to the wet region.

The drag was devastatingly slow, and whilst the pressure was a reprieve from my previous torture, it was nowhere near enough, tears gathered in my eyes as I begged for more. Then, I felt the being give one final lick before spreading my thighs out further and removing its hand from my waist - I was untouched.

For a brief moment, i wondered if it had left me, alone and hungry, desperate for something more - thankfully, it didn't. Instead, I felt what seemed to be a light kiss to my upper thigh before my skirt was bunched up to above my ass. The suddenness of it all made my gasp like a scandalised southern bell -as though I wasn't begging to be fucked by a stranger (who most definitely wasn't human) under a desk at my first day at work- though rapidly my gasp morphed into a whine as I felt the monster slip underneath my shaking spread out thighs so that the back of its head might rest against the floor with now both hands grasping my waist and hips.

It began to lick into me (still over my underwear) with a passion that I've never known, the glacial touch contrasting the warm friction building. I began to rock and press down onto its tongue and in response it sucked and licked and fucked into me with its tongue.

I'd asked, begged for more and I'd gotten it but I've always been greedy, always been stupid and reckless and impulsive, always been bossy even when I'm on my knees and then was absolutely no different.

"Let me fuck your mouth"

Instantly as soon as the words left my mouth I felt it moan against me the sensation only making me want it more, carefully after giving a few more playful sucks it released me - somehow even with its cold presence when it left me, the room felt so much more glacial.

I slid out from under the desk my shaking legs doing very little to help me in this endeavour, but before i could turn around to face the entity hands covered my eyes, of course this did nothing in ways of stopping me from seeing but I understood the getsture and so I closed my eyes.

Once my eyes were closed, the figure rearranged our bodies like a jigsaw piece as though it and I were one cohesive being all while I was immersed in the faint scent of sea salt and rain-soaked earth emanating from the creature - the delicate nature of the smell, alien to the steady yet all-consuming auror of the beast - like the sky before a storm. Once again, it was pressed against the ground with the back of its head to the metal flooring, and I was on top of it, this time fully able to sit with a straight posture.

It slowly guided me with my eyes still closed to its mouth with my still clothed cunt at first gently resting against its lips not wanting to move before it was ready till I felt it place both its sturdy hands on my waist and force me to rock into its mouth slightly.

I began slow, moving backwards and forwards on its cold tongue, trying to find a starting rhythm before the heat that momentarily subsided rose in full formation. Its hands were everywhere on my waist, my hips, my tummy. Like it was pushing and pulling me down and up, away, and to. Then suddenly one of its strong arms was lifting me slightly off its mouth eliciting an unexpected whine from me whilst the other moved the lace fabric to the side before gently lowering me back onto its cold wet mouth.

The feeling was foreign, invasive, intrusive, like a virus spreading through my body overtaking each nerve and blood cell before leaving me powerless to resist or even the desire to. The cold spit-soaked tongue dragged perfectly against me like waves hitting against the rocks, never missing their mark. I began to ride into its mouth, eyes rolling to the back of my head as I felt a familiar pressure build within me. I was so close to the edge, to the beginning and end of bliss. I didn’t know what the creature was or if it was even capable of feeling pleasure in the same way I did, but the desperate movements of its cold hands, one gripping my waist and the other my boobs showed me I wasn't alone in my heightened arousal.

Pleas and cries spilt from my lips, each more nonsensical and crass than the last:

"Please, please, fuck I'll be so good, fuck, your mouth its so- so perfect, you're so good for me, fuck, just like that, right there-"

Till eventually like an electrical current, the feeling washed over me - like fuzzy static interferce my whole body sparked alite. Its cold hands pressed me down harder as my body spasmed, tears welled in my eyes as I tried to move away, the pleasure building to be all too much, the overstimulation becoming extreme - but its presence remained lapping up my cum from my wet, warm, throbbing cunt.

My legs felt like jelly as it finally allowed me to stand, my lack of balance definitely not helped by my inability to see.

"Can I open my eyes... Tap me twice for yes?"

I felt a press of cold lips against my neck and then temple, sending a shiver down my spine and a small smile on my face before opening my eyes and turning around to see

Nothing.

I looked around the room confusion growing clearer on my face - thoughts regarding whether I'd made the whole scenario up in my head beginning to take root - before I felt cold hands rest against my cheek holding my head tilted slightly upwards before I felt cold lips move again against mine. The kiss was dry, soft, and sweet, still smelling of sea salt and storms and in that moment my mind was still, at peace like a total oneness with the world, with the truth whatever that may be.

Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat. Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill.Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat. Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill.