#and finally took away his long silky hair that he prided himself with

[tw1nkee28]

Some Moribund things I don't think I've posted yet

Plus a bonus Roland

--

Yes some of the doodles are trash, I'm tired, don't mind it.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (9/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, kissing, mutual masturbation, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation, violence ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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"The day is beautiful." He whispered in her ear, placing a gentle, little kiss on her neck a moment later.

Her flesh was hot under his fingers, and he savoured the taste of her sweat on his lips – he sighed as he felt his hard manhood, already sore and all swollen with impatience, push hard against her buttocks.

She moaned quietly, tilting her head back, her mouth parted wide in a heavy breath, her hands clenched on his arm – his palm, sunk between her silky, smooth thighs was soaked from her wetness, her thirsty cunt pulsed greedily around nothing.

"– focus –" He commanded, feeling that her hips sought involuntary fulfilment, rolling back and forth in a joint rhythm with his long fingers.

The last few evenings had blended into one for him, turning later into nights full of her moans, the loud clicks of her moisture, her lips leaking with desire, her fingers clenched on his manhood.

Every time it came for him too naturally, too easily.

"– tubis – mmm – tubis issa gevie –" She mumbled, and he took his hand away, sighing heavily.

She squirmed, turning in his arms, looking up at him pleadingly, sitting down on top of him with her hands around his neck.

"– please –" She whispered, pressing her bare breasts against his tunic, combing her fingers through his long hair.

He didn't stop her when she pulled at the black ribbon at the back of his head, letting the front strands of his hair fall over his face.

"– right words, wrong order –" He said coolly, embracing her with one hand around her waist, the other clamping down on the plump skin of her bottom, the only part of her body hidden under the thin material of her nightgown, letting them rub against each other with the motions of their hips.

"– tubis gevie issa –" She breathed out, and after a moment his mouth was already on hers, hearing with relief that she had finally used the correct grammar and conjugation.

He thought with satisfaction that, indeed, she deserved a reward, as did he for being such a patient and good teacher, so he twisted himself along with her and threw himself onto the bed on which they had been sitting until now, pressing her body against the sheets.

They purred and panted loudly, letting their mouths devour each other in loud, sticky kisses full of their saliva and slick tongues, their hands wandering blindly over each other's bodies, wanting nothing more than to simply feel each other.

Something like a smile flashed across his face when he heard her nimble fingers undo the belt and buckles of his tunic, the motion of his arms helping her to pull it off him.

His hands followed her example, revealing her naked, graceful body, slipping her nightgown off her legs – he always stopped at that moment, at the sight of her exposed, bare flesh, her gaze full of joyful, hot anticipation, her glistening lips parted in a loud, deep breath.

She was always so eager, he thought with appreciation.

"– gevie –" He sighed, leaning lower to see that her teeth bit into her lower lip at that word, her thighs parted, allowing him to lie between them – his fingers untied the small knot binding the fabric of his breeches as his tongue ran from her stomach upwards, between her sweet breasts.

Beautiful.

Her fingers combed gently through his hair as his nose ran over to the side, with her quiet moan of pleasure closing his lips around her hard, puffy nipple. He murmured when, with her help, he managed to slide his breeches off his hips and raised himself up on his elbows, releasing her nipple with a quiet plop.

He pulled his linen shirt over his head feeling that his eye patch exposed his eye socket and scar – his heart pounded harder in panic, his lips parted in horror as he reached up and corrected it, but the damage was already done.

He saw in the shocked expression on her face that she had seen it.

"– daor –" She begged, propping herself up on her elbows, her eyebrows arched in pain at the sight of him trying to cover himself from her again. "– kostilus, lēkia – tubī daor –"

He looked at her with his mouth open in ragged breath, feeling that he had completely frozen, not knowing what to do, wanting it at the same time as being afraid.

Please, big brother.

Not today.

Looking at her flushed face, at her long eyelashes and sweet, full lips, he caught himself thinking that if he had pretended that she had always lived in the Red Keep, there would have been nothing inappropriate about their closeness, their caresses and the nights they spent together.

Her eyes, though darker and bigger, as much as her hair could be inherited from his mother after all, similarly soft and smooth, her gaze as warm and tender – her calmness and thoughtfulness was much like his father's, and only when he was by her side did he realize how much resentment lay within him that his King had devoted so little attention to his own son.

Their fictional relationship, created by him only to subdue her, was slowly becoming a truth of which he himself became a victim.

He swallowed hard as she raised herself up on her hands and sat in front of him, looking him straight in the eye, his lips pressed together into a thin line as her fingers rose to his face, slowly pulling his eye patch off his head.

He looked at her, feeling that his face was stony – he didn't want her to see anything that was happening inside his mind – he felt that she had no right to reject him, no right to mock him or laugh at him, no right to look at him with compassion, but he dreaded it anyway.

Humiliation.

She, however, seemed to sense his tension – as soon as she put his eye patch aside her hand lifted uncertainly back to his scarred cheek, and her fingertips ran over the pale, long line that adorned it, looking at him intrigued, her doe eyes large and warm, full of some kind of understanding.

"– kasta –" She whispered with a sweet, gentle smile devoid of anything but tenderness.

He felt a squeeze in his throat.

Blue.

His sapphire.

He sighed quietly as she threw her arms around his neck, as she moved closer and let his long, swollen erection push against her abdomen, her hard nipples pressed against the bare skin of his torso. Their fingers sank into each other's soft hair as they leaned towards each other, and their swollen lips met in a strangely quiet, uncertain, gentle kiss.

It was a sweet kiss, he thought, and each kiss that followed was just as lazy and soft – their lips clicked from their saliva each time they became one, her breath hot and full of desire.

As his hand slid down her waist, hers slid down his chest, seeking the same thing.

They sighed quietly and stopped, not pulling their mouths away from each other, simply breathing as their fingers found what they wanted – he closed his eyes as her smooth hand clenched gently on his thick, throbbing manhood, dripping with desire, while his hand slid between her thighs from the side of her buttocks, meeting her soaked, hot womanhood.

He pushed her onto the bed, holding her in his arms, and lay on his side with her, throwing her thigh over his waist – their bodies clung to each other in an embrace close and full of affection, their lips meeting in the need for intimacy and understanding.

Her dark, long curls were wonderfully soft and smooth under his fingers, his hands seeming to sink into her warm, bare skin, the scent of her sweat and oils filling his lungs like a morning breeze.

Her body was different from Madam's – her curves were more girlish, her breasts wonderfully plump and swollen, her hips soft and silken to the touch, her lips and womanhood just as moist and delicate, thirsty for his caresses.

He twisted and forced her to lie on her back, brushing her sweet lips with his, panting louder and louder as her smooth hand caressed his cock, all sore with desire.

The touch of her hand on this intimate part was never perverse and animalistic – no – she squeezed his hard length with slow, gentle strokes, turning a simple, primitive reflex into something almost tender, as if she thought his manhood was not something dirty, a source of sin and embarrassment, but something she respected.

It was only by being with her that he understood the difference between caressing and satisfying.

Madam was satisfying his needs.

His little sister was caressing his body, almost embarrassing him with how pleasurable it was.

He pulled away from her lips, thinking that although they were usually limited to touching each other with their hands, now, this night, when she finally saw all of him, he wanted to reward her for her devotion, for not asking questions, for not demanding, for not commanding, for letting him touch her every night even though he had no right to do so.

"– ah – what –" She muttered as he lifted himself up on his knees and gently took her thighs in his hands, shamelessly spreading them wider.

Her lips parted as he leaned over her, already knowing subconsciously what he was trying to do, her hips wanted to move back involuntarily, but he didn't let her, pushing her close again.

"– daor, hāedar – your brother longs to taste you –" He said and before any word left her throat, he leaned lower and let his face sink into her warm, leaking cunt – he heard her loud, surprised moan, her spine arching in ecstasy as his lips ran shyly over her soft folds.

"– lēkia –" She mewled, clasping her fingers in his white hair as the tip of his tongue began to fondle with her swollen slit, teasing it lazily, while his thumb found her little bud, trailing around it, making her hips begin to roll back and forth, rubbing against his face.

He himself began to rock his hips, rubbing his painfully hard cock against the bed beneath him, trying to find any source for an escape from his tension, thinking only of how wonderful she tasted and looked – his lips and tongue swept over her thirsty cunt while his gaze was fixed on her face, her mouth wide open and her eyes closed, her cheeks red with exertion, glistening with sweat.

"– so needy – soaking wet for her big brother –" He hummed contentedly and felt her whole body tremble, her eyes opening, meeting his gaze – she started to pant, spreading her thighs wider, pressing his head closer, as if she wanted him to simply melt into one with her body – his short nails dug into the soft skin of her buttocks as she cried out loudly, throwing her head back, feeling his slick tongue suddenly burst deep inside her, mercilessly hitting the same wonderful spot within her again and again.

"– ah – mghmmm – f-fuck, gods –" She babbled, writhing before him in pleasure, surprisingly innocent and vulnerable now as he devoured her cunt like there was no tomorrow, feeling her sweet wetness melt on his tongue.

The tip of his nose along with his thumb traveled around her pearl, feeling her entire womanhood begin to pulsate, his tongue hitting her fleshy walls just above her opening, feeling the tiny bud that made her quiver with pleasure.

"– Aemond – Aemond, Aemond, Aemond, Aemond –" She panted as if she was pronouncing the words of a prayer.

A shudder shook them both as she came with a girlish cry of pleasure, rocking her hips so that they rubbed against his face, her fingers clenched in his hair as if she was never going to let him go again, her breath heavy and uneven, her thighs quivering all over in his hands.

"– please – please, no more –" She begged, trying to push him away as the last waves of pleasure surged through her body, while he continued to lick what was flowing out of her, teasing her over-sensitive, weeping cunt anew.

"– nothing can go to waste – it's all mine –" He cooed, and she sighed, giving in, trying to endure his treatments with quiet moans on the edge of pain and pleasure.

"– me too – I want – I want to kiss you there, lēkia – let me –" She mumbled, looking up at him with eyes hazy with disbelief at how pleasurable the experience was.

His cock pulsed painfully hard, leaving him with no resistance.

"– mmm – come here –" He exhaled, laying down beside her on his back, tossing his hair away so that it didn't bother him, thinking with shame that it was a feminine gesture, not a masculine one.

She, however, seemed not to mind, for the eagerness with which she shifted over to him and lay between his thighs amazed and embarrassed even him.

He sighed, tilting his head back, unable to get a word out when her hand gently grasped the base of his cock in her fingers, while her lips ran over the pink, fat head of it.

"– guide me –" She hummed sweetly, making the whole act seem absurdly innocent to him, despite the fact that his erection was so swollen that he felt like he was about to just reach his peak on her face.

There was something tempting about it, but he couldn't deny himself the warmth of her lips.

"– tease it –" He whispered, running his thumb over the tip of his cock, smooth and slick from his own wetness – he threw his head back and closed his eyes, surprised when she leaned in immediately, running her sticky, warm tongue over that part of him.

"– fuck –" He exhaled, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest – this time it was his hands that clenched in her hair, holding her close as her lips roamed and brushed over the tip of his erection, her palm squeezing its root.

This is too much, he thought with desperation, I'm about to come.

"– put it in – open your mouth –" He breathed out, forcing her head to lean lower and let him simply slide his erection deep into her lips – they both moaned loudly – she from exertion, feeling the head of his cock hit her throat, and he from pleasure, her palate warm and moist, safe, welcoming him home.

"– suck –" He commanded, panting and groaning loudly, with ruthless, sharp thrusts slamming deep into her throat, her squeal telling him that she was unable to keep up.

"– ah – breathe through your nose – mmm – just a moment longer – fuck, fuck, oh, gods, swallow, swallowswallowswallow –" He mumbled out and moaned like a little boy, throwing his head back when he felt his seed spilling over her tongue – he forced himself between convulsions of his body to look at her and saw her face red from exertion and tears, her closed eyes, the curls of her dark hair stuck to her sweaty face, the base of his throbbing erection in her hand, a trickle of his release dripping from the corner of her mouth.

"– gods, you look perfect like this –" He gasped, feeling completely relaxed, filled with nothing but relief and that wonderful, pulsing, tingling sensation that was spreading in final waves through his loins.

His fingers loosened their grip and she pulled away, sliding his half-soft length out of her mouth with its loud splat against his lower abdomen, gasping for air loudly, panting heavily, all drenched in tears.

"– māzigon kesīr, hāedar (come here, little sister) – māzigon kesīr (come here) –" He said, extending his hand to her, and she immediately fell into his arms, laying between his thighs, her womb and breasts pressed against his naked body, while her face, as usual, found refuge in the hollow of his neck.

"– gōntan nyke ōdrikagon ao, zaldrītsos? (did I hurt you, little dragon?) –" He asked softly, placing a warm, loud kiss on her forehead, wiping with his thumb the remains of his seed from the corner of her mouth, feeling her whole body tremble in his embrace.

She shook her head.

"– n-no – just – it was so much –" She mumbled, and he sighed in relief, running his fingers down her bare spine.

"– I know, sweet girl – you've satisfied me – now it's time to rest –" He said and leaned towards her face, allowing their lips to meet in the wettest, most tender, softest kiss he'd ever experienced in his life.

He thought it would have been every man's dream to be kissed like that by a woman as they spread out comfortably, his hand covering their naked bodies with thick furs, letting her lie on top of him as she had so far.

He knew he should send her away, he knew everyone was already gossiping about them spending nights together in his chamber, but he couldn't do it.

He could not, after what they had done, stay in the cold bed or condemn her to the same fate.

Each time, she would fall asleep and wake up in his arms.

"– you fight better than ever, my Prince –" Criston Cole exhaled after another round of their sparring together. "– you're more focused and precise –"

He nodded, turning his face to the side, thinking with shame that it was because ever since she'd stayed in his bed, ever since he'd fallen asleep sunk into the warmth of her body, listening to her calm breathing, he'd experienced true rest at night and only been awakened by birdsong at dawn.

"– however, your mother is concerned about the nature of your relationship with your cousin –" Cole began uncertainly, but fell silent seeing the grimace of displeasure on his face.

He thought with frustration that the last thing he needed was lecturing.

"– if Queen Alicent wants to tell me something, she should do it in person –" He said coolly and nodded, taking the right position to attack, wanting to end the subject and move on to the next duel.

They both swung, and their blades collided in the air with a loud clink of steel.

"– your mother is worried about her future marriage – about her dignity –" Criston continued between blows, causing him to push against him with even more fury.

Her peaceful, sleeping face snuggled into his chest in the morning, her soft hand lying on his heart, the warmth and smell of her bare body, her sex, her hair, the sound of her calm breathing and birdsong outside the walls of the keep, his fingers running lazily down her spine, watching her with serenity.

I am her future, he thought furiously, but he didn't dare say it out loud.

They both stopped in mid-step when they heard the swish of an arrow, which, a moment later, hit straight on target – his cousin was standing on the other side of the courtyard, pointing her bow again towards the big straw shield, and once again she hit the centre.

After the incident with Floris, Aegon had assigned her a larger chamber and agreed that she could move around the fortress without guards, and he had not objected.

She spent most of her day in his company anyway: in his bed, in the heavens or, as now, practising at a similar time to him.

She never interrupted him or approached to speak to him, respecting his private space and the fact that he preferred what went on between them to stay behind the closed doors of his chamber.

However, this did not prevent him from admiring her graceful figure from afar and sinking into his own fantasies, from which his manhood swelled all over in his breeches.

"– my Prince – this is a dangerous game – the Queen and I just wish to spare you disappointment –" He said, and he only pressed his lips together without answering him.

He decided that it was beneath his dignity to discuss it with him.

"It occurs to me that Criston Cole has no love for me. I can see it in his look full of disapproval cast in my direction." She said lightly, massaging his back with her soft hands after their intense pleasure that same night, his muscles all tense and sore from the physical exertion.

He hummed under his breath, hearing her smile, lying on his stomach while she straddled him – he opened his eyelids lazily, feeling himself begin to slowly fall asleep.

He thought more and more about how her touch, her closeness, her scent had subconsciously calmed and relaxed him.

"He and my mother are trying to lecture me. As if I'm a fool who doesn't understand the consequences of his actions." He murmured resentfully, feeling tired and uncomfortable at the thought that they both still saw him as nothing more than a little child who refused to submit to their rules.

"They are the last people who should be instructing anyone in these matters." She said amused, and he froze, wondering why she had said that.

"What do you mean?" He asked curiously, thinking that perhaps Cole had a mistress he didn't know about.

He figured that he could use it against him if he wanted to moralise him again.

He turned onto his back when silence answered him, wanting to look at her – he blinked when he saw that she was pale, her eyes open wide in horror.

"What is it? What is that look?" He asked anxiously, feeling his heart thump harder in his chest.

She swallowed heavily and shook her head, her lips parted slightly in a deep breath.

"– it's just gossip – I shouldn't have said that –" She muttered, trying to smile and turn it into a joke.

His hand slid into her hair and his fingers clenched warningly in her soft curls.

"– hāedar –" He said coldly, letting her know that he was about to lose his patience and it would not be pleasant for either of them.

"– you shouldn't have heard it from me – gods, I was convinced you knew –" She mumbled, and he swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on his back.

"– speak –"

She looked at him pleadingly, her eyes filled with warmth and a plea for him not to make her do it – he longed to kiss her, longed to sink into her lips with the thought that this was surely nothing, her naked body at his fingertips.

"– Ser Criston – he broke his vows of chastity with a woman who is close to you – and whom you hold in the highest regard for obvious reasons –" She whispered in a trembling voice, looking at him in pain, her lips parted in a loud, heavy breath.

He felt his lips press together in a thin line as his heart froze in his chest for a moment, his eye red from burning tears of rage and humiliation, cold disappointment and bitterness running through his veins.

His mother.

His mother had no words of understanding for him, no time to embrace him, to squeeze his hand, to comfort him and soothe his suffering after he returned from Storm's End, but she had time to take care of herself and her delight in the arms of her sworn protector.

A man he treated as a friend, as a role model, whom he trusted, with whom he spent long evenings in discussion, believing they shared a bond.

And he, as soon as he left his chamber, headed for his mother's quarters and fucked her, lecturing him brazenly the next day about the nature of his relationship with his cousin.

He felt himself grow sick at the thought, his stomach squeezed into a knot as if he was about to vomit.

"Get out." He said coldly and let her go, feeling himself quivering all over, his chest rising and falling in rage and pain. "I want to be alone."

He only saw out of the corner of his eye that she nodded, her hands trembling with nerves as she put on her nightgown and robe, looking at him once more, as if she hoped he would change his decision.

He, however, simply sat and looked at his fingers, pleading in his mind that she should just leave.

When he heard her get off his bed and quietly head towards the door, opening and closing it behind her, he broke out into a silent cry, burying his head between his knees.

Alicent had humiliated him, abandoned him, forgotten him, but she had time for her lover, found opportunities to give him her warm gaze and tenderness, her closeness, leaving him, her son, alone.

He swallowed hard, choking on his tears, and lifted his face as if he suddenly realised what he had done, horrified by the silence around him.

"– hāedar? – come back – come back, sleep in my bed –" He called out towards the door, for some reason believing that she was still there, that she had not left him.

He sobbed when no sound answered him and hid his face in his hands, thinking that he didn't want to sleep alone, wondering in a reflex of despair whether to flee to the brothel again, ready to find shelter anywhere as long as he could feel the warmth of another body beside him.

He shuddered and sighed when he heard the door open again, her head peeking in.

She stood in the corridor.

She had not left him, his little sister.

Never.

He held out his hand to her and she closed the door behind her and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.

It was the first time he had burst out crying in front of someone – the warmth of her body, her familiar arms, her familiar scent made him feel so wonderfully relieved that tears began to run down his face on their own.

He was panting heavily when, with greedy, impatient movements, he tore her robe and nightdress from her shoulders, exposing before him her sweet, plump breasts, between which at last he dared to press his face, like a child seeking refuge, sinking his fingers into the soft skin of her naked back.

He struggled to catch air in his lungs as her arms enveloped him tenderly, pressing him against her warm, smooth skin – her fingertips combed through his hair, allowing him to calm down.

"– I'm so sorry –" She whispered, and he simply closed his eyes, thinking that it wasn't her fault after all.

"– all my life she's been telling me about the value of virtue – of sacrifice – instilling in me a belief in principles and morals – and she's fucking her own guard –" He howled regretfully, the touch of her fingers, her hands trailing over his body bringing him relief.

"– I know –" She whispered, sinking down onto the soft cushions along with his body – his hand found her sweet breast, wanting to touch something warm and pleasant that would give him comfort.

He closed his eyes as she locked him in the tight embrace of her arms, and he curled up, lifting his knees almost under his chin, wanting her to be able to give shelter to his whole body, being a little boy again.

"– no matter what I do – no matter how hard I try, what I sacrifice – I'm not able to please her –" He confessed in shame, his voice shaking with sadness and regret, feeling tear after tear run down his cheek without the participation of his will.

Everything he held inside just flowed out of him.

He sighed quietly, feeling relieved when she simply leaned over and kissed the top of his head with a sweet tenderness, running her fingers through his long, white hair without saying a word.

He thought he deeply appreciated that she didn't do what Madam did – every time he was vulnerable in her embrace, Sylvi showered him with advice and guidance, trying to manipulate and direct him, as if he didn't understand that she wanted him to simply do what would be better for her.

However, she, his little sister, was silent, coexisting with him in his suffering, focusing only on giving him solace, on gentle and innocent gestures full of affection, from which a pleasant warmth melted inside his chest.

He thought, nestled in the soft embrace of her familiar, sweet arms, that what his mother was doing didn't matter.

Now he had someone all to himself.

His little dragon.

His hāedar.

"You could hide better with your weakness for our cousin. The servants no longer even whisper but openly speak of her walking into your chamber in the evenings and leaving it only after sunrise." Said Aegon, pacing around his room while he sat comfortably in one of the chairs, feeling absolutely nothing at his words.

You'd be surprised to hear what our mother is doing, he thought, but didn't dare to say it out loud.

He decided that it was better to keep this information to himself.

It might have been useful to him at some point in the future.

"It takes her a long time to learn. She is making progress, but she is very…mmm, eager to bring the language of our ancestors to perfection." He said with a wide, cold grin, cocking his head to the side.

He didn't feel like confessing to him.

Aegon raised his eyebrows and walked over to the empty chair on the other side of the table, sitting down in it with a heavy sigh, reaching, of course, for the wine jug.

"I thought you hated bastards. Do you desire to beget your own now, brother?" He asked, and he smiled even wider.

"A maiden will not bear a child. Anyway. That's not why I invited you here." He said, unfolding one of the maps he had prepared earlier, feeling his heart thump harder in his chest.

His hāedar had begged him endlessly to tell him of his and Criston's plan, and as the battle of Rook's Rest was about to take place and possibly determine the fate of the war, he decided that this once he would yield to her, knowing that her fears were justified.

Aegon could not think that he was plotting behind his back.

She longed to participate in this conversation with him, but he did not agree to it.

These were matters between them.

Between brothers.

"Criston Cole and our army are not heading towards Harrenhal." He said, and his brother laughed, as if he had heard some foolishness.

"And where the fuck do you think he's heading? To his home in Dorne?" He asked amused, taking a loud sip from his cup.

He licked his lower lip, trying to remain calm and not show his frustration.

"To Rook's Rest."

Aegon looked at him in disbelief and shook his head, as if hoping his younger brother would tell him he had not meant it.

"WHAT?" He hissed and stood up, placing his hands on his hips, circling around the table, as usual unable to sit still.

"Why? That wasn't the plan. We wanted to destroy Daemon and take back Harrenhal. What has changed? Why don't I know anything about it?"

"Now you know. Cole and I thought it best to cut Rhaenyra off from the land first. To block her ability to support Daemon in the future with her army other than by sea. We must plan a few steps ahead. Be patient, brother. That is all." He said, raising his hand over the map of the Seven Kingdoms, recalling the words his little sister had used when suggesting what he should say to him. "What we are doing is for you. It's not hard to throw an army and lose – this map is a chessboard, and we need to plan well for the whole game, not just the end. I ask you to trust us and agree to our attack."

Aegon blinked and furrowed his brow, as if something in his words troubled him.

"Yours?"

He swallowed hard, not taking his eyes off him, wondering how he should convey this to him.

He decided he would just be honest.

"We're planning an ambush. This whore will surely send dragons to Rook's Rest to help defend the fortress. Then me and Vhagar will step onto the battlefield and take the lives of both the beast and its rider, whoever it may be." He said, and his brother pressed his lips together and nodded.

"Very well. I will fly with you then."

He looked at him dully, wondering if he was really such a fool.

"The King cannot die. You and Sunfyre will guard the Red Keep. Our cousin will accompany and support me." He said, and Aegon slammed his fist on the table, startling him and making him jump up in his seat.

"No. She is less experienced and she will protect our family in the Red Keep. I will fly by your side to fight like a man. I am the King and that is my final decision." He said, and he looked away, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

He thought that perhaps it would be better this way and closed his eyes.

Maybe this way his problems would solve themselves.

His brother had ordered a meeting of the Small Council later that afternoon, intending, as he understood it, to convey to the assembled members the change of plans and his decision.

He knew their mother would be furious.

They all turned their heads towards the door when their cousin walked in – he thought, looking at her, his little sister, at her warm gaze directed towards him, at her full, glistening lips, at her graceful, soft body hidden beneath her leather riding attire, that Aegon wanted to inform her that it was he who would be setting out at his side to fight.

"What is this important matter that could not wait any longer?" Their mother asked, looking at his brother with a weariness he knew well.

He wondered if she had prayed for Cole and his return before falling asleep, feeling discomfort and frustration in his chest at the thought.

Aegon nodded, ready to speak.

"I wish to relieve our subjects who live in hunger. This fucking blockade has gone on for too long and I have decided to take measures to remedy it. Greyjoys are tactically avoiding choosing sides in this conflict, and only their fleet could face the Velaryons. In such situations, things are usually resolved through marriage. Lord Greyjoy has two sons, Toron and Rodrick, who are looking for a suitable candidate to marry. My mother and I believe that our beautiful cousin and her dragon will meet all of their father's requirements."

Silence fell all around him; he had the feeling that his body, although frozen in stillness, inwardly fell into some kind of panic attack, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he felt like he was dying.

My mother and I believe that our beautiful cousin and her dragon will meet all of their father's requirements.

They wanted to marry her off.

They wanted to take her away from him.

He looked at her, at the woman who had brought him into the world, feeling deceived, betrayed, abandoned.

Alicent shook her head, her brown eyes big with sadness and regret, her lips parted slightly, as if she herself was suffering.

"You knew it would end like this. Your irresponsible behaviour forced us to take the right steps." She whispered, lowering her gaze to her fingers, with which she scratched the cuticles around her nails.

He thought that in that case his brother should marry her off too, since she was so eager to open her thighs before men, but he was unable to say such words about his own mother.

How would that testify to him?

He was her son.

Her behaviour, her sins would be a burden and a humiliation to him, Aegon, Helaena and Daeron.

He heard his hāedar at his side inhale sharply, as devastated as he was.

"– here is my home, my King – please –" She mumbled pleadingly, but his brother interrupted her.

"It would happen sooner or later. Better sooner, given the rumours that reach our ears about where you've been spending the last nights. My brother did not deny it, conversing with me today, that he is taking advantage of your…kindness. I want to put an end to this sinful practice."

"No." He heard his own voice, feeling rage, fury, despair, regret, anger, shame, fear.

No.

Not her.

"She is a Targaryen. 'Tis I, as your younger brother, who, by all rights, have precedence to her hand." He said coldly, feeling his nostrils flutter in a heavy, deep breath.

His mother twisted in her seat, looking at him in disbelief as his brother smiled piteously at his words, making a drop of cold sweat run down his neck.

"You can bed whomever you want, brother. But it is I, as King and her protector, who will decide who she marries, and sooner Vhagar will fit into the Dragon's Pit than I'll give you her hand." He exclaimed.

"Why?" He asked like a little boy, feeling that the tone of his voice, the way the word suddenly ripped from his throat was just pathetic.

It made him want to cry.

Aegon froze, looking at him in disbelief.

"Good gods. Since when can the Kingdom afford marriages out of the need of the heart? Your subjects are starving. This agreement can make us break the blockade. Are your desires more important than the sake of the Realm?" His brother asked and he heard her loud sobs – out of the corner of his eye he saw that she hid her face in her hands.

"My decision is final. I will have the crow sent to the Iron Islands with our generous offer later today. That is all." He said and slammed his palms on the table, rising and left the room, leaving them with his words.

"– no – please, don't let him do it, don't send me away, don't send me away, don't send me away –" She wept like a little child as soon as he walked into her chamber, throwing herself into his arms – he cuddled her into himself as if he longed to merge with her into one, feeling his heart in his throat.

Don't send me away.

"– shhh – shhh, sweet girl – I won't –" He whispered, placing loud, soft kisses on her temple and cheekbone, stroking her back and neck with his hands, trying to calm her, to soothe her, her body trembling in his embrace.

"– you're lying – you're going to sell me, you're going to abandon me like he did –" She wailed, choking on her own tears, falling into complete hysteria, her fingers clenched painfully tight on his back.

He grabbed her by the hair and tilted her head back, wanting her to look at him, doing it, however, so as not to cause her pain.

"What did I tell you? Back then, when we were lying under the stars. What did I promise in return for you taming a dragon?" He asked, and she swallowed hard, her pretty face all swollen from tears, her dark eyes big from the sadness and grief that squeezed her heart, her lips parted wide.

"– that my place will always be by your side – that you will protect me – that I will be your little sister –" She mumbled out with difficulty, breathing loudly through her mouth, looking at him pleadingly.

She closed her eyes and sighed as his thumbs brushed the moisture from her red, hot cheeks, his forehead pressed against hers exactly as it had been then.

That night.

"– and you are –" He hissed, clamping his fingers in her hair. "– you are fucking mine –"

[lxndonorris]

a special day at Monza - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut after winning at Monza, Charles wants to celebrate with you x A continuation to this x word count: 4400+ taglist: @game-set-canet @cloud-55 @pitstopreality-f1 open for requests!

Charles has done it. He won the Monza Grand Prix in spectacular fashion, crossing the finish line just ahead of the Mclaren after outsmarting them with his strategy.

The crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, the sea of red flags waving high as Ferrari triumphed once again on home soil. It was a beautiful moment, the kind of victory that left an indelible mark on anyone who witnessed it.

From down below, you watched him, your heart swelling with pride as the Italian national anthem played. Charles stood on the top step of the podium, his expression a mix of joy and relief. You saw him let out a long sigh, as if the weight of the world finally lifted off his shoulders.

The tension he carried throughout the weekend melted away in that single moment. He was beaming, his face flushed with adrenaline and pure elation.

As the champagne bottles popped, Charles and the other drivers sprayed each other with wild abandon. He looked incredible, absolutely phenomenal, standing there in his special black Ferrari suit, the carbon fiber aesthetic gleaming under the podium lights.

He was in his element, a winner among winners, and he knew it. That self-assured grin played across his lips as he took it all in.

After what felt like an endless stream of interviews, photos, and celebrations, you and Charles finally escape to his private quarters. You step into the room, taking in the luxurious interior, while Charles speaks to his assistant, telling them he needs to change into fresh clothes. 

As soon as the door closes behind them, leaving you alone, Charles lets out a quiet, almost boyish celebration—a little "yes" under his breath, his fist pumping the air.

You can't help but smile as you approach him from behind, your fingers grazing the damp fabric of his racing suit. He smells intoxicating, a heady mix of sweat, champagne, and the faint remnants of his cologne, the scent still clinging to him after all the podium chaos.

"How do you feel?" You ask, your voice soft as you trace the curve of his back, your hand trailing down the line of his spine.

Charles turns to face you, his hands immediately finding your waist, pulling you in close. His eyes sparkle with a kind of raw, unfiltered energy, the high of his victory still coursing through him.

You steady yourself against his chest, feeling the silky fabric underneath your palm.

"It's... it feels so good," he breathes, his voice low and thick with emotion. "We... I needed that, so much."

You can feel how much he is relishing this moment—the way his grip tightens on your waist, his need to ground himself in something familiar, something physical.

His racing suit clings to his skin, soaked through with champagne, but still, the fabric feels so good beneath your fingers. His chest is firm, his body exuding strength and exhaustion in equal measure, yet he seems more alive than ever, buzzing with energy.

Charles' hair is tousled, messy from the helmet and hours of racing, and his face is flushed from both the effort and the celebration. He looks beautiful—raw, powerful, and still full of passion. But there is something else in his eyes now, something more primal.

As you run your hands over his chest, he leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

"You remember the photoshoot?" He asks, his voice dropping an octave, thick with teasing.

You nod, recalling how you teased him, how close he has been to losing control. It drove him to push himself, to go all out in the race, all for this moment.

"You told me to be patient," he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Did I do good?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel the heat rising between you. His eyes are darker now, filled with something more than just triumphant—they are clouded with desire, a need that has been simmering beneath the surface, now unleashed after the intensity of the race.

As your hands roam lower, tracing the firm lines of his abdomen and then lower still, you feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal, straining against the damp fabric of his suit. 

He groans softly at your touch, his hands moving up your sides, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends goosebumps racing down your arm.

"Charles," you whisper, feeling the tension rising between you, your breath catching in your throat as his hands slide further down your hips, pulling you even closer to him.

You feel every inch of him through the fabric, and the way his body responds to yours makes your heart race.

His lips hover just inches from yours, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, the mix of sweat and champagne adding to the heady atmosphere.

"This... is what I wanted," he murmurs again, his voice low and husky. "To celebrate with you... properly... like this."

His words send a wave of heat through you, and you can't resist the pull any longer.

Your hands roam over his body, feeling the firmness of his muscles through the soaked suit, the fabric clinging to him like a second skin. Charles is all yours in this moment, and you can feel how much he wants this—how much he wants you.

He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is hungry and full of need, the tension between you finally snapping.

The intensity of the moment, the high of his victory, the heat of your desire—it all blends together in a whirlwind of sensation.

As you pull apart, the heat still lingering between you, Charles' eyes gleam with mischief. His voice drops into that familiar, teasing tone.

"I still can't believe you made me wait; how badly I wanted you then," he smirks, letting his words sink in before adding, "I want you even more now."

The way he looks at you, the hunger in his eyes, sends a wave of desire through your body. He leans in closer, and in a teasing voice he asks, "Do you want to help me change?"

It's clear from the look on his face what he is really asking, and you feel your heart race in anticipation.

Without saying a word, you reach out, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his damp racing suit. Slowly, you trace the patterns of his suit to the zipper before pulling it down inch by agonizing inch.

His eyes follow your hand, the tension in his body rising with every slow movement of the zipper.

When it finally reaches his waist, you feel him exhale deeply, as if releasing the last bit of control he had left. The tight, soaked red Nomex shirt underneath is revealed, clinging to every contour of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

His breath hitches as you drag your fingers over the damp fabric, feeling the ridges of his abs and the strength in his pecs.

Charles peels the upper half of his suit down easily, leaving the vibrant red Nomex on display for you. The shirt is plastered to his skin, highlighting every muscle, every curve. 

You can't help but reach out again, your fingers moving slowly yet firmly over his chest, his arms, and his biceps. His body responds immediately, muscles flexing beneath your touch as he lets out a deep, satisfied growl, his lips parting with each breath.

He is still buzzing with adrenaline, his body on fire from the high of the race and the intense emotions of the day. 

You can feel it in the way his muscles tense and relax under your fingers, the way he sighs with each stroke, his body betraying just how much he is still running on that post-race energy.

His nipples are visible through the tight fabric, and as you brush over them with your thumb, Charles lets out a deep groan.

You lean in closer, your voice soft but teasing. "Do you like that?" You ask, knowing full well the answer.

He nods slowly, his eyes locking onto yours with a longing that sends shivers down your spine. His scent is intoxicating, stronger now—sweat, champagne, and the raw, musky scent of him, intensified by the closeness between you.

Every breath feels electric, the tension in the air growing thicker.

Without breaking eye contact, he casually slips out of his shoes, all while running his hands over his own body, his fingers lingering over the bulge in his suit. He strokes himself slowly, teasingly, knowing full well the effect it has on you. 

His gaze never leaves yours; the confidence in his posture and the way he moves is undeniable.

You can't resist the temptation any longer.

You bite your lower lip, feeling the heat building between you, and you reach out to stroke his arousal. The fabric is soaked, clinging tightly to his body, and he lets out another growl as your hand moves over him.

His hips push forward into your touch, and the sound that rumbles from deep within his throat makes your pulse quicken.

You tease him lightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "You seem pretty worked up," you say, your voice full of affection but also amusement.

His eyes darken, and a growl escapes him again, the sound low and deep. 

"You have no idea," he replies, his voice rough with desire, his hands gripping your hips as if to steady himself.

The tension is electric; each touch, each glance makes it harder to resist the pull you both feel toward each other.

Charles is on edge, his body responsive to every move you make, and you feel just how badly he wants more.

"I loved watching you drive today," you whisper, your voice soft but filled with admiration. "Every corner, every lap... you were incredible."

As you speak, you let your hand trail over his chest again, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the thin fabric.

You know how much he loves hearing the praise, how it fuels him, and you feel his body react, his muscles tensing at your words.

His breath hitches, and you hear his accent slipping through more than usual—that familiar richness in his voice that always comes out when he is horny.

It makes your heart race every time, the way his words sound so much more intimate, more raw, in moments like this.

Even though you both already know the effect you have on each other, he leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, his stubble lightly grazing your skin, and sending a shiver down your spine.

"I need you so much," he murmurs, his voice low, rough with desire. 

Charles grinds his hips against the palm of your hand, the pressure building, making it impossible to ignore how much he craves your touch, craves you.

His words are heavy with longing, and you can feel just how on edge he is, his restraint slipping with every passing second.

You bite your lip, teasing him further, your fingers brushing over the bulge straining against his racing suit. He groans, his body pushing into your touch, desperate for more.

You grab his length firmly, feeling the heat through the damp fabric, and he lets out another low growl, his hips grinding into your hand in response.

His entire body is relishing the sensation, every breath deep, every movement deliberate as he soaks in the pleasure of your touch. His fingers dig into your hips slightly, pulling you in even closer, as if he can't stand to be apart from you for even a moment.

As you stroke Charles' arousal, you can't help but recall the earlier teasing during the photoshoot. The way his body was on the verge of release, his mind flooded with desire, yet he was patient.

Holding back for you, for this moment. He has done well, he's been nothing but good.

"You were such a good boy back then," you murmur, your voice dripping with affection and amusement as you run a hand over him, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric.

At your words, Charles whimpers softly, his composure slipping for just a second before he tries to regain control, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You can see the effort it takes him to hold back, to stay grounded in the teasing instead of giving in to the desire that is still growing.

After a moment, you step back from him, creating a tantalizing distance between you. 

You walk over to the sofa in the middle of the room, letting the silence stretch, knowing that he is watching every movement you make. Sitting down slowly, you cross your legs and lean back, gazing at him with a playful smirk as you motion for him to join you with a teasing curl of your finger.

Charles runs a hand across his face, brushing back the damp strands of hair that fell into his eyes. His other hand stayed firmly on his bulge, pressing down as if to contain his arousal, but the way his fingers flex shows just how much he is enjoying the pressure.

There is a hint of swagger in his step as he makes his way over to you, his eyes dark and hungry, but with that same playful glint.

When he reaches the sofa, Charles climbs on top of you with a slow, deliberate movement, his body hovering over yours. You lean back, sinking into the plush cushions, letting him take control of the space between you. 

His presence feels all-encompassing, his body warm and powerful above you, and you feel the tension crackling in the air.

You reach up, tugging the edge of his damp red Nomex shirt just enough to slip your hand underneath. His skin is warm to the touch, slightly damp from sweat and the remnants of the race, but impossibly smooth.

He sighs deeply at the sensation of your fingers brushing against his bare skin, his body reacting instantly.

"Your hands are cold," he breathes, his voice a playful complaint as he leans down closer to you, his breath hot against your neck.

But even as he says it, you hear the enjoyment in his voice, the way his body shudders slightly at the cool contrast of your touch against his heated skin.

You smirk up at him, refusing to stop. "You'll get used to it," you reply, your tone just as teasing as you drag your fingers up the length of his torso, feeling his muscles tense and contract under your touch.

Charles groans softly, his head dipping closer to yours as his body presses down against you. The weight of him feels perfect—a mix of strength and desire, his form enveloping you.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he breathes deeply, clearly reveling in the feeling, in the attention you're giving him.

"You have no idea how hard it is to wait," he murmurs, his accent thick as he opens his eyes, locking his gaze with yours.

There is a fire in his eyes, a desire that has been simmering all day, and now it is dangerously close to boiling over.

His lips hover just inches from yours, his body taut with anticipation. The teasing, the tension—it all makes the moment even more electrifying.

Charles wants more, and you feel the pull, but part of you enjoys keeping him on edge, savoring every second of his longing.

His hand slips down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he adjusts his position slightly, pressing the arousal against you again. You feel the heat, the urgency, but still, you tease, your fingers playing over his skin, moving slowly and deliberately, letting the moment stretch.

"Patience... just a little longer," you whisper, echoing the words you told him during the photoshoot. And just like before, you see the way they affect him—the way his muscles tense with the effort of holding back.

Charles lets out a low groan, his head dropping to your shoulder as he breathes deeply, his self-control clearly hanging by a thread.

But he loves it—loves the tease, loves the chase, loves the way the tension between you only makes the eventual release all the more intense.

You run a hand down again, between his legs, across his length and smile. "You're nearly there, huh?" You tease, the smirk on your lips growing as he leans back slightly, giving you a full view of the desire burning in his eyes.

He lets out a low groan in response, his frustration mixing with pleasure.

Gently, you reach up and caress his cheek, your thumb tracing the edge of his jaw. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and you see the tension in his expression, the way his body is aching for a release.

Your fingers trace his jawline, through his stubble, and across his lips. They are soft, warm as you trail their outline gently.

He swallows hard, his gaze shifting between your hand and your eyes.

"I think you've been patient enough, don't you think?" You tease, pressing down softly on his lower lip so they part slightly.

Without a word, Charles leans down and captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. The intensity of it sends shivers through your body, his lips soft but demanding as they move against yours. 

You respond immediately, your fingers sliding over his chest, feeling the taut muscles flexing beneath the tight fabric.

He tastes of champagne and something sweet, his scent intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

As your bodies press closer, you feel one of his hands move down to the waistband of your jeans. His fingers work deftly, unbuttoning them with ease, and the sensation of his touch makes you giggle softly against his lips.

He smirks at the sound, the playful energy between you only adding to the excitement of the moment.

You embrace his touch, letting him continue, your body responding to the way his hands move over you. His kisses grow deeper, more insistent, and you can feel the heat radiating from him, his need palpable in the way he touches you.

Your hand finds its way to his back, sliding beneath the shirt to feel the smooth, damp skin there, and Charles shudders slightly at the contact, a soft moan escaping him.

"Give me a moment," he asks as he pulls away from you, his breathing still heavy.

You nod, your eyes never leaving him as he gets off you and stands beside the sofa. He reaches for the zipper of his racing suit and, with deliberate slowness, slides it down the rest of the way, the fabric falling to his thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch the material drop, revealing his tight red fireproof underpants beneath. The fabric clings to every inch of him, outlining his arousal unmistakably, and he grabs hismelf, his eyes dark with longing as he gazes at you.

For a moment, he simply stands there, letting the tension build before he takes his shirt and pants off in one smooth motion, leaving his body gloriously exposed, save for the fitted boxers that hug his muscular frame.

The sight of him takes your breath away—his skin still glistening from the race, muscles defined and flexing slightly as he moves. 

He looks perfect, and the way he watches you, knowing the effect he has, makes it all the more intoxicating.

Charles smiles faintly, stepping closer and reaching for you, his hands warm as they slide under your shirt. In one fluid motion, he helps you lift it off, leaving you in your bra from your waist up. Effortlessly, he unhooks it, and you watch it slide off your skin, leaving you bare.

His eyes linger on your skin before he climbs back on top of you, pressing his body against yours. The heat of his skin against you is electric, and for a moment, you simply grind against each other, the friction sending shivers down your spine.

Charles lets out a low, breathy moan as he moves against you, and you can feel his arousal pressing harder, making the anticipation all the more unbearable.

Your heart races as he reaches down, his hands steady and sure as he pulls your jeans and underwear down, one after another, exposing you completely.

His touch is both gentle and insistent, and your body responds to him instinctively, craving more. He shifts for a second, his own boxers sliding down as he removes the last barrier between you. 

Your eyes take in every inch of him—his beautiful body, toned and flushed, every muscle defined. 

Then, with one fluid movement, Charles positions himself above you again, his gaze locking with yours. There is a moment of stillness, the world narrowing to just the two of you, the desire heavy in the air between you.

And then, with a deep, breathy sigh, he slips inside you, your bodies finally coming together in a way that feels inevitable and perfect.

The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure, relief, and pure connection. Charles groans softly, his forehead resting against yours as he moves, his breath ragged with need.

You move together, slow and deliberate at first, savoring the moment, every sensation heightened by the buildup of tension. His hands grip your hips firmly, and you feel the heat of his body against yours, his skin damp and warm as he rocks into you.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, and the way he moves—so focused, so in tune with you—makes it all the more intense.

"God, you feel so good," he breathes against your ear, his voice rough and filled with need. His accent slips through again, that familiar sound making your heart race even more as he presses deeper, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours.

You hold on to him, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he moves.

Every inch of him is perfect, his body responding to yours in a way that feels almost instinctive, and you can feel the passion between you building, growing with each movement.

Charles' breath is hot against your skin, his moans growing louder, more desperate, as you lose yourselves completely in the moment.

As your bodies reach their climax together, the intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless. 

Charles collapses gently on top of you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath, face flushed with exertion and satisfaction. He kisses you softly, his lips tender against yours, his hands slowly caressing your cheek, still lost in the afterglow.

You feel his hand move to your chest, his touch light and affectionate, and you mirror the gesture, your fingers tracing along the defined muscles of his chest, feeling the warmth and strength still pulsing beneath his skin.

After a moment, you separate, both of you still catching your breath. You reach for your underwear and jeans, slipping them on slowly, your mind still replaying everything that just happened, savoring the memory.

As you finish dressing, you glance over at Charles, who is standing by the cupboard, already pulling out a fresh pair of clothes.

He grabs a clean pair of boxers first, sliding them on effortlessly before following up with his jeans.

You can't help but admire the view, watching him as he moves with that natural grace, his body so familiar to you yet always captivating. Your gaze lingers on him, and he notices, a playful smile spreading across his lips as he catches you watching.

"Like what you see, huh?" he teases, his voice low and full of amusement.

He runs a hand deliberately across his chest, tracing the muscles with his fingers before letting his hand slip down to his crotch, making sure you notice his playful little act.

You smile at his teasing, the way he always seems to know exactly how to make your heart race.

"I do," you admit with a smirk.

Your eyes drift to his racing suit still lying on the floor; the fabric crumpled where he stepped out of it. The sight brings back memories of earlier—how stunning he looked in it, how much you admired him.

"You look so beautiful in that suit," you add softly, gesturing to it.

His expression softens at your words, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes.

Without saying a word, he approaches you, closing the distance between you. His hands are gentle as he helps you clasp your bra, his fingers brushing against your skin as he adjusts the straps.

Once he is done, he steps back slightly and reaches for one of his black Ferrari shirts, the one he had worn earlier in the day, and hands it to you with a warm smile.

"Here, wear this," he says, his voice low and affectionate. You can tell he loves seeing you in his clothes; the way the shirt hangs loosely on your frame, a reminder of how close you are.

And you love wearing his clothes, especially when he recently wore them, due to his cologne, his unique scent, clinging to the fabric.

As you pull the shirt over your head, you catch the way he is still looking at you—the same playful yet adoring gaze that always makes your heart skip a beat.

"You really think I looked that good in the suit?" he asks, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You nod, your eyes meeting his. 

"You looked incredible, Charles," you reply honestly. "You always do. But something about that suit... it's like it was made for you."

He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with the praise.

"Well, I guess I have to keep it then, for you," he teases before leaning down to pick up his discarded clothes from the floor. You join him, helping gather pieces of his racing attire, folding the suit carefully in your hands.

Together, you tidy up the room, both of you moving easily around each other in the comfortable silence that comes from knowing someone deeply.

After you finish, Charles comes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You know," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "I think winning today wasn't even the best part of my day."

You smile, leaning back into his embrace.

"Oh? What was the best part then?"

He kisses your cheek softly, his lips brushing against your skin.

"This. Being with you."

[wooattackrr]

The masseuse

MDNI

wc: 1,045 💩

author’s notes: yall voted gyu so here you go ! I’m gonna start taking requests so pls send me some!!

Mingyu had always had a knack for massage. Even from a young age, he found that he had a natural talent for soothing aches and pains with the gentle, practiced motions of his hands. As he grew older, he decided to turn this skill into a career, training to become a professional masseuse.

Now 27 years old, Mingyu worked at a high-end spa in the heart of the city. He took pride in his work, treating each client with the utmost care and attention. Whether it was working out the kinks in an athlete's muscles or providing a relaxing escape for a busy executive, Mingyu approached every session with the same level of dedication.

One day, a new client walked through the spa's doors. At first glance, Mingyu could tell she was different from his usual clientele. There was an effortless elegance about her, from the way she carried herself to the subtle glow of her skin. As he led her back to the massage room, he found himself stealing occasional glances at her, captivated by her beauty.

"So, what brings you in today?" Mingyu asked as he began to set up the massage table.

"Just looking to unwind a bit," You replied with a soft smile. "It's been a long week."

Mingyu nodded in understanding. "Well, you've come to the right place. I'll make sure you leave here feeling refreshed and relaxed."

You settled onto the table, your silky robe rustling as you got comfortable. Mingyu began the massage, starting with your neck and shoulders. His strong, nimble fingers worked their magic, kneading away the tension with long, soothing strokes.

As he moved down your back, he couldn't help but notice the way your skin seemed to glow under his touch. There was something almost ethereal about you, and Mingyu found himself growing increasingly captivated.

"That feels amazing," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Mingyu replied, his own voice low and smooth.

He continued the massage, his hands expertly navigating the curves of your body. Every so often, his fingertips would graze sensitive areas, eliciting a small shiver from you. Mingyu felt a spark of electricity pass between you, and he knew he was beginning to lose his professional detachment.

Finally, the massage came to an end. Mingyu helped you sit up, his hands lingering on your shoulders for just a moment longer than necessary.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his dark eyes searching your face.

"Wonderful," you breathed, your gaze locked with his. "Thank you, Mingyu."

There was a charged silence as the two of you held each other's stare. Mingyu felt a familiar warmth stirring within him, and before he could stop himself, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You responded immediately, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair as you deepened the kiss. Mingyu's heart raced as he pulled you closer, all thoughts of propriety forgotten.

Slowly, reluctantly, you broke the kiss, your breathing heavy. "We shouldn't be doing this," you murmured, but there was no conviction in your voice.

"I know," Mingyu admitted, his forehead resting against yours. "But I can't stop thinking about you."

You studied him for a moment, then a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "Then don't."

With that, you pulled him back in, your lips meeting in a passionate, searing kiss. Mingyu's hands roamed your body, caressing and exploring as the kiss grew more heated and desperate.

He gently lowered you back onto the massage table, his body covering yours. You arched up into him, your legs wrapping around his waist as your hands slid under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin.

Mingyu trailed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate flesh. You let out a soft moan, your nails raking down his back.

"Mingyu..." you breathed, your voice thick with desire.

He answered you with a growl, his hands sliding beneath your robe to caress your heated skin. You shivered at his touch, your body alive with sensation.

Slowly, reverently, Mingyu undressed you, his gaze drinking in every inch of your bare skin. You lay before him, flushed and breathless, and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to simply devour you.

Instead, he trailed feather-light kisses along your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, and across your trembling stomach. Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on.

When he finally joined your bodies, it was with a groan of pure bliss. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. Mingyu set a slow, deep rhythm, savoring every moment of being joined with you.

Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him deeper. Mingyu buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure built within him.

"Mingyu..." you moaned, your voice breaking. "Don't stop..."

He had no intention of stopping, not when you felt so perfect, so right beneath him. He increased the pace, his hips snapping against yours as the tension coiled tighter and tighter.

Finally, with a strangled cry, you tumbled over the edge, your body clenching around him. Mingyu followed close behind, his world shattering into a million sparks of light and sensation.

Afterwards, you lay tangled together, your heartbeats slowly returning to normal. Mingyu gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, marveling at the way you seemed to glow in the soft light of the room.

"That was..." you trailed off, a contented smile playing on your lips.

"Amazing," Mingyu finished for you, his own smile mirroring yours.

You chuckled softly. "I was going to say 'unexpected', but I suppose 'amazing' works too."

Mingyu pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

You snuggled closer to him, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "I should probably get going soon."

Mingyu's heart sank a little at the thought of you leaving. "Do you have to?"

You tilted your head, studying him thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose I could stay a little while longer..."

Mingyu grinned, pulling you in for another kiss. As your lips met, he knew that this was just the beginning of something special.

——————————————————————

Stan inumaki.

[sleepingelvhen]

Sleeping Spider Lily Pt.1

Blade/Reader NSFW Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- [🌹Part 4🌹] Minors DO NOT interact MASTERLIST Once, you were in love with a man called Yingxing. That man died during his involvement with Dan Feng’s betrayal. At least, so you thought. Jing Yuan helped you through your turmoil, comforted you in your pain, and eventually you were able to move on and live your life. Little did you know your lover was simply lying in wait. After years of suffering and pain, Blade arrives on the Luofu with a mission at hand, everything planned for him. That is until he sees you…and all the memories come flooding back.

Days stretched on as if they were years upon years. Every moment nearly torture since you lost the love of your life. You knew Jing Yuan could see it on your face, the numbness in your voice, the distant look in your eyes, the way your body moved robotically during your work in the commission. It was probably a depressing sight, but all sense of self disappeared when Yingxing was gone, and it was impossible to bring yourself back.

You blamed yourself first, lectured yourself on how you could have supported him better, understood him better to stop what he was planning. Then you started blaming the Imbibitor Lunae, focused your attention on your hatred towards the Vidhyadharan high elder for leading Yingxing to his betrayal and death.

Then, when there was no one to blame, when you had to face the reality of his death, you fell into a depression that made it impossible for Jing Yuan to sit aside and watch anymore. He stepped in and pulled you up and suddenly you were on different kinds of missions. 

Instead of working on papers and writing reports to the commission, you were going out on patrols with the cloud knights or even with Jing Yuan himself. He talked your ear off, took you out to tea or dinner, he made sure you had company and that you were never alone with your thoughts. Jing Yuan helped you stand and helped you move on. He knew what you needed, and he became your best friend over the many, many years.

Your life filled with new passions and new friends, Jing Yuan shared in your pain and together you kept living. You became a sword in the dark for him, you hunted in the night and fought for Jing Yuan when he couldn’t step away. Together you were a force the Luofu trusted to keep them safe. Finally, you were healing from the pain that seemed to last centuries. Finally you were happy.

The Aeons seemed dissatisfied with your suffering, however. Or maybe your luck had completely run dry. Whatever it was, your mind reeled from what you saw before you.

He walked down the hallway of the Shackling Prison, two guards at his sides, his arms tied in front of him, head low. You watched as his long silky hair swayed with each step, a familiar gait once prideful with long strides was now slow and meticulous. 

The blackish-blue hair was familiar, a reminder of when he was young, when you first met him. It was strange at first, having once gotten used to the white color he sported as he aged. But, you found yourself thrown right back to the past. The way he would stare at you, the way his hair felt in your fingers.

The past is gone now. Eyes that once looked upon you with affection now glowed red with anger and bloodlust, a smirk glowering on his face as he looked up at Jing Yuan who had Yanqing at his side, sword at the ready.

"Do you remember me?" Jing Yuan asked, shocking you to your core. He had known...of course he had.

“I do...Of five people, three must pay a price,” he spoke, his voice gravely and deep, daunting in the dark. It echoed in the silent, near empty room, a voice that sounded all too familiar. A voice that made tears spring into your eyes. “You…are not one of them, Jing Yuan.”

You simply watched the scene before you, eyes wide, your body hidden in the shadows of the prison. Your lip trembled along with your fingers, as if your whole body was cold, except you were on the verge of a complete breakdown.

None of the words Jing Yuan said after that registered in your mind, like your ears were completely muffled. Everything around you spun, your eyes only able to see Yingxing, or rather what he had become after years of whatever had happened to him. 

This wasn’t the Yingxing you knew…the way he looked at Jingyuan, the way he stood, it was all in anticipation of violence. But he looked like him and you wanted it to be him, your eyes roamed his entire body in desperation for anything that looked like the man he used to be.

You watched him cock his head to the side, his now red eyes quickly glancing to the sides of the room, as if noting the amount of guards in the room, or looking for something. Then his eyes shot to the side, towards where you hid in the far back of the room.

The shadows should have cloaked you, no one ever saw you when you stood here. But his eyes stopped right where you stood, his eyes widening for just a moment. You swore you saw the curve of his mouth fall. It lasted all but a second before his eyes were back on Jing Yuan, the facade of pride back upon his face, like it never happened. Like he never saw you.

“He’s alive!?” You punched your bathroom mirror, tears streaming down your face as you stared at your broken reflection. Jing Yuan stood behind you, leaning against the doorway, his eyes downcast. For once his face was solemn, regretful.

You gripped the sides of the sink, gritting your teeth, trying to stop yourself from sobbing. Years of stitched up pain, of wounds you thought had healed, they all came flooding back. Like blood, the memories spilled out, swallowing all thoughts, forcing you to relive everything all over again.

“He’s alive…” Jing Yuan finally spoke, trying not to cause you more pain. “I’m sorry.”

Deep breaths did nothing to dwindle the anxiety as you turned to face him.

“How long…how long have you known?”

Jing Yuan looked up at you, mouth open, before he stopped himself. His mouth shut as he sighed and looked down at the floor. Of course he had known. All these years, your closest friend had known the love of your life was alive and kept it a secret. Your voice shook as your shoulders slumped, turning away from Jing Yuan.

“Just…just leave…please.”

He said nothing, leaving you alone in your pain. The night was filled with tears and loud sobbing, your face stained and red, eyes sore and burning. 

Sleep eluded you, every time you shut your eyes, images of him filled your mind. Yingxing, your lover, now someone you barely recognized. It was impossible, a terrifying prospect, and the worst thing to happen to you now. All the healing, the years of pain…was all of it for nothing? Questions racked your mind until you were too tired to think but also too tired to sleep. And before you knew it, light filtered into your room as morning came and alongside morning, came Jing Yuan and even more bad news.

“What do you mean he escaped!?” You couldn’t help your voice rising, the exhaustion evident in your tone. Jing Yuan simply watched you struggle with the information, his eyes saddened by the pain you dealt with.

“I mean, sometime last night, he broke out of his holding cell, and we suspect he is still somewhere on the Luofu.” Jing Yuan sighed, rubbing his temples. Obviously this situation was affecting him just as badly. He was already notorious for barely getting sleep, it would be a wonder if he had even a moment of rest last night.

“Fuck…fuck…” You pulled back your hair. Everything was quickly going to shit. Jing Yuan had not only caught you up on the new status of Yingxing, who apparently now went by Blade, but also on the fact that there was probably a Stellaron on board the Luofu and that the Stellaron Hunters were involved with both incidents.

“Look, I know this isn’t an ideal situation but,” Jing Yuan sighed again before looking at you. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you getting involved.”

“What? Why? This is literally my job!”

“Because,” Jing Yuan put his hand on your shoulder, his touch able to calm down your shivers a little bit. “Your past relationship with Ying–Blade–I don’t want you getting hurt even more…”

Your shoulders slumped and you nodded slowly. It made sense, Jing Yuan knew that everything was only causing you pain. He had your best interest in mind but…your eyebrows strewn together and your breath caught in your throat.

“Fine.” Ying Yuan was satisfied and that made the guilt a little worse. Because you knew you were lying. The nighttime was your hunting ground. And Yingxing or rather, Blade, would not run away. Not again, not without the answers you so craved.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time

Day 15: Dentelle Noir (Lingerie)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Spy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader has a surprise for Spy during a romantic night in a hotel

Tags: Lingerie, oral, hotels

Word Count: 1.6k

The Masterlist

It wasn’t often that you and Spy were able to be alone together. The few chances you did have were spent with quickies, always so fast and messy, with no time for any real intimacy. With how busy the base could be, there wasn’t really any time for the overly romantic gestures that Spy preferred,which you swooned for every time, no matter how cliché they might seem.

That was when the idea of booking a hotel room was brought up. The moment a few days of ceasefire were called, Spy took the opportunity to whisk you away to a quaint little hotel far from the base. A big room, reliable housekeeping, and no risk of interruptions. What more could you ask for? The whole situation had that intimate, erotic thrill that you had been aching for, and unbeknownst to Spy, you had a finishing touch to make it all perfect.

It was easy enough to get ready in the spacious bathroom. It was a simple ensemble, but still eye-catching. You admired the matching black bra and panty set in the mirror, complete with garter belts. You had agonized over that last particular aspect for a while, wondering if the garters would be too much. You eventually decided that the outfit simply wouldn’t be complete without them.

Floral lace adorned the garments, drawing the eye to your best assets without looking too gaudy. Still, you were a bit nervous. You had never worn anything like this before, so you weren’t sure what to expect. You hoped Spy would like it. You grabbed a long, silky robe provided by the hotel. It concealed the risqué outfit, allowing you to maintain the element of surprise. With a deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom, and into a setting straight out of a romance novel.

Spy had taken it upon himself to prepare everything while you were occupied. The lights were dimmed and the curtains were drawn shut. Scented candles on the nightstand and dresser provided most of the light. To top it all off, literal rose petals were scattered across the sheets of the bed and the carpet surrounding it.

‘ Where the hell did he even get those? ’ you wondered. It was a question that would have to wait to be answered later.

When you saw Spy, your breath caught in your throat. He wasn’t in anything particularly special, just a dress shirt and slacks. He sat in an armchair in the corner of the room skimming through a travel brochure, patiently waiting for you. In the flickering light of the candles though, he looked oh so alluring. He had even removed his mask, letting you get an eyeful of that often disheveled salt and pepper hair. You cleared your throat, and his eyes rose from the brochure. An inviting smile played on his face, drawing you even closer.

“Hello darling.” He rose from the chair and approached you. “I take it that the room is to your liking?”

“Spy, this is gorgeous,” you said, making no secret of how impressed you were, thoroughly entranced with the romantic atmosphere that he had created in such a short amount of time. You picked up a petal from the bed, feeling the soft texture between your fingertips. Sure enough, they were real. “God, how did you even manage this?”

Spy visibly sat up straighter with pride in a manner one could only describe as peacock-like. “I have my ways, mon amour.”

He walked up behind you while you were preoccupied with the petals, stroking your stomach over the smooth fabric of your robe, enticing you to turn around and face him. His devilish smirk perfectly foreshadowed all that you had planned for tonight. Without a second thought, you pressed your lips against his, finally kicking off a night of unbridled passion.

You were pushed backwards, and the back of your thighs were soon pressed against the edge of the bed. Spy gently wrapped his arms around you, lowering your body onto the mattress tenderly. You reached out to pull him down with you, holding him close and relishing the comforting warmth that was held between your bodies.

A hand slipped under your robe, but paused upon feeling the lace hidden underneath. Spy pulled away, cocking his head to the side curiously. You simply smirked up at him, encouraging him to explore further. You watched as he untied the sash holding the robe closed, revealing your little surprise for him.

Color blossomed in your cheeks as you watched Spy take in the sight. He made no secret of his blatant admiration for you. One thing was for sure, any insecurity that you had previously felt about the outfit had been banished from your mind.

“I’m guessing you like it?” You asked, trying to calm the flush in your cheeks.

“Oui, my love,” Spy whispered dreamily, running his hands over your garter clad thighs. “Mon dieu, you look absolutely gorgeous. Si belle.”

You smiled, ultimately failing to smother your blush. You shifted onto the center of the bed, leaning back on the plush pillows. You made for quite the tempting sight, and Spy followed you without hesitation. Soon he was leaning over you again, pressing heated kisses to your lips before trailing down your neck. His hands played with the waistband of your undergarments as he did so.

Eventually, he managed to feel his way around the garter belts, unhooking them and allowing him to slide the panties off. The garters were left around your thighs, squeezing around the supple flesh in a manner Spy found quite tantalizing. He continued to kiss his way down your body until he finally made his way between your legs, pleased to see that you were already very wet.

You let your head fall back on the pillows, a moan falling freely from your lips when Spy’s tongue made contact. He teased you for a while with long, languid strokes along your entrance, holding your hips steady in case you were tempted to buck against him. You clutched at the bedsheets with your fists when he changed his rhythm, flicking his tongue upward towards your clit and sending sparks of pleasure up your entire body. He was good at this, and if he kept it up, it wouldn’t be long before you finished.

“Oh fuck, Spy!” Your hand weaved through his hair, tugging slightly to convince him to stop. You didn’t want to come just yet. “Please, I need you inside me.”

Spy pulled back, looking up at you with a lust laden gaze, clearly more than eager to fulfill your demands . He sat back up on his knees, removing his pants and briefs. The garments were immediately tossed to the side before Spy made his way back over to you.

Apparently, Spy had enough patience to tease you just a bit more. He slid himself along your entrance a few times, simply tantalizing you with his cock but not yet filling you like you wanted. You looked up at him desperately. If he wanted you to beg, you could beg.

“Spy, please,” you moaned, eyes half lidded and clouded with need. Small bruises were already beginning to emerge along your neck where Spy had laid claim to you earlier. All together, it was a view he simply couldn’t resist any longer.

“Bien sûr mon amour,” he whispered, voice low and dripping with desire. You gasped, arching off the mattress as you felt him finally thrust into you. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer, desperate for every last inch of him.

With a soft groan, Spy pulled out before thrusting back in again. He continued like that for a while, maintaining a pattern of long, slow, arcing thrusts that hit their mark deep every time. You practically went boneless beneath him, throwing your head back against the pillows once again as you moaned and sighed. However, you soon began to buck your hips up against Spy’s, conveying your desire for a quicker pace.

“Harder,” you cried, hands gripping Spy’s silky dress shirt tightly. You looked up at him pleadingly, and he responded with a quick nod. Taking hold of the headboard for leverage, he began to speed up, his hips meeting yours faster and rougher.

“I love this sight, mon ange,” Spy groaned, one of his hands starting to trail down your body. “So beautiful, and taking me so well, clad in lace like this.”

That wandering hand eventually traveled low enough to reach its destination. Spy rubbed his thumb over your clit as he thrust into you. Your back arched once again at the overwhelming addition of sensation. Coupled with a few hard thrusts to a particularly good spot, you were coming before you even knew what had hit you.

You found yourself clutching at anything you could get your hands on, eventually settling on Spy’s shirt once again. It was most likely thoroughly wrinkled at this point, not that either of you cared. Spy’s moans almost rivaled yours, making it obvious how good it felt to have you clenching around him. With a final hard thrust and a strangled gasp, he came as well, collapsing to your side with a sigh.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you whispered, snapping one of the garters against your legs absentmindedly.

Spy grinned, pulling you against his body once he had regained enough strength. Your head rested on his chest and his fingers brushed through your hair soothingly. “I would have done this a long time ago, if I knew I would get to see you looking so ravishing, chérie.”

Your only response to him was a sly, reassuring grin. You would most certainly be investing in some more intimate garments, and probably more hotel stays as well. Even as exhaustion began to register in your mind, your thoughts raced with all the different colors, patterns, and lace you wanted to model next. As you finally succumbed to the beckoning of sleep, the last thing you remembered was Spy, humming contently to himself and tracing his fingers along the intricate floral patterns of your lingerie.

[cryingabtab]

Save Me A Spark (Part 9)

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Over the next week, Cassie and Austin had found the time to hang out fairly often. It wasn’t the easiest feat with Austin’s filming schedule and Cassie’s rehearsals; but they made it work. In fact, a couple days after Austin brought Cassie to set, Cassie had taken it upon herself to schedule a date at the end of the week for them at her apartment. She didn’t tell Austin many details; just that he needed to dress nice, bring an overnight bag just in case, and nothing else. She was very specific about that. 

He stood in front of his bathroom sink as he finished brushing his teeth. He rinsed his mouth and wiped his face before looking at himself in the mirror. He smoothed out his black silk shirt and undid one more button at the top. He wiggled his eyebrows at himself and then made sure every hair on his head was in place, even though he knew that it would probably get messed up later. He straightened up and gave his reflection a quick once over before clicking his tongue and shooting finger guns at the mirror. 

He grabbed his overnight bag and slung it over his shoulder before quickly walking to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of red zinfandel that he’d picked up earlier that day. Cassie had told him it was her favorite earlier that week. Even though she had told him not to bring anything but himself and an overnight bag, he couldn’t possibly show up empty handed. Especially not with the news he had to break to her.

With his overnight bag and wine in hand, he stepped up to Cassie’s door. He brought his free hand to his mouth and did a quick breath check before nodding to himself and knocking at the door. As he waited for her to answer he heard soft music start to play from behind the door, as well as the clacking of her heels against the laminate floor. When the door finally opened, Austin’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Cassie’s silky black hair was curled to perfection, she wore a stunning off the shoulder black dress that hit just above her knees and laid on her body like it was made for her, and her legs looked so beautifully long with the black heels she was wearing. 

“Hey handsome.” Cassie hummed, moving to the side to allow him to walk inside. 

“Hey gorgeous,” he said, slightly breathless. He held up the bottle of wine he brought. “I got this for you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, “I told you not to bring anything but an overnight bag.”

“I know, I know,” Austin chuckled. “I couldn’t just show up empty handed.”

Cassie couldn’t help but giggle a little bit as she pressed a kiss to Austin’s cheek and took the bottle from him to examine it, “Oh my god. This is my favorite. You remembered?”

“Of course I did,” Austin said softly.

“Thank you so much, Aus.” She grinned, “Go put your bag in my room and we can eat.” Then she turned around to set the bottle in the kitchen. 

When Austin returned from putting his bag away, he finally noticed how the room looked. It was dim aside from the warm glow of flickering candles and delicate fairy lights. A small circular table sat by the balcony window, plates and silverware set, two long white candles in the center along with a small vase that held a single red rose in it. A bluetooth speaker was playing slow love songs.  A dopey smile spread across Austin’s face. The amount of effort that Cassie had clearly put into this warmed his heart and made him feel giddy. 

“Wow Cass,” he started as she walked in from the kitchen. “You really went all out.”

“Of course I did.” She shrugged nonchalantly, “Just wait until you try my food.” 

As they ate, they chatted. 

“So you really made everything here from scratch?” Austin questioned.

“Yeah,” Cassie said as she twirled some pasta on her fork.

“Even the pasta and bread?”

“Yup. I learned how to do it during the lockdown.” She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

Austin chuckled in disbelief, “I think we should cook together sometime. I like to pride myself on being a good cook, but it seems as though I could learn a bit from you.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun.” Cassie offered a small smile. “I have some good news.”

Austin raised an eyebrow, “Do tell.”

Cassie set down her fork swirled with pasta. “So about a month ago we sent out demos to a couple of record labels.”

Austin nodded to acknowledge her as she spoke.

“We got an email back from one of them. They want to set up a zoom meeting.” Cassie beamed, “Of course, I’m trying to not get my hopes up but I’m really excited.”

Austin broke out into a huge grin. “Babe oh my god! That’s amazing!”

Austin approached Cassie as she did the dishes. “You want some help with that?” 

Cassie let out a quiet giggle, “Yeah. You can dry.” She tossed him a dry kitchen towel.

Austin caught the towel and stood next to her, drying the clean dishes as she handed them to him. His nerves began to kick in. He needed to tell her something important. It seemed she felt his nervous energy. 

“You okay?” She questioned, setting a plate back down in the sink as she turned to look at him. 

Austin looked up at her with a hesitant sigh, “I have some news of my own.”

Cassie turned to face him fully, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms. “Do tell,” she spoke.

Austin pressed his lips together and let out a long sigh through his nose, “In a couple weeks, the day after your next gig actually, I have to fly out to LA to do some awards promo. I’ll be gone for a week.” 

“Well that’s okay,” Cassie said softly, “I’ll miss you, but I’ll be here when you get back.” 

“I just feel bad. We’ve been having such a good time together. I wish I could just do the promo here.” Austin mumbled.

“It’s your job, honey. Don’t feel bad” Cassie placed a hand on his bicep, “You’re still coming to my show though, right? It’s gonna be killer.”

Austin laughed softly as he nodded, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” That was when he noticed the song on the bluetooth speaker changing. He recognized it as All I Need to Hear by The 1975. He held out a hand to Cassie, “Dance with me?”

Cassie playfully rolled her eyes, taking his hand and allowing him to take the lead. Austin pulled her close and they began to sway to the music. His forehead was pressed to hers as he hummed softly to the melody. 

“Thank you, Cassie,” He whispered. 

“For what?” she whispered back, looking into his eyes and fighting a smile. 

“This,” he murmured. “This is probably the best date I’ve ever been on. I think I’m falling for you.”

Cassie finally let the smile win as her face burned red, “Aus?” 

He hummed in response. 

“Kiss me.” 

Austin smiled as he slowly and softly pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was different from the others they’d previously shared. This one was soft, tender, and most of all, filled with love. When they pulled away, Cassie shyly spoke up once more. 

“I think I’m falling for you too.”

[whumpitlikeyoumeanit]

Home from Azkaban

((Content warning: --))

((Promptspiration: @week-of-whump 2023: October 12: Neglect / "You look awful." ))

Whumpee: Lucius

Whumper: Azkaban

Caretaker: Narcissa

Whump type: Imprisonment -> Recovery

Fic type: Canon Compliant

((warning: this is kind of "I wouldn't normally post this in this state" quality, big First Draft energy, but I am trying to actually post things for Whump Week :B ))

((words: ~750))

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

When Lucius arrived home in the midst of the Azkaban prisoners, he was a shell of himself. Narcissa could hardly see the other Death Eaters for the scream of his sunken eyes and unkempt hair. She immediately took hold of his arm and led him upstairs, closing them in their rooms. She cared not one whit for the rest of them -- let Bellatrix have the entire manor, as far as she was concerned, and play the little hostess.

The elf had already prepared a bath, and Lucius mutely followed her there. He put up no resistance but only provided minimal assistance as she helped him undress. The prison uniform would be burned with great pleasure, when there was time for it.

Her anger grew as his body was exposed; no Auror, Wizengamot judge, or Ministry official would have been safe in the room with her when she saw what they had done to him. Her beautiful husband had wasted away, leaving him stretched and sunken. She could count his ribs; his spine jutted out sharply. There were small, raw sores on one side of his arm and leg that showed where he had not moved for long stretches of time.

But he was not as filthy as he should be, after a year. He had not grown a beard past the week's worth of stubble that would have come in between his arrest and completely perfunctory trial. She had no illusions that those imprisoned in Azkaban were given the opportunity or means to bathe and groom themselves -- no, the incarceration procedure must include some basic hygiene enchantments, the better for them to be thrown away and ignored, forgotten like human refuse.

Lucius Malfoy was not garbage.

She helped him into the water; he hissed quietly at the unaccustomed warmth, and then began to relax. She sat beside the bath and drew her wand to cast basic healing charms over him, erasing the blemishes from his skin, then moved on to attending his dirty, ragged fingernails.

When she looked up, he was staring at her -- but he was staring at her, not just staring. It seemed like he was seeing her for the first time. His grey eyes traveled slowly over her face, then he lifted his hand and tentatively touched her, leaving a line of warm water across her cheek with his thumb. She reached up and held his hand silently against her cheek.

In a moment, she squeezed his hand and stood up, stepping behind him to begin brushing out his hair.

It took time. His normally silky hair was dry and tangled, but she patiently worked out knots. Perhaps it would have been easier to cut it, perhaps he wouldn't even have cared right now, but she refused to entertain the idea. She would not allow this to change him, to steal his pride from him.

People thought that Lucius was soft, or weak, because he was genteel -- because he had manners, and refined sensibilities, and money. Yet, he had survived. A weak man would have died in a year spent under the Dementors, or lost his mind, and Lucius had held on. He had the strength to come back to her. He would come back.

He was moving of his own accord now; he washed his face and took a shuddering breath, and then he slowly went on to make sure he was clean.

When she was finished, the bath was getting cool. She gave his hair a final brush over and helped him out, and then into the clothes that had been laid out for him.

She moved them in front of the mirror to look at him, and moreover so that he could see himself, and see that he was himself. She could do nothing for the dark pits around his eyes and the lines of his face sharper than they had been, and she didn't know men's shaving enchantments so he would have to sort that himself in time, but even so, the change was night and day. Clean and tidy, with his neat suit and his hair falling just so as it should, he was suddenly Lucius Malfoy again, not the nameless Azkaban inmate who had been discarded in the darkness.

He did look at himself at first, taking it in, but his eyes fell ever back to her. In a few moments, he put his arm around her and lowered his face into her shoulder. "I nearly forgot you." His voice was raw and hoarse.

She ran her hand over his hair. "You were not forgotten."

[shadows-starlight]

Shadows and Starlight

Book 7: The Stuffed Duckling

-

Deep within his laboratory in his cavern lair, Malakar had gathered and assembled everything he needed for his latest project.

No, he was not concocting his latest vile of potions, he was making something special for little Aurora. Recently, Aurora had become interested in ducks after seeing a mother duck and her ducklings swimming in the pond during one of their forest walks. With the inspiration set in his mind, he decided that he was going to make a stuffed duckling for Aurora.

Malakar tied his silky, long, black hair back so it would not be in the way of his work and got started on making the stuffed animal.

The first thing he did was take yellow, orange, and pink fabric, and using a thin piece of black charcoal, he outlined the body, beak, and feet of the duckling. Then, he took a pair of scissors to cut out the parts. The body of the duckling was yellow like the morning sun, its beak was orange like a freshly bloomed tiger lily, and its feet were pink like a shimmering rose quartz gem. With a snap of his fingers, the parts that he cut out were duplicated.

Next, he took out a satchel and put it on the counter. What was in the bag you may ask? See, when Malakar was a little boy, he had once overheard a toy vendor in the village say that the best stuffed animals were stuffed with the fuzz from a pussy willow plant. Malakar was able to find an abundance of fuzz from a freshly bloomed pussy willow plant while on a morning walk.

After stitching the parts of the duckling together with golden yellow thread, he stuffed the body, beak, and feet with the pussy willow fuzz before doing the final stitchwork on the duckling to close it up. Then, he grabbed two brown buttons that had fallen off one of his older outfits. He was going to use those for the eyes.

He made sure to stitch on the buttons extra tight to prevent Aurora from stuffing them into her mouth and choking. He sewed them tight with matching brown thread. Then, he fastened the rest of the parts of the duckling together until it looked like a friendly little duckling. 

He squeezed it gently to ensure that it was huggable enough for Aurora.

Malakar took a step back and admired his handy work. The duck had a bright yellow body, orange beak, and pink feet. Its brown, buttoned eyes made it friendly, just as Malakar had hoped.

He put the stuffed duckling in a velvet-lined box and tied it with a long, silver, ribbon.

"Perfect," Malakar said to himself.

Once the duckling was finished, he took it upstairs and walked to Aurora's nursery. He wanted to give it to her right away because he knew that this was the time she would be waking up from her nap.

Quietly opening the door to the room, he found his beloved daughter wide awake in her cradle, cooing contently. At the sight of her father, her dark olive eyes lit up and she giggled happily.

"Hello there, my sweet Aurora," said Malakar, "I have a surprise for you."

He picked up Aurora from the cradle and put the box in front of her. Her eyes widened in curiosity as Malakar opened the box and revealed the beautiful stuffed duckling. At the sight of the toy, Aurora's face lit up and she squealed in delight, reaching her hands out eagerly.

"Do you like it darling?" asked Malakar.

However, his answer was clear Aurora did like it once he saw her hugging the stuffed duckling close to her chest.

Malakar's heart swelled with pride as he saw his little girl play with the duckling, not just made with stuff and fluff, but also, out of the love he had in his heart.

[idy-ll-ique]

baby names

pairing: loki x pregnant!f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none, it's very cute 😩

requested: nope

word count: ~1.6k

summary: y/n is pregnant and loki can't stay away from her

author's note: hiya peeps! a loki fic after such a long time, kinda got tired of writing bucky fics all the time,,,, (though next week there's gonna be a bucky x f!reader 👀) enjoy!

masterlist

---

"Loki."

"Don't call me that."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at her husband and he grumbled angrily, pulling her closer to him. "Sweetheart," Y/N began, "You should go." Loki whined childishly, burying his face in her shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere," he firmly mumbled Y/N sighed, running her hand through his silky soft hair. "6th time. Yet they always invite you. Why aren't you leaving the house?"

"Because you're pregnant! I'm not going anywhere until the baby is safely out of you and you both are well taken care of." Y/N smiled softly at his concern but pulled away from Loki. "Well I think you need some sun, you should go. And no is not an option. You know what? I'm calling Tony right now and telling him you are going with all of them." Before Loki could object, Y/N picked up her phone and called Tony.

Loki had been invited by Thor and the other male Avengers on a weekend trip to the beach, sponsored by Tony Stark. Everyone was going; Tony, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Clint, Scott, Sam, Bucky, Vision… they'd also invited Loki, since he had now permanently settled on Midgard with his lovely wife Y/N, but he'd initially refused because he didn't want to leave Y/N alone.

She was 8½ months pregnant. Though there was still a week or two of estimated time remaining for the birth, Loki didn't want to leave because what if the baby came early? Tony, Clint and Scott, who were also fathers, had assured him several times since Y/N's pregnancy announcement that the baby would be okay, Y/N would be okay but he still worried himself sick everyday.

"Do I absolutely have to go?" Loki groaned, lying flat on his back on the bed as Y/N sat back down after her chat with Tony. "Yes. I need some time alone— you need some time alone. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack one day by how much you worry over this baby of ours. A nice trip to the beach with clear skies and golden sand and the blue sea will do you much good."

Loki sulked. Y/N, getting a teasing smirk on her face, nudged his shoulder. "Hey, there are gonna be girls in skimpy bikinis on the beach, you know," she suggested and Loki made a face, pulling Y/N down to give her a deep kiss. "I love you," he glared at her, "I don't care about those scantily dressed women. Fine, if it makes you feel better, I'll go."

"Yay! Now I can call Wanda and Nat and Sharon and Pepper and Maria and Darcy over so we can have our own day out! It's gonna be awesome," Y/N squealed, already busy texting as Loki sputtered.

Is that why she wants me out of the house that bad?

He couldn't blame her, though, the pregnancy had taken a toll on both the parents. Y/N used to be in pain all the time, had severe nausea and couldn't go out with all her friends like she used to. Now that the symptoms had started wearing off, he really couldn't blame her for wanting to have a nice day out with friends. "Have fun, darling," he smiled, giving her another kiss.

---

"Yo, Lokes, you ready to go?" Clint called out cheerfully as Loki walked towards the group of men, a scowl on his face. Yes, at home he'd agreed to accompany them on the trip but now that the day was actually here… "Not really but I don't have a choice," he grumbled and Steve smiled amusedly. "Y/N kick you out?" Loki rolled his eyes. "Yes, how did you know? She wants to have a girl's day out with the other ladies."

"I overheard Wanda and Natasha talking. Anyway, come on, let's hit the road!"

All of them got into two cars: Steve, Sam, Bucky, Thor and Loki in one while Clint, Scott, Tony, Bruce and Vision got into the other. Sam was driving, Steve was in the passenger seat, Bucky was in the middle seat and Thor and Loki were in the extreme back. "So, how's Y/N doing?" Bucky asked Loki, leaning back on his seat.

"She's doing well, the nausea and pain has stopped," Loki answered, following Bucky's lead. "I'm glad to hear it. Have you decided on a name? Because I assure you, Bucky is a really good contender," he grinned cheekily and even Loki laughed, shaking his head. "We haven't thought of any names as of yet."

"Are you looking for a Midgardian name or an Asgardian one?" Sam piped up. Loki blinked. "You know, that is a really good question," he muttered. "How about a Midgardian first name and an Asgardian middle name?" Steve suggested. "Why not the other way around?" Thor frowned. "Well, yeah, that works too," Steve shrugged. "Hm, that's a good suggestion. I will talk to Y/N."

"So is Bucky on the table—"

"No."

"Aw, man."

---

"Hey girl, after a long time!" Natasha grinned, giving Y/N a familial hug. "Hi, gals! Yes, I even got Loki to leave, took a lot of begging but he finally agreed," she sighed. "Could've just given him head or something," Pepper muttered and Y/N burst out laughing as the other ladies gasped. "Pepper!" Sharon exclaimed, shocked.

"What? It usually works on Tony," Pepper defended herself as everyone joined Y/N in her laughter. "So, ready to shop?" All the ladies got into a 7-seater car, with Maria in the driver's seat. "Can't wait! This Avenging stuff doesn't give me time for self-care, I swear. Haven't shopped in ages!" Wanda sighed. All the women agreed with her, muttering their yesses.

"By the way, Y/N, I've wanted to ask you this for so long now, have you decided on baby names yet?" Darcy questioned with a grin. "Oh! No we haven't as of yet, I have lots of good names but I haven't talked to Loki…" Sharon looked up from her phone. "Do you have Asgardian names or like, normal, Earth names? I have a feeling that Loki would want Asgardian names," she suggested.

Y/N frowned in thought. Sharon was right; both the brothers, Loki and Thor, took great pride in their homeland. She didn't mind, to be honest, Asgardian names were wonderful. "I like Asgardian names too, though, I'm open to it," she chuckled.

"Great! So if it's a girl, Darcy—"

"Darcy!"

"What? I'm just saying…"

---

"Brother?" Loki startled out of his thoughts, turning to Thor. "Sorry, I was… thinking," he cleared his throat and Thor smiled, sitting next to him. Around 6 hours had passed since they'd arrived at the resort and Loki couldn't get Y/N out of his mind. What is she doing? Is she okay? Should I go check on her? What if the baby is coming? Surely she'd call me if that happens…

"About Y/N?" Loki went red and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah." Thor clapped him on the back once, guffawing good-naturedly. "Don't you fret, brother, the ladies she is with are extremely competent! She will be okay, and plus, the baby isn't going to be here for another week or so," Thor assured him but worry gnawed Loki. Nope, I can't do it. He abruptly stood up, startling Thor.

"I'm going home."

"Loki—"

Just a second later, Loki disappeared.

---

"Mm," Y/N moaned, a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, "Isn't it delicious? What do ya say… Rosie?" The baby kicked once. "No? Okay, well… Sarah? Petunia?" The baby kicked more. "Oh, you want masculine names, huh… Uh, Alex?" One kick. "I know, Chris!" Another kick. "Tom?" More kicks. "So you don't want Midgardian names? Well, I don't know very many Asgardian names…"

"I do."

Y/N shrieked loudly, dropping her tub of ice cream as she turned to see Loki standing near the bedroom door. "Loki?" She picked a book off the nightstand and threw it at him. He caught it easily, sitting down next to her while keeping the book where it was. She instantly cuddled into his side, tearing up. Sure, she was the one who was too eager to send him away but she was also the one who couldn't stay away from him.

"Aw, hey, I'm here, my love," Loki whispered comfortingly, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his arms. "Don't go again. I missed you," she sniffled and Loki pressed a soft kiss to her head. "That is also why I came home early, darling, I missed you too," he laughed and she snuggled even closer to him.

"Little baby Axelia missed you too— ow! No? So… what about Lucinda? Ow, ooh… Priscilla? No?" Loki watched with an infatuated smile as she tried out different names on the baby. "What if our baby wants a more masculine name, love?" he asked and she turned to him.

"Hm, have you got any names in mind?"

"Well, Barnes was suggesting we name our child Bucky—"

"Ow! Nope, they don't like it."

"Oh well. He's going to be disappointed but what the baby says goes," Loki teased and Y/N burst out laughing. She stopped all of a sudden, giving Loki a small smile. "Please don't go anywhere again," she whispered and Loki shook his head, gathering her in his arms. "I missed you just as much as you did me, Y/N, I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, min kjæreste."

"...That's Norwegian, isn't it?"

"Beautiful, though, isn't it?

"Yes, very."

---

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

[rumblelibrary]

I need a very loving Laszlo smut, either top or switch with him, take it any direction you want, any build up, any kinks. But I just... my soul needs this V I need to see this man happy and satisfied

Coming Back Home [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Wife!Reader]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, mild victorian dirty talk)

Author’s note: I am weak to see this man happy, my mind went a bit overboard, but I just couldn't hold it back, to see him happy and fulfilled in all his means, professional and private. Thank you so much for feeding my obsession and being my supporter @cazzyimagines <3

The cold air hit him as a welcome back in the moment he exited the carriage, he was back in New York after six months of study and hard work in Wien, he hated and loved it: he learned a lot and got the chance to talk with some of the best alienists in the field granting himself some valuable resources and upcoming publications, the city was amazing and romantic. But all day, every day, he was with his mind on the life he left here, on you and your baby boy waiting at home patiently, easing his pains with letters and little colourful sketches, reassuring him that he would come back to the same house he left.

It was late, he could see the light in baby’s room was off already and it pained him to be late for the goodnight story.

The driver dropped his belongings beside the door with a huff before taking his money with a big thank you.

Laszlo nodded, a sense of tension taking over him, what if something indeed changed? What if you hate him for leaving for his own interest? Will his son remember him? 

The silliest questions took over him and he just rang the bell before the spiral would take over and make him sleep in the garden out of his imaginary shame.

Stevie opened the door and his face lighted up instantly, Laszlo’s hand moved close to his own face with a finger up to signal him to keep quiet. The young lad nodded opening the door more, but a loud whine came out of his lips when he saw the heavy trucks beside Laszlo. 

“Stevie? Who is it?”

Your voice vibrated through the walls enveloping Laszlo like a distant memory and a fresh breath of air at the same time.

Stevie mumbled something “Nobody Madam, only some funny head playing with bells at night” he said as Laszlo nodded at him.

He left the coat at Stevie with his gloves and hat making his way to the bedroom upstairs trying to be as quiet as possible, your vanity the first thing that appeared to his sight, he shifted lightly so he could spot your figure reflected in the mirror without being seen.

You were already in your white night dress, hair down wrapped in a braid that rested on your shoulder, his own dark blue night gown draped over you making you appear even smaller, a book resting in your hand, the other hand toying with the fabric of his gown. A soft sigh left your lips and a little smile, you are liking the book. You turn the page with your features lighting up by interest, he felt almost guilty to interrupt you.

“Guten Abend, my love”

Your head shot up, eyes wide in surprise, a smile growing on your lips as he walked inside the room revealing his presence. A sense of nervousness still on him.

“Laszlo” you called rushing to him, discarding the book and throwing the covers onside,  closing the distance between the two of you by jumping out the bed like an excited child. Your hands wrapped quickly around his neck, you pulled him in, lips clashing against one another. He smiled in the kiss, eyes a bit teary as the happiness you were able to blossom into his chest since the first time he met you was still there. He cupped your cheek with his left hand, the kiss being long and followed by little short ones, and then again a long one.

“You should have told me” You whispered and he smiled at you noticing how you also got a bit of tears streaming down your cheeks, but all due to happiness. You picked his right hand kissing it lovingly, oh that ritual of yours, that mindless action you always did to kiss the part of him he despised the most.

“Welcome home, my love”

He smiled widely, so wide he felt his cheeks and jaw hurt, while he leaned his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes enjoying it. Your little telepathy thing, like he could pour his thoughts to you and vice versa.

In the meanwhile Stevie kept himself far from the two of you not wanting to interrupt or witness anything he shouldn’t. Laszlo pulled back from that position as he stared down at you, your eyes met again as you gulped down a little, his eyes travelling onto your neck as none of you seemed able to pick what words to let out first, too many informations gathered in six months that letters couldn’t covert.

His eyes raising up to yours, you moved first guiding his right hand still safe in your grasp inside that warm robe hiding your body, his fingers meeting with the obscenely thin fabric of your night dress, the shape of your breast clear under his touch, his thumb brushing over your nipple earning an immediate reaction from you. 

His breath itched, his tongue wetting his lips as you kept supporting his weak arm while his hand discovered once more what hidden treasure was the body of his wife.

His left hand undoing the silky bow around your neck that kept that useless piece of clothing closed, your breasts being exposed as he leaned his head down lacing his lips with you nipple and giving it a tempting suck, his tongue roaming over it as a sense of home and comfort surged into his stomach, then he spoke and his hot breath against your wet nipple made you shiver.

“Have you done the exercises that I gave you?”

“No”

His eyes shoot up at you, a mix between the need to scold you and desire in them.

“I could do it only with your letters” you added.

“Not touching yourself enough must have been painful, exasperating, you could have brought yourself to hysteria”

“I know, but I was waiting for this moment”

He smirked, the idea to be a vital part of your sexual expression turning him on immensely.

“Which letter was your favourite?”

“The one where you described your fingers inside me, I could imagine it so clearly while I was doing it to myself”

He almost let out a groan only by the sound of your words, the need to go knuckles deep inside you now almost impossible to hold back as the image of your distressed figure rolling onto the sheets trying to emulate that pleasure he only can give you clouded his mind.

His left hand almost angrily undoing the fabric belt the nightgown around your waist before moving behind your back to pull it off your shoulders, you gently let go of his right hand helping him in the task, your hands now tugging his jacket, his waistcoat, beginning already with his shirt buttons, you were so in need, but he was the same. He tugged his shirt off probably ripping off some buttons, the urgency you both felt filling the air.

His eyes trying to take in all your figure as you finally let go of that white dress.

“Oh, meine Frau, no statue or artwork or inspiration I have seen in this travel equals your beauty” he groaned as he felt like he almost forgot how he worshipped your body, how your only presence triggered obscene desires through him.

There was almost a moment of suspense before he leaned his warm body against yours, skin on skin again.

His erection already brushing over your lower stomach as you guided him onto the bed with you laying down for him. “Laszlo” you were about to beg him not to make you wait, not to tease you but his left hand fingers were already between you legs and a yelp of pleasure left you lips immediately.

“Soaked wet without me even touching you”

He was so pleased, you didn’t need to look at his face to know, but you whimpered when his long finger pushed inside you, he knew it, he knew exactly how to touch you, how to manipulate all of you. His lips laced to your neck, he sucked on it, bit it, hickeys soon will follow the passage of him. He is back.

To see your own neck pale and empty from his marks pained you everyday, but now he is at home and there won’t be a single centimetre of you spared. Another moan followed as his mouth found your nipples again, your legs trembling as a second finger joined the first one making you gasp for air. The ultimate pleasure approaching in you too quickly, abnormally quickly, but you missed him so much and six months without his care on you was a torment.

His prideful smile gave you the freedom not to restrain your pleasure, your hips jolting up and trembling, more wetness gathering on his fingers before he pulled them out knowing that it would make you feel empty.

He punished you with distance as he sat down on the bed, you crawled over him, legs still feeling like jelly as you forced yourself to straddle him. You didn’t need to rest, you wanted him to bring you to exhaustion and he knew it, he knew you won’t wait anymore. So you aligned him with your folds, his hard cock opening his way into you easily thanks to your recent orgasm, a loud growl leaving Laszlo’s lips.

“My wife, it appears to me that you’re back being a virgin after only six months away from me” 

You blushed because his words made you sensitive and proud in a very peculiar way, you moaned slowly beginning to ride him as he kept muffling how tight you’re pressing his forehead against your chest, his left arm wrapping around you. You voiced your pleasure freely, fingers tangling to the back of his head, now it was your turn to guide his pleasure, to set the rhythm, but the pace was slow and deep, the desire still feverish in you, but the closeness inspiring you tenderness. 

“How horrible to rest in the cold Wien without you, how empty to walk without your presence” he spoke directly to your chest, to your heart “every achievement was not an achievement if I couldn’t share it with you” he confessed, his hot breath against your breasts.

“You’re back now, next time we will come with you”

You smiled as his eyes shone looking up at you “my wife”

He loved to call you that, he always did, the pride in his voice when he asked you  to be his wife the first time came back to your memory. You didn’t need many nicknames, wife and husband, the holy duo, the balance, the symmetry.

“I love you, my husband”

You moaned against him, his fingers digging into your skin, his right hand settling over your hip.

You couldn’t guess how much it lasted, you impaled deliciously yourself over him, he loved to stare at you going on your own on top of him, love it, express fully your feminine power. His left hand teasing your clit sapiently mimicking your movements making it nauseatingly perfect, your mind clouded by pleasure. He cursed, he growled biting onto the side of your breast when filling you up and gaining another moan from you, he held you down as he kept rubbing your clit until he felt your walls clasp deliciously around him, he still didn’t want to move.

He loved to see you helpless, washed over by pleasure, legs jerking aimlessly and fingers pulling onto him and his hair.

You didn’t take time to recover from that second orgasm, his skilled fingers knowing their ways around you, you bowed your head joining your lips again, you still couldn’t believe it.

“I am such a lucky man to have you”

You smiled kissing his forehead “I am lucky with such a husband like you”

You stayed like this, hugging, the time to talk will come, the time to exchange gifts and come back to routine. But not now. After countless minutes you slowly shifted from that position, freeing his hard on from you but slowly moving beside his sitting figure staying on your all fours, the braid that held your hair almost completely loose.

“Come my husband, you only had one orgasm, I know you love even numbers”

The next morning the light from the window hit his eyes, he frowned stirring as he blinked tiredly. Your figure tangled to his in bed, the covers over the both of you. He kissed your forehead out of habit, the marks already forming on your neck made him proud, your regular breathing and gentle perfume mixed with the sweat of sex made his senses alive. You felt him move and woke up pretty easily, probably due to have slept alone for so long. You smiled at each other, no words yet needed, a soft kiss placed on each others lips.

The a soft sound, more like little sounds following one another, little feet rushing down the hallway.

“Mama” being whispered by a very shy boy, his clear brown hair peaking up from the doors.You smirked covering Laszlo completely with the duvets.

“My baby” you said sitting up holding the covers over your body.

“Mami!” He gasped surprised “what happened to your neck?”

“Oh, it is normal my baby, is it so late?”

He nodded and you smiled as he hopped on top of the messy bed, Laszlo smirked from underneath the covers, it seems like somebody took a habit of sneaking into the big bed.

You smiled as your boy resembled so much his father, he crawled to move to your lap and that’s when Laszlo sat up with a loud “Who’s in my bed?” holding his hand up like a claw.

The boy squared but soon threw himself against his father’s chest.

“Apa visszatért!!!” He shouted so loud at you like you didn’t notice Laszlo at all and you chuckled finding the two of them so adorable.

“I am going to get some breakfast done” you said willing to leave them their space. Laszlo nodded at you as you wrapped yourself into your dress and then the thick nightgown. You could hear them talk softly, Laszlo was all about speaking to him in his mother’s language but also in German, so your boy was always mixing the three. “Have you being a good master of the house while I was away?” “Yes Papa, I have been extra good and mommy was happy too, but it is not like when you’re here” Laszlo’s little chuckle won you over even by distance. You had to learn Hungarian through Laszlo, even if you were lucky enough to know German already. But how sweet it was to learn along with your boy.

“Little Andrea woke you up, mrs Kreizler?” The cook, a very nice and good hearted woman asked once you reached the kitchen still wrapped in your night clothes and redoing your braid.

“He did, but his father is back, I couldn’t detain him in any way” You assured as you instructed about the breakfast to make something special. When everything was ready and settled you saw the two of them coming downstairs together, Andrea holding his father’s weak hand into his, still babbling in German to him. The two of them still in their night clothes, you loved to be unruly with them, half of the world outside would be shocked to see a family have breakfast in their night clothes, but who cares. You sat all together as Laszlo begun narrating about his travel, Andrea almost forgetting to eat as he sat down staring at his dad with shiny eyes like he could disappear any time.

“Andrea, at least the juice” you said and he nodded vehemently in particular after you whispered something to his ear.

“Do you have secrets with me?” Laszlo inquired with a smirk, his messy hair a blessing in such bright day.

“Always had” you said with a smirk and he chuckled softly before standing up and leaving for a moment coming back with some boxes.

He handed his boy one and two to you, while Andrea was busy unwrapping the gift Laszlo moved behind your sitting figure “open the small one first”

You obeyed quietly as the box was clearly hinting it was jewellery, inside you found some white gold and blue sapphires earrings.

“Laszlo, you ..” He shushed you softly “come on, wear them for me, jewellery over night dress, a new fashion from Europe” He joked softly but you obliged his wishes putting them on, Andrea making happy cheering sounds as he found the model train of his dreams. The earrings dropped beautifully on you, framing the new Laszlo loved so much “I knew only a Venus like you could sport them” he said making you blush, he always spoke in a way that made you feel like courting never ended.

“What about this?” You asked about the second box and Laszlo smirked just gesturing you to go on. Inside there was a study for a portrait, your portrait, clearly inspired by the picture Laszlo had with himself of you.

“I met this young painter in Wien, a bit struggling with money but extremely talented as you can see, a craftsman that works with gold, I invited him to come here next month and work on your portrait, he fell in love with your figure already, I already know I will have to guard your safety.”

“What is his name?”

“Oh, he is not famous, Gustav Klimt”

“Well, we can make him famous then” you said and Laszlo just smiled more as you kissed his lips to thank him for the beautiful gifts, knowing Laszlo he probably had way more hidden in his trucks “I knew you’d say something this kind of sweet”

“Mama, you look beautiful” Andrea called you staring like he was waiting for you to say something and you smiled nodding “yes, now it is the perfect time”

“For what?” Laszlo asked as you took his hand guiding him to the living room.

“Please, take a sit now” you said slowly guiding him to his armchair, the comfort of the familiar place relaxed him, the fresh flowers in the vase, the books laid on the table.

“Andrea has a surprise for you” you said leaning to sit on the arm of the chair looking up a his confused face, but he was unable to let go of that smile creeping on his lips.

“Come inside darling” you called “we are ready”

You took Laszlo’s right hand guiding it on your lap, the curiosity already eating him alive as little Andrea came holding his little violin, still looking extra cute in that night dress that made him resemble some cute baby penguin. He puffed his chest blushing as you gave him a nod of encouragement, Laszlo’s eyes shining to see his son like this and the chemistry you two have.

“I have learned this piece to welcome you back home” he announced as his shaky voice betrayed a bit his nervousness.

He placed the violin carefully onto his shoulder resting his cheek on it, your hands holding Laszlo’s while tapping with you finger to keep the tempo for Andrea. The melody was simple, but quite impressive for such a young player, Laszlo was unable to look away from his son, from the way he relaxed while playing, for the way you clearly helped him to gain the confidence to do this little performance.

He looked up at you as you two shared that look of complicity.

Life was bright over Kreizler’s household. 

Tagged @cazzyimagines​ @lieutenantn​ @handmaiden-of-mischief​ @thesunflowersutra​ @zemomybeloved​​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @charistory​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @apparrio​ @hb8301​ @whatawildone​ @rhymerhymerhyme

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

[witch-hazels-musings]

Okay okay, I’m super excited and nervous bc i’ve never requested anything but: can I request some headcanons of Dainsleif, Scaramouche and Tartaglia falling in love with a god? I’m the anon from that ask 😅

archons of my heart

this might have been the most different set of short little stories i’ve ever written - each character responds so differently to this scenario! (note: based on what we know about these characters, I stuck true to their values* - it might not be what you were intending, and I keep things true to their character) <3 

Warning -> angst (Dain), fluff (Childe), genera/fluff?(Scara - mention of long hair)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Dainsleif, Scaramouche, Childe

Dain

Devastated, conflicted - these words have never resonated more in his mind than the day he found out about who you were, what you were 

What does he do … he dislikes, no hates the archons and yet … you were one of them - you’d always been one of them and the whole time you hid this fact from him knowing full well the feelings he had for them 

He couldn’t really hear as you desperately tried to explain to him why, he only heard the shattering of his heart as your face turned into something he no longer recognized 

He stood there, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides, eyes tracking your movement as you paced back and forth in front of him, your feet wearing down the grass with each passover. 

“I know you’ll never forgive them for what happened …” You begin, your voice somehow distorted now that he saw you for what you really were. He didn’t have words to respond, he felt out of his body. An observer rather than a participant, how he wished that were the case. 

You stepped closer to him, hands reaching for his arm - the arm that had been tainted for so long - and without noticing he recoiled from your outreach. It was the first time he had ever deliberately refused your touch and, although he understood the pain it caused you, it was clear from the reaction of your face, he couldn’t bear your hands on him. Not now, not when the whole world was crumbling down around him. 

You stood there, just the way you always did, incredible, perfect, beautiful and reverent in a way no-one ever looked before - he loved you, he thought he loved you 

You were so different than those gods that destroyed everything he ever knew, everything he ever cared for, fought for 

If only you hadn’t tried to save him then maybe he could have gone on living in the delusion of this relationship .. though, it was only a matter of time before he found out anyway - one day he’d notice how you never aged ... it was inevitable 

To love you, to love you so deeply and intensely; to love you after keeping his heart sealed up for so long, to love you with the passion that burns like the stars in the sky only to know this truth - he felt that light burn out in a painful flash 

An eye for an eye - he will maintain his beliefs  

“Dainsl…” 

“Do not …” His voice caught in his throat, it was the first time you’d heard him be taken over by his emotions, “ … do not speak my name.” 

“Please, I love you.” Your hands pressed against your chest, body bent forward as if to beg him, plead with him to reconsider. 

“I owe you nothing but the repayment of the life that you saved. I shall spare yours to conclude my debt.” For one final time he gazed upon your face, burning into memory the cheeks that he once touched, the eyes that held his breath, the lips that lingered against his skin and were capable of transforming into the most incredible smile. He looked, he lingered, he tried so hard to will the power in him that would whisk him as far from you as he could go but each time he tried he stalled, like a stubborn fool he hesitated. 

Your wet cheeks moved as you studied at him with a hopeful, supplicating smile, your head shook and your lips parted as if to call out to him and the power he lacked to leave you filled him suddenly. Like a flash of lightning in a storm he disappeared from your eyes. 

Citizens will often recall the days when it rained with an intensity of a woeful god, and can’t help but notice the mysterious man who would leave the room every time your name was mentioned. 

Scara

Cool -- cool, cool, cool - you’re a divine being - bet

It’s very likely that Scara will be excited about this revelation - he already thinks so highly of himself that knowing that he has captured the affection of a god only swells his pride more than it already did

He’s so smug when you tell him, when you spill to him what you are - he doesn't believe it either and will make you demonstrate that power to him and if you look back at him after your display, you’ll see him with a devious grin 

Be careful, he may manipulate you to act as an extension of his wishes -- and if he has any vengeance to enact on the people who harmed him, you’ll have to be very strong in your convictions (though, you can do whatever you’d like honestly, you a god) 

“Again.” Scara commands, his arms crossed over his chest, head tilted up so he can look at you from his perch on the rock and a smile stretched so far across his face you wonder how his lips don’t steam in pain. 

“I’ve already shown you multiple times. Do you still not believe me?” You huff, resting your hands on your hips, adamant that you won’t comply with his request. 

“Okay okay, I’m convinced.” He shrugs, hoping off of his stoop and walking toward you. “So how long have you been a god?” 

“I don’t know, it’s hard to keep track of the years … though I’d say around 500.” 

“Interesting. Can you make me a god?” 

“No, I don’t have that authority.” 

“Disappointing, but oh well.” He stopped just before you, he was shorter than you so you looked down at him, thankful that he removed his hat otherwise you’d have a hard time seeing his face. He reached for a strand of your long hair, his fingers twirling around it before sliding down the silky strands and repeating the process. “So, why did you decide to tell me this secret of yours?” 

“I …” Why did you tell him? You knew what kind of person he was, you knew the actions that would follow - his greed and selfishness would motivate him to use this information for his own advantage. “Against my better judgement, I told you because I love you.” You cover your face with your hand, embarrassed by the confession. It’s the first time you’ve ever fallen in love with a human before, Scara was your first and that notion electrified your skin. 

“You love me?” You didn’t need to see him to catch the cocky attitude spilling from him. 

“I do …” You replied with a sigh. 

“Who would have thought that?” “Listen, if you’re going to make fun of me then I’ll just …” Your voice was cut off by Scara pulling you toward him and pressing his lips against your own. Your knees nearly gave way at the contact and you reached to his arms to stabilize yourself. His lips are thin and the power he uses, the pressure of the kiss tells you what kind of man he is. 

“This is excellent news, don’t think I’ll let you get away from me now.”  He hummed, his lips dancing over your own as he spoke, his breath warming your skin. Was this really the best human that could have stolen your heart? Well, you were sure it wouldn’t be borning. 

Childe

He’s likely indifferent to your real status - to find out that you’re an archon or a god - he’s almost unsurprised by the news  

You wonder if he didn’t already know that you weren’t human, you wouldn’t put it past him to have done some digging on you and after being alive for so long it was bound to be suspicious that you knew things that many people didn’t anymore -- it was also suspicious that Zhongli seemed to recognize you pretty quickly, his eyes shining as if he saw an old friend  

“You could have just told me.” Childe emphasized, crossing his arms and leaning against the large pole behind him. 

“I know … but, well I wasn’t really planning on sticking around.” 

“Oh, so you’re one of those.” 

“Ah, no! That’s not what I meant.” For being of reverence, you always found yourself stumbling over your words when talking to Childe. “Ugh, I meant that I didn’t think that … well that I’d fall in love with a human.” You picked at your clothes and shook your head. 

“If there was ever a human for you to fall head over heels for, I am the best candidate for that.” You looked at him, laughing at the way he pointed his thumbs at his chest and grinned from his own joke. 

“I don’t know … maybe I made a mistake?” You express, rubbing your chin with your hands.

“Hey now!” 

“I’m joking of course … so, you really aren’t … upset?” 

“Why would I be upset?” He asked, eyes furrowing and head tilting to the side. 

“I don’t know … my timeline is different from yours for one.”

“So. That doesn’t matter to me.” 

“There will be a day when you’ll be old and I won’t have aged a day.” 

“Don’t care.” You huff and take a few steps away from him. He didn’t seem to grasp what it meant to be in love with a god. This was the reason you rarely took human companions, the guilt in your heart at watching them age and the pain of losing them was all a strain on your heart. 

“Childe …” You begin again but as you turn to face him you notice he’s moved from his place and is now standing in front of you. 

“I don’t care who you are, what you are, or what you’ve done.” He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, his breath of humanity filling your very soul. “I love you, and I don’t take that feeling lightly.” 

“I don’t want you to regret choosing a partner who cannot live a normal human life.” 

“If I wanted a normal life, I wouldn’t be where I am to begin with. What I want is you, and I’m pretty good at getting what I want.” He smirked and kissed each knuckle on your hand. How was it that a man could bring down a god so easily? 

“Now, the real question …” Childe’s tone shifted, his body extended to his full height which made you tilt your head to look at him. “Do you still have your divine powers or whatever?” 

“Like …?” 

“Like, can you summon lightning or manipulate the earth with a snap of your fingers?” 

“Haha, oh, I still have my abilities, yes. There were times I had to fight, so I’ve adapted them for those purposes.”

“Excellent.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you along after him. “Let’s fight, don't hold back.” 

“Childe! That’s dangerous.”

“Even better.” He gave you a quick wink before dragging you to a place where the two of you could engage in the battle of his dreams.

[ganseybois]

Peaky Blinders prompt: Tommy x Alfie where they are traveling but it begins to storm and the car breaks down. They take shelter in a barn where they make love in the hay loft. I love your blog btw ❤

hi there! thank you so much, here you go, I hope you like it :)

All things considered, it could have been much worse.

The storm outside had forced them to stop their journey, but luckily, they had found an abandoned barn where they would be able to take refuge for the evening. Alfie was in a piss poor mood because of it, not that Tommy blamed him, but he had learnt easy ways to calm Alfie's anger, whether directed at him or not.

"Fucking ridiculous is what it is..." Alfie grumbled, sitting down right on a pile of hay. He frowned, not looking particularly comfortable, but it was better than the cold ground. "Absolute shit, mate." The storm roared around them, but at least here, they were dry, and safe.

"It was this or die in a storm in a car crash, especially with your driving."

"Yeah, you can fuck right off."

Tommy grinned and slowly removed his jacket before lowering himself and straddling Alfie. While Alfie's annoyance was still visible, Tommy felt a surge of pride go through him as Alfie's expression softened and his large hands came up to land on the side of Tommy's hips. It was almost too easy.

"Perhaps that is the only thing we can do to wait this storm out." Tommy murmured, brushing their noses together. "Unless you would rather sulk by yourself. I can go take care of myself just fine."

"That may be, Tom, but I can assure you that you would not like it nearly as much." He lifted a hand to remove Tommy's cap, running his fingers through his silky hair. "Now, Tommy, this is not the first time we'd be fucking in a barn. Is this some secret fetish for you, mate? Do you wish I were a horse?"

Tommy rolled his eyes with such exaggeration that it made Alfie chuckle. "Don't be so vulgar." he chided him.

"Mate, it's a god damn jo-"

But Tommy didn't allow him to finish his sentence. He kissed him, enough to remove all bad jokes away from his mind, kissed him hard and long enough to remind Alfie what he was offering and that this was certainly not a time for jokes, but a time to enjoy each other. In their line of work, it was rare that they got these moments of pure joy and silence, rare that they got to take the time to simply be in each other's presence. Although the storm would delay them, Tommy was choosing to take it as a blessing in disguise.

They didn't undress completely--Alfie bringing his pants to his knees, Tommy removing his pants and vest but keeping his shirt on--and it took them a very long time to get Tommy ready. Between the awkward angle, the cold that was making its way through the barn, and the fact that they had no assistance nearby in terms of oils, Alfie wanted to make sure that Tommy was well prepared. Say what you wanted about Alfie Solomons, but he never wanted Tommy to be hurt. No matter how much he threatened him.

When Alfie was finally able to push in, Tommy let out a long breath. There was no pain, they had done enough, just pure pleasure as Tommy lowered himself and Alfie slid home. It was so easy now, to be together, so easy for them to align their bodies and move fluidly with one another. So easy now, for Tommy to accept the words of kindness and affection that Alfie whispered into his shoulder, his ear, his neck. Easy in return, for Alfie to accept the caresses and kisses that Tommy pressed against Alfie's scars.

Who would ever have thought that Tommy would be able to describe his relationship with Alfie as easy? Certainly not him. But easy it was.

When the pleasure overtook them and they found their release, Alfie held Tommy close to him, each of them feeling the flutter of the other's heart.

"Well," Alfie muttered. "We should get stranded more often."

Tommy laughed softly, kissing Alfie's soft lips tenderly. "I'll see what I can do about that."

"No more barns through mate, the hay is poking me in places I only like you to go poking around in."

"You know Alfie, your romantic talk leaves something to be desired."

Alfie shrugged, kissing Tommy's jaw. "I don't give a fuck mate, I know you love me anyway."

And on that front, Tommy could not argue.

[punkgrogg]

Doorway Duo pt.3

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 3,074

Notes: Sorry I took so long! I had to split this update into several parts because I ended up typing out over 6,000 words so another part will be posted in a couple days hopefully I can fix my laptop by then.

Date Posted: 9/4/2021

“Share the heat,” Hoseok complained, tugging the blanket from my cocooned form.

October ‘s days were chilly but as soon as the sun set, it was freezing. I was propped up on the couch, surrounded by pillows and a king sized blanket tucked around me. Mom sat on the recliner to my left, the reason behind my assortment of pillows, and Hoseok was shoving his way into the occupied seat on my right. Well, my legs were occupying it.

“There’s a while couch right there ass hat.” I whined as he lifted my legs and placed them on his lap. This wasn’t so bad- he was warm- but the sibling bond between us made sure to complain.

“I don’t want to sit next to dad, he’s way too excited over the game.” Hobi pulled out his phone and scrolled aimlessly.

“When’s Namjoon gonna be here? His team is kicking ass.`` Dad was lively when it came to soccer. It was cute though and I loved how animated he’d get with each goal. But the kicker is that he and Namjoon rooted for other teams. Hobi, Jin, and I all sided with dad on the sports front but Joonie picked a shitty team that’s been coming up in the last couple of years. Maybe the heart attack he nearly gave dad ten years ago was worth it- if the pride in my dad’s eyes were anything to go by.

Joonie was our wild card, he seemed to pick the most difficult path just because he liked the challenge. He’d always do the opposite of what we expected, whether it was the sudden law school decision or boycotting Christmas one year. But today was probably the most surprising.

Jungkook apparently wasn’t a sports fan until this season started, my dad’s enthusiasm rubbed off onto him and now it was funny to see him white-knuckling a sprite over a bad call. Taehyung was taking a nap upstairs and mom was idly reading some seedy romance novel if the blush on her face was anything to go by. Well it was probably the shirtless man emblazoned on the cover that truly gave it away.

Hobi sighed and tossed his phone over onto the side table, he closed his eyes and melodramatically threw his arm over his face as he rested against the back of the loveseat. I rolled my eyes, “what’s it now buttercup?”

He huffed at my nickname, “Jimin isn’t responding.” He dropped his arm to pout at me as if I could help the situation at all.

“You know he’s probably working right now?” I nudged his arm with one of my feet.

His pout turned into a full blown frown as he made puppy eyes at me. “Yeah but that doesn’t mean i can’t miss him.”

“OH, so you’re going to finally admit that you’re dating him?” The delighted smile that ripped it’s way across my face made the frown completely fall off of his.

“Oh shit.”

His shock made me full bellied laugh, “Mom! Hobi finally sa-”

“Shut up! You tricked me!” he hissed as he covered my mouth, I smiled evilly as I licked the back of his hand to deter him.

“The baby.” Jungkook snapped, ripping Hobi's hand off my face. How did he manage to get across the room so quickly? Beyond me. There was a cloudy sort of anger in his face, one where he knew he shouldn’t be angry but couldn’t help it.

“Kookie, I'm fine.” I reached up to hold his wrist as he let go of Hobi's hand. He looked down on me tersely, his eyes colder than usual.

“Hoseok, how many times do your mother and I have to say to be gentler with your sister? You two are honestly getting too old for this.” Dad scolded, his hand on Hobi’s shoulder. I could see him curling into himself and suddenly I felt small.

“Dad, I'm okay, Hoseok and I were just playing. You know he’d never hurt me or the baby.`` I let go of Jungkook's wrist and tried to sit myself up more. It was hard this late into the pregnancy.

“You need to be more careful too, you’re way too rowdy these days.” he chastised me and I could feel the anger at being talked down to. I’m not a child anymore.

“No, this is my baby and my body, I get to decide when it’s too rowdy. We weren’t wrestling or fighting and I could easily breathe. We were doing nothing wrong, why are you acting like this?” My tone was cold and I forced myself up into a standing position. Jungkook stepped away from the couch so i could have enough room.

“y/n baby, you know i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings-” i cut him off; i was fuming.

“Well you did. You basically said that either my big brother is going to hurt me or that I'm incapable of judging how much energy I can exert. We’re all adults in this room, why did you two have to intervene?” my glare turned to Jungkook, he hardened his gaze.

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“No more baby excuses,” I cut him off. “I know he’s fine, he’s twisting and kicking just as he’s always been.”

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“Stop Jungkook.” I held up a hand, the anger bubbling up to the surface. I needed to cool down before I lashed out. I could feel the heat coursing through my arms and filling my chest.

“No, Y/n he’s right I didn't notice it till you stood up but the baby’s hormones have gotten really strong all of a sudden.” Hoseok chimed in. still seated, he reached out and touched my stomach. Mom crossed the room and shoved her way through Jungkook and dad to kneel in front of my stomach, accessing my state.

“What? What does that mean?” I cradled my bump, the fear seeping into my words. He felt normal there, my doctor told me if anything were to feel wrong then to trust my instincts and immediately go to the hospital. But this was different, nothing felt wrong.

Taehyung thundered down the stairs, “Y/n? What’s going on down here? I can smell the stress from upstairs,” he took a backseat to the worry on my mind.

“Is something wrong with him? Nothing feels wrong.” I turned to Jungkook, the worry overpowering the shame of the argument we had just had. He was the first to notice so maybe he knew what was wrong.

“I was wrong, holy shit, we should make a doctor’s appointment.” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed, he jumped up and held me at arms length by the shoulders. He looked down to my stomach with a shocked expression.

“Honey, get the keys we’re going to the hospital.” mom barked out. I didn’t even notice her leaving the huddle but she was back at the recliner as she tugged on some tennis shoes.

“No! It's okay! The pheromones are showing that she’s okay too.” Jungkook finally spoke up, he threw an arm around me and pointed at the baby.

“She?” The confusion in my father’s voice was only a mirror to the rest of the room.

“Yeah, the pheromones got so strong because there’s two.” Hobi explained as he crossed the room and relieved mom of her purse. He placed a calming hand on her shoulders. Shoulders that seemed to be leveled with her ears with the abrupt stress.

“You mean twins? It's a bit late to find that out don’t you think?” she all but hissed at her third son. Mom was visibly anxious right now, something I had never seen before. She was usually so calm and cheerful around us.

“Mom, you’ve said it yourself, y/n is bigger than most pregnancies.”

“I mean yeah but we’ve gone to the doctor twenty times over the summer and I think he’d find another baby in there.” I chimed in, coming to mom’s other side. I think it helped with calming her down because her shoulders lowered a bit.

“I can smell both, I can smell her all of a sudden alongside him.” Taehyung wrapped his arms around me, his head burrowing into my shoulder. His grip on me was tighter than usual.

“But Tae that doesn’t make sense.” I turned in his grasp, facing the snow leopard hybrid, my disbelief written across my face.

“He’s had a very strong scent and a very strong heartbeat, maybe he just masked hers.” Jungkook stepped into my bubble once again. He was on the other side of Tae but seemed to block off any others from joining in the clique.

“But the ultrasounds only show one baby.” I reasoned out, my right hand reaching behind me to rest on my mother’s shoulder. Accepting there was a second was terrifying, I was barely holding myself together for the one pregnancy. Adding on another? Was I eating enough? Taking enough precautions? Maybe dad was right in intervening today.

“Back in the day they couldn’t find Seokjin’s penis and told us we’d be having a girl. It was a bit of a shock when he came out.” Dad. Of course, I've heard this story before, ultrasounds weren’t always perfect.

“What should i do?” I was scared and it was evident in the shake of my voice, Taehyung only hugged me harder.

“Hey guys, what's going on here?” Namjoon’s voice shattered the tension of the room. Seeing him and the dark haired male next to him gave me a chance to breathe.

Hoseok flitted across the room, his excitement at seeing our older brother evident in the wagging of his feather duster of a tail. “Joon, you're going to be an aunt and an uncle.”

“What?”

“Hobi that’s not how it works and you know it.” Mom chastised with a small shake of her head. Hoseok was a blessing to us all when tensions were high. “Who’s this?”

Namjoon seemed to freeze up a bit before throwing an arm around the guy hovering behind him a bit. Said man flushed lightly at the attention turning to him and in the soft light of the living room I could barely make out a pair of silky black ears atop his head. “This is Min Yoongi, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” I sputtered out, breaking the moment of silence that enveloped the living room. I could see dad from my peripheral making his way to the doorway with a smile.

“Yeah, problem?” Joonie’s eyes were narrowed at me but eased up at the grin I was sporting.

Pulling away from Taehyung a bit, I sneered at Hobi. “Hoseok- he told us about his boyfriend before you could. How does that feel?”

Hoseok groaned before stomping over to me to grind out: “Oh my god you're annoying and technically i said it first.”

“But you didn’t tell mom and dad.” I taunted, the faux misery on my brother’s face would fuel me for months. Taehyung sat on the loveseat behind him and tugged at the hem of my shirt for me to join him.

“They’ve met Jimin before though and according to you i’m not subtle.” Hobi argued, his hand on his hip. Jungkook followed Tae and I down to the seat and I was wedged between the two with my legs in Kook’s lap. He gently rubbed circles into my swollen ankles as Hobi and I glared at each other.

“Anyway, what's this about me being an aunt now?” Joonie interrupted the stare down with Yoongi by his side, our parents must have finally let them out of their interrogation.

“These three are suddenly claiming I'm pregnant with twins.” I explained with a flick of my wrist, the stress of the situation (that was only a few minutes ago) seemed as if it were twelve years in the past.

“Um, I can smell two scents too.” Yoongi’s soft spoken words brought back the fear.

“Holy shit, mom! What am I supposed to do? Should we go to the hospital?” I tried to push myself up into a sitting position but Taehyung held me gently to his chest.

“The babies are happy, I don't think they’re in danger. “He hummed softly into my ear. I could feel the sincerity behind his words. He rubbed a hand up my arm gently and started to purr. An attempt to ease my anxiety.

“Danger or not- we still need to confirm if there are actually twins. That’s a nightmare in itself. That’s double of everything I was sort of ready for. Wait, what if I give birth prematurely- don’t twins come early?” there was panic rising in my chest.

“Mom and Dad went to their room, they’re recovering from the unexpected news but Y/n it’s going to be okay. We’ll go to the doctor’s tomorrow, together,” Hoseok reminded me, he softly ruffled my hair as he leaned down to kiss the top of my forehead. Still I looked around the room for my mother. The one who holds all the answers to my pregnancy fears. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi, all stood above us three, all showing a different expression. Namjoon looked apprehensive, which was normal for him. Hoseok looked as if he were trying to tame a wild animal. Yoongi thought he looked stunned, his eyes blown wide.

“Hobi you’re banned from my ultrasound appointments. You almost broke the equipment.” I reminded him with a forced smile. I could still feel the panic but it was ebbing away. I wasn’t dying, I was safe. The babies were safe. Everything will be okay.

“That’s so rude, I apologized and everything.” he crossed his arms, generously taking the bait. Knowing that Joonie would laugh at his expense.

“We’ll go with you, we haven’t been able to go since Hoseok has been.” Taehyung declared, way too happy for me to decline, and I smiled softly at him. I was held up against his torso, his head just a few inches above my own. He leaned down and rubbed his forehead against my own.

“You’re going to scent mark my sister in front of me?” Namjoon sputtered indignantly, causing Tae to freeze all of a sudden.

“Namjoon, that’s not scent marking.” Hoseok laughed and shoved at his shoulder playfully.

“Actually, we feline hybrids scent mark like that instead of that mess you canine hybrids do. I scent marked Namjoon earlier in the same way.” Yoongi crossed his arms and seemed to glare down at Tae. I was a bit shocked to say the least.

Hoseok had explained it to me when we were younger, scent marking was a hybrid instinct, and it had two different connotations. There was a familial way and a romantic way to cover another person in their pheromones. Hoseok would hug us and hold our hands growing up to rub just enough of himself on us to comfort himself that we were his family. Especially when we were younger and playing with larger groups of children or when there was a big event. The familial way would only last a few hours and was more of a comforting thing for family and very close friends to help with bonding.

Hoseok had explained the more romantic way was to imbue another’s scent for a much longer time and it was done by stimulation to the scent glands which meant that they would lick each other’s scent glands. He had been tomato red explaining this to me when he had found another hybrid’s scent on me that was much stronger than his own. When I explained that I was just playing with a hybrid at recess and they hugged me he seemed to melt into the floor in embarrassment.

Taehyung was staring up at Namjoon with an indecipherable expression. The massage on my ankles had stopped at Namjoon's exclamation and my glance at Jungkook showed him to be in the same emotionless stare down but instead he was staring down Yoongi. He knew too, but why hadn’t he told me?

“She’s part of our pack, of course I would scent her.” Taehyung had no emotions in his words, the monotonous response seemed to aggravate my brother.

“Wait,” I held my hand up to the seething man before turning to his boyfriend. “I’m confused. Hobi said that licking my neck would be romantic scent marking and hugging was familial scent marking. Which would this be?”

My question caused all four hybrids to freeze up, Hobi’s face once again lighting up in embarrassment.

“Uh, he said that? Well, uh, that’s wrong.” Yoongi forced out, his face turning a light shade of pink.

“Hybrids themselves decide what the type of scent marking it is when they release the pheromones, and there’s a lot of different meanings that could exist. Typically a more familial scenting would be a hug- so that part is right- but also kissing the top of your head could work. Licking your scent glands isn’t a romantic way for scent marking, it’s more sexual.” Yoongi's face almost matched Hoseok’s at this point. “Romantically speaking there’s a lot of ways you can scent someone- like rubbing your necks against each other which is common amongst the canine hybrids. For us feline hybrids we rub our faces against the person, like he had done to you. The pheromones typically let us know, but he’s not releasing heavy enough pheromones for us other hybrids to notice, but rubbing his face against yours is claiming you as his in feline standards.”

“Oh,” I could feel the hybrid underneath me tense up as Yoongi's explanation came to an end. I glanced up at him to see him still staring down my brothers.

“I’m still a little confused but thank you Yoongi. Namjoon, Hoseok, I’ll take it from here, I don't need you hovering over us for this conversation. In fact, I think I'll take this conversation elsewhere, you three have fun watching the game. Joonie, dad recorded this and last week’s matches for you.” I worked my way into a standing position with Taehyung’s help and made my way to the stairs, both Taehyung and Jungkook glued to my sides.

“It was really nice meeting you Yoongi,” I smiled at him and waved my goodbyes as I made my way up. We made our way into my room, the two hovering in the doorway. Just like I had met them. I took a deep breath and settled onto the bed.

[tiffdawg]

Your Heart is My Home | A Javier Peña x Reader Oneshot

Gif: @javier-pena​

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 3.4k

Rated: E  | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, masturbation (f), use of a vibrator/sex toy, breathplay, dirty talk, aftercare. Rough sex with a soft, tired Javi. 18+ only.

A/N: Look, I don’t even like Valentine’s day, but I love all of you so here’s a little sweet treat. Everyone say thank you to the lovely anon who requested HCs for Javi (consensually) walking in on you. Safe to say, this one got away from me. 

Read on AO3 | My Masterlist

... . ...

Your Heart is My Home

It wasn’t his original plan, but as Javier left the embassy well past midnight — again — he steered right out of the employee parking lot toward your place instead of heading to his own empty apartment. He was dead on his feet but after the day he had, he realized that all he wanted to do was crawl into bed next to you. Just as he had practically every night since he met you. In the past he might’ve sought out a bottle or a brothel, but lately the warmth and comfort of your embrace was all he craved.

With the spare key to your apartment that hung next to his own, Javier opened your front door as quietly as possible, mindful of the old hinges that creaked past a certain point. He kept telling himself he’d fix that for you on his next day off from work, but those were few and far in between. With light footsteps he toed off his boots and nestled them next to yours on the shoe rack and his leather jacket found its usual hook just above yours. The more he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent the night at his own apartment. Like his things, Javier seemed to have a home there with you.

He didn’t even startle at that thought. It was just… true. 

Instead, the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissipate the more the notion settled within him. As he exhaled the stress of another bad day, the sweet, vanilla scent of home replaced it with something much more comforting.

Until a quiet buzzing noise drifted to his ears and disrupted the peace. “What the fuck is that?” he mumbled to himself, brows pinching in confusion. Socked feet padded across the old hardwood floors as he moved toward your bedroom. Only then did he notice the dim light seeping out from under the door. He pushed it open gently on the off chance you were asleep.

Javier’s eyes shot open when he realized you were wide awake.

With the silky sheets thrown back, you were a sight to behold in the flickering candlelight, sprawled out on the bed wearing nothing but lacy pink lingerie dotted with red hearts. Mind overcome by a lusty haze, he moved to the edge of the bed without thinking and gazed down at your angelic form. His mouth went dry when he noticed your panties pushed to the side as you fucked yourself with a vibrator. It was small and discreet and got the job done when you needed it. He’d seen it before but swore you wouldn’t need it as long as he was around.

“You’re finally home,” you said, acknowledging his presence. 

“You should be asleep.” He’d aimed for chastising, but his amusement was evident in his tone.

“I tried to wait for you,” you cooed, staring up at him with glossy, half-lidded eyes. “I’ve hardly seen you all week and I needed you.”

“My poor baby,” he consoled, squeezing your thigh with a firm hand. “Was this pussy aching for me?” With pouty lips you nodded. He smirked when he realized you were still pumping the vibrator into you. In that moment, you were a desperate, unashamed little thing and he was the luckiest man alive. “Is that little toy satisfying you, cariño?”

You whined as you shook your head against the pillow, but he was already unbuckling his belt, the leather strap snapping as he pulled it out of the loops. “You need something bigger?”

“Yes, Javi,” you simpered.

“You need my big dick to stretch out that tight little cunt?” he teased, suddenly feeling much more awake and inclined to play with you than he was when he’d first walked through the front door. You moaned as your back arched off the bed. He stripped off his pants, leaving him in just a half-buttoned up pink shirt. He knelt on the bed in between your parted thighs and leaned over you, wrapping a hand around your neck. His fingers pressed against your pulse points in warning. “Answer me.”

“Oh, fuck yes!” you wailed. Your own hand circled his wrist, holding him in place. He squeezed and felt your ragged breath against his palm. His other hand slipped between your bodies to steal the toy from you. Without so much as a glance, he increased the speed as he expertly pumped it into you and rubbed that sweet spot he loved so much. The one that brought tears to your eyes and made a mess of the bedsheets.

Needing to taste you, he trailed hot, wet kisses across your flushed skin, slightly salty and shimmering, until he reached your breasts. Your tits looked so pretty covered in pink lace with the darker skin of your nipples just visible, teasing him. Mouthing you through the flimsy material, he sucked and bit at each one until both pebbled beneath the fabric. He reveled in the way your body responded to him. Only him.

As he took one nipple between his teeth and fucked you with the vibrator even faster, you cried out. “Right there, don’t stop!”

That was his cue to remove the vibrator from your core.

You groaned in frustration but he grinned when he saw your cum already dripping out of your fluttering hole. At least in the time he’d been there, you hadn’t even orgasmed yet. But his filthy girl was close for him. “What the hell?” you gasped. Your pleading eyes searched his for an answer he gave readily.

“You’re only allowed to cum on my cock tonight, cariño.”

You beamed at him, and his chest filled with a familiar mix of pride and admiration. “Then give it to me, Javi.” 

With a devilish smirk, he turned the speed up again before he wrapped your hand around the toy and placed the rounded head right on your clit. You hummed pleasantly at the vibrations. “Hold that right there for me. Can you do that?” You nodded eagerly. “Good girl,” Javier praised with a slap to the inside of your thigh and he parted your legs further.

Settling between your thighs, he gathered up your slick and stroked his hard cock to its full length, nearly there just from watching you. Grasping his base, he entered you in one slow push. He usually had to spend more time working you open, but you’d made sure you were wet and ready for him that night. He stilled when he was fully seated inside you and tried to steady his breathing. He could feel the vibrations from your toy and the new sensation threatened to overwhelm him.

“Oh, god,” you panted. Your hand slipped beneath his open collar and your nails dug into his shoulder and you held on for dear life. Javier hadn’t even started moving inside you yet. “It’s too much. I’m gonna cum.”

“Already?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you laughed even as you squeezed your eyes shut. “I feel so full. Fuck– I’m right there.”

“I can tell.” His voice strained as he struggled to hold on to his composure. The feel of your pussy pulsing around him as you neared your orgasm was nearly enough to send him over the edge. “Hold on, baby. Let me take care of you”

Without warning, he pulled out and snapped his hips against yours. Again. And again. You made breathy little moans and yelps that matched his every forward thrust that spurred him on. It wouldn’t take either of you long before you fell apart for the other. 

Javier glanced up at the sound of a sharp rapt on your shared wall. He cursed to himself when he realized it was your damn neighbors again. He was well aware of how they felt about him.

Annoyed, he changed his angle so every time his hips snapped against yours, the metal headboard hit the wall. You covered your mouth as you let out an uncharacteristically girlish giggle. But you grinned for him when you said, “fuck me harder, mi corazón.”

He covered your body with his, caging you in, and pounded into you. You cried out, a mix of his name, every curse you knew, and a string of desperate oh gods tied together with mewls of pleasure. It drove him fucking wild. Suddenly the only word you seemed to know was yes, yes, yes and he felt you clench down around him, felt you soaking his cock as you neared your peak.

You came hard and loud, reduced to a writhing mess beneath him and he smiled as he fucked you through it all. Javier was never far behind you. He pulled out at the last minute, groaning as he painted you with him cum. Coating your soft stomach and pretty tits with hot, sticky white ropes.

He was a sweaty mess, shirt sticking to his skin, hair damp on his forehead. He could hardly keep his eyes open. Could barely hold himself upright. But he knew you. He knew you didn’t want to wake up in a few hours like this. He’d promised — promised you and himself — that he’d always take care of you. So, he drug himself out of bed.

“Cariño, stay with me.” Your eyes blinked open and he helped you up and into the bathroom on shaky legs. He switched on the shower, testing the temperature of the water with an open palm before turning his attention to you.

“This is new.” Javier observed as he flicked open the hook holding your pink bra in place. He guided the straps down your arms and grimaced when he saw the mess he made on the pretty fabric. He tossed it aside with your panties to wash later.

“I brought it just for you, mi corazón. I wanted tonight to be special.” Confused, he tried to catch your eye, but you were half asleep on your feet. “And it was,” you said as you pressed a kiss to his cheek and ran your fingers through his damp hair. “It’s always special with you.”

With a quick peck on his lips, you hopped into the shower. After switching the sheets, Javier threw his shirt into the basket as well to worry about in the morning. He figured he’d start the laundry as soon as he woke up and have it in the dryer before he left for work. It’d make your life a little easier. 

He joined you in the shower, carefully washing both of your bodies with your sudsy lavender soap. Washing away the aftermath of your evening. Washing away the stress of his day. He was sated and relaxed and... as he looked at the dreamy smile on your face, he was happy. So fucking happy it felt unreal. He’d never expected to come home and find you like that, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Somehow, you were always just what he needed.

After toweling you off and earning a lilting laugh from you, Javier offered you the red satin nightgown that hung off a knob on your dresser drawer. The thought crossed his mind that if he’d left work at a decent hour, he would’ve come home to you wearing the slip of fabric for him. Like a perfect present to unwrap after a long day. Pushing down his frustration at himself, he led you back to bed with your hand in his, wanting to hold you through the night with the time he did have to give you. He blew out the candles you'd lit before slipping between the fresh sheets and pulling you toward him.

“There’s something I want to ask you.” You looked awake and alert now, eyes boring into his. He shifted so the two of you laid side by side facing each other. “What do you think about moving in here?” You let the question settle between you before you continued, ready to state your case. “You spend most nights here already and I­– I think we could make a home together.”

“I like that idea.” He twined your hands before kissing the tops of your knuckles, smiling against your skin. “Not sure your neighbors will.”

The two of you touched foreheads as you laughed until your shared mirth turned into a collective sigh. He felt the same relief you exhaled. Logically, living together made sense. But there was also something inside his chest, something well beyond logic, that had wanted that all along. Throwing an arm across his middle, you snuggled closer, seeking his warmth like you always did.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javi,” you murmured into his neck just as you drifted off.

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head at himself. He’d completely overlooked the date, but you weren’t angry with him. That wasn’t how your relationship worked. He doubted you cared about the holiday any more than he did. And you always understood that his life revolved around his job. You accepted that. Accepted him. He’d never understand how he got so lucky.

“I love you,” he whispered against your temple, testing out those three little words he’d felt for so long for the first time.

“I know,” you sighed. “I love you too. Now rest, mi corazón. You earned it.”

... . ...

Thank you for reading! 

... . ...

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[all-things-fic]

Stand and Deliver

A/N: This is probably the quickest I’ve ever written something in the longest time and was a nice interlude from the piece I’m preparing for this weekend. I picked one prompt of number 14 “I can’t say away from you”.

Massive love to Anne @oh-honey-styles for putting this one together. 

This is a little blurb of Harry on your doorstep, giving in and putting out.

~*~

He could still hear your voice. The way you’d offered him a nightcap in your London townhouse. Hopeful tone with an edge of something he couldn’t quite explain.

As he sat, car still idling outside on the deserted London street that held your home, he rubbed his hands harshly down his face and dropped his head back against the headrest behind him.

Did he want to come in? Of course, he fucking did.

You had to know that too. Surely.

From the pucker of his lips against your hand as he lifted it to his mouth while waiting for the light to turn green; to the way his hand hadn’t left your thigh through the entire evening of dinner and drinks.

He had become quite the master at cutting his food with only the edge of his fork. Casting glances your way as you engaged in conversation with others around the dining table. Willing you to turn your energy to him, to spoil him and only have eyes for him.

Cause his glances had been woven with unbridled lust, that he thought had gone unnoticed by you. Yet, your request just ten minutes prior told him otherwise.

But still he’d declined. Politely.

This breathy chuckle had left his throat around his words, because while his mouth was respectful the thoughts clouding his mind were anything but.

He remembered your blush, only visible to him thanks to his interior car light. The way you had brushed your hair behind your ear and barely muttered your soft, “oh.”

How had you gotten it so wrong?

His touch had been tactile. His eyes, unyielding.

The kiss the two of you had shared in the dark car park before he finally drove you away into the inky night - one that left your lips searing in one second and lifting innocently in the next - as you hit the next set of traffic lights and your thumbs brushed away the rouge staining you left upon him.

All the signs had been there in him wanting to. In you matching him and longing for it too.

Just two consensual adults.

With his head lolled to the side now, he eyed your front door. The downstairs light was still on, faintly giving him a blurred image of you moving around between your kitchen and your living room, letting him know you hadn’t made a move to go to bed just yet.

Keys snatched from the ignition, Harry let the drivers door fling open onto the street. A groan omitted from his throat as he dragged himself out of the car and slammed the door shut.

Dress shoes hit the pavement mockingly beneath his feet, because he had prided himself on being a man of his word.

Had.

The night was cold, blowing into his hands to warm them. Harry tugged on the lapels of his suit jacket to sort himself out.

The light in the hallway showed him to you from inside the warmth of your home. The rapt of his knuckles against your glass caused you to pause your hand before it could pour his nightcap offering.

Through the mottled glass he was nothing more than an abstract shape. An abstract shape that caused a nervous sensation in the pit of your stomach.

Bare feet met the black and white tiles of your hallway from your kitchen, shiver shooting through you from how cold they were. You tried to ignore the shake to your hand as it raised to the handle, lingering longer than you wanted to, not needing to second guess yourself but wanting him to wait that little bit longer.

His back faced you as you opened the door, his head turning to look at you from over his left shoulder as he heard the giving way of your door latch. These owlish eyes and innocent face were peering around the front door as you leaned against the wood and watched him lazily set his eyes on you.

“‘S cold in m’ car.”

And part of you knew you shouldn’t give in. But how could you resist the croak of his tone at the way the cold had gone straight to his chest.

Hand reaching out, palm facing up he almost tripped up your doorstep as he placed his larger hand in your much smaller one. Embarrassed grin slid onto his lips as he looked at you with sheepish eyes knowing his clumsiness hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The clink of his keys as they were thrown into the ceramic pot next to your door - like usual - had you releasing a familiarly contented sigh. His eyes caught yours in the mirror that sat above the hall side table, and you confidently held his gaze.

“‘M parked on a double yellow,” he let you know.

“Well then, better make it quick.”

He propelled himself forward, hands rushing as he fumbled to get you in a decent hold. His hand slid across your jaw and underneath your hair as he cupped at the back of your neck.

You clung to the lapels of his jacket, as your hooded eyes peered up at him. His mouth hovered over yours, green eyes speaking words and seeking approvals that his lips couldn’t bring themselves to utter.

The warmth of your breath mixed with his, as his chest felt tight when he leaned forward and brushed his lips over yours. One, two, three times he enticed, his tongue finding yours as you entwined your arms around the back of his neck to anchor yourself to him.

And as you pulled him down to you with a strong tug, the extra weight had the door beneath you pushing shut, the noise of the catch abrupt against both your ears as you remained fixated on each other.

The sound ignited an urgency between you both that had yet to be felt. His hands were back to grabbing, fingers digging as they slid down the back of your night robe.

Harry’s movements were rushed as he hoisted you up, legs wrapping around his narrow hips so easily. He pressed his pelvis against you as he leaned his chest back.

The gap allowed your hands to ruck up his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers before making quick work of the fastening at the front. The zip gave way to your movements, easily, as the sound caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

Your forehead fell against his jawline with a low gasp when you came to realise he was completely naked underneath the expensive outer garment that covered his lower half.

“Mm,” he hummed, nudging his nose at your temple when you found yourself bold enough to brush your hand from around the back of the trouser waistband to the front.

His moan was honeyed, his breath shaky as you didn’t waste time in teasing him. He was pulsing and hot, and had been since you mentioned the idea of him coming inside.

He sighed when your hands ran inside the fabric of his trousers, pushing them down and over his bum and enjoying the tight cut and the way they sat against his stronger and muscular thighs.

As the cold of the hallway enveloped his hard cock, Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

He was smooth, and firm. Hard enough, but likely to get harder if you played with him a bit and guided him and his leaking tip into you.

“Wha’ you gonna do wi’me?” He soothed, his voice rumbling in his chest. “‘S a funny nightcap this, darlin’. Eh?”

His hand tilted your head back, brushing hair off your forehead and frowning at the soft bump of your head against the wooden door.

“Careful.”

It was whispered and held weight. Too much for a quick fumble as he stood proud between the two of you, wet and ready.

Your chest heaved as you pushed your hips into his and the movement created a space between your hips and the door. Not enough that it didn’t mean you wouldn’t be causing it to rattle and shake some time soon, but enough so it allowed him the opportunity to slide his hands to cup your buttocks.

Harry’s eyes dropped now, as he looked between the both of you and felt the way he glided against your glistening wet warmth. You moaned in unison with him as his tip bumped your clit.

“Take me,” he urged, wantonly. “Put me in.”

His lulls of encouragement had you sliding a hand between your bodies, both sets of eyes watching as your hand gently guided him to your entrance.

Tip now brushing your wetness with purpose, he bit away his fulfilled and triumphant smile as he watched the quirk of your lips when you let your head fall back once more.

Snug.

Satisfied.

Sexy.

You held him in you as he felt you around him. Drawing him closer with a silkiness that he happily surrendered to.

His body shook as he held you, legs holding strong and arms determined to do so too. His chuckle was deep and tapered off into a pleasurable groan as he bottomed out and held you against the door with mainly his hips.

“Took me deep,” his voice choked in disbelief, breathing heavily as his mouth pressed to your cheek. The two of you were still as you enjoyed the sensation that you had created.

He swore this was the deepest you have ever taken him. His balls heavily pressed against you. And he smiled at the thought, but he dare not move, regardless of the press of the heels of your feet to his bare bum.

Yet when he did, he only gave your little nudges first. Grinds that don’t give you the desired audible sound of him shagging you. That was until he did. His rhythm building with each thrust until he snapped forward with enough drive that you were keening breathily at him to ‘do it again.’

And the doors began to rattle, the dull thud created by you both causing you to breathily laugh around the kiss you were sharing.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he admitted, mouthing at the corner of your lips and your smile.’“Don’t know why I’m trying to.”

“Stop trying,” you told him.