#and there’s so many patterns that repeat over and over
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palin-tropos · 2 years ago
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earlier tonight I had a little rant at @excalibutt about how disco elysium, if it’s a world made of information and not matter, that is running out of memory space, hence the pale�� that explains the reincarnation concept of mazovian yaoi lmao. the world is trying to create new material, and stave off the end, but it’s saving space by reusing/recycling some old information, so you get repeating patterns
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daily-xisuma · 6 months ago
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[047] Applied my version of Doom's partial invisibility fuzz effect and an accidental offshoot I created in the process, heehee :-)
#047#xisuma#xisumavoid#daily xisuma#hermitcraft#flashing#pretty sure...better safe than sorry#hey I have so many words about this actually!!!#if you wanna learn what the doom fuzz effect is/how it works I recommend decino's video on partial invisibility. somewhere past the halfway#mark he explains it!#it's basically like...for each pixel you either take the pixel on top of it darken it and use it; or you take the pixel below darken it and#use it. and the way you determine whether you do top or bottom is through a list of “top bottom bottom top bottom” that never changes and#you cycle through. so it's a sort of repeating pattern that you make look random by starting at different places in the list#second gif is created when you apply the effect over an image that has already had the effect applied to it. I coded it on accident and#scared myself HAHAHA#really neat though! first time I actually did image processing because I am a little silly but it went quite well once I figured out#how the frick bufferedimages work#I wanna make this work for non pixel art now mmm. will have to do some un-doomy modifications for that unfortunately. oh well? mmm.#already it's not perfectly in the spirit of doom because I math.random() my problems away when choosing the fuzz table start index for each#new image. if I cared enough I'd carry over the index that I ended on but alas. I do NOT care that much! (shockingly)#all it really changes is that every time you generate the fuzz it's different versus in doom spirit it would always be the same
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bigcats-birds-and-books · 8 months ago
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Garland Cowl by Galzanne Knits.
Made this delightful cowl for a friend's birthday using hand-painted pure mulberry silk by Araucanía Yarns (which appears to be a thing they no longer make?? We won't talk about how long I've had this stashed). The big worsted-weight lace was a lot of fun and worked up quickly once I got my gauge issues sorted out. I'd never worked with silk before! I'm a fan. Learned a new cast on for this, and I turned my bamboo knitting needles and fingers VERY blue, but I sort of like when my crafts stain my hands--it's bright evidence that I'm Out Here Making Things, y'know?
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yoojinluv · 1 year ago
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#kinda obsessed w isabelle adjani these days#it’s a plus that she’s been in so many rly good movies I’ve never seen before so I’ve been spoiled by good movies these days#my bf ex bf person is gone for the weekend for work#so I get the house to myself#I’m worried about repeating the same patterns over and over again and having the same regrets over and over again#it’s really quite hard to break habits huh.. especially those that are sort of emotional crutches ways to feel safe ways to forget#but that’s sort of how my whole life has been#just hiding as best I can being quiet as best I can doing the same things to feel safe and never liked#*like#growing expanding exploring being confident#for the most part I think it’s bc I’ve never rly wanted to be a part of the world at all#like it’s always felt like something I never would’ve signed up for had i had the chance to choose#but you never know#maybe I chose it and knew everything going in#as a spirit?#the only thing I know is that I’m still trying#and that everyone is capable of transforming themselves and starting from scratch and being happy#so I must be too but it’s routine that kills me#routine routine routine#anyways#this is all rly stream of consciousness#it’s Friday and the work day’s half done#I love women#I hope to become a better woman#I hope to treat myself well tonight#in that house by myself#I’ll see my niece this weekend and that’ll be nice 😊#and maybe I’ll do something out of my routine this weekend#idk what yet
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omegapheromone · 6 months ago
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Sometimes I think abt one of my fictional pixel guy crushes and have so many emotions. I see Calcharo from WuWa and I think about how I wanna just. I wanna gently comb and maybe braid his hair bc that shit has to be SO TANGLED from literally running around w thigh length hair down. Bro lives in the wild his favourite food is nutrition bars. I will need so much conditioning spray but damn it I would do it. Something abt him awakens my omega instincts to show affection through acts of care for his wellbeing and health. I will feed him vitamin supplements and make him drink water and then I will clean and bandage any wounds and then also detangle and care for his hair.
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astronomalyy · 5 months ago
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Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.
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They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.
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And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.
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Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.
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A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.
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Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.
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Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.
Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.
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grimmweepers · 3 months ago
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𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: OCT 17TH
— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: zhongli x fem!reader | 𝐜𝐰: established relationship but reader finds out his true identity! morax!form, draconic!form mention, human!reader, sex with a god, hair pulling, creampie, nipple play, rough sex, reader wears a nightgown, he calls you 'small in his hands', reader is implied to serve rex lapis, maybe ooc, 2.8k wc 18+ only, MDNI.
𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
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This was completely different from the first time you shared beds with him.
Back then, Zhongli had been soft and gentle, undressing you with such tender care until nothing remained but bare skin and bones. You remembered his warm amber eyes, his featherlight touches, and how he gave so much of himself to you that it left you dizzy and breathless. 
But this was something else entirely. 
It wasn’t that long ago when, to you, he was just a consultant at the Funeral Parlour—a Liyue nobleman who was well-versed in Teyvat’s history. He had been courting you since the last Lantern Rite (perhaps longer if you had paid attention) and you were more than content with the consultant, admiring him just as he was.
Then, after retiring his gnosis—and you still struggled to fully grasp what that meant—he finally confessed.
Overnight, he went from a funeral consultant to Rex Lapis and no matter how many times he explained that he was technically no longer an Archon, it didn’t change the fact that he was still an immortal who had witnessed Liyue from infancy.
And you slept with him!
The memory sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t deny the thrill of realising how the Lord of Rock had practically begged for you to get on top that night. That same feeling returned now as you prepared to sleep with him again. 
You basically asked for it, though. 
When he revealed his identity to you, you had some questions. The first was if he had a real form, to which he replied: I have many.
Then the second question—or rather, request—was to see one of these forms. He was happy to oblige, but you hadn’t expected him to be so… forward.
I’m not being forward, he defended himself, My skin is part of my form. It just so happens that I have to adjust my attire for you to see it properly. 
But he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Zhongli—” His name now felt strange on your lips as you stared, spellbound by his new appearance. You were so captivated that anything could have rolled off your tongue and you wouldn’t have noticed… or cared.
He truly embodied every depiction of Rex Lapis you’ve ever seen.
“Is something the matter?” He asked as if his arms weren’t adorned in glowing geo patterns, as if his physique wasn’t carefully carved by millennia as a leader. He stood over you while you sat on the edge of your bed and you gulped at the vitality in his features. 
He looked larger—more youthful, even.
“What do I—” You hesitated, wondering if your question was foolish. “What do I call you?” 
He cupped your jaw the way he always did, though now with bare hands darkened by power that you could barely comprehend. “You can choose whichever name you like,” he replied. “It doesn’t change who I am to you.” 
Your mouth went dry. It was frightening how much more irresistible he seemed like this.
“Morax,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.
His brows lifted slightly, but he stayed silent.
“Morax,” you repeated, louder this time. You knew calling him ‘Rex Lapis’ would have been more respectful, more appropriate, but after seeing him in this divine form, with barely a towel wrapped around his waist, you knew that respect had already been thrown out the window. You would ask to be forgiven but what difference would it make if the god you pleaded to stood right before you in compromised garment?
“Interesting choice,” he chuckled as he pressed his thumb to your lips, “Now, lie still and let me enjoy what belongs to me.”
Those words sank in like branding on your skin—what belongs to me.
He was slow with you at first, hovering over you as you lay back. The silk of your nightgown clung to every curve of your body which left little to the imagination and Zhongli was so engrossed with his view, that the lust in his eyes made something inside you stir. You had to look away, your arms instinctively moving to shield your flushed expression.
After all, it wasn’t every day that you found yourself at the mercy of a man so many prayed to.
Gently, he pulled your arm away, “Why do you turn from me, my love?” He tilted his head, studying you like prey, but the tenderness in his voice reminded you that the ghost of your sweet Zhongli was still there, lingering beneath this form. 
“Are you regretting your curiosity?”
“I guess… seeing you this way makes me a little… shy,” you said, though you didn’t believe your own answer.
Before you could say more, his mouth was on yours, fierce and reassuring. It took the air right out of your lungs. You barely had time to recover before he started trailing softer kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. 
“Shy?” he repeated against your skin, “After all we’ve done, you’re still shy?” He slid his hand up your sides, tangling his fingers between the fine silk. “You may be skilled at keeping secrets but not from me. Tell me the truth, my sweet.” 
You opened your mouth to respond but you couldn’t stop your back from arching at his touch, which was very much an invitation for him to tear off the delicate fabric from your body. When he did, it left your chest exposed to his hungry gaze, earning him a small gasp and a deep ache pooling between your legs. 
“You’re so small in my hands,” he mused, fingers tightening around your throat for a brief moment. "And yet… you offer yourself so willingly."
You had offered yourself to a god.
You had offered yourself to a god.
“Do you understand what you’re doing?”
A shudder tore through you as he took both breasts into his hands and sunk his teeth between them, leaving you little marks made from canines you had never seen before. When you suddenly felt his hard bulge pressing against your core, you realised the towel around his waist had already been discarded. How could you even respond to him?
“This excites you, doesn’t it?” He murmured into the crook of your neck, grinding against you. He didn’t give you a chance to speak when he pried your legs open with one knee. “Have I ever told you how intoxicating you smell when you’re like this?” 
Harder than before, he bit into your neck and you found your fingers tugging on his hair.
“You can… smell me—?”
“I can sense you,” he corrected, “And I know exactly what you want from me." You could certainly tell he was pleased with himself yet instead of pushing you away, it only drew you in further.
With a single motion, you hooked your finger around the pin holding his ponytail in place, and pulled—freeing his hair so it cascaded down over his toned muscles.
He looked perfect. Divine. It was your way of confirming what he already knew—that you wanted this, wanted him.
Zhongli’s eyes glowed in the dim light and there was no mistaking the godly aura of Morax residing in him. The air seemed heavier under the weight of his presence. You were suffocating.
A deep growl elicited from his chest as he pushed the tip of his cock against your underwear, teasing your entrance. You whimpered at the way he bullied you, desperately pulling him in for another feverish kiss to satisfy at least one need.
This one was hungrier, messier. His groan vibrated through your mouth as his carbon-black hand slid back to your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air. 
Each twist and flick of his tongue felt like a silent demand: Give in. Yield.
In this state, a picture cleared. Zhongli's hands were everywhere—tangled in your hair, between the valley of your breasts, dipping into the areas you ached the most. This side of him was primal, gluttonous, and possessive. Every touch felt forbidden—blasphemous, even. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say you weren’t enjoying every sinful second of it.
Finally, Zhongli parted from the kiss, his breath heavy as his eyes stayed locked with yours. For once, he allowed himself to make you completely at his will. 
The head of his cock pressed harder against your entrance, the flimsy barrier of your silk underwear doing little to dull the intensity of his lust. He was desperate to feel the warmth inside you. You were already soaked, and he knew it—he could feel it, smell it, and it drove him wild.
“My dear,” he said, sound impatient now, “you know I admire you, right?”
“I do,” you replied too quickly.
“Good. Because I don’t want you to be mistaken.”
“What do you mea—”
Before you could finish, he pulled your underwear to the side and let his cock glide against your folds. Your hips moved with him, coating his shaft with your wetness, and that was enough for him to forget about taking it slow. Groaning, he shoved his blunt tip inside you and it left your thighs trembling. Your body felt like it was on fire, jerking back as his length stretched you out, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly, “Oh my—” you gasped.
Had it been that long since you last did this, or was this form accompanied by godly… benefits?
With his head thrown back in sheer pleasure, he let out a throaty grunt, almost salivating at the way your walls pulsed around him—like your body had been made just for him. Somehow, sex felt even better in this form and it had him feral enough to hold the sides of your hips, fingers digging into your flesh to anchor himself between your legs. “That’s it,” he growled, “Take every inch.” 
He started thrusting—hard—the sound of skin meeting skin echoed off the walls. Your breasts bounced in rhythm, and he was so entranced by the sight he could cum on the spot. Every second, he was ripping moan after moan out of you as he fucked you into the mattress. 
“Morax,” you called out, your voice shaking while he pumped in and out of you relentlessly, “So… good. I want more…” You ran your hands across his chest, feeling the quickening of his breath. His face shifted into a predatory look and you realised that he was losing himself as much as you.
“Then come here,” he groaned through gritted teeth, spoken exactly like someone who had never been defiled.
He didn’t wait for you to respond. Instead, he flipped you to your stomach, left your ass in the air and your legs hanging off the bed—your toes barely even touching the floor.
You braced yourself for his unyielding pace, but he surprised you with a tender kiss on your shoulder, “Tell me if it’s too much.”
The unexpected affection made your heart swell so you wiggled against his crotch, inviting him for more. He chuckled, almost pityingly, knowing full well what he was about to do next.
You couldn’t even catch your breath before he pushed back inside you, hissing as he indulged in your warmth. You swore you were well-behaved but somehow this felt like a punishment. He, who was so deceptively gentle a moment ago, found your hair and tugged it into his fist, drawing a sharp yelp from your lips.
Once he started moving at the same unforgivable pace, each thrust forced his name out of your mouth. “M-Morax— Mor–ax,” you were barely coherent and it riled him up the more you said it. It surely wasn’t the first time hearing someone call him that but in this context, he wasn’t going to make it his last—especially if it was you.
"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice resonant, like the rumbling of the earth itself. 
“Y-Yes…”
Although, you weren’t sure what you expected when you asked to see his form but you knew what you were receiving now was the primal strength of something foreign to you.
His heavy cock stretched you so deliciously, filling you so completely that every nerve in your body screamed with pleasure. You clawed at the sheets as you creamed rings around his base and the wooden bedframe groaned with each erratic thrust.
His movements were undeniably getting sloppier and his breaths came in short, guttural huffs. “Feel- how- deep I am inside- you?” he rasped, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. “You’re taking it so well.” You couldn’t see it but you heard a grin dancing behind his voice as he pushed deeper.
Your feet were lifting off the ground with each thrust, leaving your ass stinging from the relentless pounding. When you felt his free hand snake around to cup your breast, fingers squeezing your sensitive nipple, you practically melted. “Thank you… Ple—,” you whined, the only words you could really manage.
But that was enough for him.
Zhongli’s grip on your hair tightened as he pulled, forcing your head back while his other hand dug into the soft flesh of your breast. The pain mixed with pleasure sent your vision into a blur of white. It shouldn’t feel this good but you could feel your orgasm coming despite being nothing but a ragdoll in his powerful hands. 
His body trembled as he chased his release, each thrust growing more urgent as he drove into your G-spot. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body until finally, your climax hit like a tidal wave. Letting go of your hair, you collapsed against the mattress. It was too much so it left you biting into the sheets, a cry ripping from your throat as your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with each spasm. “I-I’m—ahhh—cumming!”
“Just like that,” he groaned while your body tightened, savouring the way your body responded to every thrust. He was unable to think about anything else aside from the feeling of your muscle clenching and pulsating, “So tight—keep going. You’re perfect like this.”
With one final snap of his hips, you felt him pulse between your walls, his balls tightening as he emptied deep inside you. Thick ropes of hot milky cum filled you, his cock twitching as he buried himself to the hilt. Your name rolled off his lips in a low, drawn-out grunt that was raw and animalistic, a sound that made you delirious enough to go another round just to hear it again. 
Even after he finished, he stayed pressed against you, fucking his cum back into you with lazy, satisfied strokes, filling you over and over until there was nothing left to give. 
“I’m… full,” you whispered shakily, still feeling every inch of him inside you.
“Are you alright, my dear?”
Yes and no. If getting tossed around meant you were fine, then sure.
"I'm okay," you breathed.
"Good girl."
When he finally pulled out, you went completely limp, rolling onto your back while a thin layer of sweat left your skin glowing.
You could feel Zhongli doing the same, his body mirroring yours as you both lay there, chests heaving, struggling to catch your breaths. After a moment, you turned to face him, both of you blinking at each other under the light.
“This… wasn’t what I meant when I said show me one of your forms,” you managed to say. 
“Are you complaining?” 
You let out a soft sigh as you stared up at the ceiling. Even after all this, he hadn’t lost his sarcastic sense of humor. “No,” you admitted, feeling warmth creep into your cheeks. “It’s just that… well, I think I might’ve enjoyed you—the real you—a little more than I expected. A little more than what’s appropriate, perhaps.”
You couldn’t help but dance around the memory of all the offerings you’d given Rex Lapis throughout your life. Was this his gift in return?
“Oh? Pray tell, what is it that you enjoyed so much?”
You hesitated but the way he looked at you made it impossible not to answer. 
 “I liked… the way you moved…" you felt slightly embarrassed to continue but he nodded for you to go on, "You were rougher on me, but it made me want more…”
While you spoke, you noticed subtle changes in him. His pupils began narrowing into thin slits, and his golden irises seemed to glow with an ethereal light. The sharpness of his fangs became more pronounced, peeking between his lips. His fingers, which had been tracing circles on your arm, now felt a little sharper, almost claw-like.
“And… your strength,” you gulped as you watched his transformation. “It was… overwhelming. I couldn’t resist it but I didn't want to. I felt safe.”
A low, rumbling growl emanated from his chest, his hand sliding possessively to your waist. It made your stomach flip.
“If that’s the case,” his voice was deeper now, almost a purr as his newly revealed tail coiled around your thigh. He leaned closer, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. 
“Why are you trembling?”
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© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform
dividers: @/astrumaur
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venmondiese · 3 months ago
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DRAGON COINS
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masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3
-ˋˏsummary: Prince Aemond finds his way to the Street of Silk once again, and he finds certain... familiarity with one of the whores. Yet, that doesn't stop neither of you to let your desires take over. (based on this request)
✧pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Bastard!Female Reader.
✧word count: 4.1k
✧warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v sex, targcest, oral (m) receiving, brat taming, very slight almost unnoticeable implied aegond AND (not so subtle) that reader is aegon's bastard, aemond is a dilf.. hehe, they are both insane.
You were the prettiest woman at the brothel; most men always repeated that to you. And for a fact, you knew it very well. 
You loved dancing; always have. You used to imagine yourself as a royal princess at balls and court events, who wore the prettiest dresses and the most extravagant headpieces, full of veils, patterns, and many details of gold, purple. You imagined, as well, that you would have a nicer figure, full of food, and expensive things, like caviar, and have meat all day. 
Yet you were not a princess. You didn’t dress in purple, didn't have anything gold, you never attended a ball or court. You just looked the part; with bright violet eyes, silver hair and that Targaryen’s appearance that called the attention. 
Your mother told you that your father was a prince; she never said more. You always thought who it could be. Daemon? He was away at that time. Laenor? The rumours of his liking of men didn’t help. Aegon? He was barely of age by the time you were conceived.
If it was a lie, or a truth, you did not know; you only knew that everyone was enchanted by your appearance; your bright eyes, that your mother often compared them to one of a doe; your lips, always pink without the need of any makeup. You were a natural, born to shine among the common people. 
Inevitably, you ended up in a brothel. As a dancer, with exotic clothes from Lys, and some large feather fan for your dances, and you learned how to do your hairstyles the same way Lyseni girls did, since they were the best of the best. 
You were the best of the best. You made sure of it. You had something special, the looks, and the wits. Just not the money nor position for it.  
Most of the time, the Brothel opens at the ninth bell rang of the day, when the sun starts falling down, and people come home from their work, and just some time after men get paid for their daily works. 
It was the eighth toll of the bell when you were helping one of the new girls out. She had auburn hair, and almost as long as yours; and you were helping her do a crown of braids. You heard the consistent knock on the door, and you frowned for a bit, as you walked towards the door. 
It was a hooded figure, tall, and looking around as if he was followed. You frown a bit, watching his shoes; you could tell a lot from a man's shoes. This one wore boots, black and slightly muddy. He also smelt strong, like fire, somehow. Oddly enough, he didn’t speak when he moved his eye to watch you silently.
“We are not open.” you say to him, holding the door close, just so half of your body could be seen. “Wait for the next bell toll”
“Call your Madame” He says, abruptly, rude as men used to be; never lacking that audacity that their demands have.
“The brothel opens-”
“I heard you fine the first time” he repeats, as if he didn’t have the time “Call your Madame” he says, throwing a bag full of coins as if nothing, as if he wanted to buy your silence.
You frowned as you knelt to grab the bag, and from that angle you could see the small silver hairs that he intended to hide in that hood, and the eye patch, covering his left eye as the other one, with a deep purple tone watched you intently. You could see the small dragon patterns on his clothes, and how even his cloak had gold details, with little dragons.
It was prince Aemond. You have never seen him up close before, perhaps you had seen Vhagar around the skies from time to time. You heard that he takes his sons to fly often. Just as his grandsire, he had been left a widow with two sons. Not that he shared a love for his late wife, and he did not care to seek another bride.
Yet, prideful as you were, made a face and turned around, opening the door for him as you guided him towards the personal room of the Madame. Although, it seems as if he knew the place since quite some time. 
You watch intently at the prince, who the Madame compliments as older. You suppose he looks older, you didn’t quite remember how old prince Aemond truly is. You remember the celebrations for his five and twenty name day, but you couldn’t quite recall how many years ago that was.
“Should I fetch something, Madame?” You ask simply to Madame Sylvi, who sits in the middle of the bed, and yet prince Aemond doesn’t mind your presence as he starts undressing, taking his cloak off, followed by his eye patch. 
He has no shame, truly. You watch how he takes off that leather jerkin, embroidered with dragon details made of gold, as if gold didn’t have a better use than to be embroidered on a prince’s clothes that he probably uses once or twice before asking the tailor for other clothes. 
“No, do not worry. You tell Daisy that she is in charge tonight”
Interesting. You think, as the prince takes off his breeches, and you turn around to close the curtains, leaving your Madame to take care of the prince. And yet, you took an unshameful glimpse of his ass, smiling as you walked to finish the braids for your friend. 
And that routine continued for quite a while, you now noticed when prince Aemond arrived at the brothel, sometime before it opened, sometimes near the end of the night. Sometimes he came day after day, and others it was weeks apart. 
You danced the most on busy days, and you refused to dance when you did not want to. You were as spoiled as a little princess, which gained you some popularity among the workers and the clients. Some of them called you a ‘little princess’ and others a ‘spoiled cunt’, and yet you didn’t mind because you knew you could be both. 
It was probably one of your new dances, with a bold sound of the lute as you moved the expensive fan around, as if teasing the audience with more peeks of your body. This was a busy day, and so, a lot of men were gathered around watching whatever lewd display it was shown on the occasion. 
A jousting was held by the Royal Family, and so a lot of lords and knights came to the city, which means that the street of Silk was at its full capacity, and every man looking for a woman to fuck. And you also knew that most squires that wanted to be knights came here to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh before a joust. 
Yet, you don’t miss the one purple eye that watches you intently, still hiding before one of his expensive cloaks with dragon designs. He wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was, at all. Perhaps he could be several years older, yet you know better than him. He could read books, but you have to survive day to day. 
Your long hair was braided in a Valyrian-Lyseni way, as you wore some gold detailed hair rings as you asked for them especially for tonight. Men had an appetite for women with that Valyrian looks, and you were an especially fine one. 
With every turn of your hips, you saw the expectancy of his eye, in the back of the crowd yet in the middle and not missing a thing. Prince Aemond was an especially eager one, instead of screaming and cheering at the swift movement of your body, he just remained quiet.
He was observant, he was ambitious, and you were the best. 
You weren’t surprised when he made a signal for one of the girls serving the ale, and whispered something in her ear. And you weren’t surprised either when the same girl was waiting for you at the edge of the platform where you performed.
He wanted you. 
And gods damned you if you didn’t want him. Because even with the whispers and rumours about prince Aemond, he was still one of the most divine Targaryen on earth. He might be older than you, but that never stopped you, at all. And with a chance like this? 
“He is a very exclusive client” Madame Sylvi says, as if instructing you as she walks you through the brothel “Likes very exclusive things, all of them you will please. If he wants to talk, you hear. You will touch him if he asks you, and you’ll do anything he wants. He usually gives you orders; how to be, what to do, what to say. You’ll do that- He likes having things in control and preparing for it. And something else; he doesn’t kiss” She says slightly annoyed. “A rule of his. He doesn’t like it. Not then, not now” 
You walk, not at all bothered by that rule. You shrug, and take notes, but something in your gut tells you it will be different, somehow. 
“I have been told you wanted me, my prince” you say softly, as you enter the exclusive room that Aemond was in. 
He looked at you; a hum left his lips without entertaining more in the conversation. He looked at you, as if thinking for a while. His shirt was undone, and his boots were still on, as his pants were a bit messy. . 
“Wine?” You ask walking toward the small cabinet with cups and some of the best ale and wine. Particular rooms were for expensive clients, those who paid stags… sometimes you could get a bag with some coins with the face of King Jaehaerys.
“No” he says simply. 
You shrug, the small jewellery tinkling as you walk, serving the wine for you to drink. If he didn’t need one, that’s okay. But you needed a small sip for courage, for your hips to lose up a little bit. 
“Are you Lyseni?” Aemond asks, his cold and stoic tone not changing. Most of the time, you’d say yes, to please the men like him that knew that Lyseni girls were the best whores. But you think prince Aemond asks for other reasons.
“No”
“A bastard, then” 
You watch him through your eyelashes. Was he more interested in your services or your blood? You were sure that both could please him very much.
“Yes.”
He hums, as if the thought interests him very much. You are aware of the bulge on his pants, by the way his legs are apart and he is leaning back, very much interested in you. 
“Care for a dance, my prince?” You ask, taking in your hand the fans, walking closer to him. “I’ve been told I am the best. I don‘t think you deserve anything but” 
It’s the small nod he gives that encourages you to move your hips, with no music but the one in your head. Years and years of dancing, you know the thrill by now. 
Translucent fabric from Essos, gives nothing to imagination, and it serves to give a more lustful touch to your body. It pushes your breasts up in the right way, and you can see the one eye of the prince roaming in your figure.
As you leave the fans, walking closer to him, he then asks again.
“You are Waters, then. A bastard from my father?” 
“Nuh-uh” you murmur, your hands going to his breeches, undoing them. 
“My uncle” 
“No”  
“Hm” he hums, looking at how his pants are undone, and his cock is rock hard, resting against his low abdomen, as if demanding attention from you. 
There was something about Targaryens that was so divine. 
“My brother, then?” 
You smirk, raising your eyebrows as if the mere question amuses you.
“I think you might know…” you murmur, watching him closely. Maybe he was old to keep up with your games, and less eager than most men who you attended to; with no problems in engaging with your games. 
Prince Aemond was a mature man, who had real duties to attend, and more concerns rather than which whore will he fuck today. And that aroused you. How little he seems to care about you, playing hard to get. It made you eager, and you realised that you were falling for his games instead.
“That makes you...” he murmurs, watching your lips. 
Targaryen. Valyrian. Dragon bound. His niece. All of those words he could say. Yet he doesn’t say anything else, words lingering in the air.
You raise your eyebrows, and a slight smirk appears on your lips. 
“Mhm. I might just be, my prince” 
Your hand drew slow patterns on his cock, stroking it softly as you two engaged on this odd talk. 
“Or you might not be”
“Or I might not be”
He watched your eyes intently; purple meeting purple. This man was calculating, and you could see it in his face. 
“That’s the thrill of it, I’d say” 
“You have his face” he murmurs, his thumb moving to touch your lips faintly. 
“So I have been told.”
He agrees with your statement as his hands move to take off the translucent fabric of your dress. You had many men touching you… but never the way that Aemond Targaryen did. His hands felt warm on your skin, and his touch felt right.
Aemond was an experienced man, and you noticed. He doesn't waste time fooling around, as the Madame told you. You were off your clothes in no time, as he had you right in his lap, comfortably. 
“What do you want me to do, my prince?” You ask, softly. 
He seems to think of an answer before saying. “Do your very best. Surprise me, if you can”
His hands slide down to the swell of your hips, firm grip as he watches your face; almost amazed, and by how he pulls your body closer to his chest, he was aroused too. 
Your hands go towards his shoulders, as you use that to hold as you grind against his own cock. The fabric from his open pants tickled your thighs as you straddled his lap, and yet that was the last of your worries. You were so horny, unlike many times, you were dripping wet for this man. 
Lewd moans spilled from your lips, one of your hands moving to cup his face, feeling the heavy breathing that came from his mouth. He was an intense one, his single eye never left your gaze; and you weren’t one to lose a challenge. 
“I think you are a spoiled thing” His tone is breathy, as he squeezes the flesh on your hips to force your cunt to grind against his cock, greedy as a dragon. 
“Been told so” your voice is more agitated, and you lean forward as if to kiss him, just to push your luck, and he moves his head slightly back. You giggle, trying to suppress a moan at his growl. 
“You little...” he says, yet a smirk appears on his lips due to the provocation. 
“Hm?” You ask almost innocently. “Didn’t do anything…”
“Spoiled whore” he says, with his chin and lips moving closer to yours, and you nod. “Proud of that?”
“I don’t hide anything, my prince” 
Aemond’s hands move upwards to your waist, and it takes him no real effort to turn you over on the bed, positioning himself between your legs as your back hits the mattress, gasping in surprise at the sudden movement, as you move some of your hair out of your face.
“I wanted to suck your cock” you say, using your elbows to get some height as he moves his hands to pull down his pants.
“And I want to fuck you” he says as if he was the one in the right, and it was obvious he lived to dominate. 
“And I want to suck your cock” you repeat, stubbornly.
“I am the one paying” he reminds you. Not upset, but more amusedly annoyed at your brattiness. It amused him greatly, to see a thing like you defy him. 
“Yes. And you said for me to surprise you, so I think I get the right to decide”
He has a smirk, yet his eye showed how amazed (and annoyed) he was.
“Brat” he spits the word, as he moves your legs apart further. 
You feel his dick slide against your slit, yet he only does to tease you, and to arouse himself more. You moan, feeling as if you could cum just by him doing that. What was this man doing to you?
“You are unfair” 
“Want to suck my cock? Fine, you’ll suck my fucking cock” He says, taking you by the shoulder, moving you to sit back up, and pushing you over the edge to the bed. “Go on.” He says patronisingly. Manhandling you to every whim he might have. “Fucking slut, come on, suck my cock”
He didn’t have to tell you twice. You were all over his dick, sucking every part you can of it. Seeing him over you, his hair loose as he was hard as a rock, and his hand grabbed your silvery hair, taking it into his hand with wonder. He was into it.
Your purple eyes look up to him, your lips around his cock as your obscene sounds delight his arousal. He groans as he pulls your hair, forcing you to take more and more of him.
Your hand caresses his balls softly, as if trying to caress every part of him. He was truly divine, and you knew something; you two were of the very same blood. And Aemond knew that too. Not that it stopped you, truly.
“Enough” He commands, forcing you to be up. You were about to protest, you were barely beginning! “Stop whining, bratty princess” It is now that he pulls you towards his lap, in a hurry that could only be interpreted as desperation and hunger. 
Princess. Coming from a royal’s mouth. Coming from what you think is your own blood. The sound that leaves your mouth isn’t fake, as you used to do when other clients complimented you. That one, and all the rest, was real. Just for him. 
The feeling of his cock entering inside you was truly like no other, you felt just like a court maiden, touched for the very first time, your hands gripping on his shoulders as he grabbed you by your thighs, making you to go down onto his cock, and the feeling of your pussy engulfing him whole, greedily… drove Aemond mad. 
“Fuck” he mutter against your lips, almost groaning. “Fuck, just like... Fuck…” 
As if the smugness from your eyes went away, your big eyes scan his face, as if searching for anything. “Fuck me” 
“I am fucking you” Aemond murmurs, his tone tense. 
“P-Please” You beg, pathetically, needing the feeling of his dick pounding hard and with no mercy against you “Fuck me, please, f-fuck me”
Your plea serves him enough, he leans back on the pillows just a bit, making it easy for you to have a better hold of him, and rest on his chest, as he took your hips and forced you to take his cock, fucking you on it. It drove you mad. 
Your first try to grip his shoulders, as your loud and lewd sounds fill the room, but it seems useless, your hands slipping off his shoulders, as your cunt squeezes his cock. You were desperate, your forehead pressed against his chest as your mouth was open, as if you could not have any control over your body, a little thread of drool coming out of your mouth. 
“Fuck me, please, please”
“Greedy princess, hm?” Aemond sounds smug, as he spanks your ass hard. The slap sound resonates in the room, along with the wet sounds and more sounds of your skin against his. 
“Yes, I am such… a needy girl”
“Always have been” he murmurs, picking up a pace as his hips start to meet your thrusts. You realised then, that it was affecting him as bad as you. Perhaps the pleasure was blinding you, but his tone was tense, his grip stronger and he was more demanding of you. He was solving it; and that only fuelled the fire.
“Yes. Please…” You murmurs, and as bold as you are, you murmur “Uncle, please” 
That sends him over the edge of madness. His pace is relentlessly, and his mouth only lets out groans and guttural sounds, as he insists on pounding hard on you, his hands on your ass as he pulls your hips down, his cock filling you in the most exquisite way, as his balls hit your skin from the force of impact. 
He slaps you when you move your head to see him, eyes full of need and pleasure. He seems to get off on it; and you won’t deny him anything. You know it. And you do love when he takes his frustration out on you, it is even better than the composed version of himself, stoic, cold and uncaring that he presented first. The unhinged version is... So much better.
“You will cum in my cock” He orders you, his low tone is a proof of his desperation about it “You’ll be a good little princess...” He grabs your platinum hair to make your head go up, your face closer to his. “And you’ll cum on my cock.” He says against your lips. 
You kind of don’t care about the ‘rule’ he has, because as soon as you feel the hot breath of his hit your lips, you lean slightly to kiss him, even if the grip on your hair makes it painful. And to your surprise, he doesn’t pull away. 
There is lewdness as his cock opens your cunt, sloppy sounds and moans that spilled from your mouth over and over again. You had to squeeze your eyes shut due to the pleasure, focusing only on the feeling of him.
Your cunt felt on fire, you could only imagine how it felt around him, but you are getting so overwhelmed with pleasure that your right hand grip on his shoulder hard. You take the reins of your pleasure, moving your hips up and down, trying to get every grasp of pleasure. 
The position not only makes you shake with mind blowing pleasure, but also presents all of your tits on Aemond’s face, jumping in front of him as his dick hits the deepest part of you. 
“Fuck, princess” he mutters, another harsh spank on your ass that makes your moan loudly. 
He had the girth that you needed to feel full. He made you feel more than that, you felt alive. Truly alive. The head of his manhood hitting repeatedly all of the right parts, making you moan, his hand gripping on your ass as he also felt the same pleasure.
“I’m going to cum inside you, princess” he says. And that’s all it takes for you to cum on his cock.
You shake as your orgasm hits you, your thighs feel mire forced to be open, and your cunt craves to feel his cum flooding your insides, filling you with his seed. You craved it so bad; it had you moaning more and more.  
Aemond uses your body, still shaking and limper to fuck you, his cock full of your juices as he groans, throwing his head back as he mutters some words in high Valyrian, cumming hard in your welcoming pussy. 
“Iksā sepār hae zirȳla.  Hylagon hae zirȳla.  Aōha kepa se kesā sagon ñuha morghon.  JēDar hen iksā ñuhon” Aemond groans his grip firm as he makes sure not a drop of his cum gets out of your pussy. 
As you catch your breath, you feel a bit limp on Aemond’s chest. He was sweaty, so were you. And you were tired, feeling the bruises of his marks on your delicate skin. You feel his seed coming out of your cunt, and that makes you whimper. 
“You are beautiful” He murmurs, his thumb caressing your lower lip. You take it on your mouth, playfully, sucking it just a bit to tease him. Aemond hums, very pleased. “Just like your father” 
As he extends his arm, he takes the bad of coins, and takes some of them into his hand, showing the gold to you.
“Full of it, just for you.” Prince Aemond murmurs, his hand caressing your lower back. “But you have to be just mine” he warns, possessive just like a man from his position is. 
You sigh, taking one of the coins with your fingers and inspectionating it. A bag full of dragon coins. You could see the face of Jaehaerys I, and turning it around is the profile of a dragon. 
“No men. No flirting. No whoring around” he says, whispering in your ear. “Just mine. Could you do that, princess?”
If you could do that? You don’t mind whoring around, you didn’t hide being hedonistic. Be his? Not hard. But be a princess? Could you do that?
“Of course I will, my prince.” 
1K notes · View notes
letoasai · 1 year ago
Text
Will work for food
DP x DC An idea that's probably been done before but... here it is again.
~~
It was not an ideal setting for this. Out in the open, debris being their only cover. An unnatural storm closing in. The area had been evacuated but there was still no telling how many civilian eyes could be on them at this very moment. 
The League was scattered, making this current group a touch at odds while away from the majority of their normal teams. 
Batman stood with Red Robin, Flash, Superboy, and Raven. It wasn’t a bad lineup, but things were getting dicy. 
A monster had appeared, a creature foreign to most of them. With it came storms of all kinds, winds, hail, rain. It was a mess but there was nothing natural about it. The hail shattered the pavement. The winds were picking buildings up off their foundations. The blue lightning went without saying. The ice was changing the terrain. The temperature changes were disorienting to most of the heroes.  
Worse was the fact that this creature seemed to be able to duplicate itself, spreading the chaos out to a much wider area. They were having trouble even touching the thing let alone capturing it. 
“Are you sure about this?” Batman asked, a deep frown etched into his face as he watched Raven mark out a summoning circle. 
“It’s the only idea i have.” She said bluntly, shivering from the sudden chill. “That thing is not of this realm. We need something else not of this realm to subdue it.” 
“I hear what you’re saying but summoning a demon to deal with a demon still leaves us with a demon.” Flash said, seeing the flaw in this plan. 
“Unless you know this one personally or something.” Red Robin offered, his voice exhausted. 
“It’s not a demon.” Raven said, tone irritated but it wasn’t like any of them were having a good day. “Depending on how you want to look at it, it’s far worse than a demon. That thing came from the Infinite Realm.” 
Superboy just grunted once, watching her put the finishing touches on her spell circle. “You said that in a tone that said it was in capital letters. What’s the Infinite Realm?” 
“Bad news and something we shouldn’t freaking touch.” Raven answered swiftly. She stood, eyes going over her work. 
“Then what the hell are we doing?” Flash asked quickly, all of them tensed as the wind started to pick up again. If a hurricane was thrown at them, there was little they’d be able to do about it. 
“Raven.” Batman’s voice was serious. “You’re sure?” 
“It’s all i’ve got.” She repeated. “This is not a problem this realm was meant to handle on short notice. We need help.” 
There were several things in that one statement he didn’t like. “Who are you summoning?” 
Raven was looking rather pale herself. “The Ghost King. The King of the Infinite Realm. I’ve heard word that he can be bargained with so… we’re gonna give it a shot.” 
She didn’t wait for permission from anyone else to throw in their two cents on the matter. She threw her hands out, alien words no one else understood on her lips. The chant repeated and the summoning circle began to glow a green that the present Bats didn’t care for. 
It crept up the walls of the summoning circle in oddly pretty patterns before a gaping void opened on the ground. Silently, a figure rose into the circle from that same void. The king was smaller than they’d been imagining the last minute or two. He was human shaped and sized, a black crown floating several inches over his head. He was a wispy figure, face hidden by a large hood but there were strands of white hair floating around their shadowed face. He’d had nothing but a smoky looking tail when he’d first appeared but that had now split into solid looking legs. 
Given his size, he seems like a young adult, but it was hard to say for certain without seeing his face. 
“Woah.” Red Robin muttered, Superboy agreeing with the sentiment. 
“Heroes?” The Ghost King wondered, voice soft and lethargic. “Interesting.” 
Raven bowed her head in a show of respect. “Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt summons. We have a dire situation and are willing to make a deal for your help.” 
“A deal…” His voice echoed gently. He spoke as if raising his voice would shatter the very air around them. “That’s not something to choose lightly. What do you want from me?” 
Raven swallowed, her body rigid with nerves. She was almost relieved when Batman took over. 
“As i understand it, we have a being from your realm here in ours. We are underprepared to deal with such destruction and-” 
“Of my realm?” The King interrupted softly, head tipped a little as his attention turned to Batman. “Who?” 
Flash laughed nervously. “We’re not on a first name basis or anything but the guy seems to control the weather.” He pointed up and the sky above them was darkening the longer they spoke. 
The King made a noise like he’d clucked his tongue and it struck all of them as a very human kind of gesture despite his title. 
“I can handle that. Your deal?” 
Raven inhaled again, this obviously being the part she was dreading. “Blood, i have the blood of the Demon Lord Trigon-” 
“Pass.” 
That drew everyone up short. The others didn’t exactly understand the significance of Raven offering her blood but it clearly wasn’t something she’d expected to be declined so quickly. 
“My soul then….” Raven muttered. 
“Raven, no!” Superboy hissed. “The fuck!” 
Batman was also eyeing her unhappily. “Absolutely not. You are not Constantine.” 
Fortunately for the heroes, each of which was ready to revolt for such a barter, the Ghost King waved the thought away. 
“Nah.” He tugged on his hood a little and Batman realized he was likely brushing away one of those white strands of hair from his face. “That’s the thing about being the King of the Infinite Realm. Souls come to me one way or another in time. No need to preorder them.” 
Raven’s shoulders sagged, eyes shifting as she rapidly tried to think of something else she could offer. 
“What do you want?” Red Robin asked before anyone else could say something stupid. “You’re the one that’s going to fight this threat for us. What’s a good deal?” 
The King turned to him and stared. They could only assume he was contemplating his answer when he hummed quietly. “Food.” 
“Wha…” Flash muttered. 
The Ghost King just nodded. “Food from your realm. It’s been…a long time since i’ve eaten.” 
“Really? Like we could go grab you a burger and that would be cool?” Superboy asked, a touch suspicious, but the King just nodded.  
“Deal.” Raven said before anyone would make it worse. “A meal for returning this threat back to your realm.” 
The King nodded again, and each of them backed up several paces when the walls to the summoning circle broke apart and the King stepped out. For the briefest of moments he seemed to nearly stumble under the gravity of actually ‘walking’ but he got over it quickly enough. 
“Can we offer you any assistance?” Batman asked. 
The King shook his head. “No.” He wandered off towards the storm, the floating crown on top of his head seeming a little larger. He moved confidently and with purpose. “Oh Vortex…” He called, walking into the winds. 
He sounded young, but all of them agreed immediately that they never wanted to hear him beckoning them the same way. His tone was dangerous, and he walked right through a car that had been flung in his direction. 
“Cool.” Red Robin muttered. 
“Simmer down, Red.” Superboy muttered. All of them wanted to follow, but with the unstable weather and a literal Ghost King wandering about, staying out of the way felt like the best option. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t dying of curiosity. 
Flash moved to stand beside Raven, making sure she wasn’t about to topple over because of the power it must have taken to summon a king from another dimension. “You good?” 
“Yeah.” she breathed out a sigh. “Honestly, this was an unforeseen best case scenario. You should really go get that food for him.” 
Batman moved to her otherside, hearing the voices over comms noticing a shift in what was happening. “You think it will be over that fast?” 
“Yes.” 
“Well-” Flash looked up at the sky that was rapidly clearing. “Yep. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a blur but it was hard to believe a change was happening so quickly. 
“Has it even been a full minute?” Superboy asked. “I mean, damn…” 
“Someone better have been recording visuals.” Red Robin muttered. “We are absolutely missing something amazing.” 
“He’s the King of the infinite Realm.” Raven said. “It’s the realm that connects every other realm and it is as the name implies… infinite. He rules it. I don’t even think Trigon would dare mess with him.” 
Batman had his arms crossed, still listening to the amazed chatter over comms. “Should it be suspicious that all he wants is food?” 
“He made the deal.” Raven shrugged. “He could have asked for anything. Literally.” She stopped speaking when the hooded king returned. He was floating this time though only a foot or two off the ground. He didn’t look tired or dirty or anything. 
Just the same ethereal otherness he’d arrived with. “Done.” He announced. 
“What uh- happened to the guy?” Superboy asked, pointing vaguely at where the storm had been raging. 
The Ghost King just dug into his cape and pulled out…a thermos. “Souped him. He’s gonna have a little time out.” 
“Oh my god, i have so many questions.” Red Robin whispered. 
The thermos was put away and Batman was suppressing his own urge to ask a dozen questions over what just occurred. They’d been struggling with the Infinite creature for hours and countless lives had no doubt been altered. Clean up would take weeks if not months and this Ghost King handled it in minutes. 
“My food?” 
“On the way.” Raven said immediately. “Flash is one of the fastest men on the planet. He’ll be right back.” 
The King nodded and looked around before moving to a pile of bricks that had once been a fence. He sat down and waited, somehow looking regal among the wreckage. 
“So… I’m Red Robin.” Batman looked up again when his son was sliding closer to introduce himself. “Superboy, Raven, Batman.” He gestured and the King’s hood shifted as he followed Red Robin’s introduction of them. “Is there something we can call you or is your Majesty the most appropriate?” 
The Ghost King sat in silence for a moment before reaching up to lower his hood. The shadows that had hidden his face disappeared revealing a young man only a little older than Tim. Maybe around Jason’s age. His hair was indeed white, and was braided down the nape of his neck save for the tufts of hair that floated around his face. 
His skin was pale, and Batman thought it might have been gray or even blue in different light. His ears were pointed and his eyes were a haunting green. 
With the hood out of the way, the crown lowered to sit on his head. 
“Phantom.” He finally answered. “You can call me Phantom.” 
Raven bowed her head again and Red Robin beamed. “Thank you for helping us! We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”
Phantom nodded again but without his hood to shield him there was something shy about the action. 
The Flash reappeared in a cloud of dust, two bags of fast food in one hand and a collection of drinks under the other arm. “I got a little of everything!” He announced. “Got some burgers and some chicken nuggets and fries and onion rings. There’s one of those little apple pies in here somewhere too.
Phantom took the bags with a small smile and set them beside him so he could go through them. Superboy helped with the drinks, setting everything down so Phantom could have his pick. There were three different sodas, a lemonade, and a water. 
It wasn’t fancy and probably wasn’t a fair trade of a meal for his services but he didn’t seem disappointed. 
In a flash of rings made of light, Phantom transformed. The otherness of him was still there, but instead of a noble king of a realm, a young…very living human was in his place. Black hair instead of white was still braided down his neck and the strands around his face hung limp instead of floating. 
Those eerie green eyes were now blue but that– oddly enough– was not the most startling thing about his transformation. He wore a large hoodie and jeans but his feet were bare. 
His hands and feet were almost skeletal, and his face was gaunt and starved looking. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin was a sickly kind of pale. 
He looked emaciated, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face when he ate one fry and then another. He took a sip from every drink offered to him and then took a bite out of the burger. 
They couldn’t help but stand there and watch, all of them transfixed over what they were seeing. 
Phantom took two more bites before wrapping up the rest of his burger and placing it back in the bag. 
“Not to your liking?” Flash asked, voice small. 
Phantom licked his fingers and shook his head. “No, it was good. I’m just full. I’ll take it with me and eat it later when i’m hungry again.” 
Batman could only imagine the size of his stomach. Stopping now was probably the healthiest thing he could have done if he wanted to keep the food down. He cleared his throat. “Are you alright?” 
“Mhmm.” Phantom nodded, the rings of light appearing again. He was back in his healthier looking ghostly form. That was an oxymoron, wasn’t it? A healthy ghost form… 
“You’re still alive.” Raven whispered, stuck in her shock. “The living shouldn’t… The Infinite Realm isn’t…” 
Phantom’s lips tipped up in a smile. “You’re right, but wrong. I’m both. I’m dead. I’m alive. I’m balance.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t been in a living realm for a while… guess i’ve been neglecting that side of me. Thanks for the food, it was a good deal.” 
He was gathering up the bags he clearly planned to take with him. 
“You should come back.” Red Robin spat the words out, likely before giving them any real thought. “I’ll take you to lunch. I’ll take you like… all the time. I am not going to pretend to know what you have going on but… shit, Agent A would disown me if i did not offer to feed you.” 
Phantom looked cold briefly. “Agent… A…?” 
Red Robin winced, “Code name for my grandfather. He’s an amazing cook.” 
“Red Robin.” Batman scowled at him. 
“Oh, what? He’s gonna give you the look for you not being the one to offer.” Red Robin said unapologetically, but the explanation had Phantom softening again. “What do you say? Lunch? Do i have to summon you?” 
“Jesus, Red. Let him actually decline or accept.” Superboy was snickering. 
Phantom looked between them, the confusion on his face clearing up after a beat. A piece of paper appeared between his fingers. It had some kind of squiggle on it none of them could read at a glance. He handed it over to Red Robin. 
“Have that on you, say my name. I’ll find you.” Phantom said. “I should…eat again.” 
“We…appreciate you helping us.” Raven added quickly, determined that they make a good impression. 
Phantom’s look grew warmer again. “It was fun.” With his bags and drinks in his arms, he wandered back over to the summoning circle. “I don’t mind helping when the trouble is severe and you were right. This particular problem was mine to clean up. Sorry about him, by the way. Vortex is an asshole.” 
Superboy and Flash both snorted. “Thanks anyway.” 
Phantom nodded at them again, floating in the middle of the circle before his eyes glowed that bright, toxic green again. He slipped inside the void and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, the remains of the summoning circle erasing itself. 
“So… That happened.” Flash muttered, not sure how they were gonna put this in a report to the rest of the League members. Batman wasn’t so sure either. 
“I can’t believe you were just hitting on the Ghost King, Red.” Superboy laughed. “I mean… Lunches?”
“What?” 
Raven was on her phone. “I am already telling Nightwing.” 
“What!? Hey!” Red Robin was looking between them. “I wasn’t hitting on him. You leave Wing out of this!” 
“No way.” 
“You asked him on a date, man!” Superboy grinned. “All the titans are going to know about this in the next hour.” 
“You guys suck!” Red Robin growled, his face a flame. 
Batman just sighed. “There’s clean up to do. Get to work.” 
He definitely did not need to think about his son’s audacity, coming onto a King of an entire realm. Where did he even learn that kind of behavior?
~~
Masterlist
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reidrum · 6 months ago
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hit me baby one more time | s.r
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pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader
a/n: i have no explanation for this i just really want spencer to fuck me in a mini skirt. this was also fueled by me listening to baby one more time on repeat for the last week so enjoy my horny thoughts hehe
cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, p in v sex, munch!spencer, blowjobs, soft!dom!spence the loml, praise kink, spanking, suggestive dancing, kissing, afab reader, reader wears the outfit from the baby one more time mv (skirt and bra), i picture s11 spence so don’t mind the inconsistencies, idk if kirk actually wears a tie i am a star wars girlie not star trek, lowkey perv spence at the end but i would do the same tbh
summary: halloween brings spencer joy in many ways, this year he finds a new, and super fucking hot, reason to love the holiday more
wc: 3.3k
___________
spencer loved halloween. this was a known fact by many, he loved the lore behind the holiday, loved dressing up as his favorite characters, and loved playing tricks on morgan and jj around the office.
spencer also loved halloween because he gets to see you. not that he didn’t see you on a daily basis in the office or on the field catching killers, but in a state where you were carefree and didn’t have to worry about the behavior patterns of a psychopath.
in past years spencer has dressed up as different versions of the doctor (still claiming his tenth doctor costume was the best, because it was your favorite), the hobbit from lord of the rings, and nosferatu (to the dismay of morgan’s very scared reaction). you would go a more pop culture route, dressing up as characters from recent movies and shows including barbie, the scarlet witch, and wednesday adams.
he loved being able to tell you the lore of the different characters he was and he loved listening to you explaining the cultural significance and impact that barbie had on society. he could listen to you talk about literal garbage, actually, and still be hanging onto your every word.
what he loved the most, however, was your choice of costume tonight at the karaoke bar the team was out at.
for halloween this year you decided to go with a more nostalgic costume. clad in a black mini skirt, tied up white button up showing your tummy and just the right amount of cleavage to have your hot pink bra pop out, gray cardigan, knee high socks and mary janes, you were the spitting image of britney spears in the baby one more time music video. complete with the ribbon entwined pigtails.
the moment you walked in the bar, spencer knew he was utterly and absolutely fucked.
morgan knew about spencer’s infatuation with you, because, he’s morgan and spencer’s not subtle. so when he watched spencer’s mouth hang open like a beckoning for flies to land in, all he could do was pat him firmly on the back and say, “good luck, kid.”
he watched you walk over to the table the team had claimed, making your rounds at saying hi and hugging everyone. he was last, and when you reached up on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck he had no choice (lie) but to rest his hands at your hips while his thumbs brushed the bare skin of your stomach. he also had no choice (still, a lie) but to be deathly intoxicated by the smell of your shampoo and perfume as you placed your head in the crook of his neck.
“hi spence! your costume looks so cool, i love how it turned out. were you able to find what you needed at that store i told you about?” you bubbled happily.
it took spencer about ten whole seconds of staring at you (and definitely not at your chest) to realize that you were asking him something and tried to quickly (embarrassingly) recover, “um, yeah no i was! she knew so much about star trek and was super helpful, she told me how much she loves seeing you in the store.” 
you giggle, “i’m glad admiral kirk, she’s a sweet old thing.”
he should be ashamed at how you calling him that went straight to his crotch.
“y- you also look great, who are you supposed to be?”
“i’m britney spears! in the baby one more time music video?”, you’re met with a blank stare, “spence, we have to educate you better on the true icons of our time.” you playfully grab his forearm.
he laughs nervously at your joke and the contact and proceeds to down half his beer in one gulp. thank god garcia comes out of nowhere to gush over your outfit, “oh my god girl, you look so hot. you have to get up there and sing it, it’s only right!”
“let me get a few shots in first and then i’ll see, penny” you chuckle back.
after about two shots you were already feeling loose, whatever anxiety you had about tonight dissipated as the alcohol overtook your bloodstream. truth be told, you had a super secret mission up your sleeve. 
you would be a terrible profiler if you didn’t notice the way spencer changed whenever he was in your company, and it never made you feel uncomfortable. you only craved his attention even more, and it made your crush on him run even deeper. he was kind and smart and caring. and undeniably sexy. you knew for a fact he wanted you too, and you were determined to make him do something about it tonight.
knowing spencer hasn’t seen the music video therefore not knowing why the schoolgirl outfit, it turned you on even more knowing he was going to lose his goddamn mind after you were done. the plan was already rolling in your brain as you sauntered up to the karaoke stage and got ready to put on a show.
the beginning beats of the song play and you get a couple of cheers and “let’s go, baby!” from the crowd and your team— sans spencer, who was hanging on your every move as you started swaying your hips.
“my loneliness, is killing me. and i-i-i. i must confess, i still believe, still believe.” you sing and dance the choreography to the song you know so well.
“when i’m not with you, i lose my mind.” you make direct eye contact with spencer, and are more than excited to see him locked in on you too.
you decide to kick your plan up a notch, and walk off the stage mic in hand towards the bau’s table, earning many cheers and phones capturing the moment. you play up the theatrics a little by getting emily and jj to sing along with you, morgan and rossi leaning into you as you wrapped your arms around their shoulders.
“give me a si-i-i-ign,” you’ve reached spencer, and the last step in your plan.
your finger leaves featherlight touches around his shoulders and across his collarbone as you stand behind his chair. a flat hand trails down his chest closer to the bulge in his pants, spencer’s eyes widening at the gesture. your hand reaches the final destination at the base of tie, and you pull it so he’s looking up at you directly.
“hit me baby one more time.” you finish with the biggest smirk, never breaking eye contact with spencer. the cheers and claps became louder but all you could focus on were the deep breaths he was taking to compose himself. you give him a wink as you hand the mic back to the stage guy and walk back to him to sit on his lap.
“you don’t mind, do you? all the seats are taken,” you smirk as you feel his hard on through your lace panties, “plus i really want to hear what you thought about my performance.” you finish whispering in his ear. he shudders in your hold, but the feeling of your ass weighing on the place he needs you the most, his primal instincts take over and suddenly he has a boost of confidence.
he lifts your head so his mouth is right on the crest of your ear, “how about i show you what your performance did to me?” he shifts a little and lightly thrusts up into your clothed core and you let out a small gasp. luckily the team had all but dispersed throughout the bar, getting drinks or dancing, so no one has to be privy to your conversation.
the glint in your eyes was all the confirmation he needed. you stood up slowly with his tie still wrapped around your fingers, and you pull it over your shoulder so he would trail behind you as you walked. spencer followed you like a dog getting tugged by a leash, literally, and stumbles at first when you pull him but he quickly regains his composure as you navigate through the crowds, placing his hands on your waist protectively.
you end up in front of the women’s bathroom and spencer doesn’t hesitate to push the doors open and lead you inside. it was one of those single person bathroom with no other stalls, but it was definitely one of the more nicer bathrooms you’d been in. the maroon pattern of the wall adding to the sultry vibe you’re setting, not to mention a spacious countertop for the sink and amenities.
the possibilities of what was going to happen run wild in your brain, only being pulled out of it by the sharp lock of the door and the feeling of strong hands snaking around your waist again.
you look up to meet his eyes in the mirror and watch spencer fiddle with the edge of your button up, “i don’t think i told you how much i really like your costume.”
“yeah?” you lean back in his touch, “what do you like about it?”
he moves his hands to the middle of your chest, “well, i like how soft the blouse is,” he deftly undoes the knot, “and i really like the color you got on underneath.” he lets the ends of the shirt fall to your side and slides his hands up to cup your breasts through your lace bra, massaging them gently.
you let out a half gasp-moan, “what else?”
“this skirt is really cute, fits you well.” he hums while he smooths over the front close to your core, leaning down to press love bites into your neck.
you turn around in his embrace to face him, lay your hands flat on his chest, and look up at him with the biggest doe eyes you could muster, “want to see what’s underneath it?”
the ghost of a smirk lies on his face and he leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. his hand cups your cheek closer to him while his other one grips your ass and lower back.
his tongue slots between yours as he deepens the kiss, and he reaches down to the backs of your thighs to lift you up onto the counter. your legs open up instinctively and he steps in between them letting his hand run up the plush of your thigh to the band of your panties. he toys with the lace pattern of it before he detaches his lips and pulls the skirt all the way up.
he slowly sinks to his knees, never breaking eye contact with you as he whispers, “this is definitely my favorite costume on you.” he’s face to face with your pink panty covered pussy and he lets out a groan when he notices the wet spot in the center. he tentatively traces a finger up and down your slit, gauging your reactions.
soft whimpers fall from your mouth as you let out a whiny, “spencer…”
“don’t worry baby, i’m gonna take care of you.” he coos, “lift your hips.” you oblige as he gently pulls your panties down and stuffs them in his back pocket. his large hands push your legs apart, giving him better access as he tugs you closer to the edge and leans in to draw a long stripe up your core with his tongue.
you let out a high pitched moan at the contact, bracing yourself on the counter with your palms flat down. his tongue draws shapes on you and you feel his finger prodding around your hole before plunging in, driving you straight to delirium.
the sensations begin to overwhelm you and you feel the peak rising in your gut. you tangle your hands in his curls, “pl- please don’t stop.” you whimper.
he groans into your pussy and you feel the vibration sent throughout your entire body, enough to push you over the edge and let the white hot overtake you. he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers or his tongue as he drags out your orgasm for as long as you’ll take it, before you’re yanking him by his hair off of your core and up to your face to kiss him dumb.
the salty taste of you lingers on his lips as you grab his face with both hands and keep him close to you. he lets out a whimper when you tug his hair again, and you smirk as you break the kiss to slide off the counter and drop to your knees. you quickly undo the clasp of his belt, the sound of his zipper going down making spencer’s heartbeat go faster.
the size of his bulge through his boxers was intimidating but it only spurred your desire to please him more. you look up at him and offer an innocent smile as you lean forward to pull back the fabric of his boxers with your teeth and let it fall back into place with a snap.
the impact caused spencer to moan out loud, and he watched with bated breath while you slowly tugged his boxers down to let his cock spring free. you let out a tiny gasp, “spencer…i never knew you were so pretty.” 
his preening turns into a sharp moan as you take in the head of his length into your mouth. swirling your tongue around like a lollipop. you lay your tongue flat on the underside of his cock and slowly let it enter your throat until your nose is flush with his tummy and you’re gagging to keep him inside.
“ho-o-ly shit, fuck.” spencer groans when he looks down to see his whole length down your throat and your eyes bulging with tears at the fullness in your mouth. he wishes he had a photographic memory so he could engrave the vision of you on your knees for him in his brain forever.
you retract back and start bobbing your head on his cock, using your hand to pump whatever you couldn’t easily fit in your mouth. expletives and moans fall from him every millisecond, the feeling being so irrepressible that after a minute spencer had to pry you off him so he didn’t finish in your mouth.
“what, too much?” you grin mischievously, dragging your thumb across your bottom lip to wipe the spit.
his heavy breathing is the only answer you got as he turns your body around to face the mirror, and bends you down at the waist to lean your upper body on the counter. he flips your skirt up so your ass is on display for him and draws his hand back to give your right ass cheek a big smack.
you moan out languishly and he lets out a small chuckle, “kinky, are we?”
“you’re the one who spanked me.”
he bends down to whisper in your ear, “yeah, but you liked it. i can feel you getting wetter.” his fingers return to your core to spread the new wetness onto his cock before aligning it at your entrance. he slowly pushes in, stretching you out bewitchingly. he breaks his gaze from where you connect to look back into the mirror, and god, is he so fucking glad he did.
your face is beautifully fucked out, eyes glistening with tears about to fall over, cheeks flushed, eyebrows furrowed, your arms pressed so perfectly against the sides of your chest your breasts are threatening to spill out of your bra.
“god, you look like a dream,” spencer whispers from behind as he begins thrusting into you. you moan back in response and push back on his cock to meet his thrusts. the noise of your hips meeting and him sliding in and out of you filled the bathroom. 
“i’m so close, fuck, oh my god.” you whine pathetically. spencer can’t help but smugly grin in response, “already? it can’t be over that fast, hold it.”
you gasp out, “i can’t, please, i need to come.”
he wraps one arm around the front of stomach to hoist you up and uses the other hand to tug on your pigtails to lean your head back towards him, “you’ll come when i say you can. you’re my good girl, right? gonna show me how good you can be for me?” he whispers hotly in your ear.
a loud moan escapes your throat as you try to keep your composure and hold your orgasm at bay. his precise and timed thrusts doing nothing to help you, you feel yourself starting to float away, becoming so cockdrunk off of spencer you can barely keep yourself conscious.
“almost there, pretty girl. you’re doing so well, ‘m so proud of you.”
you make the mistake of looking back up at the mirror, becoming grossly entrapped by the image of spencer pounding into you from behind and his equally fucked out face tucked into your neck, “spence…baby, please.”
he whines at the pet name and finally gives in, “okay princess, you can come now.” your second orgasm of the night ravages through you, leaving nothing behind but thoughts of spencer. he continues fucking you through your peak, chasing his own release to come shortly after.
“fuck, i’m close. where d- do you want me to..?” he stutters.
“in my mouth.” you breath out.
he groans out loud, “on your knees.”
he pulls out of you and you immediately drop to your knees, not hesitating to take his length into your mouth and using both hands to pump the remaining. spencer puts a hand on the back of your head and guides you to thrust onto his cock until he lets out another stuttered groan, spurts of his release coating the inside of your mouth.
you make sure to get every last drop of him down your throat, seductively sliding your mouth off his cock with a resounding pop. you’re breathing heavily and you remain on your knees as you try to remember what fucking world you’re even in. spencer grabs you by the forearms to pull you back up to him, and gently perches you back on the counter noting you probably wouldn’t be able to stand on your own anyway.
spencer breathes hotly into your face, his hand coming up to caress your cheek and brush a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. his other hand remains on your waist, drawing soothing circles. you grin widely, and spencer notices and matches your smile without hesitation.
“what?” he laughs lightly.
“nothing, it’s just it looks like my plan worked.” you replied.
“and what was this plan of yours?” he grins.
“well, i just wanted you hot and bothered. i did not expect you to fuck me in a bar bathroom,” he blushes at your admission, “plus, you don’t even shake people’s hands. i definitely thought having sex in a public place, let alone the bathroom of a bar, would be so not your style.”
“i think if you keep wearing outfits like this around me,” he gestures to your disarrayed button up and bra, “you’ll be surprised at what i’d be willing to do.”
“so, is this a good time to tell you that britney has other music video outfits that are just as iconic as this one?” you gleam up at him.
his eyebrows raise in curiosity, “it certainly would be. on a totally unrelated note, i’m parked right out front.” he half jokes as he pulls you off the counter towards the door. you giggle and follow blindly behind him, when your eyes draw to the back pocket of his trousers and you notice a flash of hot pink.
“spencer! my panties, oh my god. give them back.”
he looks over his shoulder at you, “i have no idea what you’re talking about.” he feigns. you roll your eyes and let him have it, totally ignoring the way he shoves the panties further down his pocket out of sight.
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deansbeer · 5 months ago
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a quiet kind of forever ⎯⎯ V HACKER.
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YAP SESH! haven't written for him in what feels like ages. i genuinely feel so bad. anyway! so this cute lil fic idea was based off this TIKTOK of him 'n poncho. i can't stress enough how good he looks. && yeah, i'm guilty as charged. this was kept on repeat. ain't got no shame in admitting it.
⎯⎯ morning cuddles with a shirtless vinnie in his parents' backyard patio? yeah, you're definitely living the dream. his strong taut arms. seattle mornings. whispered confessions. a love story told in soft kisses and the scent of pine.
WARNING(S) fluff | kissing | F!READER | domestic love.
୨ৎ VINNIE'S LIBRARY
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the morning sun filters through the trees surrounding vinnie's parents' home in seattle, casting dappled shadows across the back patio. you're wrapped in vinnie's arms, your body pressed against his as you both stand outside, enjoying the crisp air and each other's company.
vinnie's wearing black baggy sweatpants that hang low on his hips, showcasing the perfect v-line of his abdomen. he's shirtless, his tattooed skin on full display in the soft morning light. his black fitted cap sits backwards on his head, a few strands of curls peeking out from underneath. you can't help but admire how effortlessly handsome he looks, even in his casual attire.
your outfit is equally relaxed - a black cropped tank top that reveals a sliver of your midriff, paired with light gray baggy sweatpants and white socks. your hair is clipped back messily, still tousled from sleep. it's clear you both just rolled out of bed, drawn outside by the beautiful morning and the desire to be close to one another.
your hands rest loosely around vinnie's bare torso, fingers tracing idle patterns on his warm skin. his own hands are settled on your lower back, thumbs rubbing small circles just above the waistband of your sweatpants. the touch is gentle, almost absent-minded, but it sends little shivers of pleasure up your spine.
vinnie dips his head to the side, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. his lips trail down to your ear, where he nips playfully at your earlobe. you can feel his warm breath against your skin as he whispers, "you're so beautiful in the morning, you know that?"
you can't help the smile that spreads across your face, burying your chin deeper into his shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks. "shut up," you murmur, but there's no real protest in your voice.
he chuckles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. "nah," he replies, placing another kiss just below your ear. "i love seeing you like this - all soft and sleepy and mine."
your heart swells at his words, and you press a kiss to his bare shoulder. your lips linger on his skin, savoring the warmth. "i love being here with you," you admit softly. "seeing where you grew up, meeting your family... it feels all so special."
vinnie's arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer. "it is special," he agrees. "having you here, in my hometown... it's like two parts of my world coming together."
you lift your head to meet his gaze, struck by the sincerity in his eyes. sometimes it still amazes you how this boy, who seems so confident and carefree to the rest of the world, can be so vulnerable and open with you.
"i'm glad i'm here," you tell him, reaching up to cup his cheek. your thumb brushes over the light stubble on his chin, and he leans into your touch.
vinnie turns his head to press a kiss to your palm, then grins mischievously. "me too. although, i gotta say, i'm a little worried about leaving you alone with my mom. who knows what embarrassing stories she'll tell you."
you laugh, shaking your head. "oh, i'm counting on those stories. i need all the dirt i can get on little vinnie hacker."
he groans dramatically, but the smile never leaves his face. "i knew this was a mistake. you and my mom are going to team up against me, aren't you?"
"absolutely," you confirm with a nod. "it's my solemn duty as your girlfriend to collect as many embarrassing childhood stories as possible."
vinnie's eyes soften at the word 'girlfriend', and he leans in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. when he pulls back, he's smiling that smile that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. "well, as long as you still like me after hearing all those stories, i guess i can't complain too much."
you pretend to consider this, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "hmm, i don't know. what if i find out you were, like, a total goof in middle school? that might be a deal-breaker."
vinnie laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet morning air. "baby, i hate to break it to you, but i was definitely a goof in middle school. probably still am, if we're being honest."
you grin, sliding your hands up his back to rest on his shoulder blades. the movement brings your bodies even closer together, and you feel vinnie's breath hitch slightly. "good thing i like goofs, then," you tease.
vinnie's eyes darken a bit as he looks at you, his gaze dropping to your lips. "oh yeah? how much do you like them?"
you lean in, your lips barely brushing against his as you speak. "why don't you find out?"
before you can close the distance, vinnie suddenly spins you around, pulling your back against his chest. his arms wrap around your waist, and he rests his chin on your shoulder. "nuh-uh," he says, his voice playful. "you can't distract me that easily. we're out here to enjoy the morning, remember?"
you laugh, leaning back into his embrace. "fine, fine. i guess the view is pretty nice."
and it is. from the back patio, you can see the lush green of the surrounding trees, their leaves rustling gently in the morning breeze. the sky is a clear, pale blue, with just a few wispy clouds drifting lazily overhead. it's peaceful in a way that's different from the constant buzz of activity you're used to in california.
vinnie hums in agreement, his chest vibrating against your back. "it is," he says, "but i think my view is better."
you roll your eyes, even though he can't see it. "that was cheesy, even for you."
"you love it," he retorts, and you can hear the grin in his voice.
you don't bother denying it, because you both know it's true. instead, you lean your head back against his shoulder, closing your eyes and just breathing in the moment. the fresh morning air, the warmth of vinnie's body against yours, the quiet chirping of birds in the distance — it all combines to create a perfect, peaceful bubble that you wish you could stay in forever.
vinnie seems to be thinking along the same lines. "we should do this more often," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "just... be together. no phones, no cameras, no schedules. just us."
you nod, reaching down to lace your fingers with his where they rest on your stomach. "i'd like that," you agree softly. "although i'm not sure how we'd manage it with your crazy schedule."
he sighs, nuzzling into your neck. "we'll figure it out," he says with determination. "i'll make time. you're worth it."
your heart swells with affection, and you turn in his arms to face him again. "you're a pretty awesome boyfriend," you tell him, your hands coming to rest on his chest.
vinnie grins, that cocky, charming smile that first caught your attention all those months ago. "i know," he says with a wink.
you laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "and goofy, too," you tease.
"the goofiest," he agrees solemnly, before breaking into another grin.
you can't resist anymore. you rise up on your toes, pressing your lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss. vinnie responds immediately, one hand coming up to cradle the side of your neck as he deepens the kiss.
when you finally pull apart, you're both a little breathless. vinnie rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed and a content smile on his face. "i love you," he whispers, so quietly you almost miss it.
your heart skips a beat. it's not the first time he's said it, but it still sends a thrill through you every time. "i love you too," you whisper back, your fingers tracing the lines of the snake tattoo over his collarbone and neck.
vinnie opens his eyes, meeting your gaze with so much warmth and affection that it almost overwhelms you. "yeah?" he says, his voice soft and a little awed, as if he still can't quite believe it.
"yeah," you confirm, smiling up at him. "always."
he kisses you again, slow and deep, pouring all his feelings into it. when you break apart this time, you're both grinning like idiots.
"come on," vinnie says, taking your hand. "let's go inside. i think i smell mom making pancakes."
as you follow him back into the house, your hand in his, you can't help but feel grateful for this moment - for the chance to see this side of vinnie, to be a part of his world in a way that feels so intimate and so real. you know that moments like these - quiet, perfect, and filled with love - will always be worth it.
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clandestinegardenias · 23 days ago
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The C(r)ozier Cowl (with pattern!)
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I FINALLY DID IT, and I'm so incredibly pleased with how it turned out (it's also maybe the warmest scarf I've ever knit, the Terror costume design people knew what they were doing)
Details and pattern below the cut, along with more pics!
Details:
This infinite loop cowl is a knit recreation of the scarf/cowl worn by Captain Francis Crozier in the first season of the tv show The Terror (2018).
The choice of yarn is, in my opinion, very important to the accuracy of the result. The pattern is quite simple, so getting the right yarn makes a big impact. My suggested yarn is below.
This is knitted in seed stitch at a very tight gauge, using a worsted weight yarn on size 4 needles. This produces a gauge consistent with the scarf from the show (did I measure Jared Harris’ eye and use it to calculate gauge from a photo of Crozier wearing the scarf? MAYBE SO). It makes the knitting a little hard on the hands, but the resulting fabric is DELIGHTFUL—super dense, and since the cowl is knit as a tube it's double thick and, in my experience, nearly entirely windproof. THIS IS A VERY WARM COWL!
After looking at too many screenshots, I ultimately determined that the article in the show is in fact a scarf (you can see the edge VERY briefly in one shot). However, I have designed my version as a tube cowl, as it more easily reproduces the look of the article as worn in the show (doubled over and in a continuous loop around the neck with no edges visible). You could produce a scarf instead by knitting this flat instead of in the round—cast on the same number of stitches with a long tail cast on, and then only knit/repeat row 1 (consider adding a seldvege edge).
If you have questions or want tips, or just want to show me what you made, hit me up!! I’d love to chat.
Materials:
3 skeins (approx. 660 yards) Cascade 220 Heathers in color 2445 Shire (google it to find purchasing options, or ask your local yarn store to order it!)
Size 4 needles; either 16 inch circulars or double-pointed
Stitch marker
Yarn needle
Instructions:
Provisional CO 72 stitches on size 4 16-inch circular (or double pointed) needles to work in the round. Place marker.
Row 1: k1 p1
Row 2: p1 k1
Repeat until cowl measures approximately 54 inches (4.5 feet; 137 cm) or desired length.
Unpick provisional cast-on, placing live stitches on any spare circular needles or dpns. Kitchener stitch ends together (tutorial for doing so in pattern here).
Wear as a single or double loop.
Now go have some glorious homoerotic tension with your second in command!
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talesofesther · 3 months ago
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solace
Aemond Targaryen x Reader
Summary: You take care of Aemond's hair after a rough day. You take care of him, too.
A/N: I fear I might be obsessed with this little concept. And Aemond truly deserves some genuine love. :)
Masterlist
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Aemond's chest hurts. He's not sure if it's because his heart is beating too erratically or if it's because he can't hold a steady breathing pattern. Perhaps it's both.
He's looking down at his hands resting on his lap. He notices the barely there tremble to his fingertips but he pretends not to. There's a low and sweet humming of a song coming from behind him, Aemond knows you do it when you're concentrated doing something you enjoy, and it raises goosebumps on his bare arms and back.
Earlier, when Aemond walked into your chambers seeking the comfort your presence offered him after a hard day, you'd seen him struggling with the tie holding half of his hair back, and offered to help. Perhaps against his better judgment, Aemond's tired mind decided to accept.
Now, the Prince sits on the padded stool in front of the vanity in your chambers, with only his pants on, and hair loose falling over his shoulders while you slowly undo small knots and tangles. The night sky is clouded but there's golden candlelight illuminating you and him.
Aemond can't bring himself to look up in the mirror. It had taken months for him to accept taking off his eyepatch in your presence, but as much as he would hate to admit it, he hasn't yet dared to look into your eyes whenever he did so. He fears for what he might see. He learned to love you—or at least he thinks that's the overwhelming feeling that swells his heart when he's with you—and he's reluctant as to what he might see in your eyes during moments like these.
But you're still gentle with the way you handle him, too gentle. Aemond feels faint when you love on him like this, he doesn't know what to make of it; it's new, it's unfamiliar. You touch him with a kind of delicacy that's foreign to him, but he thinks that if he were to be deprived of it he would already miss it.
Your fingers bury into his hair, nails barely scratching the scalp. You go from the top of his head, to behind his ears, and down the nape of his neck, slowly. Silver strands slide in between your hands like silk. You touch him carefully, each motion thought of and intentional. Repeating the pattern again, and again.
And Aemond is quiet, not moving a single muscle. Because what if he moves and you stop?
He feels almost selfish for not wanting you to stop touching him, ever.
But you're so gentle, it might just break him. There's a tear caught on his lashes, if Aemond blinks it'll fall, and you'll see his weakness.
Aemond rubs the pad of his thumb against his other palm. What would you think of him then?
The two of you haven't been together for long. Would you think him unbefitting for you? Undeserving?
Would you leave?
Aemond holds his breath until there's an ache in his lungs. He doesn't want you to leave.
You've moved on to softly rub your thumbs against his temples, because there's a crease on his eyebrows that he hasn't noticed yet. You take extra care when you touch his scarred side, and Aemond feels his lower lip wobble. He bites onto it, hard, but then the lower lid of his eye starts trembling and he feels helpless.
Aemond realizes that it's becoming hard to get air back into his lungs, he's a little overwhelmed. He's been alone for too long, it's hard to unlearn that.
He only notices his tears falling when the first one drips down on top of his hand and slowly rolls down the slope of his palm. There's no going back after it, and his cheeks shine with the wet trails left behind by the many tears that follow. But Aemond remains quiet, almost concerningly quiet.
Maybe that's why he's suddenly watching you kneel down in front of him. Shame paints his insides in an ugly color, and Aemond lowers his head, eye closed. He holds his breath so no sobs escape.
He feels, however. Your hands close around his, in a tight but still oh-so-gentle grip. Your thumb brushes up and down, up and down, until Aemond brings himself to follow along with his breathing—up and down, in and out. Shaky and unsteady, but you bring him back.
It's bewitching, how you can calm him.
"Hey." Your voice is all sweet and warm, like the first ray of sun on a cold day, "Did I hurt you?"
Aemond's eye finally opens, wanting, needing to see you.
Aemond realizes he shared a lot of firsts with you. You were the first to hold his heart with kind hands, you were the first to make him feel calmer in your presence than when he is alone, you were the first to touch him as if he's something worth caring for. And now, you're the first to look at him with nothing but unconditional affection.
There's a glint to your eyes, a tilt to your brows and lips. He could crumble under your gaze, it burns and soothes all the same, as if there's nothing about him that you would change. Nothing you wouldn't love.
His voice almost fails him when he speaks; "You could never." But he means it.
The candlelights shape your easy smile as you get up. Aemond's eye follows you, squeezing one of your hands he still holds. His lips part and he feels how dry they are. He's raw, exposed, bare. He finds he doesn't mind it; Aemond doesn't want to wear an armor with you.
You reach to push his hair behind his ear, watching as his eye closes again and he melts for you. Fingertips linger just beside his scarred cheek before you pull him in, one hand around his shoulders and the other cradling his head.
Aemond buries his face against your stomach without protest, both his arms circling your waist and nails almost digging into the fabric of your clothes with desperation.
Your hand resumes to smooth down his hair while you hold him, and your melodic humming returns. Silver strands give beneath and curl around your fingers as if they were made only for you to touch.
Aemond breathes you in. His heart is so full of you that he can barely call it his own.
⋆* ☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
Aemond's taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3
You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.
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buckscurls · 2 years ago
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pls ignore, dream journal
it's 5:15 am, ive not slept outside of the hour or so the dream took. took meds has usual (at 1 am). had a greasy dinner (spätzliuuflauf)
#just had a nightmare i used to fet frequently as a child/teen#i come into what i think is a group home or smth#missing a leg and in pain#i get trapped there#(fuck memory's going)#there's terrifying powers that take over#i use them in secret#my back is in pain#the other kids there try to be supportive but i kill and maim#There's a game where uou go personally how many fields it says on the tin foreward#on each field is a task (ie repeat this evolving pattern or apply pressure to these spots of the map)#if you fail you go spaces back and repeat with that task#if someone else is on your field tney have to help too and suffer the consequences#it's a sysiphusian gsme an endless task it will never end#i think going all the way to the bottom means punishment torture or death#all the while I'm hiding from the others that I'm evil and manipulative#i think my sister once brought in fresh baked goods that were POISON to break me out#lso i tried to investigate the place#and the leader found me out so i had to go before a tribunal or smth#wouldn't let me get dressed#(the clothes there were weird)#then i suddenly had a tampon full of blood so they let me go on my own to clean up\retrieve a new one#which i used yot try and run away#only to find out the whole operation is an alien species attempt to infiltrate human minds#let the 'weak ones' perish#then. with a single mind remaining they'd take possession and make the world anee#aldo some scenes where retrospective others happened right then#only person i remember in there is my sister (baking a cake for the people there yrs after i slaughtered my way out of there#real conspiracy shit/fantasy/adventure#with shame selfloathing regret and realistic physical and mental pain
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please-destroy · 23 days ago
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Someone Familiar
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Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant!Reader
Word Count: 7.6K
.
Being able to build a family with the person you loved was a privilege. You knew that for Natasha, it was also a miracle.
Natasha did not believe in luck, only the absence of it. You could understand why good things made her nervous. You saw the effects of her childhood, of her entire life, every day.
Your relationship had clashed with Natasha’s understanding of the world. She’d told you, on your second date, that love was for children. Her brow had knitted in confusion when that had made you kiss her harder.
Natasha saw herself as fundamentally lacking because of her past. Natasha radiated steady love and then wondered why you trusted her.
You knew it was tied to the graduation ceremony that she’d been subjected to in the Red Room. It had taken years for her to believe in your relationship, in the simple success of it.
In a way, you understood her hesitance. There were too many pieces that had fallen into place. Too many hurdles cleared at the last second. 
Together, you had already built something better than Natasha had ever hoped for. Then, one day, you asked her to build something new together.
.
You took the positive pregnancy test when Natasha was on a mission. You’d been trying for several months already. 
Each negative test had stung more than either of you knew how to process. Everytime, your heart would sink heavily and you’d try to smooth out your expression. You’d meet Natasha’s wide-eyed stare and watch a raw anxiety wash over her. You hated that look more than anything. Natasha had held your hand and taken a leap of faith with you. With every negative test you felt like you were letting her down, asking her to have hope when there was no guarantee. 
There was always an awful kind of silence after a negative result. Hearing Natasha’s shallow breaths echoing in the tiled bathroom. You’d bring your arms around her slowly, only tightening your hold as she folded into your arms. You’d wrap yourself around her softly, like a blanket, making your own heavy disappointment lighter so that you could carry some of hers.
‘It’s only negative this month.’ You would remind her carefully, repeating words you weren’t sure that you believed. After a moment, Natasha would kiss your cheek and you’d know by the way she avoided your lips that it was meant as an apology. Natasha was always apologising for what she couldn’t give you. 
Natasha didn’t chase happiness, because she didn’t know how to have it. 
.
When she first met you, every moment together felt a little frantic. She held your hand on unofficial dates and you watched her unsurely, waiting for her to change her mind. Kisses felt unintentional, hurried but passionate as if neither of you could help it any longer. 
You couldn’t decide who this woman was, why the pieces of her didn’t quite fit together. You wondered when Natasha was ever just herself.
Initially, you only saw it in glimpses. But, Natasha shone through the smallest of cracks.
At night you faced each other in the bed, restfully watching each other in the silence. There was an electric kind of comfort in the space between you. It was those silent moments, in between heartbeats and shallow breaths, that made you certain of Natasha. That you fit together in a perfect way. 
Natasha would lift her hand hesitantly and run her fingers over your skin. She drew light patterns that never seemed to end. You watched her marvel at the fact you were still in her bed. That you weren’t leaving. That you thought you could be whole with her. 
For you, pregnancy was a dream worth chasing. A future that you could build with the person you loved. For Natasha, making a family was soaked in her own failing. The way she saw herself was unfair, it was untrue. Still, the feeling lingered.
It was past midnight when you took the positive pregnancy test. You’d had an inexplicable feeling and you’d been correct.
You smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You barely recognised the person you saw, the giddy excitement reflected in your eyes. Natasha wasn’t there, but you heard your own hitched breaths echoing in the room and felt your joy double on her behalf.
.
You made no plan for how to tell Natasha. You knew the news would be surprise enough. 
In the end, you didn’t even have to say the words.
Natasha walked through the front door around midday. A scheduled mission had overrun and she’d come home straight from the formal debriefing. You were leaning awkwardly against the back of the sofa, perched in anticipation as soon as you heard her car pull into the drive. 
Subtle tension left Natasha’s face when she entered her home. Her smile widened in pleasure at the sight of you. Your returning one was soft and careful.
Natasha scanned your expression casually as she walked towards you. There was a second of normalcy where you met her unsuspecting smile. Your rapid heartbeat thudded in your own ears. Her scan of your face faltered and Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Your smile widened as her eyes searched yours more closely. Your head dipped briefly in confirmation.
Natasha exhaled all at once, as if she’d finally been allowed to breathe. She dropped suddenly to her knees, a few feet from you. Her hand touched her own waist, bracing as the shock rolled through her. Her mouth stayed open but no air reentered her lungs.
You moved forward instinctively and your hand touched her shoulder. Natasha’s eventual inhale was long and ragged. Her hand brushed the back of your leg. You’d become adept at reading the muted signals of Natasha’s emotions. For the first time, there was nothing subtle in her expression of surprise.
Your hand moved to brush the top of her head, trying to ground her in the reality of the good news. Natasha looked up at you and her eyes had the same sparkle that you’d seen in your own in the bathroom mirror. You grinned familiarly. 
Now that Natasha knew, the reality was settling with you too.
Her hands slid hesitantly under the front of your shirt. Her fingers grazed your stomach reverently. The warmth of her touch settled your jittering nerves for a moment. She started drawing light patterns across your skin and her lips pressed against your midriff. You loved her completely.
Natasha’s hands continued to trail up your sides as she returned slowly to her feet. Now, her fingers touched your face. She looked at you like you might not be real. You could feel the tremor in her touch.
‘Are you sure?’ She asked you suddenly, fingers stilling against your cheeks. You smiled even wider. You nodded again. 
‘We’re having a baby.’ You said simply. The words sounded too much like fantasy. You took her hand and led her to the bathroom, to show her the test that had confirmed every impossible hope.
.
Natasha moved into a new kind of overdrive from that day forward. Nine months stretched before you like a precarious blessing. 
Natasha gravitated around you whenever she could. The casual hand around your waist became a constant when you were together. There was a redheaded shadow for every mundane errand. It was flattering and a little unnerving to have such unadulterated attention. 
Still, you saw the lingering carefulness in the way Natasha looked at you. The insecurities that led her to seek out reasons to touch you. It was fear that made her throat close up when you wondered aloud about baby names.
.
You were sure that Natasha was waiting anxiously for the bump to appear. 
One morning, you caught her lingering, arms folded as she leaned against the bedroom wall. You were half naked, removing your pyjama top, when you noticed her interested gaze. You smirked as you turned around, lifting your clean shirt from the bed.
‘You can see your baby whenever you want.’ You reminded Natasha lightly, filling with a gentle kind of love for her. You held your smirk, waiting to see hers in return. 
Your heartbeat stumbled when she glanced back at you with a hesitant incredulity. You placed the shirt back on the bed and reached out to Natasha instead. Natasha moved closer, her eyes watching your bare stomach nervously.
You ignored the way her stare made you feel like a stranger. She was always familiar to you.
Slowly, you pressed her hand softly against your stomach. Natasha knew your body well enough to recognise the slight change that couldn’t yet be seen. Her other hand moved to mirror the first. You felt her warm palms slide hesitantly along your bare skin. Your breath hitched and Natasha blinked in surprise at the effect of her touch. You watched her expression change as she felt the first proof that the baby was there. Her eyes flitted up to meet yours and you recognised what you saw there. 
Natasha loved the baby already. You wanted to tell her that you understood, that you felt the same.
Your throat closed up when Natasha’s lips found your collarbone. 
Suddenly, she was whispering hurried ‘Thank yous” against your skin. You moaned at the brush of her lips, though her words didn’t sit well with you. You wondered if Natasha understood how much the baby was already hers to love.
.
Natasha would have walked through fire with you. Still, you hated having to make her watch your morning sickness unfold. The waves of nausea found you in sudden onslaughts throughout the day. 
You tried to push through it, ignoring Natasha’s clenched jaw as she watched you gingerly pick at your food.
Every time you ended up running to the bathroom, Natasha insisted on sitting with you on the miserable cold tiles. Her hand rubbed familiar circles along the small of your back. Her touch was filled with concern, but it still soothed you. Natasha always brought you balance.
As the weeks went on, you found yourself crying at every mealtime. The morning sickness refused to lessen and a new sort of uselessness flooded you whenever you couldn’t keep a meal down. Each time, Natasha wiped your tears silently before she cleared away barely touched dishes. You watched her move through the kitchen, her eyes closing for long moments as she fought her own frustrated tears.
You could feel Natasha’s misery at being unable to fix it for you.
The feeling of failure only highlighted your wife’s resilience. 
Natasha tried every non-threatening food she could think of. She returned from grocery shopping with bags filled with the blandest foods imaginable. 
Nothing worked. 
You tried to hydrate as much as possible, tried to frame whatever food you did keep down as a positive. Still, you knew Natasha was starting to internalise your continued sickness as part of her own incapability.
Everything that she cooked or scoured from the shelves at the grocery store was rejected emphatically by the baby.
.
At last, your body finally granted you reprieve, just as the doctor had assured Natasha on several occasions. 
You woke from an afternoon nap, indulging in the lazy weekend feeling of being at home with your wife. Selfishly, you loved being sure of Natasha’s proximity in the house. You wondered absentmindedly if Maria had had a heart attack when Natasha announced she was going to take all her unused time off, effective immediately.  
You wandered sleepily through to the kitchen and over to Natasha. She was sitting with her back to you at the counter, scrolling on her laptop.
You rested your chin on her shoulder, snaking your arms around her back and letting out a satisfied sigh. Natasha let out an answering huff of laughter, leaning back slightly into your hold. There was a small jar of caviar open on the table. You knew she was sneaking it whenever she thought you wouldn’t have to see it. Your nose still scrunched at the thought of consuming something so fishy.
‘I want Mac n Cheese.’ You mumbled unthinkingly as a yawn overtook you suddenly. 
Natasha stiffened in her chair and she turned to face you. 
Her hand touched your chest, tilting back slightly so she could better assess your yawning expression.
‘Really?’ She asked you carefully. ‘You’re hungry?’
You smiled suddenly with the realisation that you were finally feeling able to eat.
‘All I want is Mac ‘n Cheese.’ You confirmed readily. Natasha got to her feet instantly. She looked at you for a moment and you revelled in the fondness of her attention. Her hands squeezed your shoulders in obvious satisfaction.
‘I have to run to the store.’ She rushed out hurriedly, kissing your lips briefly but emphatically. 
Natasha’s love felt like a hot shower, encompassing and addictive. You watched her fly through the house, grabbing her keys and wallet. Her enthusiasm for you caught like a lump in your throat. You fought tears as you gave her a half wave, matching her wide grin as she glanced back before heading out the door.
.
Natasha’s mac and cheese tasted like heaven. As you helped yourself to a third helping, you began to feel sure that this was also your first craving.
Natasha had barely eaten any herself, continually putting her fork down as she watched you moan with delight with each bite. You grinned unashamedly, too blissed out from the relief of keeping the food down and the deliciousness of the meal itself.
‘How have we never eaten this before?’ You asked Natasha dramatically. Her answering smile was soft. 
‘I had it a lot as a kid.’ She answered succinctly. Your surprise was evident, her reply was not what you’d expected. You tried to comprehend the Red Room ever providing Western classic dishes.
Natasha’s head shook in anticipation of your confusion.
‘I spent a few years in Ohio.’ She told you, a tightness in her voice as she forced a casual stab at some pasta with her fork. ‘It was an early mission.’
You stayed silent, knowing far more was omitted than what had been shared. Natasha stabbed another piece of pasta and you reached out automatically to touch her arm. Natasha glanced back at you and suddenly, she looked much younger.
You hated the people who had taken her childhood.
‘Was Mac n Cheese your favourite food?’ You asked, ignoring how strange it was for such an unassuming question to hold such weight. Natasha looked down at her plate when she shook her head. The food started to rest more heavily in your stomach.
‘Not my favourite.’ Natasha clarified in a carefully level voice. ‘Someone else’s.’ She paused again, choosing the right words. ‘A friend’s.’
Natasha looked back at you and you met her gaze steadily. No part of Natasha hinted that she felt off balance. Still, you caught the nervous energy emanating from her.
Your thumb brushed her arm soothingly and you didn’t ask any follow up questions. You both knew that she never had any friends in the Red Room.
‘Maybe it’s the baby’s favourite too.’ You said lightly, trying to alleviate the unspoken sadness that had settled between you. 
You stood up, moving to clear the dishes. You took the opportunity to kiss Natasha’s forehead.
‘At least it’s not caviar.’ You muttered teasingly, stealing Natasha’s fork and the piece of macaroni on the end of it. 
Natasha rolled her eyes and you knew she was settled by your familiar tease about her favourite food.
She stood up too, moving behind you suddenly. Her arms stretched around you to take the empty dishes from your hand, a silent insistence to leave the clearing of the table to her. Her lips touched your cheek and you felt immediate warmth spread through you at her affection. Pregnancy made Natasha’s love even more overwhelming.
Her lips lingered by your ear.
‘That’s okay. I’ve got plenty of time to teach them about having good taste.’ Natasha promised you, kissing you again before taking the dishes to the kitchen.
You stayed quiet, hiding a sudden beaming smile. You wondered if Natasha realised that she’d started making plans as a Mom.
.
Natasha circled the date of your sonogram on the calendar. 
The calendar was already your favourite item in the whole house. Natasha had bought it a few weeks after you’d found out that you were pregnant. She’d filled in every important date that she could think of before hanging it in the front hall. 
You had a suspicion that she was trying to recreate the domestic family life that she’d seen played out in movies. Natasha, the professional spy, was not who you’d expect to display important upcoming dates for anyone to view. 
Your heart felt fuller and heavier when you saw Natasha attempt to become the Mom she wasn’t quite sure how to be.
You ached when you realised how little she had to go on. Natasha could learn anything and you watched her work to understand what she was missing. 
Her bedtime reading became exclusively books for expectant parents. She studied with a quiet purpose that made you wonder if she was expecting a test at the hospital.
As the day of the sonogram approached, the two of you mentioned it less and less. There was a heightened feeling of anticipation that was hard to acknowledge. 
You knew that Natasha didn’t actually care about the sex of the baby. Natasha didn’t believe in horoscopes either. Still, you’d found her plotting out the zodiac the other day, trying to figure out which star signs were likely for your baby.
Natasha was impatient to know her kid better. You related to the feeling entirely.
The silence on the drive to the appointment was full of awkward anticipation. You tried not to focus on your growing need to pee. They’d told you to drink some water before the appointment and you’d gone a little overboard. You turned on the radio for distraction, tuning in unexpectedly to a ‘Cheesy Hits’ station. 
Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers filled the car and relieved the tension. Natasha’s fingers started tapping out the beat on the dashboard. The shift in the air was tangible and, suddenly, you felt like you were going on an adventure together. 
‘Dolly for a girl and Kenny for a boy?’ You suggested with a smirk, making sure to keep your eyes on the road ahead. Natasha was not thrilled by your insistence on driving today and you were determined to be the perfect model of safety behind the wheel.
Natasha leaned back against her head rest and you could feel her eyes on you as she turned to face you.
‘Mickey or Minnie.’ She suggested drily.
Your lips pressed together as you tried not to laugh. 
‘Barbie or Ken.’ You countered and Natasha snorted. There was silence in the car and you knew Natasha was trying to think of something to make you laugh.
‘Kermit or Miss Piggy.’ She suggested suddenly and you found yourself desperately trying not to pee as you drove.
The giddiness you felt, as you checked in at the reception, reminded you of that first day together when you’d known that you were pregnant. Natasha’s fingers were interlaced with yours and her touch grounded you. 
You didn’t speak in the waiting room, filled with a shared understanding of the moment. Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave your belly. The baby was part of you and so was Natasha. The three of you felt like one person.
Natasha told you that the jelly was going to feel cold before the nurse could. You wondered if she knew it from movies or from her studying. 
Natasha was trying so hard to be a good mom. Things were already too heightened and you started crying unexpectedly. Natasha used her free hand to stroke your hair comfortingly.
‘Soon.’ She promised soothingly and you knew she thought you were crying with anticipation of the scan. 
Natasha made your heart beat. 
Soon, the room was filled with the sound of the baby’s heart beating too.
When the grainy black and white image of your child appeared on the screen, Natasha stopped squeezing your hand. Your eyes moved between the screen and her expression. Unadulterated longing was written across her face. Her eyes turned to you and you met her gaze readily. Her desperate hope mellowed as she watched your steady joy.
Natasha’s smile turned wide and free. You had never seen her entirely unburdened before. Your eyes turned back to the screen, loving your baby entirely. 
The nurse informed you that it was a girl and the announcement didn’t even register. Natasha started crying, burying her head against your shoulder. Your arm curved around her back automatically. The nurse smiled at you and you smiled back. You felt free too.
You started laughing when you were back in the car. Elton John played out the speakers and Natasha stared down at a picture of your baby.
‘That’s your daughter.’ You reminded her happily. Natasha shook her head but her eyes stayed fixed on the picture.
‘I’m dreaming.’ She said dazedly and something about her tone made you blink back tears again. 
You didn’t have the right words. 
Instead, you placed Natasha’s hand back onto your rounded stomach. There was no absence of proof now that her dreams were coming true.
You didn’t drive back home immediately. You couldn’t resist heading to the baby store instead. When you took a left turn and Natasha realised your intention, she sent you an indulgent smile.
You wandered through the baby clothes section with a languid kind of confidence. You were going to have a daughter. Your skin tingled with happiness.
Natasha sought out a store assistant as you browsed. She wanted to know about the safety ratings on cribs. You couldn’t stop smiling when you heard her begin the interaction by announcing that she was expecting a daughter. The store assistant answered her questions readily and caught your interest in the clothing section of the aisle.
‘These are always my favourite.’ She told you conspiratorially as she approached, picking up a onesie that read ‘World’s Best Sister.’
‘We don’t need that.’ Natasha informed her immediately in a level voice. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her corrective tone. 
‘Not yet.’ You added, sharing a smile with the store assistant before turning back to face Natasha. 
You expected to see playful exasperation in her expression. Instead, you saw a fierce and inexplicable kind of hurt. Natasha’s gaze was painful to meet. The store assistant saw it too, she placed the outfit back and moved away quietly.
‘Natasha.’ You started hesitantly, feeling entirely unsure of yourself. Natasha just shook her head. Everything felt raw and you knew from the way her eyes darted around the store that this wasn’t the right time.
You kissed her cheek in wordless apology. You led Natasha out of the store, expecting some insistence that you should finish browsing. Her continued silence made you worried. 
You saw the way that she swallowed uncomfortably and felt a corresponding lump rise up in your own throat. You didn’t have to understand the sources of Natasha’s pain to feel it too.
You let the Cheesy Hits station continue to play as you drove home. The silence was tense, but the music still offered some sort of reprieve.
You started humming along as the tune of ‘American Pie’ began to play. At first, you didn’t notice the change in Natasha’s breathing. Her hand gripped your arm suddenly and you startled at the unexpected touch.
You glanced over to her and caught her struggling to take a breath. Illogically, your first thought was that she was choking. Then, you heard her rattling inhale and recognised the panic attack. 
Anxiety flooded you too as you tried to keep driving safely. 
‘What is it?’ You asked stupidly as you started moving hurriedly through the lanes of traffic.
Natasha’s words were fearful and they didn’t make any sense.
‘I think my sister is dead.’ She told you as the shaky breaths turned to ragged sobs. 
You pulled over at the side of the road. You moved towards Natasha, ignoring the uncomfortable sound of the other cars rushing past.
‘Breathe love.’ You directed her calmly, resting your hand on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her.
With military effort, Natasha forced herself to breathe regularly. The sound was still shaky and her inhales were desperate. You’d never seen her spiral like that before.
You turned off the radio unthinkingly and Natasha sagged with a weighted kind of relief. You glanced at the car speakers in alarm. You tried to guess what her words could have meant. 
Natasha’s breathing regulated and you confirmed your suspicion.
‘The song?’ You checked carefully. Natasha nodded once, blowing out a slow breath.
‘You have a sister?’ You asked now and she nodded one more time, eyes squeezing shut for a second. You nodded too, trying to reconcile this new piece of information.
‘At the store.’ You began softly as the pieces clicked. Natasha gave you a pained look in confirmation.
‘That song was her favourite.’ She told you in between carefully controlled breaths.
You couldn’t help your eyebrows raising in confusion. The song was too American to fit with Natasha’s past. In a flash, you remembered the Mac and Cheese. You remembered her ‘friend’ in Ohio, you wondered how long that early mission could have lasted.
‘I don’t know where she is. She could have died in the Red Room.’ Natasha confessed and her eyes were filled with an awful self-loathing. You wondered how long she’d been living with this private grief. 
‘Can you track her down?’ You asked her unsurely, feeling the conversation drain away all your earlier joy.
‘I mean, can we track her down?’ You corrected immediately, because Natasha wasn’t doing this alone.
‘No.’ Natasha shook her head and her voice caught. ‘She, uh, she wouldn't want to see me.’ 
‘Are you sure?’ You prompted quietly and Natasha nodded. 
‘We’re not. We weren’t real sisters. There was a mission. It was all pretend.’
You could see the guilt resting on Natasha’s shoulders, you watched her bend forward under the weight of it. Her hands covered her face briefly. 
‘That doesn’t mean it didn’t feel real.’ You reminded her quietly. ‘Blood doesn’t make family.’ 
You took her hand then, it felt too cold. Instinctively, you covered it with both of your own, trying to give her warmth. You ignored the fleeting concern that Natasha wouldn’t see her daughter as really hers either.
Natasha shook her head slowly and abruptly you were sure that you’d said the wrong thing.
‘It felt too real.’ Natasha murmured. ‘She was too young. She didn’t know the truth. Not until they sent us back to the Red Room.’
‘Oh, Natasha.’ You said softly, because your heart was breaking. Your arm slid softly along her arched back.
Sometimes, you could imagine Natasha as a kid, the abandoned girl that monsters had raised. You had seen how protective Natasha was of you, of the child that was still inside of you. You imagined another little girl, trusting Natasha as family. 
You ached for Natasha’s loss, for the failure you knew she saw as hers.
.
‘She might be living happily somewhere, just like you.’ The words fell out of your mouth that evening. You were already in bed, you’d placed the sonogram photo on top of your nightstand. Your mood had swung sharply all day between bubbling joy and weighted tension. 
Natasha was undressing at the foot of your bed. Her breath caught and she looked at you. You saw the same desperate longing in her eyes as you had at the sonogram. You felt the urge to keep speaking.
‘If she’s anything like you. She’ll be busy causing trouble and making a family of her own. She’s your sister, it’s not impossible.’ 
The images sounded too fantastical and you paused uncertainly. Natasha’s eyes clung to yours. She moved over to you, hands touching your thighs as she crawled up the bed. Natasha looked vulnerable and your eyes searched hers carefully, trying to determine what she was looking for.
She lifted your top slowly and pressed her lips to your belly. You watched her reverence and felt a slow heat build inside you. Natasha kept moving up your body and you felt her breasts brush over you as she curved herself around you.
When she reached your mouth, she leaned in to kiss you. There was the slightest hesitation and then you felt her gratitude for your farfetched comfort. Giving Natasha hope was all you knew how to do.
Natasha pressed her lips against yours for a second time. When the kiss broke, more words fell from your mouth.
‘What was her name?’ You asked simply.
‘Yelena.’ Natasha replied and the sound of it was precious.
.
You celebrated Natasha’s birthday on the 1st of December. It was unlikely to be her actual date of birth, but it was the one she used. All Natasha knew was that she’d been born in winter. 
Your baby was also going to be born in winter, but not until the new year. You felt too large now, missing the simple flexibility that you’d taken for granted your whole life.
You’d had plenty of time to think of a birthday present for Natasha. A Russian ballet had seemed like a risky surprise. You’d asked her about it before you’d booked the tickets. 
Natasha’s smile had been shy at your suggestion.
‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She informed you hesitantly and you wondered if you’d ever stop finding new ways to love her.
Her birthday had been a languid and casual affair. You were getting tired more easily and yet hormones had woken you before daybreak with unbearable excitement. 
Your eagerness had lasted through most of the lunch at her favourite restaurant. Natasha had flushed self-consciously in front of her friends when you kissed her enthusiastically after she cut the cake. 
Clint’s sarcastic applause seemed to rally Natasha and she marked your nose teasingly with a piece of frosting just to make him roll his eyes.
By the time you returned home, you were living in a new state of exhaustion. Natasha ended up driving in silence whilst you napped in the passenger seat. 
You knew she didn’t mind. Natasha gently led you back into the house and onto the sofa. Your eyes barely opened, trusting her guidance entirely. You remembered nothing after the moment your head had touched the sofa cushion.
You startled awake when Natasha’s fingers lightly touched your shoulder. You smiled lazily when you saw her face hovering above yours.
‘Happy Birthday!’ You told her, arms going wide in a half stretch and half celebration.
Natasha stared down at your upside down smile and blinked back tears. 
You were no stranger now to sudden rushes of happiness. You moved her hands over to your belly. 
‘You can’t get one of these every year.’ You mumbled, still sounding half asleep. ‘Takes much more baking than a cake does.’
Natasha laughed easily, the sound bubbling up in a way that was rare for her. You grinned with satisfaction and your eyes closed for another brief moment as you soaked in the warmth of it.
Natasha helped you to sit up. She lingered awkwardly next to you on the sofa. You knew instinctively what she wanted to do. You lifted your top slightly and gave her a knowing smirk.
‘Love you.’ Natasha mumbled as she kissed your bump. Her cheeks reddened and she purposefully avoided your eye contact as she straightened up. Still, her hand reached out to help you as you moved to leave the sofa. 
When you stood up, you didn’t let go of Natasha's hand. You tapped her wrist twice and Natasha turned to face you automatically.
‘You can’t be shy about loving your daughter.’ You reminded Natasha quietly, trailing your fingers up and down her bare forearm. 
Natasha’s embarrassment flickered for a moment and then turned into something quieter. Her lips touched your neck as she brought you close to her. You felt her cheeks touch your skin as she started to smile widely.
‘I can’t believe I have a daughter.’ Natasha whispered, more to herself than to you. 
You grinned suddenly, hearing the dawning realisation in Natasha’s voice that never went away.
‘I can’t believe I married such a MILF.’ You teased back, arms wrapping around her. Natasha’s head tilted and she left small kisses up the side of your neck.
Since your second trimester, Natasha could turn you on with a wink. You moaned loudly at the sensation of Natasha’s lips on your skin and you felt her smile again.
‘Ballet.’ You choked out, trying to stay focused. ‘Ballet, Birthday.’
‘Ballet.’ Natasha repeated and her lips met yours in a gentle kind of kiss. 
‘Birthday.’ She told you, before kissing you again. 
‘Baby.’ Natasha added and her hands touched your stomach again. Her eyes were bright with excitement and you felt her joy like it was your own. 
You leaned forward yourself now. Your cheek brushed hers as you moved next to her ear. ‘Boobs.’ You whispered, reaching up to squeeze them meaningfully. 
Natasha rolled her eyes playfully. Her smile seemed permanent as her gaze trailed over you.
‘Bedtime.’ She promised and you tried to ignore the way heat pooled between your legs. It was going to be a long night of anticipation.
.
You watched Natasha far more than you watched the ballet dancers. Everything captivating in their performance was reflected in the focus of her attention. Her eyes were fixed on each dancer in turn as they made impossible moves seem effortless.
You found yourself coming out of a trance at the interval. Natasha turned to look at you and you watched her lips draw back into a smile. 
‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She told you again and the thought of it made you smile. You tapped the top of your belly.
‘Maybe she’ll want to be one.’ You pondered playfully, reaching for the brochure resting in Natasha’s lap.
“What name should we pick?’ You considered thoughtfully as you began to suggest the names of various listed dancers.
Natasha’s hand on your thigh silenced you before you could finish half-seriously suggesting ‘Katarina.’
‘We can’t call her something Russian.’ Natasha informed you obviously. Her voice was light, but you could almost taste the sudden tension in the air.
You tilted your head questioningly.
“Why not?’ You challenged immediately. 
‘She’s not Russian.’ Natasha answered simply and you recognised the resoluteness in her eyes. You’d been together long enough to anticipate each other’s arguments. Still, you refused to give up.
‘Her mother is Russian.’ You emphasised pointedly. 
‘Not really. Not biologically.’ Natasha countered with a sudden softness. You hated that her tone had changed to appease you. 
‘I’m naming her Natasha Jr.” You decided stubbornly, rubbing wide circles over your belly in an attempt to calm yourself in the large theatre. ‘Good luck avoiding the child support payments.’
There was a pause as Natasha considered your expression. You refused to look at her, staring determinedly at the empty stage below you. If you focused on your anger for too long, you knew that you’d end up crying.
After a moment, Natasha’s head moved to rest on your shoulder. The moment settled immediately between you. You knew she was thanking you for loving her so certainly. You found her hand, still resting on your thigh and held it gently.
Those who’d left the theatre during the interval began to return slowly to their seats.
‘My mother was in the ballet.’ Natasha said quietly into the loud chatter that surrounded you. You fought the urge to turn your head. Instead, your arm moved instinctively around her shoulder, squeezing lightly in comfort. Natasha’s head tilted on your shoulder as she focused down at your bump.
‘I mean, I used to pretend she was.’ Natasha corrected herself. ‘I always wanted to go to the ballet, in case she’d recognise me in the crowd.’
You didn’t speak for a moment. Natasha had been too young, it was unbearable.
‘It’s hard.’ You began hoarsely, in the moments before the ballet resumed. ‘Things have been so unfair for you, but that’s made you exactly who you are.’
The tears began to catch up with your words.
‘And you’re going to be such a good mother.’ You choked out, feeling sadness like a tremble through your skin. 
Natasha didn’t say anything in return. She shifted in her seat slightly, moving almost imperceptibly closer to you. 
When the ballet finished and everyone around you moved to their feet, Natasha finally looked at you.
‘I love you.’ She reminded you quietly as she took your hand. You gave her a small smile.
“I know.’ You assured her, because you did.
.
You hadn’t known how to tell Natasha that you weren’t looking forward to Christmas. You’d entered your third trimester and begun to dread any days that called for increased stamina. 
More than anything, you’d found yourself desperate for the moments when it was just you and her. You were on the precipice of something new and you found yourself seeking comfort in the steadiness of what you’d already built with Natasha.
You should have known that you didn’t need to tell her. 
When you woke on Christmas Day, it wasn’t because of the alarm that you’d set the night before. Natasha was sitting up in the bed next to you, engrossed in a parenting book that you’d left wrapped under the tree the night before.
You hummed lowly in sleepy confusion, shifting in the bed as you tried to piece together the unexpected morning. You should have already been driving to see Clint’s family. Natasha looked down at you and everything about her smile was calming. Her hand brushed the top of your head and you felt assured that everything was going to plan.
‘Don’t worry.’ Natasha murmured and you couldn’t help yawning. ‘I only opened the one present.’
You nestled into Natasha’s side as you fell back asleep. Her hand stayed resting lazily on the top of your head. You loved all of Natasha’s warmth. 
You hadn’t bought any one big gift for Natasha this Christmas. You’d noticed in past years that, more than anything, she seemed to get a thrill just from the act of unwrapping. You had a feeling it was another way that she chased the American fantasy that she’d seen in movies.
Natasha’s giddiness on Christmas morning was your favourite thing. You watched her surreptitiously from the sofa as she opened each of your gifts in turn. You never took a photo of her though, the look in her eye seemed too precious to share.
Natasha was completely herself on Christmas morning. It was magical.
At last, she opened the present that you were most nervous for her to see. You held your breath as Natasha unwrapped the wide book eagerly. She stilled as she read the simple cover.
‘Becoming Mom.’
Natasha turned to the first page unsurely. She startled in surprise, just like you’d anticipated. She’d known that the photo inside had been taken, but she’d never looked at it herself. 
You’d offered your phone to the nurse during the sonogram. 
Natasha’s cheeks were tear stained in the picture and her hand was clasped loosely with your own. The other touched unthinkingly at her own waist, as if the baby on the screen might as well have been inside of her. 
Everything about her emanated a precarious kind of bliss.
Natasha closed the book suddenly and glanced back up at you.
‘The rest is for you to fill in.’ You mumbled unsurely, feeling a sudden need to avoid Natasha��s gaze. Natasha had never looked more vulnerable than in that photo. Everytime you looked at it, you loved her more fiercely than ever. 
Natasha didn’t love herself like you loved her. You weren’t sure what she was going to say. Her pause lasted an eternity.
Finally, Natasha’s choked voice cut through the silence.
‘I look like a Mom.” Natasha said quietly, and you decided that you’d never stop falling in love with her.
‘You are a Mom.’ You reminded her surely. Natasha’s hands moved to your stomach and suddenly you felt like time had lost all meaning. You felt like you’d always known her. Her touch felt more familiar than your own.
‘I love you.’ You told Natasha softly. The corner of Natasha’s mouth twitched upwards immediately. When she looked up at you, her eyes glittered. 
‘I know.’ She replied simply, and you knew that she did.
.
Before lunch, Natasha led you out into the backyard to show you your present. You were having Mac and Cheese for Christmas lunch, saying farewell to a food that was now steeped in different layers of nostalgia.
The air was crisp and immediately you were grateful for Natasha’s insistence that you wear a jacket. Natasha’s cheeks turned red as she stood to your left hand side in an attempt to buffer you from the icy wind.
When you turned the corner, you saw what Natasha had made for you.
The wooden swing and slide set stood perfectly in the corner of the backyard. You gripped Natasha’s hand tight at the warm rush of being loved entirely. Suddenly, the air didn’t feel cold at all. Tears threatened as you tried to process the emotion.
The swing was too big for your baby, it would be years until your daughter could play on any part of the structure. You didn’t care. It made everything better. Natasha had planned for years in the future.
‘I had one like this in Ohio.’ Natasha told you with a serenity that you didn’t expect to hear. Her eyes trailed over the swing set as she spoke. ‘I know it’s not quite right for now, but it was my favourite place in the whole world.’
‘Why?’ You asked timidly. You’d loved Natasha for years already. You realised you were in love with a sun that was still rising. 
Natasha started walking again. Her hand slid around your waist, slipping down to squeeze your ass once familiarly, before resting at your hip.
When you reached the swing, Natasha gestured for you to sit and you did. Your fingers tangled in the metal chain as you watched her face in anticipation. You knew that she’d heard your question.
‘Whenever I was swinging, I would close my eyes.’ Natasha started, and you knew she’d spent the silence planning out her answer in her head. ‘And when my eyes were closed, I could pretend that my parents had bought me the swing set. That people loved me, really loved me, because how else could I have something so nice?’
Her hand covered yours on the cold metal chain. Natasha stood next to your shoulder. You closed your eyes, imagining the impossible feeling that she’d described to you.
You gripped the chain heavily as you pulled yourself back to your feet.
‘I need to show you something.’ You told her as you led her back into the house. You walked quickly, feeling certain of what you were about to do but entirely unsure of Natasha’s response.
You picked up the baby book that had been left on the kitchen counter and handed it back to Natasha.
‘Look inside.’ You directed her with an encouraging gesture. Natasha’s eyes dropped down to the book. She turned the page again, this time moving past the one of her at the sonogram.
The next page had been specially embossed. You’d glued in the card that was presented there. Natasha gripped the book tightly as she read the subsection title.
‘Yelena, aged 0 - 1 month’
When Natasha looked back at you, she seemed uncertain. 
‘After her Mom’s sister.’ You said, feeling uneasy about her lack of response. Your fingers played with the edge of your jacket and you found yourself avoiding her eyes.
‘We don’t have to do it.’ You hedged carefully. ‘I just want her to have a piece of you that can’t be taken away.’
Natasha didn’t speak and you glanced back up. Your shoulders relaxed at the familiar love in your wife’s eyes.
“And you won’t let me call her Natasha Jr.’ You added pointedly, with a sudden urge to lighten the mood.
The book snapped shut abruptly. Natasha moved towards you so suddenly that you didn’t have time to register her proximity before her lips were on yours.
Natasha filled your senses with a perfect familiarity. You loved the heat of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against you, the touch of her hand on the back of your neck as she deepened the kiss. 
Natasha was home and you couldn’t feel lost anymore.
Sharp relief flooded you as you realised that your daughter was going to have the name that you’d been hoping for. 
The kiss broke at last and your hands moved to Natasha’s shoulders as you tried to look at her face. Natasha took a small step back, eyes still closed.
A wave of understanding rushed over you.
‘You don’t have to keep your eyes closed.’ You promised Natasha softly. ‘I’ll still love you when they’re open.’
Natasha’s lips twitched into a shy smile and slowly she opened her eyes.
‘Yelena.’ Natasha repeated as her hands trailed up your sides and gently lingered at the top of your bump.
‘We can save Natasha Jr for the next one.’ You teased again and Natasha smiled wide. 
Her hand pressed lightly on the back of your neck and she pulled you in for another kiss.
490 notes · View notes
azrielbrainrot · 3 months ago
Text
A Night To Remember
Pairing: Rhysand x F!Reader
Kinktober 2024: Virginity
Description: Rhysand takes your virginity.
Warnings: Smut, fingering, vaginal sex, virgin reader, hint of oral sex, dirty talk
Word Count: ~2,8k
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Notes: Rhysand is pretty young in this, I'm not exactly sure how fae aging works but I was thinking he had left the Illyrian training camps a couple years before this and was just starting to work more in court with his dad, so he would be like 21/22 in human years. Reader is about his age, maybe a bit younger. Hope you enjoy!
Kinktober 2024 Masterlist
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“Rhysand,” you whimper, your brain struggling to keep up while the Night Court heir leaves open mouthed kisses all over your neck. “I need to tell you something.”
The only sign he even heard you was the delayed hum he lets out as he's switching to the other side of your throat, marking up your soft skin, pushing one of his knees between your legs, hands grabbing at your hips, both of your scents deepening and mixing deliciously.
This isn't good. You had gotten too lost in the moment, too lost in his taste and the way his strong hands felt on your body. As soon as the heir started flirting with you by the bar, you told yourself that you wouldn't miss this opportunity because of your nerves once again, but you wanted to do this right.
You call out his name again, and this time he pulls away from your neck, a bit of worry visible in his enchanting violet eyes, fighting past the haziness as he stares into yours, your hands come up to cup his cheeks, almost pulling him into you once again, hoping to get at least one more taste in case he stops like so many others have before.
“I need to tell you something,” you repeat, tongue peaking out to wet your lips.
“Do you want to stop?”
“No, that's not it,” you rush out, taking a deep breath, unable to meet his eyes as the next words tumble out of your mouth, “I'm a virgin.”
Still staring at the wall on the other side of the room, suddenly entranced by the golden pattern painted on the dark wall, you try your best to keep your heart from racing, breathing in and out slowly. You weren't sure what his exact reaction had been, apart from the way he tenses against you before relaxing once more, but old memories flooded your mind.
This wasn't the first time you had to tell someone these same words, and seeing as you were still a virgin, it was safe to say this conversation usually took a turn for the worst, whether it came as weird sympathy or cruel remarks. You didn't think Rhysand was the type to push you away simply because you were inexperienced, which was one of the reasons why you had let him take you home, still you had thought the same of every other male who came this far and they had proved you wrong rather quickly.
It had never been your intention to wait for this long, but since you had been so busy with working and studying in your younger years, the time for dating had been next to none, and by the time you realized you might have waited too long, all your peers were already in relations or at least sexually active.
“Are you sure?” His question pulls you out of your thoughts, meeting his eyes instinctively. You don't find any anger or disinterest there much to your relief, only a hint of confusion and a seriousness that hadn't been there before.
“Yes, I'm sure. I never-”
He laughs, cutting you off before you can finish. A strange feeling rises within you, humiliation starting to spread and fear making itself known once again. He leans in and pecks your lips when he notices you tensing up against him, soothing you immediately.
“I'm asking if you're sure you want me to fuck you,” he clarifies with a smirk on his face, and you relax further into him, face heating up at the mistake, “Maybe you should wait for a serious relationship or someone special.”
He meant well, you know that, but you can't help but get a bit annoyed all the same. It was because you had waited for so long that you were in this situation. Life was unpredictable and so were people, especially males, waiting around for someone special to come around could very well mean waiting for the rest of your life. Right now the fact that he wanted you as much as you wanted him and he was treating you with respect was special enough for you.
“Did you wait for someone special?”
“No,” he admits, shaking his head. “Doesn't mean you shouldn't.”
“I don't want to wait, I want you,” you say, pulling him in for a kiss, a shiver running down your spine when he simply angles his head and lets you take control, thumb rubbing slow circles over your thigh as you taste him, one hand holding the back of his neck as the other wandered down. You thought you would have to convince him, but it seems he believed you on your first try.
Rhysand pulls away right when you were about to start unbuttoning his shirt, wrapping an arm around your waist and taking a step back, winnowing you to a different room in doing so. He takes off his own shirt as you look around, unable to hide the amazement on your face at the intricate paintings and ostentatious furniture. You were so caught up in your nerves that you had almost forgotten who he was.
“We're not in my father's house if that's what you're wondering.”
You turn to look at him wide eyed, the absolute horror of getting caught by the High Lord rushing over you even though it was all in your imagination. While you were sure the rumors spreading around your home court were exaggerated, his father didn't have a particularly kind reputation even in his own court either.
“I hadn't even thought of that,” you murmur, taking his hand when he reaches for you, letting him pull you in closer with a chuckle, dropping a chaste kiss to your lips, clearly ready to end the conversation about his father. He starts walking you backwards towards the bed, watching with endearment as your eyes travel over the marks over his chest and down his shoulders, humming when you muster up the courage to reach out and trace the inked skin.
When you get to the bed, he grabs the hem of your dress, lifting it up and over your head with your help, hands falling on your waist as you kick off your shoes as well, tucking your thumbs into the band of your underwear, only hesitating for a second before pushing them down your legs and letting them fall on the floor as well, baring yourself to him completely.
Hungry eyes roam over your body, feasting on the beautiful sight in front of him, taking his time before meeting your gaze once again, your heart beating loudly in your chest at all the attention and desire you find written in the violet, goosebumps spreading over your skin as if he was actually touching you.
“I suppose I should apologize in advance,” he purred, taking a step closer to you, making you angle your neck further back to keep eye contact.
“Why?”
“Because I'm about to ruin every other male for you.”
If this was anyone else you would have probably cringed at the arrogance, but you knew the future High Lord meant every word. It was plain to see in the unbelievable amount of power rumbling under his skin, in the way he held onto you, attentive but intentional, in the raw hunger written in his eyes.
His lips were on yours before you could react, pushing you down onto the mattress gently and falling over your body, positioning himself between your legs. Strong hands caressed your breasts as he trailed kisses down your neck, going back to nibbling on the skin just as he had been doing before you interrupted him downstairs.
Fingers tangle themselves in his hair, breathy moans escaping your mouth unattended as he expertly played with your body until you were melting over the soft duvet. His hand starts traveling lower when he feels the last bit of tension leaving your body, strangely attuned to your needs even though you had just met. You spread your thighs further apart when he reaches your cunt, staring into his eyes when he pulls away from your neck in favor of watching you.
“Need to get you ready,” he whispers, coating his fingers in your wetness before circling your entrance, smirking at the way your body trembles under him.
“Please,” you whimper, hips bucking up into his fingers, desire running through your veins like you had never felt before.
Rhysand chuckles down at you, coaxing one of his fingers inside you carefully. “You don't have to beg, darling. I'll give you anything you want today,” he whispers against your lips, biting the plump flesh as needy moans escape you.
You've used your fingers to pleasure yourself before, but his were much bigger and he knew exactly how to work them in to make you see stars. Hands falling on his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he adds another finger, scissoring them inside you slowly, stretching you out patiently, circling your clit with his thumb softly all the while.
It was no surprise that you were already getting close, walls fluttering around his fingers as he did his best to swallow your soft whimpers and sweet pleas, not giving you a chance to breathe as you fell apart beneath him, a shudder running through you as his name escaped your lips.
Rhysand whispers praises in your ear, dropping kisses all over your face and chest, only stopping when it didn't sound like your heart was trying to fight its way out through your chest and your eyes flutter open.
“Still with me?”
You nod up at him, hand cupping his cheek and bringing his lips down to meet yours once again, you don't think you'd ever tire of kissing him even if you did a million times. Rhysand hums into your mouth, sucking on your tongue playfully as he pulls away, getting up to take the rest of his clothes off.
Sitting up so you could watch him properly, your eyes follow his movements as if in a trance. You couldn't help but linger on his cock, taking in the tremble that runs through him as he strokes it once in front of you. Your own hands grip onto the duvet, wondering what he would feel like.
“You can touch me,” he purrs, half lidded eyes almost begging you to, groaning when your hand reaches for him, mimicking the movement.
Surprisingly, there were no signs of nerves as you stroked his cock, only desire and curiosity running through your veins. He seemed more than content with letting you play with him, even praising you when you did something he liked. It makes you feel bolder, having all this control over him of all people. Leaning forward, you take the head of his cock into your mouth, wanting to know what he felt like on your tongue, what he tasted like.
Rhysand lets out a particularly loud moan, not expecting you to do such a thing, looking down at you proudly, his characteristic smirk growing.
“We'll have to leave that for next time,” he starts, pushing your head away carefully, “I need to fuck you now, alright?”
“Next time?”
He hums, pushing you back against the bed, laying down over you, taking your bottom lip between his. “There's still a lot I can show you.”
“Oh.” You didn't know what to say. Never in a million years did you think you'd be in Rhysand's bed, let alone that he'd want you back. Wrapping your arms around him, you pull him as close as physically possible, shivering at the feeling of his hard muscles against your soft flesh, your breasts pressed against his chest, his cock weighing on your stomach.
He positions himself at your entrance, never breaking the kiss, relaxing your body with every stroke of his tongue against yours, every soft caress down your body. You do your best to breathe through it all, accommodating him between your thighs, trembling at the feeling of his hard cock grinding over your cunt, coating himself in your juices.
“Tell me if it hurts or if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, pecking your lips before continuing, “I promise I'll take care of you.”
It might sound silly but in that moment you could have followed him anywhere. The sincerity and care reflected in his eyes almost took your breath away, finding yourself staring into them like an anchor as he started pushing inside you, mouth opening in a silent moan at the foreign feeling.
You had been prepared to feel almost unbearable pain, remembering the stories your friends told you of their own first times and advice they've given you, but aside from an uncomfortable pinch and strange sensation, you could only feel the promise of pleasure.
“Good?” His voice was deeper, clearly affected as he held himself back from thrusting into your warm, tight cunt. You nod and kiss him, hoping it's answer enough, wrapping your legs around him, needing to feel him deeper. Rhysand keeps pushing his cock into you carefully, slowing down anytime your body tenses even a bit, until he finally settles inside you, his hips flush with the back of your thighs.
His hands travel all over your body, mouth still moving against yours, distracting you from any pain or discomfort that you might feel. Your own hands kept caressing up and down his back, feeling the hard muscles ripple under your touch, tracing the small scars you found along the way.
Holding each other so close it was almost impossible to see where one ended and the other began, you felt a fire lighting on the pit of your stomach, a needy pleasure spreading over your veins to every inch of your body, legs tightening around him.
“Rhysand-”
“Can I move?” He asks against your lips, forearm braced right next to your head as he grinds into you once experimentally, humming when you whimper into his mouth. “Want me to fuck you? Want to feel my cock stretching out your tight little cunt?”
“Please,” you breathe out, a long drawn out moan escaping you when he complies, pulling his cock out and pushing it back in, eyes never straying from yours.
He sets up a slow pace, going in impossibly deep, hitting all the spots that make you see stars, trailing wet kisses down your jaw and neck until he reaches your chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth as your head falls back against the duvet, eyes falling shut in bliss.
You almost want to curse yourself for waiting this long, for being too focused on your work to experience this, but you're also eternally grateful that you waited for him, there was no doubt in your mind that he was the perfect person for this. You feel him smirking against your chest, hips never stopping as he lets go of your nipple with a pop.
He lets you pull him into another short kiss, violet eyes staring into yours, hovering over your face, only a breath away as he keeps going, speeding up a bit, going harder as you struggled to keep eye contact, damn near purring at the way you trembled and your walls fluttered around his cock.
Time seemed to stop as you got lost in his eyes, in the pleasure he was bringing you, only noticing how close to the edge you already were when you were about to fall. A rushed warning tumbles past your lips as you descend into madness, his hips grinding into you as shivers run through your body and moans of his name echo around the room, every nerve on your body alive with pleasure.
He fucks you through your orgasm, grinding into your cunt and cooing at your fucked out expression until his hips start faltering, going in deeper as his own high reaches him, barely pulling out of you in time, stroking his cock maddeningly as rope after rope of cum falls on your stomach and chest, his own needy moans filling the room this time.
Chests rising and falling, both of you do your best to catch your breaths and fall back down to earth. Swallowing down the dryness in your throat, you open your eyes to find him mesmerized by the way his cum paints your torso, one hand pushing his sticky hair out of his forehead as a drop trickles down your breast.
A devious thought crosses your mind. Reaching down your body, you gather a bit of his cum with your finger, bringing it up to your lips as his eyes follow the movement, moaning at his taste and the hunger in his eyes, smirking at the curse that he lets out. You reach down again, wanting to repeat the action when he catches your hand, stopping you so he can do it himself, feeding you his cum on his own fingers, cursing as you clean them up happily.
“I think I'm going to keep you, darling,” he declares, eyes fixed on your mouth as you lick your lips.
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” he breathes out, leaning down to kiss you. “You're all fucking mine now.”
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