#a warmth the size of our palms

[toushindai]

a warmth the size of our palms

Link has saved the kingdom once more, and Zelda is herself again. But she notices a persistent grief in her knight, whenever he looks at his right arm...

Post-TOTK, 2.4k, rated G. I will leave it up to your preference whether Zelink is romantic or not but they care about each other deeply.

[ Read on AO3 ]

*

The cries of triumph and relief that greet Zelda and Link’s arrival at Lookout Landing almost bring Zelda to tears. They cheer for her like she’s real royalty—all except for Purah, who foregoes such formality and instead sweeps her and Link both into a crushing hug.

“Oh, thank the goddess. I knew you’d bring her back to us, Linky—hm?” Purah pulls back and takes a good look at Link. “Your arm, it’s… back to normal?”

“Your arm?” Zelda looks at her knight with a sudden sharp sting of concern. She remembers what Ganondorf did to it, but she knows so little of what Link has done since then, and it hadn’t occurred to her to ask—

But she sees at a glance that the question puts Link on the spot. He lifts his right arm and makes a vague gesture before signing, “After what Ganondorf did to me, Rauru gave me his arm. But when…” He waffles over his words. “Before I caught you, he healed it.”

Save for that moment of hesitation, he signs evenly and impassively. Zelda’s brow furrows, just slightly. He glances once at her face, and then turns his gaze away. Zelda’s stomach plunges. She has never seen a clearer sign of his discomfort.

Purah doesn’t notice it. “Caught her? What do you mean, caught her? Where was she, Link?”

Link’s posture becomes even stiffer, and in an instant, Zelda knows: he hasn’t told Purah what she did. Has he told anyone? Or has he carried it sealed in his heart alone? A slow-dawning horror sinks into Zelda’s chest.

But she doesn’t let it show. Instead she breaks into a smile—she feels herself doing it, feels how deliberate it is—and says, “Honestly, Purah, I’m still exhausted, and I can’t even begin to imagine how Link must feel. Is there somewhere quiet where the two of us could rest?”

With a few brusque words, Purah clears out the emergency shelter beneath Lookout Landing for their sake. As the door grinds into place, shutting out the happy bustle of the fort’s inhabitants beginning to realize that the worst of their problems are behind them, Zelda sees Link relax slightly. But not entirely.

“Would you like a cake?” he offers, and Zelda knows that this is how he shows his care. She smiles and nods, and she does not let herself stare at him too much as he sits down in front of the pot and begins to ready his ingredients.

She has plenty else to look at: papers and reports scattered across the tables, maps tacked up on the wall. A “Missing!” poster with her portrait and Link’s. A goddess statue, of course, and she does not feel as much of a guilty, panicked twinge as she used to when she sees it. But as she flips idly through a copy of the Lucky Clover Gazette that tells of a convoluted Yiga plot involving a talking cucco, her attention does keep getting drawn back towards her knight. For a moment, he seems almost at ease; he really does love to cook. But as she watches, he reaches out his right hand in the vague direction of the egg he’d set aside. There is a strange pause, and then she sees him turn his head to look at his arm. His face is expressionless. He leans to the right, picks up the egg, and cracks it into the bowl. He is not as relaxed now as he was before.

“Link…” Zelda says. He looks her way, eyes attentive. Zelda shakes her head minutely. It’s not that she needs something from him. Something in his face pulls closed at that realization, and then she sees his lips press together in the barest hint of a suppressed frown. She comes to sit to his left, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She says, “I left a lot on your shoulders.”

He hesitates, then puts his cooking utensils down so he can sign. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I… can’t, right now. Talk about it, I mean. But it isn’t because of anything you did.” Another pause. He reaches for the bowl, but before he picks it up, he stops. “It’s gotten harder for me again,” he confesses, and Zelda’s heart breaks for him.

“I’m home,” she promises him, and his eyes soften with affection and relief.

The cake he bakes for her is delicious.

*

Mineru’s passing is harder on Zelda than she expected. So she is glad when Riju formulates some excuse that pulls the sages and Purah away to explore the Great Sky Island, leaving Zelda alone with Link. He opens his arms to her and lets her weep for as long as she needs to.

“Thank you,” she says, when at last she can dry her eyes.

Link’s hand hesitates on her arm, and then he signs, “The three of them were like a family to you.”

“They were.” She gives a weak smile. “You can imagine how complicated that felt.”

“I have imagined it,” he answers seriously. And then, “Is there a way up to the roof?”

There is, of course. Zelda leads him up there, to the sand garden. The construct stationed there remembers her and greets her as though perhaps only a month has passed since she last spoke to it. Rauru had said that most of them were created long before he was born. And here they are, persisting long after his death. This one glides quietly away to give them their space, and Link walks towards the edge of the roof to look out across what was once the Garden of Time. Zelda approaches him and stands as silently as he does.

He gazes over the golden island, then looks down at his right hand, opening and closing a fist. Then he cranes his neck back and shades his eyes to look at an island that must be half a kilometer above this one.

“When I woke up,” he says, his hands moving haltingly, “my arm had been replaced.”

She looks at him. He looks down at his hand, running his thumb across his own palm, over his fingers. “It didn’t feel as weird as it should have. That hand responded like it should, I could still sign, I could still fight. It…” But he cuts himself off there, waving away the rest of the thought. “You gave up your body and mind,” he says.

She can see the self-recrimination in the movement of his hands and the set of his shoulders. She says, “I made the choice to do so, of my own free will.”

Link’s brow furrows. He signs, “Understand, it wasn’t bad. Especially once I started understanding the powers of the Zonai. Did you ever see Rauru or Mineru use those?” Zelda nods. “I learned to use them. And then it was like they had always been a part of me. Because they were a part of me. Or, I was…” He trails off once more and lets his hands fall to his sides. Closing his eyes, he inhales deeply of the cool air for a silent, serene minute. Then, “I’m sorry that Mineru left, too.”

The pain squeezes Zelda’s heart again. But she says, “It was her time. I think… she may have lived through those thousands of years, in a way that I didn’t.”

Link glances at her and nods. He must have gotten the same impression.

Zelda thinks about Mineru as she was: thinks of that dark and dusty library/workshop and Mineru’s focus on her work. Mineru had already been working on those constructs, Zelda knows. Mineru had already intended to outlive her body, even before Ganondorf’s treachery. And she had been kind to Zelda, and interested in her, but she had never been warm. Her gaze had always been directed somewhere else, until that moment when Zelda had confessed her plan to her.

“I wish she could have stayed a little longer,” Zelda confesses. “But… I think it’s right for her to move on.”

Link looks down at his hand one more time. Then he nods, silently.

*

The rhythms of a peaceful life welcome them back, billowing them gently through the days like a breeze. They travel around Hyrule together as it heals from the Upheaval, and when they tire, they go home to Hateno. There may be a new home waiting for them outside Tarrey Town, but there is comfort in the familiar, for now.

And things are familiar. Sometimes—as has always been the case since they defeated Calamity Ganon—there are days when Link needs to clear his head. Sometimes he is struck with a strange, wandering restlessness, and he heads out alone and returns when he is ready.

Zelda knows the feeling, she thinks; there are still mornings when she wakes up thinking that she has to go, to do. Bearing the weight of the world is, it turns out, a hard habit to break. Even in the past, despite Sonia’s gentle admonishment, Zelda had not been able to shake the feeling that she needed to be the one to stop Ganondorf’s dark designs against the peace of the newborn Hyrule Kingdom.

(She had not quite been wrong about that, in the end.)

When Link returns one evening, Zelda asks, “Do you still go to spend time with the dragons, when you go out?”

That is what he’s done in past years, he’s told her. He has said that he finds serenity in their beautiful, implacable progression through the skies. When Zelda realized what she had to do, she remembered Link saying that, and truth be told it had brought her some peace.

But now she regrets asking it. A stricken expression shoots across his face before he composes himself, and for several long minutes, he does not speak. He only pulls off his boots, removes his leather armor and chainmail. Takes the hairtie from his hair and ruffles it loose. He wears it a little longer now than he used to.

Not looking at her, he signs, “Do you remember anything at all?”

Zelda swallows and gives a helpless shrug. It isn’t that she remembers. But sometimes, when the breeze comes through the window just so, she… slips. The way her mind works shifts, and she feels an unbounded, wide-open tranquility. And when Link touches her arm to bring her out of it, it doesn’t always work the first time, because sometimes that sliver of his familiar presence is part of it, too.

Link signs, “There was one time, I think I spent three days lying on your forehead, wishing you knew me.” And she opens her mouth to say—what can she say?—but he waves his hand and says, “The dragons don’t bring me peace anymore.”

Zelda says, “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault. And it may have always been selfish of me. They aren’t for me.”

I was, Zelda thinks, but she doesn’t say it aloud.

Again, Link’s hands fall still. He pulls the Purah Pad off his belt, hands it to her, and goes to the kitchen. There, he begins to chop the vegetables he’s brought home. Zelda sees carrots and a pumpkin from the village—but also skyshrooms and a stambulb. She flicks open the Purah Pad’s album and scrolls down to the newest pictures; they are full of golden foliage and clear blue sky.

When the vegetables have all been chopped and added to the pot to sizzle quietly, Link’s hands are left idle once more. He sees that Zelda is waiting for him. Indicating the Purah Pad as if to say you’ve figured this out already, he signs, “I go to the sky islands.”

Zelda nods. She looks down at one of the pictures he took, of a heron picking its way through golden grass. “Are they all this beautiful?”

He wiggles his hand. “Not all of them. There’s this one eyesore above Necluda…”

Zelda has seen it from the ground. “Those smokestacks?”

“It was a forge,” he says. For a moment, there is almost amusement on his face. Then something horrible happens. As Zelda watches, he grits his teeth and screws his eyes shut as though he’s in pain. Very abruptly, he pulls out one of the chairs from the table and sits down.

Zelda starts towards him. “Link, are you all right?”

He waves off her concern with a sharp movement. But his annoyance is for himself, not for her. Hands moving roughly, he says, “It was a forge, and that’s all I’ll ever know about it, and it won’t ever be a forge again.” He grips his right wrist with his left hand, clenching his right hand into a fist. “They’re gone,” he signs faintly.

And Zelda’s grief wells up within her, never far away: Sonia’s loving smile, Rauru’s kind eyes, Mineru’s clever creations. They’re gone echoes in her mind and in the places where they made her life brighter, more expansive. She will never stop missing them.

But Link’s grief, she thinks, is of a different shape. Little by little, he has told her of his adventures across Hyrule after the Upheaval. He has taken her to the Shrines of Light to see the puzzles Rauru and Sonia built and shown her the vehicles Tarrey Town has begun to construct from Zonai devices. Wryly, he tells her that he isn’t as handy with these things as he once was, and his eyes say that he’s joking. But even so, even months later, there are moments when he reaches out for something as if he expects it to come to his hand rather than the other way around. There are moments when he offers to grab her something from upstairs and unthinkingly reaches upwards before realizing he’s going to have to take the stairs. Like any other person. Like any other Hylian must.

Zelda sits down beside Link and reaches for his clenched right hand. Gently, she unfolds his fingers and slips her own between them. She knows the shape of this hand; she knows the calluses on this palm. This is her Link, and she wants to know every part of him. If he aches with loneliness for a people he never really knew—a people he was too late to save, the last remnant of them slipping away from him even as she came back—then she will hold this loneliness with him. Even if he cannot shape it into words.

“Link,” she says, “will you bring me to the sky islands sometime?”

(He doesn’t know it, but Zelda does: Sonia asked this question of Rauru once, long, long ago.)

And Link looks into her face and sees all the understanding she can offer him, and she watches a little of the burden ease from his face. He nods, seriously, and squeezes her hand.

Then he stands to continue making their dinner.

[bunsiesblog]

Viktor Relationship HC

Viktor x GN!Reader

Purely self indulgent headcanons for Viktor in a relationship. You want fluff? Here is fluff.

tags: s1!viktor, established relationship, typical domesticity and fluff

➽───────────────❥

Viktor prefers subtle displays of affection. His intimacy is quiet—a hushed whispered shared between the two of you.

Very public and grand displays of affection tend to leave him embarrassed and flustered. This doesn’t mean he shies away from showing the world he is yours. But he prefers those intimate acts to be shared between the two of you.

That being said—he is a man in love. And he simply can’t help himself when you are near. So he has found a few ways to express his devotion to you:

A gentle bump of the knee under the table as you both sit together.

Interlocked pinkies. A touch so small it might have been missed if not for the faint smile pulling at his lips.

A hidden hand resting on your thigh while he reads or works—absentmindedly tracing circles with his thumb.

A tender touch to the small of your back as he guides you through crowds. Not only to keep you close but to keep him grounded as well.

Quick kiss to your forehead when parting ways. “Take care, lásko.”

Viktor adores holding your hands. Such an innocent and simple act leaves him feeling profoundly connected to you.

He often does it absentmindedly—reaching for your hand when his mind is elsewhere. His thumb traces your knuckles or the faint lines of your palm. He’ll even play with your fingers, as though committing their shape to memory.

Our lovely scientist quite likes the size difference between your two hands. He’ll press his palm flat against yours, marveling at the contrast with a soft smile on his face. “It’s quite unfair that I am so lanky, no?”

When privacy is reliably assured, Viktor rather enjoys spoiling you with affection and being spoiled in return. Here are some favorites of his in no particular order:

Kissing. And not the kind that is full of tongue and saliva (although he can acknowledge certain … situations … where it has its benefit.) He prefers the soft and revert kisses he gives you. The sort of kiss where he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs brushing along your cheeks, and simply embraces you. Like he’d rather be at your lips all day than breathe air.

Viktor also has a pension for kissing you in places that are not just your lips. His kisses are gentle, playful, and unexpectedly intimate. Some of his favorite places to leave them on you are the inside of your wrist, the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your neck, and the tip of your nose.

He particularly enjoys the way you laugh or squirm when he traces light kisses to your neck and jawline. Viktor will hold your hands to keep you from wiggling away. Despite being quiet by nature, Viktor’s smirk betrays how much he enjoys hearing you laugh. “You want me to stop? But you make such sweet sounds for me, Koťátko. Just one more.”

A quiet night in the lab made him realize just how much he enjoys seeking your warmth and filling in the empty spaces between you. When you’re perched at the edge of his work table, Viktor will instinctively step between your legs and rest his hand on your thighs as he looks up at you. It’s any wonder how he gets any sort of work done when you’re around.

To others, he is a polite but distant man. Constantly consumed by his work and ambition. But with you, he is something else entirely: gentle, tender, and devoted. And it is clear to anyone who knows him just how special you are.

Viktor always gives you his unwavering attention. When you speak, he listens. His whiskey eyes are held steady to your own. Oftentimes, when he thinks you won’t notice, they’ll flick down to your lips. And he’ll rub a thoughtful hand over his jaw, trying his best to hide an amused smile. “Hm? Yes, I’m listening, sweetheart.”

His reserved nature doesn’t lend itself to overt sentimentality. But with you? It shines. There is a tenderness in him that only you can bring out.

Viktor has a weathered notebook he keeps in his coat pocket for when inspiration strikes or he simply can’t put his pen down. However, among the haphazard grocery lists or scribbled equation are notes about you like ‘prefers chamomile tea when anxious’ or ‘smiles when it rains’. Even the margins of his notes are decorated with absentminded doodles of you.

He most definitely is an act of service kind of man. The chain of your necklace is broken? Or your watch won’t tick past 6:33? He’ll silently take it off your hands, fiddle with the repair in the quiet hours of his lab, and leave it for you to be found the next day. Any sort of thanks you try to give him are met with a humble “it was nothing.” Although the blush on his ears tell a different story.

[safetypinxtales]

Santa baby | Azriel

summary: it's nearing solstice and you have an extensive list for your mate Santa.

words: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, a bit of seduction, Azriel is stupid in love, like absolutely whipped, reader sits in Azriel's lap, feminine reader (lipgloss, hair below shoulder-length), otherwise neutrally described reader, no use of y/n, it's an AU where everything is the same except Santa is a thing.

notes: well, it's been a while but it's Christmas and I have free time for once so why not write? I whipped this one up in like an hour whilst waiting for our guests to arrive today, and it has minimal editing, but it's something light and sweet for the holidays. Hope you enjoy and merry Christmas! 🤍

masterlist

The glass is cold in your hand as you waltz into the living room. The winter sun had already set on the quaint seaside cottage you shared with Azriel. He had surprised you with it after your mating ceremony last solstice, and as you took in the shadows dancing around on the walls, cast by dim candle light, a feeling of contentedness enveloped you. The amber liquid in the glass sloshed with each step you took, but never quite enough to spill over the rim. It was a practiced routine, bringing him a drink whenever you found your mate a little too stuck in his work.

His head lifted from the paperwork he had been going over as he sensed your presence entering the living room, the hand that had been carefully turning a leaf falling slack on the armrest.

His eyes dropped down to your hips, watching them sway with every step you took, gaze fixed as if in a trance.

You let out a low hum as you reached him, extending the glass. His eyes met yours as he put the paperwork aside and accepted your offering.

Slowly – gracefully and practiced – you slid into his lap, one arm snaking its way around his shoulder. The warmth of his hands on your waist spread all the way into your chest, making your heart beat just that little bit faster.

Grabbing his face, feeling the slight stubble of his cheek under your palm, you planted your lips on his. 

The kiss was soft and warm, and perfectly matched the feeling blooming in your chest has he murmured a low:

“Hello, my love.”

“Hello,” you hummed back and felt that slow tug in your chest that you had come to love so. 

You gave a loving tug back and felt Azriel shudder beneath you.

Letting you gaze flit over his face, you marveled at his features. 

The dark lashes framing those mesmerizing hazel eyes of his. The colour of the finest of honey, all swirling and golden. 

The constellations of freckles adorning his cheeks, like a map only you were privy to read.

His lips, currently smeared in your lipgloss and stretched into a dopey smile making him look just as lovesick as you felt inside.

“Hey, Az?” You broke the warm silence that had enveloped you.

“Yes, my love?” He murmured, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly before finding their way back to yours.

You leaned in to give him another soft peck, only pulling away to rest your forehead against his.

“I have.. I’ve been thinking about something,” you whispered, feeling the breath from his curious yes? on your lips. “About what I want from Santa this year.”

He pulled back slightly at your words, eyebrows raised and that dopey smile still plastered on that pretty mouth of his. He knew as well as you that Santa meant Azriel himself.

“Oh, really? Please, do tell,” his curious hum sent you heart fluttering as you settled in further in his lap.

“Well, do you remember that dagger I liked so much when we visited summer? The gold one?” You purred and ran your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered as your nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“The one with the eye-sized ruby in the pommel?” You nodded. “My love, that blade is useless. You couldn’t even cut an apple with it, much less cause any real damage,” he scoffed, ”you’d be better off fighting someone with a cotton ball. That you could at least shove down their throat – hope they choke to death.”

His eyes gleamed at the gasp you let out. The soft swat you landed on his chest drawing out a quiet chuckle.

“I know it’s useless in combat, but it’s so pretty isn’t it? Besides, why would I need to fight when I have you to defend me?” You chirped with a flutter of lashes. 

You just managed to catch his eyes darkening before he pulled you into yet another kiss, this time firmer. Purposeful. 

Claiming.

When he pulled away his breath was heavier and his voice rougher as he swore, “I will always protect you, always defend you.”

“Even if I’m in the wrong?”

“No such thing.”

Your toes curled at his admission, and the hand that was tangled in his hair tightened its grip.

“Good answer,” you mused, and his thumbs swiped at your waist – up and down. 

“What else should Santa put on his list?”

You pretended to think for a moment, pursing your lips into a glossy pout, knowing just how crazy the act drove your mate.

And just as you could have predicted, his eyes dropped down to your mouth, his smile fading slightly, his eyelids growing heavier.

“Well you know that necklace that Feyre has? That she wore on our mating ceremony?” You asked.

He nodded in response, eyes still focused on your lips.

You let your cheeks pull into a broad smile, “well I saw that the jewellery shop by the Palace of Thread and Jewels has its twin in gold.”

“The diamond necklace you kept sighing about for weeks after the ceremony? The one that had me questioning if it was the mating bond that was making you so blue?” He questioned, his voice laced with disbelief.

“That’s the one,” you replied. Removing your hand from where it was nestled against his head, you moved to push your hair over your shoulder, exposing your décolletage.

”Wouldn’t it fit me so well?” You asked, letting your hands graze the bottom of your throat, following the curve down to the top of your chest, watching his eyes track the movement with a predatory focus.

Azriel’s throat bobbed, “It would.”

Your hand fell to his arm, giving the muscle hiding under his sweater a light squeeze. 

“Yeah, you really think so?” You gave him your best hopeful look, batting your eyelashes for added effect.

He simply nodded, too much of a lovestruck, mess of a male in your presence to form any actual words. 

“That’s good,” you hum, “now I only have one last thing on my wish list.”

Your mate didn’t verbally respond, but you took the squeeze of his hands on your hips as a sign to keep going.

“An apartment in the city.”

That seemed to bring Azriel back to life.

“An apartment? Is the cottage I got for us not enough?” He asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Well, no, I love the cottage – you know that. But sometimes it would be nice to have somewhere closer to go to after having spent the evening with the others, don’t you think?”

“It takes half a second to winnow from there to here,” he deadpanned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“But I think it would be nice to stay in the city sometimes. To be able to walk home, a stroll along the Sidra,” you gave him your sweetest, most innocent smile and added, “just you and me?”

You could see his resolve melting, and felt the largeness of his hand leave your waist in favour of gently stroking your thigh. 

“An apartment, huh?” His soft voice still had some reluctance hanging on to it, but you could tell he was warming up to the idea pretty quickly.

Your head bobbed up and down in confirmation, and an amused sigh left his lips.

“You must think mighty highly of yourself, dear, to think Santa would give you such special treatment,” he mused as he pulled you closer. 

“Well, I just have it on a hunch that Santa might know that my wonderful, loving mate, who – if I haven’t already mentioned – loves me so,” Azriel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as you continued, “works for the high lord.”

Amusement danced in his eyes, and a soft red glow started making its way up his cheeks.

“So maybe someone like that, like me. Like the mate of the Night court spymaster, deserves to be a little spoiled.” You leaned in to kiss his jaw, and stopped to whisper in his ear, “it sure would make her happy.”

He hummed in agreement, his thumb stroking across your thigh at a slow but steady pace.

“Besides,” you continued, leaning back to look him in the eyes, “I have been such a good girl this year.” 

Azriel’s administrations on you leg stopped, his large hand instead coming up to cup your face. 

He hummed lowly, eyes locked on your lips, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive look.

“You really have,” he murmured.

Again, he pulled you into a kiss, molding his lips to yours. You let yourself melt into him – your wonderful, loving spymaster – into the warmth radiating from his large body. Into the secure grip of his hands and the gentle softness of his lips. You let yourself melt into your mate, with no care in the world, besides kissing him back.

When you finally pulled away you leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “if Santa is very kind to me, I promise I will be just as good next year.”

“Yeah?” His voice was thick with emotion.

“Yes, maybe even better.” You promised, and leaned back to look at him. 

You cupped his jaw, the slight stubble adorning the skin scratching your hand in the most comforting way.

He shook his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Not possible.”

Want to be added to my taglist?

tags: @missussimonriley @azrielshadows1nger @anuttellaa @tele86 @aria-chikage @lilah-asteria

(since I haven't written in a while, lmk if you want to be removed)

[tired-teacher-blog]

When your baby started kicking for the first time, you immediately sprinted towards your husband who was still deep in slumber in the comfort of your shared king sized bed, it was only 3:30 in the morning after all, a little too early to rise, and you would have been snuggled up to him if your bladder capacity hadn't prevented it for the third time that night.

_ "Katsuki wake up wake up, you have to feel this! It's moving!" you announced in a loud whisper while shaking him lightly.

_ "Huh what, what's moving? Do I need to blow it up?" he was obviously disoriented as he tried to blink the sleep away, knitting his eyebrows in concentration so he could focus his blurry vision on you.

_ "What? No, are you crazy?" you bursted out laughing at his unexpected response, and waited for him to gain full consciousness as he wobblily sat up to face you.

_ "Is everything okay?" he reached out to gently trace your cheek, and you could tell he was fully awake at last.

_ "Here, feel this," you took his other hand and placed it on your bulging tummy, "our baby is moving."

His eyes widened and his mouth hung open in obvious amazement, and you watched in awe as your husband's face lit up at the new feeling under his palm.

_ "This is real, we're actually having a baby." the wide, almost face-splitting smile appearing on his face was the same one he had when you announced your pregnancy a few months ago, and the warmth it evoked in you was also the same as back then.

_ "We are Katsuki." and you couldn't help the tears of joy welling up in your eyes as you watched the bliss radiating from him, placing your hands on top of his and holding on tightly.

That night -and every following night- he kept his hand on your belly when you climbed back to bed, holding you from behind and rubbing soothing patterns on your tightening skin while kissing your neck and whispering sweet 'I love you's' and promises for eternal happiness together, until you finally drifted off again.

[bi-writes]

huhhhhh more bestfriend!roommate!simon x fem!reader because i want them to touch

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 4/?)

cw: nsfw (18+), suggestive language and content, mature language and content, kissing over the mask, simon "my girl cums first" riley, fem!receiving touching, praise kink, size kink, simon's thicc thighs need a warning, simon "the mask doesn't come off" riley

simon had a bad habit.

a nose-scrunching habit, a oddly pretty habit, a clouding habit.

you shut the door behind you, locking it. you dropped your keys by the door, slipping your sneakers off and hanging your jacket up. you had the day shift today, so simon let you walk home on your own. but he didn't know when you were coming home, and you suspect that's why he was outside on the balcony, a cigarette between his index and middle finger as he leaned against the wall.

you come up to the sliding door, narrowing your eyes before knocking on the glass. simon didn't move immediately, but you saw him turn his face away, tossing the cigarette onto the floor and stubbing it out with the toe of his combat boot. when he turned to look at you, his mask was on, and there was a little apprehension in those dark eyes.

you gripped the handle of the door, sliding it open. he moved to stand in front of you, taking up the entirety of the doorway, broad shoulders taking up the width of the space.

"luv--"

"shut the fuck up, simon," you snapped. you reached over and gripped the front of his hoodie, yanking him inside. he had to maneuver his shoulders to slip inside, and you brought him right up against you so you could glare right up at him. "you know, it's one thing to come back from your boys' nights smelling like it, but in our home?! simon! how many times do i have to tell you that those things will kill you?!"

he sighed, shaking his head a little.

"trust me, luv," he murmured. "this isn't what'll kill me."

"you shut up," you reached up and gripped his masked chin, forcing his eyes on yours. your eyes were a little watery, and your bottom lip trembled. "don't say things like that. don't you dare."

the air was a little stiff. simon was a bit ashamed, averting his gaze. you leaned up and put both hands on his cheeks, putting his eyes on yours again.

"look at me, simon," you said lowly. "i...i cant tell you what to do. i'm not your mother. but i don't like it. its not good for you. i..." you looked down. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to...i'm not trying to control you, i just--"

"its alright, luv," he quieted you. "it's alright, i know."

you sighed, dropping your hands to rest on his chest. your splayed your palms there, feeling the warmth of him. you held back a smile when you noticed him puffing out his chest a bit, flexing the muscles under your palms as you pressed against solid flesh.

"big, bad lieutenant riley..." you hummed lowly. "nothing can kill you, is that it?"

simon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he grunted.

"dunno what'll kill me, luv, but it won't be a bloody smoke."

you smiled wide finally, your eyes sparkling as you looked towards the kitchen.

"what do you want for dinner, simon? did you go shopping like i asked?"

"'f course i did," he said quickly, his tone nearly offended for even a hint that he you had doubted that he would do ask you asked. you let go of him, making your way to the kitchen. simon let his eyes wander. you were still wearing your uniform from the diner, pretty white and red stripes in the most adorable dress he'd ever seen. he'd curse the man who'd made you wear it the day he saw it the first time; his gaze that couldn't help but follow the valley of your breasts, the way the skirt fell over the curve of your ass--he felt like a teenager fawning over something so trivial about you, so physical and seemingly superficial, but you looked fantastic in it. his beautiful girl, the one he had known since she was only 17, how she grew and blossomed and before he knew, there was no other woman who could take up as much space in his mind as you.

simon had been to many dark places. the dark edges of torture, the narrow walls of being cornered by an enemy, the hot places where hell was just right over the cliff--he was a machine of order and sheer will, he had killed the parts of himself that never quite suited him for war, but somehow, this place with you stayed the same. it was the one constant he knew, the one constant that just never, ever changed, and for that, he was grateful.

you don't think simon riley believes in god. but he believes in you.

simon had been around the world. he had seen the worst of humanity, ripped his own right out of his chest, but none of it mattered as he sat down on the couch he had picked out with you. he remembered when you sent him the pictures of it, your voice on the other line of the phone as you told him how much you liked the pieces. he had been on deployment, and while he could care fuck all about what color the couch in your shared living room was, it was important to you so it was important to him.

"simon?"

your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"simon, could you open that bottle of wine? i need it for the stew."

domestic. fuck, this was too domestic, it was simple, it was calm. simon never flinched, not even when a bullet would hit the wall by his head, but fuck, the sight of you stirring vegetables in a pot in the kitchen of your shared apartment was making his head spin.

simon riley never missed his target. he set his sights on what he wanted, and with the ease and practice of a lieutenant, he crossed another name off his list.

and one could say that his pretty, little roommate, the woman who had been there before the scars and loved him even after them, was another target. your figure was in his sight, but fuck, his hand was shaking.

when the pot was simmering, you poured yourself a glass of wine and came towards him on the couch. simon was sitting, legs spread a little wide, his hands on his thighs as his eyes were fixed on the low hum of the television. you took a seat beside him after setting aside your glass, putting your feet up underneath you and leaning up against his arm.

"simon? everything alright?"

he turned to face you. a low shadow hung over his face, the hood of his jacket making his face appear even darker despite the mask he wore. you reached over under the hood and brushed a few strands of his hair off his forehead, tracing a small scar against his hairline. you smiled at him, running your knuckles down his temple. in the low light, you could barely see even his eyes, but simon spoke so much with just his eyes. they were beautiful. they were alive, had so much emotion, and you wondered always if maybe simon had learned to speak with them knowing it was the only part of him truly visible.

you lowered your gaze as he pressed his forehead to yours. his skin was warm, and you put a hand on his thigh to steady yourself. you swallowed, noticing how much smaller your hand looked next to his. he wore gloves, like always, but it didn't hide the size of him.

lieutenant simon riley. your simon. built like a fucking bear, a mind of impenetrable steel, eyes that had seen the nine circles of hell and wouldn't spill any of their secrets, simon riley who died and a ghost who brought him back and the woman that he dreamed about when they had taken everything from him except his goddamn memories--

he was kissing you. not in the way other men had kissed you, but in the way that simon riley would kiss you. the front of his mask met your lips, a touch of fabric that was warm and soft and melted your insides with a thousand unspoken words. he whispered your name against your lips, a quiet thing that felt like prayer. and maybe it was a sort of prayer, one that only he could make real, one that only he could make sound like faith and all the ugly, sorry truths that it brought with it.

but there was nothing ugly about this kind of prayer. it held no malice. it was pretty and soft and the only kind of word that ever brought him memories and not nightmares.

you were the one to press your lips to his. even through the fabric, it was like kissing someone for the first time. but not just anyone, simon. simon--simon who kissed your tears when you got stood up at a school dance. simon who promised into your hair that he would come back when you discovered the letters about his deployment overseas. simon who beat the manager at the first bar you ever worked at for following you home one night after your shift. simon who died when his family did and then came back, but only within the walls of your shared apartment and nowhere else.

simon, simon, simon--

his hand was under your dress. one gloved palm slipped up the back of your skirt, caressing one side of your ass as he guided you into his lap.

"simon--"

you choked on his name when you felt bare fingers slide over the edge of your panties. you reached up and cupped both sides of his face, whining as he moved his fingers under the fabric. your cunt was wet and glossy, and he pressed his face into the palm of your hand when he realized just how much time he had wasted being anything other than yours. and he had always been yours, but fuck, why hadn't he ever told you?

"youre so pretty, luv..." he smoothed his other hand up your back, tangling his fingers in your hair and tugging just enough to make you moan. "so pretty...so bloody wet...have you always been like this?"

you nod, unable to speak. his fingers spread your puffy folds apart, a soft wet sound that makes you cry. you want him to put those fingers inside of you, to make you ride his hand until you see nothing but white, but you just cant seem to form any words.

"oh, luv...youre a bloody mess..." he chuckled a bit. "fuckin' hell...let me see you--"

he picked up the skirt of your dress, his dark eyes flickering down. he cursed his breath, fisting the lace of your panties and ripping them right off. you whimpered as he tossed them onto the floor.

"christ, luv, can't believe i ever let this cunt be with another man. look at ya. it's fuckin' christmas mornin', aye?"

"you hate christmas--"

"dunno. could be more inclined if i got to have you in the mornin'."

"fuck you--"

"not yet, sweetheart."

simon never really thought you were much of a singer. but the crying and the begging and the moaning was music--and he was learning how to play you just right.

fingers teasing your cunt, he can feel the way your body aches for something more--something big and eager and warm, something that needs you badly, but fuck--you're so pretty with his name in your mouth and your cum on his fingers.

mine, mine, mine--

he grunted when you gripped his wrist, steadying his fingers enough so you could sink down on them. he groaned lowly, watching you tilt your head back and ride his fingers. sinking those gorgeous hips down again and again, putting his hand to use in a way that felt wrong up until now. fuck holding a sniper rifle and putting bad men to sleep--his hand was made to please you, that much was clear to him now.

you were so tight. grinding slow against him, dripping down his fingers, crying out when his thumb moved a gentle circle over your clit and his fingers slipped up enough to graze a pretty spot inside of you.

"nnngghhh--simon--"

"that's it, luv...'s it..."

you laid your forehead against his, nodding along to his words but your thoughts were only on the feeling of him. one finger, a second finger, a third--fucking up into you and feeling the squeezing of your soft walls and touching you in every way that made you dizzy and warm and cock-drunk--

"fuck, fuck, fuck--!"

you sobbed against his covered mouth as you came over his hand, a cloud of euphoria and pleasure and the soft thoughts of him that seemed to string together in some wonderful, hazy picture of him. simon was all hard lines, rough edges, the cut of broken glass or the wrong end of a gun, but it never mattered to you.

simon was the beginning and the end, of what, you weren't sure, but he was the beginning of something and definitely the end of it.

his eyes were on yours, dark, beautiful eyes that never lost their gentleness even when they should've been permanently black with his rage. simon was not angry. simon was not bent on revenge or eager to kill or smiling the face of death.

no, simon was in love. simon was so fucking in love.

[swanlikely]

Current Nanami Brainrot: Husband Nanami!

TW & Content: Sexual Harrassment, Violence (barely), Cunnilingus, Penetration, Usage of she/her pronouns, and bad writing?

Thinking about Nanami watching his pretty little wife sway softly to the suggestive music that hummed over the audience in the club. His eyes followed every sultry move, a small smirk playing on his lips as he nursed the whiskey in his strong palm. Nanami, being the ever-so-sweet husband he was, agreed to accompany you on your night out with your girls, ensuring your safety while secretly enjoying the view. Chuckling, he couldn't help but trace every curve of your body with his eyes, reminding himself how lucky he was. The way you moved, so effortlessly seductive, captivated him completely.

The mood and your fun were immediately ruined when a man, barely a few inches taller than you, sauntered up against you. The horrible sensation of his front pressing against your rear drove you to swivel quickly around, your face plastered in disgust. As the event unfolded, Nanami was already downing the whiskey and approaching you, his instincts kicking in.

"Please don't do that. I'm married," You yelped over the blaring music, fighting back the bitterness in your voice. The man with no manners cocked his bushy brow, appearing to be enticed by your attitude, and placed a rough hand on the side of your waist. His hold was unwanted and aggressive, causing dread to flare up in your chest.

"I don't see your husband here, do I? Besides, what's a married woman doing in a place like this, wearing that?" he spat, his eyes raking over your body with a predatory gleam. The anger surged through you as you realized he was referring to the black, tight dress Nanami had lovingly picked out for you. The dress that made you feel confident and beautiful, now tainted by this stranger's leering gaze.

"He's right here," Nanami's voice uttered reassuringly as he swatted the stranger's hand off your waist. Relief washed over you as your mountain of a husband placed his large hand on the small of your back. He wasn't just rubbing little circles or patterns; he was tracing letters, grounding you with each gentle touch.

"Sorry." He traced, so courteous as always.

"Ah, well. Maybe you shouldn't let your wife out looking like that. Gonna give someone the wrong idea," the rude stranger mumbled, swiping at the back of his hand where Nanami had gripped so tightly to pry him off you. Nanami was like a tree, towering over the pathetic man before you, both in sheer size and presence.

"Looking like what?" you scoffed, taking a step forward. Nanami still kept his hand on you but didn't intervene. He knew you were capable of handling yourself. He knew better than to stop his wife in the moment. "Like a slut," the stranger laughed, the sound actually nauseating to Nanami's ears. He rolled his eyes, knowing only a child would call a beautiful woman in a designer dress that. Only he could do that, though under different circumstances.

You rolled your eyes at the insult, mirroring Nanami's earlier gesture. With a swift pivot, you grasped Nanami's hand with your right, feeling the comforting strength in his grip. Using your left hand, you boldly flipped the bird at the stranger, your heart racing with a mix of defiance and satisfaction.

But before you could completely walk away with your kind husband, the stranger grumbled and reached out to pull your hair. Except, you didn't feel a thing. Instead, you felt your husband shift, and your eyes followed suit. Nanami was gripping the man by the back of his neck. God, did he look delicious, his arm flexing through the thin fabric of his button-up. His eyes were cold and fierce, a stark contrast to the warmth you always felt from him. You couldn't help but ogle at the way his muscles tensed.

"We shouldn't put our hands on pretty ladies, now should we?" Nanami asked the man, his voice dripping with a disgustingly sweet tone. He tossed the man onto the floor, and he landed on his rear with an "Ugh." Nanami tossed him like he was nothing. Good lord.

Nanami began to gently fold up the sleeves of his dark blue button-up, revealing forearms that could probably make angels weep. He was the living embodiment of "sex on legs." You couldn't help but notice the club's collective gasp as several eyes locked onto the scene, some surprised, others blatantly undressing Nanami with their eyes. Join the club, you thought with a smirk.

Nanami silently squatted down next to the man who was still recovering from the fall, bringing a hand up to grip his collar. Nanami whispered something to the man that you couldn't catch, but whatever it was, it made the stranger's eyes fill with panic.

"I-I'm sorry, ma'am," the man stammered out, bowing his head like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You didn't even respond to the stuttering fool as you just looked at your husband, half-lidded. You were mad, originally. But who could stay angry when your husband was defending your honor, his chiseled jaw clenched and his eyes burning with intensity, making a heat stir in your stomach?

"Are you alright, sweetness?" Nanami asked as he stood up from his position, walking towards you. Towering over you, again. He was just so big.

You nodded and glanced at your girls, who were raising their eyebrows knowingly. They recognized that look on your face—it was the same one they gave their husbands when things got, well, interesting. They waved you off with giggles and a few exaggerated winks, clearly enjoying the show.

"Kento," you grabbed his hand, weaving through the sea of people like a determined woman on a mission. Despite his towering size and rugged masculinity, Nanami always listened to his wife with a smile. Little did he know, you were about to make him the happiest man in the club.

As you pulled him through the exit and toward his car, he started to put the puzzle together. He couldn't help but chuckle, his eyes glued to your ass sashaying in the dress he bought you. "Well, someone's in a hurry," he teased, knowing full well you were about to make his night unforgettable. "Need you," was all you could manage before yanking your husband down to your level with his spotted tie. His lips met yours in a hungry kiss, leaving you breathless. His hands found their way to cup your cheeks. His fingers traced down your neck, each touch causing your skin to ignite.

Your tongue danced on his bottom lip, and he politely allowed you to delve deeper, exploring the heat of his mouth. He tasted absolutely irresistible, a mix of rich whiskey and mint. The flavor was intoxicating, he was intoxicating, making you crave every bit of him even more. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, so close that you could feel everything.

You could feel his heavy cock pressing against your thigh, the cool metal of the car contrasting sharply with the warmth of his bulge. He was overwhelming. "What's got you so eager, sweetheart?" Nanami mused as he pulled away, just a little, your forehead still pressed against his. His breath fanned against your swollen lips, his chocolatey eyes dark with want. God, he was perfect.

"Can't a woman just want her husband?" you purred, your voice like honey. Husband, oh how he loved when you called him that. It sent a rush straight to his cock, lighting a primal desire that made his breath hitch and his grip tighten on you.

"I guess I'll have to be a good husband and please my wife, huh?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise. His eyes never left yours as he reached into his pocket to unlock the car. Like the gentleman he was, he opened the car door for you, his touch lingering just a moment longer. The backseat of his car never looked so good.

Nanami and you slipped inside, and in an instant, Nanami was nestled between your thighs. He was electrifying. His teeth gently tugged your panties to the side, and his tongue working hard on your cunt. He was both sloppy yet precise, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through you. Nanami's big hands roamed your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin, grounding you in the moment. His tongue worked magic, alternating between slow, deliberate strokes and quick, teasing flicks. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel the tension building within you.

Every now and then, he'd glance up, his eyes locking with yours through his glasses, a mischievous glint in them that made your cunt clench around nothing. His dedication to your pleasure was evident, and the way he moved and responded to your reactions showed just how much he loved you. You were dripping, almost sopping at this point.

"Kento, no m-more. I want you," you groaned as your delicate fingers tugged at his neat blond hair. Nanami paused for a moment, his eyes darkening as he looked up at you. The sight of you, needy and breathless, clearly affected him. He slowly rose, his lips brushing a trail up your body, leaving a path of tiny bruises in their wake. You'd scold him for that later.

"God, you're such a good wife," he murmured, his voice deep and husky. His right hand found your waist, while his left undid the zipper of his slacks, tugging them down just enough to reveal his heavy cock. Even in the barely lit car, it was mouthwatering. He was rock hard and throbbing, all seven inches of him.

As you reach to grab him and pull him into your slippery cunt, he stops you with a tut. "Be patient, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?" His voice, low and commanding, added an extra layer of excitement to the moment. You pant, "Yes sir," as you bring your hands to claw at Nanami's strong arms. Your hands looked so tiny in comparison to him.

Something in him seemed to awaken at the sound of your petname for him, ramming into your cunt. The stretch was overwhelming. His strong arms that you loved so much held you tightly, as he fucked you dumb, completely consumed by the raw walls of your cunt. Your thighs were pushed against your chest as your husband kept pounding into you, his groans and grunts sounding like a symphony.

"So good for me, so perfect," Nanami groaned into your neck, his words vibrating against your sweaty skin. As your climax approached, Nanami continued to sing praises into your ear, telling you how good you were, how much he loved you. "Gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna make a mess all over your husband's cock?" He spat as he nipped at the side of your jaw. You could barely answer, your mind already slipping into ecstasy. Nanami was completely pussy drunk, his cock dragging in and out with a pace you couldn't comprehend.

"Y-yes! Yes, oh god, yes!" you screamed, certain that everyone on the block could probably hear you. But you didn't care, because your husband made your walls gush and clamp around him. Nanami's own high wasn't far after yours as his pace somehow quickened, his head kissing your cervix. "Gonna cum," Nanami groaned.

"Gonna get my pretty wife pregnant," his voice dripped with desire as he continued. His seed was thick and warm, filling you to the brim. As he pulled out, he gently massaged the area above your cunt.

"So perfect." ________________ i need him biblically.

If any of the grammar is bad, I am so sorry. I wrote this while I was ovulating.

[withahappyrefrain]

for the lil prompt list: thinking of our beloved Bob and fixing the others clothing when something is a little bit off (particularly when it’s you doing it to him when he’s in uniform for one reason or another) he’d be so endeared by you :(

Stop he would!!! 😭😭😭

You couldn't have been prouder of Bob. After the mission at Top Gun, he and several others in the squad were being rewarded with a medal of honor.

It meant getting to support your boyfriend. As well as (selfishly) seeing him in uniform.

Bob liked to keep his work and personal life strictly separated. Coming home in his flight suit was a rarity. It was why he had yet to introduce you to his coworkers turned friends.

That and because selfishly, he didn't want to share you.

But today, your own desires triumphed over Bob's. Dressed in his Navy whites, chest adorned by the medals he had already received from previous deployments.

He always looked handsome, like a movie star from the Golden Age. But something about his slicked back hair, face stoic as he stood proud and tall, had you unable to focus on anything else besides Bob.

Once the ceremony ended and the honorees were free to mingle with loved ones, you became laser focused on getting to your boyfriend.

Due to the crowd of what had to be his coworkers, Bob wasn't able to see you waving as you walked towards him.

Your voice would just have to do.

"Bobby!"

Bob looked over Jake's shoulder to see you, an absolute vision in your sun dress, waving excitedly at him.

Ignoring the confused remarks from his colleagues, Bob practically pushed Jake aside, all but running over to you.

Seeing him for the first time in eight weeks had your self control thrown out the window. You threw your arms around his neck, nearly knocking over his hat as your lips pressed against his.

The medals were pressing against your skin but quite frankly, you couldn't find it in yourself to care. You were far too busy reveling in his kiss; his soft lips that were becoming reacquainted with yours, his large palms steadying your body since you all but threw yourself onto him, the delightful scent of sage flooding your nostrils once more.

Bob registered the gawking his coworkers were doing, but he didn't care. Eight weeks was a long time, particularly when he wasn't sure if he would come back from this mission.

He could only hope that you didn't feel the small ring-sized box that was in his pocket.

After breaking apart for much needed air, you beamed as you took him in; blue eyes shining brighter than the sun, his hat now sitting at an angle on his head, pink lips formed into a smile that could best be described as lovesick.

God you loved him.

"I'm so proud of you Bobby," you beamed, your fingers gently adjusting his hat, "and I'm glad others are recognizing how incredible you are."

Bob was at a loss for words, enamored by the way you mindlessly fixed his uniform as you sung his praises. It was an action you had always done, something you didn't even think about. In fact, it was that endearing gesture that caused you to meet Bob. And despite dating for such a long time, it made Bob's heart flutter every time.

You showed your love for him so effortlessly, pouring it into every action, no matter how small.

"Bobby?" You giggled, "You good?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, warmth flooding his body, "Just in love with you, that's all."

He made you want to kick your feet like a school girl. Instead, you settled for placing your hands on his upper back and pressing another loving kiss to his lips.

"Why don't we go meet your squad? I can hear their questions," you chuckled, knowing the team was currently arguing over how long you and Bob had been together.

Bob looked over, wincing at the sight of his coworkers arguing over an apparent bet about him. His grip on your waist tightened.

"Maybe not just yet. Don't want your first impression to be Bradley and Hangman arguing."

You simply smiled, fingers toying with one of his many medals, "That's fine."

Leaning in, your breath was hot on his ear, "Gives me more time to admire you in this uniform."

Maybe they would skip the meeting altogether and head straight home.

[dark-moonlust]

Claimed by the Water Dragon PART 4

Pairing: water dragon x fem human reader

Summary: you are sleeping, tired after caring for your baby dragon. So when your mate hears little Aenon whimper in the middle of the night, he gets up and soothes him back to sleep.

Warnings: safe but since my blog is 18+ as usual minors don’t interact, cuteness and fluff, family warmth, lactating, breastfeeding.

This series is now complete. There is a previous part with smut exclusively on Patreon. Find all free parts here!

It was late in the night. Quiet silence took over your underground home, which you and your dragon mate shared. You now had a small baby dragon as well. Days had passed since your baby broke its dragon shell. Little Aenon was steadily growing, yet he was still small enough to be cuddled into your embrace.

You were sound asleep in bed, nestled up against your lover's huge body. Your cheek was pressed against his soft underbelly, and his wings were delicately folded around you to keep you warm. Strong arms were wrapped around you, keeping you close while he rested. Your baby dragon slept in his crib across the room.

A tiny moan echoed through the quiet room, barely noticeable in your ears but enough to wake your dragon from his light slumber. He raised his head, his ears twitching. Another tiny whine came, more urgent this time. Little Aenon stirred in his crib and whined in the night.

With a hushed sigh, your mate carefully detached himself from you, then tucked your small frame under the covers, and, for someone his size, padded quietly to the cradle. His eyes softened as he looked down at his hatchling, nestled between soft blankets, his small wings fluttering weakly with each weeping chirp. He reached down, his big hand lovingly cradling the newborn dragon, which fit just right in his large palms. But little Aenon continued to fuss, his clawed fists jerking restlessly.

“What’s wrong, little one? Is it your wings? Are you uncomfortable?” the dragon murmured, inspecting Aenon’s wings and body. “No… you’re fine. What is it?”

He paced the room, holding Aenon close and rubbing his back, but the small dragon refused to rest. "What do you need, my fussy little hatchling?"

Leaning against the doorframe, you watched the scene with a warm smile on your lips. You'd heard the cries and awoke to see your powerful partner reduced to a flustered, doting father attempting to comfort your hatchling. You almost didn't want to interrupt—he was so lovely, holding Aenon with such care, his blue eyes overflowing with love and concern.

“Nothing’s wrong, my love,” you finally stepped forward, “our poor little hatchling is only hungry.”

Your mate’s head snapped to you, relief on his dragon features. “Oooh,” he said, his voice sheepish. “Hungry. Right.”

You chuckled and crossed the room to him, taking fussy little Aenon from his arms. “Don’t worry,” you teased your mate, “you’re doing great, but this part? I think it’s my turn.”

“Our son’s a hungry little rascal,” your mate grinned, his sharp teeth flashing. “You fed him but an hour ago.”

“Well, he is a newborn dragon and I have more than enough milk—”

“For us both?” Your mate teased and laughed when you gently slapped him.

“You’ve grown far too greedy, mate,” you said as little Aenon fumbled with your clothes, impatient for his meal.

Your mate scooped you back into bed and watched you prepare to feed your hatchling. He eagerly assisted, as he always did because your tiny dragon was still too small to latch properly on your breast. So your dragon mate gently cradled your mound in his palm, guiding the hatchling to feed from your leaking nipple.

Your mate looked so smug at every feeding. It was his favourite pastime.

"Gods, I wish he never stopped feeding so I could enjoy this sight forever," he growled as the small dragon latched on, his hungry cries melting into coos of happiness.

You chuckled. “Horny dragon.”

“Always,” he replied. “For you. I want to be there every moment, to help you with everything.”

“My love, you are here,” you reassured him with a tender kiss on his snout. “You’re doing so much for me and our hatchling.”

“I wish I could do more. I want our hatchling to know that I’ll always be here for him and his mother, no matter what.”

“And he will know that,” you whispered, eyes shimmering with affection. “Because you’re the most loving, protective father he could ever ask for.”

Your dragon hummed, watching his tiny son in your arms. “I never thought I’d be this… happy,” he admitted. “I found you and you accepted me, created a family with me.”

“That’s because I love you,” you said kissing your baby’s head before returning your gaze to your mate. "You've already given us everything we need: your love, your protection."

Your mate smiled softly. “And I will keep giving you everything,” he promised. “Always.”

I love how this series turned out. Their family is adorable! I hope you liked it too!! Please let me know what you think! Your support is very important to us content creators!

[lavenderovercast]

HUNKING HERO collab with @honeyandberryjuice

summary: you & toshinori get freaky in your office! relationships: yagi toshinori x female!reader warnings: 18+ content under the cut, !! MINORS DNI !! note: me & @honeyandberryjuice decided to work on our own custom kinktober list for this year, so here's a written collab between the two of us! enjoy it you filthy animals <33 tags: blow jobs, (light) praise kink, size kink, office sex, semi-public sex, dick transformation (just gets bigger cuz. u know. all might ), all might AND small might, two for the price of one!, porn w/ out plot, implied aftercare 🌺 prefer to read on ao3? check out the series! 🌺

“Oh my goodness,” Toshinori panted, his large hands gripping into the leather seat beneath him. The blonde man’s neck was perspired with sweat, his breath and skin hot. The groan that came from his throat was visceral, almost like he was in pain, though he couldn’t be further from it. “You’re… taking all of me so well.” The man managed to gasp out, muscles visibly straining in his arms. The sight drives you absolutely crazy.

 All you can reply with is a deep and satisfied hum, what with your mouth being otherwise busy. Toshinori’s cock was enveloped deeply in your throat, the warmth of it fulfilling your need for the man. The hum you’d given in response seems to send ripples through him, as you feel him jerk in your mouth. You can’t help but feel smug about it.

 You have one hand gripped around his sinewy thigh, and the other one reaches towards his groin to cup his balls. As you begin to massage them gently, a strangled cry erupts from Toshinori and a clammy hand slaps down onto where yours was on his thigh and squeezes. His words are a garbled mess, but you manage to make out, “Jeez, I’m gonna cum. Let’s…” The man pauses to take another gulp of air before continuing, “I wanna try something.”

 Curiousity positively piqued, you remove him from your mouth. Your jaw had begun to ache from taking the size of him anyway, and you’d never been able to say no to him. You quietly hum again as you move, slowly pushing yourself up and off of your knees, resting your hands on the top of the blonde’s thighs. Toshinori’s breath hitched at the contact, and the man finds it increasingly difficult to regain his composure. 

 His dilemma only worsens when you lean your head closer to his, a sweet smile on the same lips that were just wrapped around his aching dick. The man could just about faint when your lips brush against his cheek, warm and soft as they press onto his skin before you speak to him so warmly. “What do you have in mind, Toshi?” 

 Toshinori fights a groan, hands shifting back to the leather seat underneath him. With a squeeze, he furrowed his eyebrows before letting his palms rest on your hips. A surprised noise escapes his you as he lifts you with ease, gently maneuvering you so your sitting on the desk in front of the two of you now. Your hands move to rest on the tops of his own, causing Toshinori to dig his teeth into his lip as he peers up at you. 

 In his eyes, you’re beautiful— a true marvel of the world. Your hair falls around your face and shoulders in a perfect curve, and there’s the sweetest, most trusting smile on your face as you gaze down at him so lovingly. The blonde doesn’t understand how he got so lucky, but he’s grateful for it anyways as he moves to slot himself between your legs. 

 “What do… You think about trying something different?” Toshinori rumbles, ducking his head down to leave loving kisses across your susceptible skin. His teeth grazes your neck, making you sigh and lean into the man with an approving hum. 

 “Depends on your definition of different.” You tease, rubbing your thumbs soothingly against his skin. You’re already fucking the man in an office, so you’re certain that nothing he can propose will be too bold for you to try. 

 The kisses he had been peppering on your complexion began to travel down your body, and you let out a small giggle as his lips tickled your sensitive skin. Your hands instinctively reached up to grab at his dishevelled blonde hair, pulling gently, which caused a low groan to escape the man. You bite her lip at the sound, positively enthralled that you could cause such deliciousness to come from him without even doing much. It seemed to take everything in him to find the focus to reply, “It’ll be better if I just show you. Let me know if, at any point, you don’t like it, ‘kay?”

 The small nod from you was all he needed as he sits back down into the office chair while pulling you down with him. Your soft, warm, naked skin on his caused tingles to travel up his spine, his hands reaching around you to support your back as you settled comfortably on his lap. With ease, he lifts your body up to line himself up with you and slowly enter you, a rumbling groan and a breathy gasp escaping each of you respectfully. 

 He takes a moment to let you adjust, and you dig your nails into his shoulders, making him grit his teeth. Toshinori would describe himself as a gentle lover, but the things you did to him made him want to break furniture and throw you around like a ragdoll, but he was a gentleman and would control himself— Even if every passing second with you only made that challenge all the more difficult. “You okay?” He asked, voice soft.

 “Always,” You respond, though your voice sounds strained. You look at him through your eyelashes, already knowing where his thoughts were venturing. “Please don’t stop. I just forget how much of you there is every time.” There’s amusement in your tone, and your face is wonderfully flush with arousal.

 If Toshinori was a different man, he would’ve been completely self-satisfied about the reactions he got out of you. It was hard not to be, when you have your fingers dug into his shoulders as he slowly rocks his hips forward. A pleased sound leaves you as you tild your head forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder with a shaky exhale. Desperately, you want to be close to him. Desperately, you want more of him, all of him. 

 Instead of taking further pride in himself for having such an independent woman damn near weak in the knees for him, Toshinori rests his lips gently against the top of your head. The smell of your shampoo invades his senses as he pushes forward. He’s slow and careful for you, attentive as always as he allows you to adjust to his length. 

 Another pleased sound erupts from you, this time in the form of a breathy sigh as his hips become flush against your own. A soft pant leaves you, and you left your head up to capture Toshinori’s lips in a kiss. His fingers press gently against your hips as he begins to move against you. The pleased, muffled sounds that leave his lover as he moves make him groan quietly, his own need increasingly growing. 

 The hands on your hips grips you harder, and he lifted you again to slide you up the length of him before pulling you roughly back down to take him fully. A surprised moan burst from you, telling him that you enjoyed the act very much, so he did it again. And again. Over and over, he lifted you up and down, before hitching his hands under your thighs to keep you in place and pounding up into you until your eyes began to roll back in your head. 

 You were lucky nobody was in the building anymore, or it would’ve been very obvious what you were doing, closed blinds or not. 

 A strained groan came from him as he felt the familiar sensation of release building up in him, and he knew now would be the time to enact what he slyly hinted at earlier. As your cries turned ecstatic, and your pulling of his hair felt like you were going to rip it from his scalp in a heavenly wave of pain and pleasure, he allowed another well-known electricity to assemble within him. The remnants of One For All pumped through his veins, filling his muscles and bulking his frame like it had again and again over the years.

 He didn’t think he would ever get sick of the feeling, and it didn’t matter that it only lasted for a few seconds now. Toshinori always felt so powerful when the quirk gave him new form.

 As his body doubled, tripled in size, your already smaller frame seemed to shrink on top of him. His large arms and legs seemed impossibly big next to you, and it was with your very sudden, sharp intake of breath that he knew you felt him bulk elsewhere too. “Oh my G— Fuck!”  Your voice squeaked as his cock stretched you out, and you felt more of him than you ever had before.

 He’s about to ask you if you’re okay again, to know if this was way too much or painful at all, but he’s silenced by you clamping your hand harshly over his mouth as you begin to bounce on top of him. Your moans are so tinged with desperation now that he can’t concentrate on anything else, and his even larger hands cup you tightly on the ass as he watches you taking every wide inch of him.

 “Toshi— Fuck, All Might!” His hero name being called from your pretty mouth undoes him. He didn’t think he was vain enough that something like that would turn him on so much, but the surprise doesn’t affect much as he realises his climax is imminent.

 He throws his head back and moans loudly as he empties himself inside of you, the cum overfilling you and dripping down the inside of your legs onto the top of his thighs. The man pants as he takes a moment to recover, his hands falling limp against you, who in turn practically drops onto him. Toshinori can feel your chest pressed against his own, your head buried into the crook of his neck. 

 The blonde can feel his body returning to his regular form, but he doesn’t pay it much mind as he lifts a shaky hand that he runs through your hair soothingly. He’s quiet for a moment before tilting his head back to you, lips pressing against the top of your head like they had earlier before. He can hear a breathy chuckle come from your mouth, and you peer up at him with affection written all over your features. 

 “Are… You alright? Was that…” He’s not able to finish his sentence as you lift a hand and gently nudge his shoulder, your eyes narrowed playfully on his face. He can feel his features warm as you hum. 

 “That was perfect, Toshi,” You murmur, nuzzling your head into the man’s chest with a contented little smile on your face. Toshinori can’t help but smile too, moving his hands to rest them on your arms, rubbing soothing patterns into the exposed skin. “...Should clean up, though. My office is going to smell terrible.” 

 “Mmm,” The blonde grunts in agreement, nodding a little. “Just let me hold you a little longer.”

[fafnir19]

The Fairy Tale

The snow-capped mountains loomed ahead, their peaks piercing the azure sky, as Finn and his father, Hergen, made their way through the quaint mountain town. Finn, a young man of twenty, with a slender build and bright, curious eyes, clutched his gloved hands together, his breath forming small clouds in the chilly air. He was not one for outdoor excursions, preferring the cozy confines of his home with a good book. But today was different; his father had convinced him to embark on a journey to the glacier caves, a place of nature wonders. As they wandered through the bustling Christmas market, the aroma of spiced glögg and roasted chestnuts filled the air, mingling with the sound of cheerful carols.

Finn's eyes sparkled as he took in the festive atmosphere, feeling a sense of warmth and joy despite the cold. He and his father shared a hot cup of glögg, their breath mingling with the steam rising from the mulled wine. It was a moment of connection, a rare occasion when Finn felt truly at ease with his father, who was often away on his scientific expeditions. "Dad, I'm glad we came here. It's like a winter wonderland," Finn said, his voice filled with genuine happiness. Hergen smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I thought you'd enjoy it, my boy. But wait until you see the glacier caves tomorrow. They are a marvel of nature, unlike anything you've ever witnessed."

While Hergen was chatting with some other adventurous guys about the best hike to the caves, Finn glanced at the old woman selling the glögg, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she poured him a generous cup. “Tomorrow, my father and I are exploring the glacier caves!” Finn said, a hint of excitement breaking through his usual anxiety. Her expression shifted, lips pressing together in a tight line. “You should think twice, boy. The fairies live there. They can be dangerous if disturbed.” Finn chuckled, shaking his head. “Fairies? You must be joking. That’s just nonsense, right?” “No joke at all,” she replied, her voice low and serious. “They are not to be trifled with.” “Right,” Finn said, rolling his eyes as he turned to Hergen. “Next, she’ll tell me about unicorns and elves.” Hergen laughed, clearly entertained. “Maybe they’ll offer us some magical glögg!” The old woman shot them a stern look before turning away, leaving Finn to sip his drink.

The next morning, as the sun bathed the snow-covered landscape in a golden glow, Finn and Hergen set out for the glacier caves. The journey was arduous, the cold biting at their exposed skin, but Finn's excitement grew with every step. The caves loomed ahead, a majestic sight with their shimmering ice formations and deep, mysterious crevices. "This is it, Finn. The glacier caves," Hergen said, his voice filled with awe. "Let's explore, but remember to stay together and be mindful of our surroundings." Finn nodded, his eyes wide as he took in the breathtaking beauty around him. He ventured deeper into the caves, his breath catching at the sight of glittering ice columns and intricate frozen sculptures.

As he wandered, a peculiar sight caught his attention. Tiny glowing orbs fluttered in the frosty air, resembling fireflies, but their presence in this frigid environment was baffling. Intrigued, Finn approached, his curiosity overcoming his initial hesitation. As he drew closer, he realized these were no ordinary insects. Their delicate wings shimmered with an otherworldly light, and their size was larger than any firefly he had ever seen. With a gentle motion, he reached out, capturing one of the creatures in his palm. It struggled, its wings creating a soft whirring sound, like a tiny bellows. "How dare you invade the realm of the fairies!" The creature's voice, high-pitched and indignant, startled Finn. He stared at the fairy, its tiny features contorted in anger. "Let me go at once! I will not tolerate this intrusion!" Finn's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing. He had heard tales of fairies, but never imagined he would encounter one. "I-I apologize," he stammered, his voice betraying his shock. "I meant no harm. I was merely curious." The fairy's expression turned from anger to suspicion. "Curiosity, you say? Well, you've trespassed, and punishment is due. I'll call for help, and you'll face the consequences!"

A voice, like a whispered secret, slithered into Finn's mind. *Eat it, Finn!* a voice whispered in his mind, insistent and seductive. *Swallow it, and your troubles will be over.* The command was so sudden and compelling that Finn found himself obeying without hesitation. He opened his mouth and, with a quick motion, popped the fairy into his mouth. It tasted like sparkling sugar, and as he swallowed, a rush of warmth spread through his body. As the fairy slid down his throat, a transformation began. Finn's

body trembled, and he felt a strange sensation, as if his very essence was being reshaped. His hair, once straight and blond, began to curl and lengthen, framing his face in a stylish fade cut. His ears, once rounded and human, elongated and became pointed, a clear sign of his newfound fairy heritage. But the transformation didn't stop there. His red expedition suit, a practical choice for the cold, morphed into something altogether different. The fabric shifted and changed, transforming into light blue leather pants that hugged his legs like a second skin, leaving his upper body bare. He stood there, stunned, as the reality of his new appearance sank in.

"Dad!" he cried out, startled by his own voice, which had taken on a deeper, more resonant tone. Hergen, who had been collecting samples nearby, rushed over, his eyes widening at the sight of his son. "Finn! What's happening?" But before he could reach his son, a dark figure emerged from the shadows, its towering stature and matted black fur sending a shiver down Finn's spine. The creature's eyes glowed with an unearthly crimson light, and its wolf-like snout revealed sharp fangs. "Who—who are you?" Finn stammered, his voice barely audible. The creature stepped closer, its massive paws leaving frosty imprints on the ground. "I am Malgoth, the true ruler of these caves. And you are now under my command."

Hergen, who had been observing the exchange with growing concern, rushed to Finn's side. "Stay away from my son!" he shouted, his voice filled with protective fury. Malgoth's laughter boomed, causing icicles to tremble and fall. "Your son is no longer under your protection, human. He belongs to the fairy realm now."

Finn wanted to flee, to escape this terrifying presence, but before he could move, the creature was upon him, its massive paw pinning him down. A low, sinister chuckle rumbled from its throat, "Welcome to your new reality. You'll find your kind is easily swayed." "What's happening to me?" Finn whispered, his voice now carrying a hint of wonder. Malgoth's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "You've swallowed the fairy, and now you've become one of them. A fairy prince, with all the powers and pleasures that come with it." He stepped closer, his massive claws clicking against the ice. "And I have plans for you, my prince." Finn struggled, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to speak, to protest, but the words caught in his throat as the creature's hand moved to his ear, stroking the delicate point with a single claw.

A jolt of pleasure shot through him, so intense it left him breathless. "Ah, I see you've discovered the pleasure of the fairy ears," the creature said, its voice dripping with satisfaction. "So sensitive, so responsive. It's no wonder they are your greatest weakness." Finn's breath coming in short gasps as the creature continued to stroke his ear, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his veins. "No, I..." Finn began, his voice trailing off into a moan as his body betrayed his words. "Your body speaks the truth," Malgoth whispered, his breath hot against Finn's ear. "You like being touched, caressed by a powerful man. It's a feeling you've never known before, but now it's yours to enjoy." Finn's heart pounded, and he felt a warmth spreading through his body, pooling in his groin. His cock hardened, straining against the tight leather pants, and he couldn't deny the pleasure he was experiencing. Hergen, witnessing his son's transformation and the creature's manipulation, felt a surge of helplessness. He knew he couldn't physically overpower Malgoth, not with those massive claws and imposing stature. But he had to do something, anything, to protect his son. "Stay away from him!" Hergen shouted, his voice echoing off the icy walls. "You won't turn my son into some fairy plaything!" Malgoth's laughter filled the cave, causing the ice to tremble. "Oh, but he's already becoming my plaything, and he's enjoying it. Isn't that right, fairy prince?" Finn's mouth was dry, and he could only nod, his eyes locked on Malgoth's. The creature's words were like a spell, binding him, making him want to submit, to explore this new, forbidden pleasure. "Think about it, Finn," Malgoth whispered, his voice a dark temptation.

"Imagine being cared for by a man, strong and powerful, who can give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. It's a feeling you crave, deep within your fairy soul." Finn's hand moved to his cock, stroking it through the leather pants, and he moaned softly. The sensation was incredible, and he couldn't deny the truth in Malgoth's words. He had always felt different, shy and anxious, but now, as a fairy prince, he felt a newfound confidence in his sexuality. "That's it, Finn," Malgoth encouraged, his voice a soft purr. "Pleasure yourself. Think of me, of the power I hold over you, and how it excites you."

Finn's hand moved faster, his breath coming in short gasps. He was lost in a haze of pleasure, his mind filled with images of Malgoth, of powerful men, and the forbidden sensations coursing through his body. Malgoth stepped closer, his claws gently caressing Finn's lips. "Imagine your lips around a cock, sucking, pleasing a man. It's what you want, isn't it?" Finn's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself leaning forward, his mouth seeking the creature's fingers. He sucked on them eagerly, his tongue swirling, and he moaned around the digits, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Yes, that's it," Malgoth whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're a natural, fairy prince. Embrace your desires, and they will set you free." Finn's hand moved to the waistband of his leather pants, and he pulled them down, his cock springing free, hard and eager. He stroked himself, his hips bucking with each stroke, and he couldn't hold back the moans of pleasure that escaped his lips.

"I'm so close," he panted, his eyes locked on Malgoth, who lounged casually on a nearby stone, watching the show with a satisfied smirk. "Do you want to see me cum?" Finn teased, his voice breathless. Malgoth's smirk widened, and he nodded, his eyes never leaving Finn's body. "Go on, fairy prince. Show me how much you've embraced your new nature." Finn's hand moved faster, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. His body trembled, and he threw his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he came, his cum painting his stomach and thighs. As he caught his breath, Finn wiped the cum from his body, his hand trembling. He felt a strange urge, a desire to taste himself, to experience the essence of his newfound nature. "Finn, stop!" Hergen shouted, his voice filled with horror as he watched his son's actions. "What has that creature done to you?" But Finn was beyond listening. He teased his father with a playful smile, then brought his hand to his mouth, licking the cum from his fingers. The taste was sweet and salty, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through him, awakening a new, insatiable desire. "Ah, the taste of your own seed," Malgoth purred, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. "It seals your transformation, fairy prince.

From now on, you'll crave the taste of cum, especially that of powerful men. It's your new addiction, and it will bind you to me." Finn's eyes widened as the realization hit him. He had become a creature of pleasure, a dark fairy prince, and the untamable desire to suck cocks, to please men, was now his driving force. Malgoth's laughter filled the cave, a dark, triumphant sound. "Your corruption is complete, and your conversion is final. Welcome, my dark fairy prince. You are now a part of my plan, a key to my conquest of the fairy realm." Hergen, witnessing the transformation of his son and the creature's sinister plans, knew he had to act. But before he could make a move, Malgoth raised a massive paw, and a blizzard erupted, filling the cave with swirling snow. When it cleared, Finn was gone, spirited away by the dark creature. Hergen stood alone in the now silent cave, his mind racing. He knew he had to find his son, to help him, but how could he possibly challenge such a powerful and malevolent force?

Hergen couldn't believe his eyes when he opened the door to find Finn on his doorstep, weeks after their harrowing adventure in the glacier caves. The young man had changed, his once-pointed ears now rounded, more human-like, but he exuded a new, captivating presence.

His father's heart swelled with relief and joy. "Son, you're back! You've escaped that creature... but you're different." Hergen's voice trailed off as he took in Finn's transformation. Finn smiled, his eyes sparkling with a newfound confidence. "I'm free, Father. But the changes... they're not all gone."

Later that evening, Finn and his cousin, Claas, a lively 23-year-old, set off for a frat party. Finn carried a tray of meatballs that were intended as finger food for the party.

As the alcohol flowed and the party's energy peaked, the cousins made their way through the crowd and Claas noticed something peculiar. He caught a glimpse of their reflection in a full-length mirror, but it wasn't their usual selves staring back. Instead, Claas saw the gay fairy prince from the glacier, with his pointed ears and silver armor.

Beside prince Finn standing himself - bare-chested. Confused and startled, Claas grabbed Finn's arm. "What sorcery is this? I see you as that fairy prince, and myself... with no shirt!" Finn's smirk revealed his secret plan.

"Oh, Claas, it's already begun. You see, these meatballs you've been enjoying... they're not just any ordinary meat. They're fairy meat!" As he spoke, a chilling breeze swept through the house. The temperature dropped, and a blizzard erupted within the very heart of the fraternity, encasing everything in a glittering layer of ice and the mirror's surface frosted over. The transformation was not limited to the environment; it affected the fraternity brothers as well. One by one, they underwent a magical change, their bodies becoming slender and graceful, their ears growing pointed, and their tuxedos became sparkling armors. Their eyes widened in wonder and lust as they, too, became gay fairies, their human forms a distant memory.

The new fairies, driven by an instinctual desire, swarmed around Finn, their prince. Claas, overcome with devotion, fell to his knees, his eyes locked on Finn's crotch. "My prince," he murmured, his voice filled with adoration and submission. "I see now that you are the fairy prince, returned to claim your throne. Allow me to serve you." With that, he leaned forward and took Finn's cock into his mouth, his newfound fairy nature driving him to pleasure his newfound prince. The other transformed fraternity brothers joined Claas, their hands and lips caressing Finn's body. Finn's senses were overwhelmed by the touch of so many eager fairies. He felt his cock stiffen further, the pleasure intensifying with each passing moment. The memory of his human life began to fade as the fairies' attentions focused on his pointed ears, sending shivers of delight through his body. "Enough!" Finn cried out, his voice laced with both pleasure and panic. "I... I can't remember... my human life is slipping away." But the fairies did not heed his plea, their hands and mouths working in unison to bring him to the brink of ecstasy. As the last vestiges of his human memories faded, Finn surrendered to the pleasure, his voice now filled with authority and desire. "Yes, my subjects. Serve your horny prince's cock!"

As the party descended into a haze of passion and ecstasy, the fairies, including Finn and Claas, disappeared into the glacier cave, drawn by an unseen force. Malgoth, the dark manipulator, awaited them, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Welcome, my new creations," he purred, his voice echoing through the icy chamber. "You are a new fairy race, and your sustenance shall be the essence of powerful men. Their cum will fuel your existence."

The air crackled with anticipation as the new fairy prince, Finn, stood amidst the frozen realm, his presence causing a stir among the fairy subjects, once frat bros. Claas couldn't help but feel a surge of jealousy as he witnessed Finn's transformation and the adoration it elicited from their fellow fairies. Malgoth, the dark manipulator, seized this opportunity to plant a seed of discord in Claas's mind. "You should be the prince," Malgoth whispered, his breath like a chilling breeze against Claas's ear. "You are older, stronger. Imagine Finn beneath you, helpless, as you claim his body and his power."

Claas couldn't shake the vision of himself as the dominant fairy prince, with Finn as his submissive. The thought of entering Finn's body, claiming him, sent shivers down his spine. He pictured himself thrusting into Finn's willing form, their bodies slick with sweat and desire.

As the party continued in the glacier cave, Claas' gaze kept returning to Finn, now surrounded by the former frat boys, all of them gay fairies under his command. The sight of their pleasure-filled faces only intensified Claas' yearning. He wanted to be the one causing Finn's moans, to have that power over the prince. "I could take what's rightfully mine," he whispered, his voice laced with determination. "I could make him submit."

The ancient glaciers, once serene, now echoed with the sinister laughter of Malgoth, the corrupted spirit. His plan was unfolding beautifully, and soon, the fairy realm would be his. He had found the perfect pawn in Finn, the shy human boy who had unwittingly become a fairy prince. "Your destiny awaits, my prince. The human town will fall, and from its ruins, our realm shall flourish!" Finn's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and a newfound lust for power. "The time has come," Malgoth's declared, his voice echoing through the icy chamber. "Feed the fairy meat to the young lads in the town, and watch as they succumb to their desires, becoming warriors of our realm." Finn's heart raced. He knew his mission—to corrupt the town's sons, one by one. With each fairy consumed, a new gay fairy would emerge, until every son of this town is under Finn’s command, so  that the human town would lose its protectors. Malgoth's laughed, "The humans will lose their precious sons to our corruption, and their town will be ours. An eternal winter awaits them, a fitting grave for their defiance."

The icy wind howled outside, as if in prediction of the impending doom. "I understand, master," Finn replied, his voice steady, laced with a dark promise. "I shall fulfill my role and bring forth the era of the gay fairy realm."

As the blizzard subsided, the new fairy army, led by their dark prince, Finn, disappeared into the night, ready to spread their enchantment over the unsuspecting town and fulfill Malgoth's vision of a icy gay fairy empire.

[how-serene]

Sugary Sweet

Pairing - Bernard The Elf x Neutral!Reader

Summary - During a long strenuous day at the workshop, you and Bernard manage to find a moment alone.

Word Count - 792

Warnings - no use of y/n, fluff, established relationship

A/N - never in my life did I think I would be writing for this guy, but I watched santa clause 2 recently and was whiplashed back to the past when little ole me used to have a huge crush on him. anyway, happy holidays!

You struggled to hide your sense of panic as you hurried down the hall. A flurry of working elves maneuvered around you, carrying boxes of varying sizes. They would briefly glance up and smile at you, their rosy cheeks dusted with glitter. Yet you continued to walk past them, ignoring their curious stares as a sense of urgency pushed you forward. 

How could you be so late? A week of stress and planning, only for you to become lost in your work again. You huffed, shaking your head as you approached the double doors leading to the dining hall. They loomed over you, with Intricate designs of snowflakes carved into its deep oak surface. You smoothed out the edges of your outfit, and opened the door, stepping inside the room. 

“You’re late,” a stern voice immediately said upon your entrance. Bernard stood before you, carrying a silver tray with two steaming mugs. Guilt crept up your belly as you felt your face burn from embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, softly closing the door behind you. “I got caught up in the gift wrapping department.” 

He shook his head. “No, no it’s fine. I barely made it here in time myself.” 

Bernard set the tray down on one of the nearby tables, and ushered you over. The sweet, sugary smell of hot cocoa wafted into your nose as you approached him. He reached for one of the mugs, and carefully handed it to you. You sat down, pressing your palms against the warm porcelain. Your feet throbbed from pacing around the workshop all day, rushing to fix problem after problem. To finally have a moment to sit still already had you itching to stand up again. 

“Seven days of trying to align our break schedules, and it almost falls apart,” you said, chuckling to yourself. You felt Bernard sit beside you, as his shoulder brushed against yours. 

“We still have ten minutes left until the staff return,” he mentioned, nudging your arm. 

You chuckled, staring down at your drink. “I guess that counts for something.” 

Bernard shifted beside you, pressing his thigh against yours as a means to be closer. The small gesture left a smile on your face, as you moved to nestle your head against his shoulder. He hummed in content, gently resting his cheek atop of your head. You two sat in silence for a moment, drinking in each other's company. You briefly closed your eyes, breathing in the sharp scent of peppermint coming from Bernard. 

“You smell like candy canes,” you commented, glancing up at him. He was already looking down at you, black curls framed his face. You reached up and brushed them aside, watching as warmth rose to his cheeks from the slight touch. 

“There was an accident in the kitchen earlier today, I’ll probably smell like mint for an entire week,” he grumbled. 

“Dare I ask what happened?” 

“Trust me, it’s better you don’t.” 

You nodded, and reached for his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. 

“Well,” you started, smiling up at him. “If it means anything, I happen to love peppermint.” 

He smirked and took a sip from his mug. 

You drew a deep breath, relishing in your lover's company. Although the ticking of the wall clock was beginning to chip away at your nerves. Time continued to move on, not caring much for anyone. 

“Time’s almost up,” you pouted, not wishing to move from your spot. 

“We’ll see each other later tonight,” Bernard assured, planting a tender kiss on your temple. 

You scoffed. “It’s One Week until Christmas, we’re at our busiest right now.” 

“It’ll be here before you even realize it.” 

You looked at him, studying his warm oak eyes as they reflected nothing but fondness and warmth. Slowly, as if not to startle the other, you two leaned towards each other. Bernard's nose bumped against yours, as your lips gently met. His lips tasted like sugar and all things sweet. You sighed against his mouth, maneuvering to pull him closer into your side. His warm palm slid up your neck to cradle your jaw, the tender movement causing your hands to shake. 

Suddenly, the sharp ring of a bell went off, signaling the elves return to the kitchen. You two broke apart, wide eyed as if you had been caught already. 

Bernard swallowed. “I guess it’s back to work.” 

With heavy hearts you cleaned up the area, washing the tray and decorated mugs. When you two walked out into the hallway, already heading in opposite directions, you glanced over your shoulder. Bernard smiled at you, and then rushed off down the hall. 

You giggled, feeling your heart swell as you turned around and walked towards the tinkering sounds of the workshop ahead.  

[sarawritestories]

Serenity Found

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: A quiet night in, causes the General of the Night Court to Reveal his true feelings to you.

Content Warning: None

Word count: 592

A/N: I'm sorry I keep promising things and not delivering. I'm juggling a lot and writing has been put to the back burner so much so I cried about it today. So here is a cute fluffy drabble for you. If you see any mistakes...no you didn't.

Dividers by the beautiful @tsunami-of-tears

ACOTAR MASTERLIST Taglist Request

The warmth from the flames in the library fought against the winter chill that had blanketed Velaris. Tucked into a blanket, your head finding purchase in the lap of your best friend, The General of the Night Court’s Armies. His fingers were idly gliding through your hair as he read his novel. Looking up at him for a moment; you were entranced by Cassian’s rugged beauty.

Illuminated by the fire crackling in the hearth, his face had a golden glow, his hair up in a bun, a few stray pieces framing his face that now held stubble after going days without shaving. His wings were relaxed against the couch. You fought the urge to press your thumb against the crease between his eyebrows as his Hazel irises focused on his book.  Unable to resist the urge much longer you reached up to do just that when his free hand gripped your wrist. “Knock it off.” His tone was light, and a smile appeared causing your heart to flutter. He resembled one of the old gods that Rhys’ mom would tell you about, handsome, kind and exudes raw power off his body. All those attributes describe your best friend of centuries. You were the moment he smiled at you and remained his when he had rescued you from the cruel fate of servitude. If only he realized he had your heart in the palm of his hands.

He remained unaware and you were left with a void in your heart the size of an Illyrian warrior.

The Mother was a cruel vixen.

“Sweetheart?” You blinked and noticed his smile had disappeared, replaced with a look of concern. “Where did you go?”

You smiled, “No where, I just missed you,” You turned back to your own book.

His hand grazed your arm, the soft scrap of his callouses against your skin, causing a shiver to race down your spine. “I promise to not be away for so long. I missed our reading nights. Being near you brings me such…”

“Serenity?” You glanced back to see him give a curt nod. Heat crept to your face at his admission, “Me too.”

Cassian’ lightly pulled your arm so you were facing him once more, “I have a confession to make.”

“Okay?” I rose from my spot to give him my full attention.

“Can I show you?” My head tilted, “Its better if I show you.”

You weren’t sure if your heart was beating, “Of course, Cassian. I trust you.”

Cassian’s Hazel’s eyes held your gaze with an intensity that wasn’t there a moment previously. “Good.” He cupped your face, and, in a moment, his lips were on yours. Quickly grip his waist in your hands he pulled you close. Pulling away before you could deepen the kiss, Cassian wraps a muscled arm around your waist and places his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“Cassian.” You whispered your chest warming as the gold thread tethered your soul to his. You pushed him slightly as if you could see the thing tethering you two together. “You’re my-

You looked up to find the General’s face morph from shock to pure happiness, “Mate. You’re mine.”

No longer fighting your urge you slid into his lap and peppered his stubbled face with kisses. “Yours. I’ve always been yours.”

And as the night went on you two sat in the library, in each other’s arms fast asleep. As two lonely souls morphed into one. Calmness falling between them as sleep consumed them.

Finding Serenity at last.

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots @lanea-1 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

[mariasont]

hi !!!!! i love your hotch x oc x reid fic so much, literally got to work late because you updated and i just HAD to read it when the notif came in !

can i request a kinda fluff-y turning to smut fic about maybe reader's small hands compared to spencer's large hands (his hands are so INTOXICATING).

maybe the fluff part can be kinda cute with their first time holding hands starting from that "oh lets compare hand sizes" and then intertwining fingers?? one of the best spencer fic tropes/hcs is when he's usually not enthusiastic abt touching but when its You he loves it and hes been so touched starved DHSKDHHD // and then the smut can kinda be like how reader's hands make his dick look huge (or smth! im sorry this is my first time requesting a fic!!)

i hope im not coming out as being too demanding !! you can have all the freedom w this !!!! sorry sorry for the long request 🙈🙈🙈

love your work !!! 😙

HANDS, HANDS, and HANDS-------------

A/N: AHHHH your mind!!!!! I LOVE IT <3

we need a whole episode just dedicated to his hands fr!

thank you so much for requesting and the kind words, I hope I did it justice <3 xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, hand kink, praise, size kink, m receiving oral, take a shot every time someone says sorry

wc: 1.9k

Your infatuation with Dr. Spencer Reid was an open book to everyone--damn profilers--well, everyone except the man of the hour, Dr. Reid himself. It was hard to say when it all started. Subtle changes crept in--the extra care you took in choosing your outfits to work; the way words suddenly became hurdles in conversations with him; the sensation of your heart nearly leaping out of your chest anytime he was in the vicinity. 

Despite your skills as a profiler, deciphering Dr. Reid was like trying to read braille through gloves. So, you pushed those feelings down, crushing them beneath a metaphorical heel to maintain professionalism. It wasn't exactly a successful strategy, but that wasn't the point. You reassured yourself that even if romance wasn't in the cards, friendship was the next best thing. And what a friend he was--remarkable in every way, which is why you found yourself here, in his apartment, dissecting case files together. It was a friendly gesture, surely, to escape the office when it becomes a little too suffocating. 

You felt your pulse race as he brought his fingers to his lips, preparing to sift through the stack of papers. A dryness clutched at your throat, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, while you're sure your eyes betrayed a cartoonish adoration, practically orbiting with hearts. Forgotten was your own paperwork that now served as a makeshift blanket for your thighs, as he spoke. Your arm claimed the territory along the back of the couch, with your own hand gently propping up your check, a picture of relaxed attentiveness.

In the midst of his lecture about the golden ratio and its prevalence in nature, Spencer suddenly grabs a nearby book, flips to a diagram of a human hand, and says, "Did you realize that our hands are a prime example of this phenomenon? Give me your hand."

Your eyebrows knit together, your head angling subtly towards the boy genius. "Sorry, what?"

Without a word, Spencer lays your hand upon the diagram's expanse. Amidst the book, your hand seems smaller, delicate, a stark contrast the bold lines drawn on paper. 

He looks at you with a soft smile. "See, the size of one's hand doesn't really correlate with the golden ratio--it's more about the proportions within the hand itself. For instance, the length of your fingers compared to your palm, or the distance between the tip of your thumb and the tip of your pinky stretched out."

His hand leads yours across the pages, but you're barely registering the words. Instead, you're acutely aware of the warmth of his touch, causing your thighs to clench on their own accord, your mind tumbling over itself.

"Your hands are actually significantly smaller than the average," he comments, almost to himself. The statement is harmless, yet he finds his imagination wandering. He quickly refocuses, saying, "The range of hand sizes is quite broad, which is interesting biologically. Here--"

He extends his hand, palm open, beside yours--a natural extension of your conversation, yet he shifts slightly against the couch. Spencer was taken aback by his own actions. Physical touch was something he generally recoiled from, but here he was, seeking yours out. He realized this had become a habit, finding reasons to be near you, to feel your touch. Anytime there was something to be handed to you at work, he was quick to volunteer, all for the fleeting possibility of a brush of fingers.

He watched, captivated, as you aligned your palm with his, matching up the bottom of your palms. His attention was drawn to the stark difference between your hands; his, significantly larger, seemed to engulf yours entirely. He found the sight unexpectedly compelling. The disparity in size stirred his curiosity, leading him to wonder how your hand would look clasped around his cock.

His thumb grazed the back of your hand in a subconscious motion as he pondered out loud. "Did you know," he began, his voice sinking an octave, "that the ratio of the lengths of our second to fourth fingers is believed to correlate with various hormones, affecting the way we interact with others."

You found yourself holding your breath as you mapped the shape of your hands together, a subtle dampness beginning to form between your legs. This is what got you worked up? Clearly, you mused, getting laid was overdue. 

As if guided by a force beyond your control, your fingers gradually intertwined, each finger fingers its perfect counterpart. Recoiling as if from a burn, you realized the intimacy of the gesture, a rush of apologies escaping your lips. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to-"

A blush crept up Spencer's neck as he hastened to interject. "No, no, it's completely fine, really."

The moment passed, and you both redirected your focus to the paperwork. Yet, the routine task did little to dispel the residual thoughts of his touch. The size difference, the feeling of his larger hand wrapping around yours, and how ideally his fingers would look pumping inside of you or wrapping around your throat. It all kept playing on your mind, a silent movie that you can't stop watching.

Spencer too, seems lost in thought, his gaze drifting from the files to your hands--manicured and delicate. He watches, seemingly without awareness, as those same hands idly toy with the hem of your skirt, or the way they spin your earring when deep in thought. To him, these minor actions have suddenly become fascinating.

Spencer's voice cuts through the stillness as he resumes his concentration on the work before him. "How do you interpret this?" he probes, touching a finger to a page of the file perched on his lap.

You lean in, curiosity leading you to reach for the file. Your actions freeze momentarily as your knuckles brush against his crouch. You pause, blinking deliberately, as you second-guess what you felt. He was hard as a rock.

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, eyes growing wide with surprise. "Oh, um, sorry," you muttered. 

In a rapid movement, Spencer combed his fingers through his hair, causing the curls to obstruct his view. He snatched a pillow and tossed it in his lap, tilting his head back against the couch with a look of embarrassment. "No, I'm sorry, I, uh--"

Anticipating a scholarly lecture on the male hormones, you quickly interject. "Do you want help?"

Spencer's eyes grew wide as he regarded your face. Your lashes fluttered with a slow blink, your demeanor completely serious. His traced the flush of your cheeks, the gentle parting of your lips, the accelerated rise and fall of your chest. His head tilted slightly, expecting the punchline to follow.

He let out a puff of air. "Do I want what?"

He noted your head tilting to the side, mirroring his own actions. Your hand reached forward, poised to replace the pillow on his lap. Your pinky dragged across the material of his jeans, moving with excruciating slowness. 

"That seems painful," you comment quickly, before your sudden courage fades. "Let can help."

You moved swiftly to his belt, and you could hear his breath hitch in short bursts. He murmured your name, his hand threading through your hair to grasp gently at the nape of your neck.

You shot him an innocent smile as you edged his pants down, just enough to access his boxers. Your smile made him believe he could come on the spot--the way you looked so eager, like you had been waiting for this. He let out a shaky breath as you released his length from his boxers.

You were engulfed in a dizzying feeling, your eyes widened to saucers as you seized his massive cock. "Holy shit, Spencer, you're huge."

You were barely aware of the words tumbling from your lips as you gawked. The impact on him was immediate, the intensity of your graze was maddening. Your small hands encircled his base, accentuating his size. His grasp on your neck grew firmer as he coaxed your head down. 

"Don't play," came his growl, so out of character. Warmth bloomed in your face, excitement bubbling in your chest as your thighs clasped together.

You flashed him a gentle, unassuming smile as you hastily took him in your mouth. You felt like a new person, an unprecedented need flowing through you.

Spencer let out a sharp hiss as your lips met his cock, taking him as far as you could. He mentally thanked whatever gods existed, unsure of what he had done to deserve this. His hands deftly collected your hair in his grasp, aiding you in guiding him even deeper. His breaths hastened as he praised, "Good god, baby."

His words only egged you on, your movements turning sloppy as you bobbed up and down, working every inch of his cock. You never knew sucking a man off could be so enjoyable. You wanted to savor the moment, to savor him. You encircled the based with your other hand, granting yourself reach to what had been inaccessible to your mouth as you started to synchronize your movements.

"Look at you," Spencer muttered hoarsely, his gaze flickering to your hands. Those damn hands, they looked so perfect around him, even better than he imagined. "You look like you were made for this."

You moaned around him in response, the slickness between your legs starting to drop down your thighs upon his praise. This elicited a hiss from him, tightening his grip in your hair as he drew you away from his throbbing cock, spit trailing from your mouth as you separated. 

"Wha-?" Your question hung in the air, marked by the crease of your confusion on your forehead. 

He didn't let you finish, simply stating. "On your knees."

Without hesitation, you followed his direction, your hands clasped in anticipation as you moved from the couch to the floor, your balance settling back into your heels as he towered over you. "Open."

You complied with his command, easing your jaw as he guided himself onto your tongue. A soft moan escaped you, enveloping his cock. He coaxed his length into your mouth, your hands steadying on his thighs as he all but used your face.

Spencer's hands cradled your face, fully encompassing your cheeks as he thrusted into your mouth. His pulse thundered at a pace he hadn't thought possible, and fuck, he wouldn't mind if this was how death welcomed him. There you were, on your knees, so compliant around his cock. His breaths grew rapid as your nails trailed up his thighs. 

"You're so good," he muttered, eyes casting down upon you, your glazed expression, the drool peeking out from the corners of your lips. "So good. 'M so close."

He moves to withdraw from your mouth, but your hands find their way to the back of his thighs, holding him in place, denying his escape. He exhales a deep, unrestrained moan, thrusting into your mouth once more, shallowing moving as the warm liquid fills your mouth. 

He gazes, spellbound, as you swallow his come completely, your head lolling back in total bliss. In that instant, he realizes his willingness to do anything to keep you close, to see you like this--spent, disheveled, and content.

Breaking the silence, you ask, "Did that help?" His laughter, soft and subdued, fills the air as he reaches out, cupping your cheeks once more. He descends to meet you, his kiss messy and desperate, finding the taste of himself lingering on your lips as his hands untangle your knotted hair. 

"You're amazing," he exhaled, their lips parting. "Now, let me return the favor."

[introvert-no-chameleon]

In the Palm of your Hand

@void-dude I dedicate this to you and the feelings of fluff unlocked when I saw Stadley cuddles and Nightmare! Tad.

You held Stan gently in his hand, cradling him in the crook of your palm. Stan was looking worse for wear—his Mr. Mystery outfit was in tatters. His bat was held in his hand, and he had it in a limp grip. His chest was rising and falling in quick bursts. His eyes were drooping from exhaustion, but you could still see them darting around, scanning for threats that you made sure wouldn’t be here.

Sweat poured down his temple. There were splatters of blood on his usually crisp white shirt, and you had to fight the urge to touch them—you still weren’t used to your current size, and the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. After a few moments, he leaned back from his sitting position to look up at you. “Where the hell have you been?”.

You felt there was more to that statement. You recognized the stubborn maneuvering around the subject of his feelings. The tone, dancing around saying the real thing, one you were familiar with for a long time. “I ran into some issues after the whole bloody sky turned red. Glad I saw you in time to give those eyebats a proper smacking.”

Calling them “issues” was an understatement; if there was one thing that hadn’t changed about Billy, it was the fact that he always knew how to make a mess out of things. Keeping the glamour on was taking more of a toll than it should be, especially now that you had enlarged yourself. It was strange (heh) to see Stan so small. Did he also adore peering down at you the way you were, holding the center of your multiverse in the palm of your hand?

Stan leaned against one of the fingers at his back. You carefully bent your index finger towards his face. He held it, hesitantly at first before he let go of his facade and allowed himself to be known by you. “I thought I lost ya, Tad,” he murmured. “Or that you left to...y’know.”

You did. Even now, even when you were pass the point of no return, a part of you still denied this was all the Billy you knew. When he extended his hand to you, a part of you wanted to take it. A part of you wanted to keep this shard of your past, of the sweet moments of childhood innocence and hope for the future. Of the kid with the bright eye who loved the stars so much he would wave his tiny hands towards them and babble for hours. Of the kid who loved the silly straws and just wanted to play and was endlessly curious, who cried when he broke things by accident and always begged for forgiveness. Of the sweet voice that called for “Taddy”, that said you were his best friend and begged you to always be around him.

But this was not that. Bill had burned their home and laughed when you begged him to stop. He had dragged the stars down and crashed them into planets, shattering them all in a fiery blaze of chaos and heat. He had become a black hole, destroying anything near and dear to him to feed his madness.

Billy was gone the moment he started the fire.

But Stan had stayed the same, despite everything. Always present, always fighting to keep his family together. Always grinning when he pulled off a con, always working hard, always bragging about his wonderful niece and nephew and the Pines family name. Always there those nights your mind drifted into the void, when you craved warmth and comfort and familiarity. Always keeping you in his hands as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. Always making sure you came back, failing to hide the worry every time you were gone just a little bit longer than usual.

“And let go of our tax benefits? Never.”

Stan chuckled weakly. “Yeah.” He sighed, and let the bat fall onto your palm.

“Come on, then. You’re still looking for the kids, right?”

He nodded tiredly. “Just ran into some trouble when ya found me. Nothing I couldn’t take care of, y’know.”

You nodded as if in agreement. No point in pointing out how terrible of a liar he was. “I’ll give you a lift. Lucky for you, it’s free of charge for handsome con men.”

He laughed then, and you remembered, as you always did, how much you would do to keep that laugh in your life.

Even if it meant facing Bill once and for all.

[marthawrites]

first of all choose to ignore this if you're not up to it but i would LOVE some aemond x reader tiddies sucking/worship with a whole pussy eating and pussy fucking.. dirty talk always appreciated btw!! AGAIN feel free to ignore im just an aemond and tiddies sucking sucker <3

Hello sweet anon! Are you still with me? I hope you are ♥ I apologize for making you wait since July for this request. If you are still around, I sincerely hope this fic does the trick - mwah!

Morning Lovebites Lead To Sweet Dreams

Aemond Targaryen x wife reader

Word count: 2.9k+

About: You and Aemond share a morning bath and the lingering sensations last with you all day. When he returns to your marriage chambers later than usual, you're sad you might sleep through his return. Once in for the night, however, he makes up for it.

Includes: It's in the request! This is all smut. Featuring breast play, nipple play, biting, hickies, unprotected vaginal sex, minor pain play, reader receiving oral sex, sweet talking, some dirty talking, possessiveness, and minor breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! While this fic has elements of breast worship, there is no descriptions to breast size. That is entirely up to you! All tiddies are good tiddies in this house! Reader is implied to come from a noble House but is unspecified. As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

“Every woman is the image of their mother and to be spoken of with reverence,” Aemond’s voice rasped into the smooth skin of your neck as he gathered your hair into his gentle grasp, moving it over one shoulder to expose the full length of your bare neck and shoulder to him. He trailed the tip of his nose over your delicate skin as if he could smell the very blood that pumped through your veins. Goosebumps rose on your skin and he smiled silently at the sight. “Mm… my lovely wife. So sweet and still so sensitive for her husband’s touch,” he murmured again, both his hands feeling up the front of your slippery body. “Every day the urge to thank your mother for making you grows greater,” he said as he gently squeezed your breasts, their softness and warmth already making his cock swell against the small of your back. 

Despite the many turns of moon you’d been married, the temperature of his baths still made you hiss upon entering. Yet, you gasped softly at the sensation of his hands. He was warm; always so warm. Your skin bloomed with the tub's heat, and the humidity of it caused little curls to form in the fine hairs of your hairline. “You’ve thanked my mother and father for my hand many times, husband,” you answered sweetly. “So much so that they cannot believe I’m not carrying your child yet,” you added just as sweet, leaning back against him to further press your breasts into his palms.

He peppered kisses – open mouthed and nipping – over your neck, looking down the front of your body. He loved your breasts from every angle, but there was something extra delicious about seeing them from this angle. He pinched your pebbled nipples gently and rolled them between his fingers. “It’s not from lack of excitement or trying,” he said, smirking.

“A-ah! Aemond..! You make them sore when you do that,” you half whimpered, feeling an entirely different type of heat begin to pool between your thighs.

He tugged your nipples forward until they snapped out of his grasp, reveling the way your soft flesh rippled with the motion. “Then I shall kiss them all better.” He pinched them again, firmer this time, and rolled them anew.

You choked out a little sound and giggled. Reaching around your back, you grasped his now fully hardened length and slowly pumped along it. He exhaled the loveliest noise and you gripped him firmer. Stroking him, you turned your head to look back at him with half-lidded eyes. “I need you, husband, before our day’s duties begin.”

He caught your lips in a searing kiss and licked into your mouth with lustful hunger. His cock twitched when you moaned in response, returning his kiss with just as much fervor. Wasting no more time he gripped your waist and helped turn you around so you were facing each other. He looked up at you – the intense hue of his natural eye and his darkly beautiful sapphire stone – while gripping firmly onto the swells of your chest. “Ride me, wife. Show me how much you need your husband’s cock.”

With a shift of your hips you sunk down his length, your walls stretching wonderfully around him, until there was no more of him to take. You ground on him, bounced on him, and did it all again, until water sloshed out messily from the tub and the room filled with sounds of your shared pleasure.

All the while Aemond never gave your breasts rest. He laid his face between them, kissed them, suckled them, squeezed and pinched them. New lovebites decorated your tender flesh – pinks and purples and fading bitemarks – which he made sure to tenderly coat in oils before your ladies appeared to help you dress.

When all was said and done you both had little curls along your hairline. You kept yours with pride, whereas Aemond took extra time to smooth them out.

-

The day’s duties seemed as if they'd never end. All you wanted was your husband. If you had it your way you would say fuck his duties, fuck your duties, and laze about all day in bed with your dragon prince: eating cake, perfectly ripened fruit, and drinking sweet Arbor wine. All those little lovebites he left behind burned pleasantly reminding you of your shared bath. Warmth filled your lower belly as you became lost in those daydreamy memories. The rest of the day went by in a carnal haze.

Night had fallen and Aemond still hadn’t returned. 

What on earth was he up to?

Unsure of the night’s plans, you finally dismissed your last servant after they stoked the fire and added more wood to it. You sat in front of your vanity, now, slowly brushing braids out of your hair. You removed jewelry piece by piece and placed them in your jewelry box. As far back as you could remember you had a taste for shiny and pretty things. Even as a young girl you loved receiving a new necklace, or bracelet, or earrings instead of toys or other things for nameday gifts. As you grew older those tastes never wavered. After marrying Aemond he made sure to adorn you in the finest things. Pearls, emeralds, rubies. But, his favorite were sapphires. They become one of your favorites, too. 

It was quiet except for the fire’s crackle and with each passing minute you found yourself growing more drowsy. Just when you thought you might doze off while reading in bed, the heavy wooden door of your marriage chamber opened. “Husband! I thought I might not get to see you before sleep overcame me,” you said a little tiredly, whole face bright upon watching him close and latch the door. “I’ve missed you terribly.” Once you caught sight of his expression, however, your brows furrowed in worry. “What’s the matter?”

He sighed a long sigh, beginning to remove his clothing. “I had heard of Aegon and his growing… depravities, but I hadn’t expected them to be so… shameful. He disgraces our family name by what he does in the underbellies of Flea Bottom.”

You gulped. “What did you discover?”

Aemond shook his head while stepping out of his boots. “Nothing you need to fret about tonight.”

“I am Targaryen now too, and I wish to know what is happening,” you retorted.

“Not now. You say you missed me terribly? Well, I assure you I missed you more,” he said, walking in long easy strides to you on bare feet. He’d removed everything except his pants which were unlaced in the front. The casualness of it had your belly stirring, and the sight of his long, lean body flexing toward you had your thighs pressing together. “I didn’t have enough of you this morning…,” he rumbled against your mouth as he shadowed above you, gently pushing you onto your back once more. He laid on his side beside you, kissing you mouth again and again until your little tongue slid against his mouth. He groaned, deepening the affection, while his hand pushed up your thigh, tugging your shift up with him as he went.

“More? I’m not so sure about that,” you giggled, nipping at his lips. “Every little mark you left on me has been aching all day. A good ache. I’ve been needy for you all day, husband,” you purred, hooking one of your legs over his waist in an attempt to pull him closer into you.

He groaned somewhere deep in his chest and rolled atop you effortlessly, pinning one of your hands above you head as he loomed above you. The silver of his silky hair glowed with highlights of orange from the fire and candles in your room. His eye bore into your own, blazing, as a smirk etched itself across his angular features. “My good little wife has been aching and wet for me all day? My, my, darling…,” he crooned, kissing your jaw, neck, and throat. 

“You’re torturing me,” you said, desire flaring wildly in your core.

His free hand pushed your shift higher; thighs, smallclothes, belly, breasts, all revealing themselves to him. “Lean up and take this off,” he half growled. You did as you were told and in a flurry of motion he tossed it off the edge of the bed. “Your skin is loveliest covered in my marks,” he mused aloud as he tilted his head, inspecting the fullness of the front of your body. “My perfect girl.” His hand pushed up the front of you, splaying wide as to touch all of you that he could, fingertips grazing over your bitten and sucked flesh. He pressed down on those lovebites. Testing the bruises; testing you.

“Ah-h!” You gasped, squirming beneath him. “Not so hard!” You whined with pleading eyes.

A satisfied sound rumbled up from his chest. “So they are tender…,” he whispered, grinning, as he continued to gently push down into each bruise. “My poor girl,” he said, dipping his head low to kiss over each mark, now, making sure to pay extra attention to your pebbled nipples when he passed over them. “I had to make sure you were telling the truth. So far, half of what you said is true. As for the other…,” he mumbled around mouthfuls of your titflesh, greedy lips unable to leave your pretty nipples for long.

The pleasure of his mouth soon made you forget about the pain of his touch, but it was that pain that made your pleasure all the sweeter. You arched beneath him, free hand sliding down to card through his silken hair. “I think your wetnurse half starved you as a babe for how much you latch onto me,” you teased, sighing in bliss as he drew your nipples into his mouth, suckling and working his tongue over them.

“Must have,” he smirked, the stiffened peak of your nipple glossy with his saliva. Finally letting go of your wrist, both his hands lowered to untie the ribbons around your waist so he could tug your smallclothes down with no restraint. He did, and then he gently parted your legs. Between your thighs your sweet little cunt glistened with arousal. He couldn’t tell if his cock swelled to impossible hardness first, or, if his mouth watered first. “Look… at… you…,” he said slowly, possessive eye feasting on the sight of your bared cunny. 

“Aemond…,” you whined as blood rushed to warm your cheeks – the intensity of his gaze made you uncharacteristically self-conscious.

“You are lucky, my dear. Lying to your prince comes with severe punishment. You, by the grace of the Seven, have told the truth,” he said as he lowered to lay on his belly between your legs. He lifted one to gently hook over his shoulder and held the other down, keeping you nice and spread out beneath him. “If you were indeed sleeping when I returned tonight, I intended to wake you in this same manner,” he said as he looked up at you, the outside of his seeing eye crinkling with mischief. 

The warmth in your cheeks spread up to your ears, but before you could say anything in reply your husband dragged his tongue up through your eager folds. You moaned softly at the heat of his mouth, and he moaned at the taste that coated his tongue. He could never have enough of you: he told you often. “Gods- Aem-,” you whispered through shuddered breath.

It was impossible to say if you enjoyed this more, or if he did.

By now Aemond knew what you liked, how you liked it, and knew when to increase or ease his pressure on you. He learned wickedly fast – faster than you discovered your own pleasure some of the time – and strove for perfection, always wanting to be better than those around him. He licked, and lapped, and sucked, losing himself in the unique taste and texture of you. “You'd like to be woken up like this, wouldn't you?” He asked, slowly kissing and licking over your bud as to not push you too far too fast.

The thought alone made you squirm against him; cunny seeking to grind against the plushness of his mouth. “Y..yes,” you answered quietly.

“Mmm… I knew you would. I will have to try it one day. Licking and stroking this sweet cunt just enough to not wake you.”

You clenched at the idea knowing he meant it. “My cruel prince…”

He laughed lowly before delving into you again, tongue disappearing into your clenching center. Even around that little muscle you were tight. You always fit around him so perfectly. The sounds he made between your thighs were lewd. Dirty. Any other time or place you'd feel filthy. But with it being Aemond, the lasciviousness of it nudged you to the edge of your pleasure. One of his hands pushed up the front of your body and he palmed over a breast, squeezing the mound inside his palm. A finger of the other pressed into your soaking core while he lavished your clit with tongue and lip alike.

“I'm gonna– ‘m gonna..,” you moaned, whimpering as you rolled and ground your pelvis in time with all of his motions, seeking out more and more even though he was already giving you everything he knew you needed. Both hands flung down to his head and you shamelessly held him right there, fingers flexing and tugging at his hair. 

Aemond moaned against you. Early in your marriage you discovered his scalp was exceedingly sensitive and you loved using it to your advantage; whether he purred, or moaned, or whimpered.

“Let go, sweet wife. Give me your pleasure,” he mumbled against you, suckling gently on your pearl while working two fingers in and out of you, rubbing that small hidden patch of nerves with perfect precision. He squeezed your breast harder, pinching at your nipple, and the combination of everything became too much. You came undone against him. Orgasm washed over you in waves that left you weightless; the sounds of your release sent your husband rutting against the mattress.

“So good.. fuck that all felt so good,” you babbled down at him; heavy eyes darkened by lust and sparkling in adoration. 

Your praise sent Aemond's desire blazing to an inferno and he didn't even let you catch your breath before he kicked out of his pants and lined his cock up with you. “Such a needy greedy girl. Wet all day… humping my face like a bitch in heat… begging to be stuffed full by her husband again,” he growled lowly, pushing the underside of your leg up so it squished against your chest. “And all of that for me,” he said firmly, darkly, grinning down at you like a hawk swooping a bunny. With a flex of his slim, lean hips, he pushed into you.

You gasped, squeezing at his strong arms as he plunged into you. His name rolled off your tongue in yet another stuttering moan, eyelids fluttering with the force of his intrusion. You nodded wordlessly, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

“Mine… all fucking mine,” he said in that same tone, punctuating his words with long, firm thrusts. “My perfect wife. My wet cunt. Mine to fill, and use, and fill again.”

The force of his thrusts sent your tits bouncing. You cried out in bliss, your first orgasm making your body extra sensitive to his slamming hips. He drove home again, and again, and again, his balls slapping against you with every plunge. “Yes.. yes.. yes,” you babbled.

“So lovely like this. So beautiful when I fuck you. If only you could see yourself all dazed out on my cock,” his angle and pace changed and now he bullied that inner patch of nerves with each forward push and outward pull.

You wrapped your legs around his slender waist and pulled him deeper into you. “Right there,” you panted, nodding, sheened with sweat and glowing with delight. 

Both his hands squeezed and held onto your breasts, fucking you just as you asked him to. “Come with me. I want your cunny sucking my seed all the way to your pretty little womb,” he muttered, clearly holding himself back as long as he could.

That's all it took for you to find peak. Euphoria washed over you in glorious waves of ecstasy, making your body shudder and tremble around him. Your walls flexed and convulsed around his twitching cock in a visceral plea to finish deep inside.

Aemond didn't stand a chance. He groaned out your name and filled you passed the brim. Slowly his seed oozed out from around the base of his length while he kept it buried inside you, heavy drips of your combined essence sliding down the swell of your ass. You panted together, foreheads pressed together, and only began to pull apart once pleasure spent its course in both your bodies.

“You are the most enchanting thing,” Aemond whispered to you with a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Hold me as I sleep?” You asked with heavy eyes, already feeling tiredness creep over your senses.

He smiled, the expression intimately sweet, as he moved to lay on his side beside you. “Of course,” he answered, pulling you flush against him. With another quiet smirk he lifted your leg to rest over his waist and lowered a hand between your bodies. Carefully, he slipped two fingers into you. “Shh…,” he hushed when you made a noise of discomfort. “Only to keep my seed where it belongs.”

You blushed but didn't say, or do, anything in protest. “Sweet dreams, my prince.”

“Sleep well, my lady.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

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[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I need soft Vessel. Please. 🙇🏼‍♀️ like some cute cuddle stuff (doesn’t have to be nsfw but I‘d never say no to soft love making with vessel sweetie)

Cuddle me up

It’s been over a month since you two even slept in the same bed. With the tour in full swing and you not being able to join him, you two were forced to once again turn to your long-distance relationship era. It never got easier and it never would, leaving your partner for weeks was always heartbreaking but Vessel was living his dream and his happiness was what mattered in moments like this.

But now with the last show over last night and a long-ass overnight trip back home, you two were wrapped up in each other. In your bed. Beneath your sheets. So you’re not that surprised that you stirred awake already smiling. The weight of Vessel’s arm,draped over your middle as he pressed you closer into his chest, filling your body with eternal warmth. The sound of his light snores against your neck. You knew he had that cute pout on his face too.

Lifting your head you glanced at the clock on your table, the 9 am mark being way too early at least for him. You didn’t dare to move. Sinking back into his embrace you listened to his breathing. The occasional twitch in his body made him hold onto you tighter. Your fingers softly reached for his arms beneath the covers, running soft shapes over his skin that still had splotches of black pain he had given up on washing away last night.

“You should be sleeping”, Vessel’s groggy voice sent a shiver down your back making you bite your lip. “I can’t”, you mutter. “Are you smiling?”, you can hear him lifting his head before one of his palms push onto your hip. “Turn to me”, he mutters, “I want to see you”. Turning in his embrace you’re met with his blue still tired eyes watching you. His sleepy face morphs into a lazy grin. “Why are you smiling?”, he leans in nuzzling his face against your neck. “Just happy…”, you mutter, “Proud of you and happy to have you back in our bed”, you admit, letting your fingers run through his hair. “It feels so nice finally being able to hold you”, Vessel admits, “I woke up twice startled because I thought I dreamed you up”, he churched softly making your heart flutter. “Oh, baby…”, you muttered, reaching for his face, “I’m here with you now”, he hummed, leaning into your palm before turning slightly to kiss your skin. “I know just after hugging a pillow for a month it’s a bit surreal”, Vessel chuckles making you laugh as well, “Should have asked ii to join we are similar size after all”, “I think I would have been left outside the bus”, Vessel snorted lightly, laying down against your chest. You instantly wrapped your arms around him, letting your fingers brush over his forehead. “You will make me fall asleep”, he yawned, wrapping his arms around your torso. “Good, you need to sleep”, kissing his forehead you pressed your head against his, letting your eyes close again.