#and wake him from his eternal slumber

[jasmancer]

sam reid is so right for interpreting lestat as a clown like yeah he's the court jester that everyone wants to fuck so badly he gets away with doing whatever he wants forever

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 22ND ★ SOMNOPHILIA - seishiro nagi .ᐟ

[CHAPTER TWENTY TWO SLEEPING BEAUTY ] once upon a time, a brave knight, destined to marry someone she’d never met, says fuck it and plans to reap the rewards of saving the prince from eternal slumber. without realising that he’s already awake… ( 8.8K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters in their 20s, sleeping beauty!au, somnophilia, hold the moan, overstimulation, cockwarming, dacryphilia, outer-course, handjobs, blowjobs, pussyjobs, free use, dub con, cumplay, creampies, not beta read, knight + fem!reader, aurora!seishiro nagi.

✧ fairy godmother's note - this is so late i'm so sorry, i think i might start posting kinktober towards the end of the week and into november, enjoy me loves. miss u loads! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

you hardly remember the day that prince nagi was born — despite most definitely being there for the ceremony that commemorated it. at the time, you were hardly out of your own leading strings, still babbling dumbly and clinging to your mother’s garments whenever someone poked their nose in your face. obviously far too young to remember the curse placed on him by that wicked witch maleficent. 

prince seishiro nagi was beloved by all and affection for him was widespread throughout the kingdom. he was born deep into the night, at a time where the sky had been painted with deep blue and midnight hues, with hair as silky and pale as the silver moon and eyes like the glittering starry sky. so they said. at least that’s what your been told. while present at the time, you would hardly know — you were too young to remember how he looked nor the very moment you were promised to him as a baby yourself. 

from the moment you were born, your fate was signed away before your very first breath and once you arrived and took two steps you were instantly reared to become prince seishiro’s future wife. to help join two kingdoms in harmonious union. from the moment you could talk, you’d spent your entire life training to become the wife of a man you hardly knew. there were lessons in perfect posture, dainty dancing and simple sewing. not to mention how to serve a king and please a husband  — who apparently had unnatural beauty, the softest voice and the kindest of hearts. outside of nagi, you hadn’t a single hobby or interest that didn’t concern him, solely born and bred for his best interest. how were you supposed to know if any of those spoken traits were really true and not just word of mouth when nobody had any idea where the prince actually was. 

rumour had it, that the silver haired royal had been whisked away to the woods to be raised by the very fairies that blessed him — with hopes of avoiding maleficent’s malevolent curse in which seishiro was destined to prick his finger on a poisoned spinning wheel by age twenty three. in an attempt to undo the wicked spell, the fairies had combined their magic and made it so that only a true love's kiss would be able to wake up their beloved prince. which soon became your duty, by the time you came of age too. 

since then, and for twenty two years after, there was not a peep from the prince — to his people and his kingdom, he’d practically vanished overnight, becoming one with the moon and stars they prayed to each night. holding out hope for his return to the throne. 

in turn, you had no idea when your duty would come to fruition. maleficent's thunderous mountain, shrouded in a thick layer of green, jealous smog that was sure to suck the life from any innocent soul still raged on — meaning her curse hadn’t come true. she still hadn’t found the prince. no one had.

no one except for you. 

unknowingly, you’d met nagi humming amongst pointed shrubbery and wild flowers deep in the forest — absentmindedly complaining about tne berries he was forced to forage for his uncles back home. for you, it was instant, as though an invisible force had drawn you two him like the the two poles of a magnet. prince seishiro was a sight to behold, even before you knew who he was, the timbre trill of his voice filled you with a wave of unfamiliar butterflies that battled their way into your throat — trapping your voice. his eyes were an enchanting pool of riches, frightened of your presence at first, but filled with stripes of silver you were sure had to be stolen from the moon. 

for you, it was love at first sight. a powerful urge to be near him building up in your lungs like fluid in a sick person. you were sure he felt the same — the emotion obvious in the way he tentatively touched you as you talked about nothing and everything at all. the way he swooped down to your height to listen to tales of land and fortune he could only have dreamed of.

in those hours that you spent alone together; pressed into one another’s side’s amongst intertwined tree branches like two lovers' limbs after a night of improper passion  — you’d felt the most seen you had in all your life. for the first time in forever, someone saw you as more than just a bargaining chip or a trophy to be paraded around royal courts in honour of union. someone saw you as a whole, read your story from start to finish and still wanted to know more. you weren’t just a knight made to save a prince. to nagi, you were so much more.

and to you, nagi was a breath of fresh air — someone who craved a more exciting life rather than being banished to a life of greenery and foliage. despite his charming air of laziness and naivety, he expressed to you a burning sense of eager deep within. it was innocent, inquisitive but nagi’s thoughts called out to you like the bird song of two mates. the worlds you came from were different, clearly, but you just made sense to one another.

but back then, in those quiet moment with your head on his shoulder and nothing but the sound of oak leaves swaying in the gentle summer breeze — you’d had no idea that the silver haired stranger was just prince seishiro living under a different name. you thought him a commoner and he thought you a random huntress on a horse. no one had any idea that he was the crown prince, that he’d been snuck back into the castle on the day of his twenty third birthday to regain his title and his crown… only to be lulled by the cruel call of a sinister stranger  shortly — pricking his finger just like maleficent had planned. 

you were meant to marry. you were supposed to go back for seishiro and run away together, live apart from the expectations bestowed upon you as children. unfortunately, you wouldn’t find out until returned to the spot where you’d first met him, and were met with the face of the villain herself. instead of your lover. that’s when you realised the gravity of it all. who seishiro was. who you were meant to be. 

deep down, you knew this was a love too sacred to pass by, and with the white haired prince counting on you —  you would do everything in your power to save him. save the prince and the kingdom from sleeping soundly for the next one hundred years.

with the help of the fairies who raised nagi, you were able to take down the terrible maleficent — grateful that your parents had at least made you handy with a sword. through the flames of the beast above you, you wielded your weapon with a strength and bravery that would go down into the history books of lands far and wide. killing maleficent in the form of the dragon had been no easy feat but you fought, with screaming muscles and a bloody face — fulfilling the duty you had been born to do. trained to do. for nagi and for your kingdom. 

the difference was, this time, you were doing all of this for love. not just for honour.

after winning the flaming battle, you staggered your way through the kingdom despite your burns and free bleeding wounds, making your way up to the tower where your silver-moon haired lover slept. part of you felt envious of the slumbering kingdom, the eternal rest they had slipped under while your body burned and ached with every step that you took… but as soon as you laid eyes on your handsome prince — sleeping like a fallen angel crowned by scattered lights. the glinting particles of dust forming a shining halo over his sleep the steel hair. 

the beat of your heart quickens as you approach the bed tucked deep within his quarters — rivalling the speed of the finest royal race horse and the world completely falls away until the all that remains are you and seishiro. your prince. your love. even while he sleeps, he’s unfairly handsome, grey lashes dusted with starlight just barely brushing the apples of his milky-toned cheeks, his hair curls against his forehead and his lips, rose-tinted, part with each gentle exhale his body takes to keep him alive. without even thinking, your finger trails the slopes and contours of nagi’s delicate features, brushing over his Cupid’s bow that seems damp with the condensation of his warm breaths. the sensation stokes a fire within you while your mind wanders to less than pleasant thoughts.

how would his lips feel if you were to kiss him? how would they taste? how would seishiro kiss you back? the questions swirl around in the calcium cage of your skull like a storm untapped, fuelled by the remnants of adrenaline that simmers in your veins from the fight. it would be wrong, to do what you’re thinking of doing — to press your lips to the seam of his and run your tongue every inch in his hot mouth, behind his teeth and over his own pink muscle. maybe even to cup his throat and feel every breath he takes. it would be so wrong… and yet, your moral compass and previous duties seem to be out of working order, thus, losing the war the flickering desirous flame within you. one that rivals the breath of the dragon slaid outside.

no one would really care if you were to have the way with the crown prince. after all, you would need to be rewarded for your self sacrifice and service to the kingdom that could have very well been burned to the ground if it hadn’t been for your bravery. you deserved this, you deserved him and the chance to appease your growing appetite for the sleeping beauty before you. right now, there were no barriers… no servants and squires and maids or men to tell you what was proper of a knight or of a promised woman, and there certainly weren’t any barriers to the body of the silver haired prince. without any blankets, there wasn’t much to stop you from trailing a hand over seishiro’s clothed stomach and over the hills of his princely dress pants.

your fingertips grazed the taut muscles of his thick thighs as you teased yourself. teased the slumbering royalty. daring tug at the belt loops and thick leather her bound his trousers to his unfairly slender waist. with your lip caught between the sharp edge of your teeth, you unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants inch by inch, a tidal wave of goosebumps erupting over the surface of your body like freshly plucked chicken skin as you reveal more and more of his milky, toned flesh. he’s smooth all over, blueish veins apparent as they spiral underneath his skin, but nagi is just as soft as you remember, as warm brushing up against you as he was the day you first met in the woods.

saliva spreads across your tongue like a sheet of rain during a storm or a flash flood when his undergarments come down with the hem of his trousers, revealing a snow white path of pubic hair that curls prettily against his pelvis. there’s a craving for more that sloshes into the dips and deficits of your brain, like a dark haze that shrouds your brain in nothing but lust — so you act on the feeling, pulling more and more fabric away from seishiro’s most intimate parts until his cock, half hard and already leaking, is able to spring free. 

the sleeping beauty’s breath hitches and catches on the edges of his throat as his hard-on first hits the cool air shrouding his chambers. whatever preconceived notion you’d had of the prince’s body beforehand is quickly tossed away when you finally set your sights on his girth — he is as long as he is thick, chubby against the softness of his tummy with a pink tip that already oozes a thick stream of cream caused by the ghost of your touch over him. a warmth spreads through your entire body, an urge to taste him washing over you in a poor attempt to cool your need down. if you taste him, would that be part of your reward? would it matter to anyone if you put your mouth on the prince while he innocently slept… especially after you’d saved everyone?

you still cannot find it within yourself to care. 

perhaps the wounds maleficent inflicted upon you have left traces of her bad energy, for you continue to disregard your own morals and good intentions by crawling onto nagi’s bed ( careful with your movements while he shifts in his slumber ) and you keep your touch tender when taking him into your hold, the supple pads of your fingers wrapping around the length of the prince’s shaft while you smooth the pad of your thumb into the slit on his cockhead. rubbing the precum into it sweetly. now up close and personal with his most intimate parts, you’re able to catch the scent of nagi… which only worsens your hunger for him. he smells so good, the musky scent of his arousal almost sending your eyes into the back of your skull — acting like fumes of a pretty wildflower in the forest you once met. 

it hypnotises you, takes over your every thought and action in the heat of the moment. every sensation you once felt is now heightened by your own arousal, the feeling of your tongue behind your teeth and the silken sheets against your knees and the blistering temperature of seishirou’s girth in your palm. adjusting your grip on him to something more firm, soft little hands dwarfed by the sheer size and thickness of him, and accidentally pull a tiny moan from your sleeping lover. any trepidation mingling with the air in your lungs is quickly eradicated once you finally give in, flicking your tongue over the cream gathering at nagi’s mushroomed cockhead that burns a painful shade of deep red.

opening your mouth, you take seishiro down your throat as though it’s the easiest thing in the world, your tongue flexing against the bluish purple forked veins that spiral down his heavy shaft. all you want to do is make him harder, feel the blood rush from his slumbering brain to his balls so you can take him properly, elsewhere, later on. what doesn’t fit past the seams of your chapped lips, you continue to palm, setting a steady pace to the rhythm of your hands jerking the silver-haired prince off. its slick and easy, aided by the thick globs of precum that spill over your knuckles and sink into the lines in your palms — seishiro may be asleep, but his body reacts, hips bucking into your closed fist while he squeaks and sighs lazily. 

his head remains tacked to the pillow tucked behind it, starlight locks splayed out across the cooling silk fabric — perfectly tousled despite being slightly out of place as he writhes under the sinful prison of your hot, wet mouth. even you have to moan as you sink down on him, his heavy and pulsating balls meeting your chin while your nose nudges the prickliness of his happy trail. if he were awake, you wonder if nagi would be the type to coax you through giving him head — soft whimpers glossed in his lips while those moonshine grey eyes hold your gaze. or would he push your head down on him and fuck your mouth lazily as though it were another hole to fill with his cum.

part of you wants to rouse him right now, with the kiss of true love the fairies said would work on him, but only to hear how much louder he’d cry and moan for you. you want to hear how the Prince would praise you for taking him so well, slurping the early seed from his tip and hollowing your perfect pudgy cheeks as you gargle him down your eager throat. your imagination runs ahead of your actions as you bob your head faster and faster without regard for your lover sleeping soundly above you lewd slurping sounds echo throughout the room as you picture him looking down at you with flushed cheeks and lidded moonlit eyes — coaxing you to take more of him. 

the heat between your thighs returns, an unbearable searing ache pulsating through your clit as blood carrying lust and other happy hormones shoot straight to it. in one swift motion, you shove a single hand past the waistband of your own pants and undergarments to toy with the sensitive bud, smearing whatever remained of his precum and pre-release against your awaiting cunt. your eyes flutter shut at the taste and heaviness of nagi on your tongue, his viscous arousal flowing down your throat in saltine waves. the flavour was addictive and you found yourself bobbing your head faster, and faster — matching it to the pace at which you stroked your own sticky slit.

lavishly, you run your tongue back and forth over the opening of seishiro’s bulbous cockhead, humming happily around his thick shaft when he involuntarily bucks into the hellish fire of your mouth — it makes your heart swell to know that his body is reacting to you and you alone, how it could very well be this way for the rest of your lives. while you hump your own fingers, their tips pruning with how wet you are as you circle your clit, the sleepy beauty’s balls batter your chin as his taut hips thrust upwards instinctively to chase your dripping tongue and mouth.

drool pours from the corners of it, just as you leak against the seat of your panties — your juices hot and viscous while you finger fuck yourself and get off to the sensation of blowing the sleepy prince while he rests. everything is so sloppy, so messy and wet and you can’t help but to spit down on nagi as his dick swells against your tongue, the frothy mixture clinging to the prominent blood flushed veins that sprinkle from the tip down to his base. 

your release sneaks up on you like a silent figure in the night; hiding from the moonlight and a dirty moan slips from between your lips as you let go of your lover with a lewd pop, your jaw aches deliciously and your tongue is sore from running circles over his tip — as is your wrist from being down your pants to bully shapes into your clit but you don’t mind the pain, it’s all worth it to make yourself feel good. to make nagi feel good so you can use him later on, turning him from a prince into a sex doll. dopamine continues to spark across your brain as you switch from sucking to jerking nagi off, keeping the rhythm of your slick palm wrapped around him in tune with the one that rolls your clit between your fingertips and pinches your swollen folds. 

you don’t last much longer, not when you’re able to watch the moonlit prince fall apart above you even when the depths of sleep cling to the fine lines of his soul. the last remaining thread of your sanity snaps before you’re cumming against your own digits, gushing through the gusset of your panties and straight through the layer or your pants — even while you shiver and shake from the force of your own orgasm, you manage to find a the mobility to tap nagi’s cockhead lewdly against your pink tongue, grinning with an open mouth as his own orgasm rips through his unconscious form. 

warm and viscous seed paints a pretty picture against your strawberry tastebuds as it spurts copiously from his ravaged, fully erect cock. even hitting the back of your throat. 

but it’s not enough, it’s still not enough. a fire of desire still burns bright inside of you and nagi is still as hard as a rock in your hand. so you don’t see a point in stopping, not when you still want him and he clearly still wants you. 

in a whirlwind of fabric, you quickly abandon the lower half of your clothes — even though your legs are violently shaking and there’s a fizz in your brain that makes your vision go blurry from your orgasm, you find the strength to clamber into the prince’s lap and straddle him. a pulse of excitement runs through you as your bare ass meet his half dressed thighs and you set your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself above him. you’re barely able to contain the wavering moan that rumbles in the back of your throat as seishiro’s erection jumps against your sluice sex, as if coaxing you to lower yourself down onto him.

without an air of guilt, you do just that; indulging your sleeping lover’s underlying plea as you slip a hand between your temperate bodies to position his creamy cock at your weeping entrance — you run it back and forth over your slit a few times whilst holding back a quivering hiss, letting him dip in and out of your unused hole. you can’t help but squeak adorably when you start to rock your hips down, sucking him in and stretching over the thick circumference of his tip. you even manage to clench down on seishiro, trapping him inside with each inch you manage to take.

your head hangs low and you steady yourself against nagi again; nails forming pink crescent moons against his pearlescent skin because you’re not sure how much of this burn you can take. he’s so big, yet his cock is so helpless against your sticky walls — it’ll take a lot of work just to reach the hilt. “oh, fuck,” you whimper to yourself quietly, not wanting to be caught taking advantage of the kingdom’s slumbering royalty. you try to stablwlisw your breathing, hold onto your sanity by only fucking yourself over his tip because right now… it’s all you can manage. getting used delicious stretch to your pussy and the resistance of your hole as nagi slips into your tightness. 

in order to ground yourself, you press yourself against the moonlit prince until you’re both chest to chest — allowing your body to relax against is as you slide further down his cock. and, with this change in position, you easily dot feather light kisses from the pale skin, unmarked skin of seishiro’s neck up to his jawline — licking the light layer of perspiration that added diamonds to his skin. his pulse is slow, languid under your lips, just as the rise and fall of his chest is. nagi still sound asleep as you bathed his cock in all of your syrupy wetness. eventually, you reach his lips and hardly hesitate in kissing them, lapping over the seam of them with your tongue as if you’re asking for entrance when you don’t really need to.

not when his body is so willing to give into you, even while seishiro rests.

you swear you feel his lips twitch apart against your own, parting specifically for you to pour your withering moans into him and breathe life into his unconscious soul — your tongue licks at his, relishing in the flavour and slight sweetness to his mouth, letting it distract you from the twinge between your thighs as you finally seat yourself on his girth fully; breeders balls nestled comfortably against the curve of your ass. a feeling of content washes over you, feeling the chubbiness of his girth press hotly against your ribbed walls that catch on his prominent veins there. 

panting lightly, a ripple of desire is the next sensation that you feel, experimentally clenching around the prince below you — bottoming out as your cunt drools down on him. somehow, you find the strength in your thighs to lift your hips and thrust back down, a wet slap bouncing off of all four walls in response. it’s insane how tight, warm and wet you are — how thick, heavy and nagi is, constantly pressed up against your g-spot before you’ve really even moved. you splutter and hiccup as you begin the slow bounce of your hips and allow yourself the grace to accommodate for your sleeping lover’s size, his bright red and possibly overstimulated cockhead nudging feverishly against the pleasure spots that decorate your temperate silken walls. 

“…gods,” comes your shaky voice, trapped behind the prison of your teeth in a weak attempt to hold in your moans. “s-seishiro, f-feel so good…” though you speak to no one in particular, using the sound of your own wailing voice to get yourself, you can feel the white-haired royal underneath you buck upwards as though he wants to fuck you back — driven by tired strings of lust and desire as though he’s a puppet on a set of strings for your own pleasure. collapsing forward, you nestle your head underneath his chin so that the only part of your body moving is your hips working up and down on nagi’s pulsating cock at break-neck speeds. in this position, your murky breaths of exertion coast over his pearlescent skin and your eyes grow misty at the perfect angle. your stream of thrusts are constant like a rushing river, allowing his bulbous leaky tip to barrage into your sex and pull squelching, lewd noises from your poor pussy.

you’re already so sensitive, it’d be a miracle if you last much longer riding your lover like this and to your heart’s content. slumped over him, chewing on your chapped lips to hide the debauched noises that slosh over your tongue and are churned up in your mouth with the drool there. it’s pathetic, really, but your mind is too hazy and high on the drug of ecstasy to care. to pacify yourself and the growing fire that burns the butterflies in your tummy, you switch from bouncing on his fat girth to grinding against it, dancing with your partner in a sensual sticky grind where only you are able to lead. every stroke of his cock within your sluice, pulsating walls makes it harder for you to keep quiet or keep still — the bed creaking beneath the weight of your movement becomes a loud wail and harmonises perfectly with the tune or skin slapping on skin and your pathetic bleats of bliss. 

sweat from the exertion of pounding your mound down on the curve of his cock begins to bead at your hairline, pearling in opaque orbs that form your own halo. one that belongs to a fallen angel. it drips down the side of your face onto the prince below you, another way that you mark him, just as your juices do — droplets of it trailing down his shaft, balls and even his ass. if someone were to walk in now, they’d set their sights on an obscene display of sin, their perfect prince defiled by his knight to be, but you don’t care, your mind and exhausted limbs buzzing with wanton. you’ll use him until cum, claim your prize and work your selfish pussy over him until you know every constellation by heart because of how many times you’ve used seishiro to make yourself see stars.

every sensation overwhelms you, the creamy and tackiness to his cock between your slicked up thighs and the pressure of his purpling cockhead as it digs disgustingly against your g-spot in the most perfect of ways because you clench down on him every now and again. static rings loud in your ears that burn with both shame and lechery for taking advantage of your sleeping lover, the notes from the tune your fat pussy pap-pap-papping as it connects with stitchers of nagi’s bare flesh has a tingling sensation spreading under your skin too. even when he bucks instinctively into you, your entire body jolts in response because there’s no greater relief than knowing that you are yearned for… even within the clutches of unconsciousness.

when nagi whimpers in his sleep, you have to bite his shoulder — keeping your wailing mouth occupied even if you’ll leave teeth marks against him in place. someone could hear the way you beg him to fuck you, muffling yourself as you whisper dirty fantasies to yourself and split your swollen nether lips open on his drippy dick. you’re not sure if that is a good or bad thing to want, to be heard.  “f-fuck me sei… p-please my prince,” everything feels so depraved and so wrong, while you whine sweetly against saltine skin. however, you don’t see yourself stopping — not until you can no longer feel your legs from riding him and your cunt aches from cumming so hard. “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

the back and forth of your sluice sex over nagi’s lap tampers with your system, sending orgasmic shockwaves down your spine and happy hormones into your bloodstream. you alternate, once more peeling your soaked thighs away from his and lift your fluttering entrance higher and higher up his shaft until there’s barely an inch of the white haired royal left inside of you. the emptiness makes you miss him, a choked sob weaving its way like a vine through the gaps in your ribs as it claws its way out of your throat. it’s a shuddering noise that you suppress by locking lips with seishiro again, wet on the seam of them as you lift your head to kiss him. 

“i wanna cum, nagi!”

the words are just about to melt in his mouth but…

…but euphoria is quick to slip into your veins like a welcomed chill on a hot day when nagi suddenly rouses from his slumber — following a natural compulsion to snap his hips upwards with a powerful force and filling you in one fluid motion. he’s awake. one of his hands, extremely strong and veiny and firm takes you by surprise as it clamps down on the back of your neck  so that he can keep you in place too. it was almost as if he was chasing the snugness of your oozing, squelchy mound. an incredulous gasp drifts warmly from your mouth and condenses in nagi’s, for a second you worry that he might push you off and yell for help… but recognition registers on the slope of his handsome features. 

he’s awake…how long has seishiro been awake? 

moonlight lashes flutter against your face from your proximity and murky grey eyes, littered with exhaustion between their flecks, light up with a sprinkling of hearts as then open to look at you. slowly but surely their gaze drifts downwards, honing in on the point at which his milky cock repeatedly disappears into your puffy pussy, the glaze of your essence on his rock hard cock and clinging to his pubes put on display. 

groaning hoarsely and deeply, nagi’s freehand shoots down to the bouncing flesh of your ass without a lick of hesitation and pulls you the rest of the way down his pulsing girth. then up again. then back down — giving him all of the control to pummel your pussy to the high heavens. hard and fast. “i thought… thought you wanted to cum,” the moonlit prince mumbles, voice still puppeteered by the last strings of sleep. “don’t make it a hassle by holding back now… fuck your self down on my cock ‘n cum…”

he’s awake… how much of this has seishiro been awake for? 

nagi builds up a formidable momentum inside of you, dragging his seedy tip along your ravaged walls, shocking for someone who had essentially just woken up from a curse of eternal slumber. he doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve been using him like a toy for your own sexual desires, but how could he? not when you’re dousing him in your sweet nectar, slapping your soaked sex down on him and squeezing his aching shaft just like that. how can a man, no less a prince, whine about waking up to such a good fuck?

all you can do is reply with a high pitched squeal, your body jerking and jolting on top of nagi as you struggle to keep up with thrusts. “come now, don’t make me do all of the work,” white starts to froth at the base of his cock, bubbling up while it streaks over your ruined pussy lips and clit. “after all, you started this… took advantage of me while i slept. s’only fair, angel,” he adds nonchalantly and makes you gush unbelievable amounts of arousal at the condescending air about his words.

he’s awake and now seishiro wants you to cum for him.

you do try your very best to do as nagi says, selfishly squeezing down on him and locking his precum bleeding tip inside your gummy walls, but your hips fumble their rhythm as soon as he looks up at you — sweaty hair splayed out in the sheets like an angel, lips parted in both curiosity and awe, cock bulging in your lower stomach. you’re choking the life out of seishiro and he likes it, feeling like he’s been rewarded for just being a pretty prince. 

all you want is for him to make you scream and squirt — your clit smears against his pelvis while you buck down on him feverishly. he barely lets you lift of his erection at this point. “‘m close… s-seishiro, please! c-can’t…”

it’s the first time you’ve spoken his name directly to him since your love-at-first-sight encounter in the woods and it flips a switch in the peaceful prince of the night. “y-yeah you can, angel. of course you can…” with a breathy, almost whiny moan, seishiro uses his newfound energy to assault your cunt with a barrage of wild thrusts. jackhammering into you, jerking you about on his throbbing length, coated in a milky mix of your shared arousals. “had no problem… fixing yourself on my cock before. ‘m sure you can make yourself cum on it now that i’m here to help,” he adds through gritted teeth, never letting up on his incredible speed. “shouldn’t be a hassle.” 

that’s all you really need to hear before you’re thrown into the deep end, the dark abyss of the night. while the ropes in your tummy unravel and unwind, the tune of sinful sex reaches its final crescendo and the world around you fades away as you’re thrown over the edge and temporarily black out — you practically squirt in an aggressive, clear stream and renders you a cum soaked mess in the prince’s lap. he forces your head into the junction between his neck and jaw, utilising his hold on you to help muffle the scream that burns at the sore edges of your voice as you cum for him. practically drowning nagi in everything you have to give. 

as if chasing something, your lover speeds up his thrusts, trying to make sure he isn’t left behind while you cum for him. growls and grunts spill over his lips, nagi’s pink tongue darting out the flavour you’d left on him as he slept. he buries himself deep inside of you, lunging into that one special spot nestled deep within your walls so that he can prolong your release — working hard even though he was just roused from what seemed like an eternal night.

the aftershocks of your high and heavenly spasms of your hole around nagi simply aren’t enough to satisfy him however — whatever remains of an orgasm he had coming fade away like embers of a dying flame while you come down. in fact, before you can even collapse on the white haired royal fully, he uses a strength you were unaware that he possessed to immediately flip you onto your back — manhandling you into the position he desires most. your thighs pushed together, knees pushed into your chest and him… towering over you menacingly.

only now do you realise how… large seishiro is. how much more dominant he is over you. how it may have been a mistake to think you could steal pleasure from him while he slept as a personal reward and not expect consequence. or at least a consequence you might enjoy too. “such a waste,” he comments groggily, pulling his cream soaked cock from its home within your pretty pussy with a hiss. using one hand, nagi grabs at his ravaged shaft and taps it against the swell of your thighs pushed together. “how can you use me like that…and still fail to make me cum? i’ll have to do it myself. what a bother, angel.”

your breath catches in your throat, indicating your surprise. “seishiro…w-wait,” you plead, lips parting in a quiet moan at every squeeze of your flesh and tug of hips to get your body into place. you don’t even know what you’re asking for or why you’re asking him to stop, you still don’t care about the consequences. all you want is for the sleeping beauty above you to fall apart, to hear your name on the tip of his tongue, to feel him cum wherever that may be. “‘m sorry…i-i didn’t know you were awake!”

“don’t care darlin’,” seishiro’s breathy words hang between the pearliness of his teeth, shaggy hair tickling the skin on your calves as he positions them over his shoulders instead of in the air. “don’t r’member much… just my finger gettin’ pricked ‘n then you… using me. on top of me…” his cock makes a home between your plush thighs, pushing back and forth against the flesh to relieve his painfully hard erection. the action itself paints the canvas of your body with remainders of your arousal and essence — thick stringy globs of white forming tracks against soft skin. “f-fuck angel, you put in all this work to make yourself cum using me… now it’s my turn.” 

eyes that mirror the silver light of the moon flutter shut and nagi’s nose judges against your ankle — lips grazing the pointed bone and in their wake leave a trail of inflamed bites from where he leaves his mark on you, hoping that they’ll be present on the morning to remind you of who you belong to. his pink tongue peeks out to lick, loll over and soorje what he nips at, but the wet sensation doesn’t distract from curious finger tips that dance their way down and pinch your arousal soaked, fat folds together. neediness streams into your tone as you whimper out for more and your hips arch up to chase the feeling. 

in response a lazy grin twitches at the corner of your prince’s mouth, playing with the tackiness your cunt leaves against his hand before he spreads it over his bright red tip as lube. “quit squirming angel, s’too much of a bother to keep you pinned down,” seishiro then adjusts his knees on the bed and his hips begin to brutally rut into you, dragging his sloppy length back and forth, back and forth through the makeshift pocket pussy he’s made out of your quivering limbs. his precum loaded tip prods at the softness of your tummy and earns you a symphony of high pitched moans and heaving pants, harmonised with heavy balls slapping wetly against your clit over and over again. to the point where you fear you may be overcome with another orgasm all too soon.

being used like this, it feels humiliating, shame burns like paper held to a flame underneath the surface of your skin and tears begin to sting in your lower lash line as your entire body jolts up the bed — nagi throwing you about like a rag while he plunges his hips against your doughy thighs. his stamina impresses you too, but you find it hard to dwell on how quickly your lover was able to be riled up after rising from the constraints of an all powerful curse. you don’t mind the aching pulse to your untouched pussy when you get to watch nagi hang over you and hungrily hump your shaky legs — his usually kind eyes are swamped with darkness of lust the back of his pupil practically eclipsing the grey colour. 

his head darkens at the roots from how much he’s sweating, droplets crowning his head and running down his back like water on a glass windowpane. he’s a sight to behold, he makes your holes drool and mouth water, the both of you completely wrecked by a little thigh fucking and humping. between his merciless pace and the creaks from the bed, nagi jams a veiny hand between the sensual bump and grind of your bodies to grasp at his thick, temperate shaft — pulling it down to run through the entire length of your slippery before tapping it greedily against your puffy clit and snack between your thighs.

the sweet squeak you release has the prince repeating his action over and over, blood rushing through the purpling veins that spiral down his chubby cock. you’re the perfect sticky little fleshlight for him to fuck, to hold and love, and he hisses, jutting his hips forward in order to chase the euphoria coursing for his veins like the next best drug — all while he pounds your thighs to the starry heavens and back. 

juicy, wet sounds fill the room to the brim, a concert and performance of moans and whimpers to match and accompany nagi pounding away at your thighs, grinding against your sex. the white haired man leaks copious amounts of precum, milky like his hair and loose from his sore and sensitive rouge tip, that can’t stop weeping, oozing. his arousal makes each of his movements easier and more fluid, slipping and sliding between your legs and just grazing your sobbing mound. this way; you’re reminded of the sheet sheer size of your lover from the woods — be throbs, swollen and fat with an oncoming orgasm, with the seed that weighs down his balls that swing with each rut of his hips.

a hearty sob escapes you each time they press against you, dragging over your clit that begs for attention. the visage of your prince above you — flushed at the cheeks ( if they’ve been kissed by the petals of a rose), white brows knitted together st the centre of his forehead while ruby lined lips appear bitten and bruised  — begins to blur from your saltine tears. you can no longer hold back, raw and rough desire washing away your ability to control your body and your voice.

the way you cry wracks your body with the case of the shakes because of the wild whines resounding from deep within seishiro’s hard chest. each sound makes your cunt quiver, your juices darkening the sheets below and clinging to his snow while pubes, all the while, the prince ravishes you pulling you apart molecule by molecule before he pieces you back together with just a lazy shape drawn against your hardening clit. 

“w-what a waste of tears, i thought you wanted to use me,” nagi stutters out, breath condescending against your ankles. it makes him pulse between your thighs, knowing that he’s the one able to reduce you to a mess of cum and tears — even if you did half the work for him while he slept soundly. the fact that you threaten to break, still holding onto your inhibitions and desperate moans, only serves to make home rut his creamy cock against you faster. “you should give it up angel, m-much less of a hassle if you give into me.”

and with that, seishiro leans down to kiss you, his swiftness akin to a starved man. he manhandles your thighs to sit either side of his unfairly slender waist, granting him the room to swoop down until you’re chest to chest — his wide, large frame hiding your shaky one away from the world underneath him as his teeth sink into your bottom lip. he licks into your mouth as you open up with a shy mewl, devious tongue wrapping itself around your own as he tastes himself there. “thank you for waking me up, angel,” spit slings between your eager mouths, movements a little out of sync and languid since they’re so driven by a raw passion that simmers underneath the sleepy fog clouding the prince’s brain. “wakin’ me up to do this,”

he settles back on his haunches after coming up for air, laughing tiredly at the pout on your lips from the loss of contact. 

but now that you’re spread eagle with your cunt drooling openly on the bed and glistening under the moon’s light — the white haired royal angles his hips just right, shuddering from head to toe as his sex soiled girth slots between your swollen folds perfectly. his bulbous tip peeks out against your clit and he circles it against you, desperate to hear you wail like the wind again. “feels so good against you, s’not fair how good you feel,” he says under his stuttering breath, using a thumb and forefinger to spread your pussy lips apart — groaning at the strings of clear slick that tie them together. ““later on, when i’ve got more energy, i’m going to fuck this pretty hole. make sure i really have my turn.” nagi promises and swallows thickly at the raunchy sight of you, viscous drops of your treacle like nectar running over your slit and down to your puckered asshole.

you’re grateful for his touch, the friction you’re about to receive… but you miss seishiro’s lips and his tongue so deep in your mouth he might as well have been fucking it too. why do you miss those luscious lips? because they keep you quiet, muffle your embarrassingly high moans and withering screams of pleasure, cover up your glass shattering cries that accompany your teary face. he’s so heavy and raw against you, grinding his shaft that shoots tiny spirts of precum onto your cunt while you match his rhythm — it’s a wonder why you’re crying right now. not to mention the rounds of overstimulation he’s put you through. 

“you were so quiet before, angel, what happened?” a condescending tone fills out the weight in nagi’s voice, punctuated by the harsh lunges of his hips forwards as he smothers his girth in the juicy offerings from your folds. part of the prince wants to selfishly keep you writhing against his hot and heavy dick for all of eternity, adoring the way you bleat and cry for him through bleary Bambi eyes. hes sure you wouldn’t mind it either, but he’s too far gone to keep edging you both forever. “does it feel that good? so fucking good that you can’t help but whine and whimper for me… s’too much of hassle to hold back, angel. go one, cry pretty f’me, pretty girl…”

you burst into tears, letting your emotions overwhelm you. “feels so, so good, my prince,” you slur back as that familiar twinge of pleasure begins to rapidly mount within your tummy once more — throwing an avid, heated look his way. “s-sei, ‘m close,” one of your shaky hands take purchase in the silvery roots of his hair while the other grasps him shoulder so that you have the leverage to grind into him — rocking your hips in a fluid motion like a boat on rapid waves. sanity slips away from you under nagi, his energy completely unmatched as you struggle to keep up with his pace. the way he chases your sweltering, souse sex with the speed of the kingdom’s finest race horse. he pushes forward when you pull back and it goes both ways — one moment can’t happen without the other. 

nagi simpers above you, smirking lazily as he pushes back the sweaty snowy white roots of his hair — drinking in the sight of you. “that so? you’re close? wanna feel it’s, s’too much effort to have you hold it…not when you sound so wet…” both of you move with increased vigour the closer you get to cloud nine, seishiro cooing to you like over the crude sound of your sexes slipping over each other. “…y’should be embarrassed, yanno,” he presses against you, whimpering happily at the feeling of your breasts bouncing against his chest with each thrust, his breath hot against the tips of your ears and weakly grinds against you clit now — his own orgasm on the horizon.  “taking advantage of me like that. using me. s’naughty princess. such a hassle.” 

he tucks his face against your neck, teeth grazing over the skin while he listens out for your hiccuped sobs and heaving chest — you’re so loud when you’re close and it pleases nagi. he can’t stop tapping your clit and nipping at your flesh — desperate to hear how much louder you can get without holding back. a gargled gasp from you has his cock twitching and threatening to burst with release, while the condescending gripes that vibrate in his chest shoot straight to you’re swollen clit. 

listening to you cry and settling his greyed gaze on your puffy eyes is more than enough for nagi to cum, the string of his own sanity snapping as you scream for him. “you look like you’re about to cum, angel,” he purrs lowly, panting between each word. “mmmh, don’t you think i deserve to go first? fuuuuck i’m close…so close. do you want it inside? i won’t ruin the bed that way… wont need to clean it up…” seishiro rambles over the spit pooling pathetically on his tongue, bucking faster and harder against your slippery cunt with each syllable he manages to get out. “…wanna put it inside you as you cum.” 

you barely have it in you to respond and you can hardly make sense of it all, brain running a mile a minute. the feeling of your orgasm twists in your lower stomach, stacking painfully in your pelvis at a rapid pace you can’t even comprehend. “yes…! want it inside, gods yes!” you sigh out, voice rising several octaves. “want you inside!”

though it’s entirely selfish of you to make demands in the moment, after how you so sinfully used the sleeping prince as your prize — nagi relents, slipping the delicious curve of his cock past your puckered, fluttering entrance just as he reaches his peak. it makes him shake as though the gods have stepped down from the heavens and set foot on earth and he really can’t help it, how much he cums. there's so much of it, white hot seed that spews into you hotly, so pent up from all the pleasure you’d given him while he slept. his heavy load pulses against your sensitive, ribbed walls and sticks — lubing up your insides while he pushes his milky cock deeper into your bare cunt. 

“f-fuck!” the white haired prince curses loud enough to rouse his loyal subjects within a ten mile radius with one final swing of his hips. “f-fuck angel… gods!”  strings of opaque seed tie the veins on his shaft to your precious hole and as he twitches with the last spurts of his orgasm — your own high is triggered.

white flashes behind your eyes and the dam breaks for the third and final time — your release trickles out of you in small waves and you let out a borderline pornographic moan. nagi hums happily at the feeling of you squirting around him, Essen e clinging to his pubic hair too. 

for a second or two, seishiro relishes in the way you convulse around him, giving you a moment to calm down while he pacifies your high pitched squeals with gentle kisses along the side of your head. you’re still quivering when he collapses on top of you exhausted — neither of you having the capacity to speak properly. “d-don’t move… jus’ lay here with me,” he murmurs, tripping on his words. “‘m tired… don’t wanna move,”

you hardly have the strength to deny seishiro or push him off, snuggling into him as the pair of you roll onto your sides. “you’re tired… you almost slept for an eternity!” a laugh escapes you in reply.

“and guess who woke me up and made me work to cum. s’on you not me. fair is fair.” nagi quips back, burying his face into your neck.

you suppose that he has a point, nuzzling him from below as the two of you drift off without the fear of never waking up, of succumbing to lifelong sleep  — content, happy and fucked out by your sleeping beauty.

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[spxllcxstxr]

Cuddling with Jayce and Viktor • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: could you please write some jayvik x reader cuddling headcanons? I looooved your dating headcanons🥰🤭 -- anon

Warnings: heart melting fluff, that's literally all it is

A.N: Anon, I was delighted to get this request because I want to cuddle with jayvik at all times. Also I'm glad you liked the headcanons!! I hope you like these too!

•

Cuddling with your partners will forever be one of your favorite things. While Viktor may not be at ease with a lot of touch, that aspect seems to be pushed aside whenever the three of you are in bed

Viktor easily melts into Jayce's side, his face is usually flush with the crook of Jayce's neck, which makes it easy access for a peppering of kisses when he wakes up in the morning (he always wakes up the earliest, kisses Jayce, then you, before making his morning tea which he brings back to bed to slowly sip as he waits for his loves to rise)

Additionally, Viktor lays his hand in the middle of Jayce's chest, to feel his heartbeat or to feel up his muscles, no one knows and he’ll never tell. However, your own hand meets his at Jayce's core. The night usually starts with your hand on top of his, but some time during your slumber your hands swap, and Viktor's warm palm is placed atop the back of your hand, slender fingers grasping onto you

No matter how many times you wake up to this, the tenderness of the moment will forever make your face heat up and your heart beat rapidly

Viktor runs cold and Jayce is as warm as a furnace, so that really explains why Vik is always huddled up close to him

On the other side of Jayce lies you, also huddled up to his side. Jayce's arm is wrapped around you, fingers tracing random shapes or equations on the small of your back. It’s oddly comforting—his fingers dancing across your skin. It sometimes feels like he may be writing paragraphs of something familiar, something you can almost make out, but you’re never able to

(Jayce will never admit this to anyone, but there are times he traces letter on your skin as you fall asleep. Letters that make up admissions of love, insecurities, hopes, and dreams. His fingertips will tell how much he cherishes your love and adores Viktor’s trust in him. Sometimes they spell out what he hopes is your future together—the three of you, bound by love and loyalty for eternity. It helps him fall asleep)

Jayce honestly doesn't mind at all that he is squished in between his partners because he gets to touch the both of you. He gets to know that the people he loves are alive--are with him. Jayce enjoys knowing that Viktor has returned from the lab unscathed and that whatever the poison is that lurks below them and loomed over Viktor's childhood hasn't killed him. Jayce feels as if when the two of you are tucked securely at his side, the three of you are untouchable. He loves feeling your soft skin underneath his calloused fingertips, the warmth of your breath tickling the delicate skin under his ear

His heart beats below the tangled hands of his partners and that's all he wants

While that is how the three of you are usually organized in bed, with Jayce in the middle, that doesn't mean you never directly cuddle with Viktor. There are times where Jayce is out, with the council or another sort of meeting, and you and Viktor have the apartment to yourselves. Usually the two of you will be reading (sometimes Viktor will read to you, sometimes you will read to him if he's too exhausted). Who's cuddling into who will depend on who's reading aloud to the other. But more often than not, the two of you will cuddle in a way where both sets of eyes can see the text

Viktor smells of the air after a heavy rain on days he doesn’t come home smelling of grease and metal. But even then, his scent is his own and addictive nonetheless

Your voices will be soft in the other's ear, which usually causes you to drift off to sleep. Jayce will come back to find the two of you heaped together, heads close together

You and Jayce are the ones that crave cuddles every hour of the day. Viktor pretends he doesn't, usually rolling his eyes when you ask for him to get his ass in bed. But then Jayce whips out those wide golden eyes and Viktor is easily pulled to bed

There is also some casual cuddling outside of the bedroom. Pulling the two of them from their work is difficult, but once you convince Jayce, it's all over

Jayce is also the type to sit on his desk in the lab with either you or Viktor between his legs, arms wrapped around your torso.

Viktor likes to complain, citing that it's a distraction, but once Jayce envelopes either of you in his arms, there's no escape

Knowing that every night ends with the three of you in bed holding onto each other is what fuels the three of you. In the end, everything is worth it; everything leads to the love the three of you have for one another. Nothing else matters except for the sweet and soft touch of your partners.

•

[tired-teacher-blog]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

As an eepy, helpless romantic.. how about a gender neutral reader who secretly loves to sing but rarely does it when they think someone is there. Now imagine their s/o waking to the reader singing to them, so soft yet filled with love and devotion.

For Leona, Jamil, Silver, Malleus, and Jack, please!

Jack Howl:

When you began to sing Jack feared his ear twitch might have alerted you to the fact he was actually awake but it seemed you were too absorbed in your song to notice. He wished you did this more, not wanting to put pressure on you to perform but… When you were good at something, shouldn’t you show it off a bit more? He didn’t mean for you to turn it into a job. Even if he was your audience he thinks it would be nice, wondering if there was a way for him to bring the topic up without embarrassing you.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil had to admit he didn’t know you had it in you. There was a natural melodic quality to your voice, in his opinion, but it didn’t mean he knew you had this hidden talent. While the sound is quite relaxing it’s the lyrics that leave him feeling unsettled. A confession in metaphors but a confession nonetheless, admiring him and his beauty, relating to the peaceful moment you were having now. He struggled to relate the song to himself but your lyrics were undeniably about him, for him, even if you didn’t realize he was listening.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona didn’t interrupt, never letting you know he had woken up while you were singing. There had been a handful of times where he’d heard the pleasant sound of your voice drifting down the halls but you always stopped the moment you knew he was nearby; he suspected he only heard you at all because his hearing was sharper than the average person. He thought it was a pleasant way to fall asleep, yet he couldn’t ignore the love behind your words, the way your fingers stroked through his hair carefully to not wake him. It’s hard to drift off to sleep after these revelations, as for once reality felt better than his dreams.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus feels as if you’re putting a spell on him, leaving him frozen in time but rather than feeling uncomfortable, it was like you had wrapped a warm blanket around him. He can’t recall ever hearing you sing before, wondering how often you did it. Did you do it while doing chores, or practicing magic? Were you a natural since you were young or had it required practice? He has so many questions to ask yet he felt too weary to do so, just wanting to keep his eyes closed to enjoy your song a few moments longer.

Silver:

Your song is so calming Silver felt he might fall into an eternal slumber, forever surrounded by your voice in an endless dream. His eyelids felt heavy as your words floated through him, taking time to truly listen to what you were singing about. Had he done anything to deserve your devotion? To have you see him in such a shining light that it was as if he could do no wrong? Silver can’t stop himself from opening his eyes, glancing over at your flustered face when you apologized for waking him. He shook his head with a soft smile, asking if you could sing it again for him.

[propertyofwicked]

CROSS MY HEART - LN

warnings - smut!! MDNI!! soft!lando x restless!reader, sleepy sex, unprotected (stay safe yall), little bit of cockwarming ?

little one shot for a tired reader who just needs a bit of late night lovin <3

based on -> cross my heart by artemas

masterlist

she truly didn’t mean to start anything, y/n was simply trying to get comfortable. she was restless, the clock on the bedside table displaying 3:00 in bright red lighting mocking her. lando laid behind her, his arm laying haphazardly over her waist, holding her close to him, the other stretched above her head.

lando’s heavy breathing faltered for a moment, as she tossed and turned again, his eyes squeezing tight before squinting open to look at her. she was now laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, lando’s arm still thrown over her as he moved to squeeze at her hip.

“hey,” he whispered, trying not to let his slumber leave him fully.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologised, whispering back at him.

“why are you still up?” he asked, ignoring her apology.

“can’t sleep,” she said, turning her head to look at him.

his eyes were still half closed, struggling to open with the weight of his fatigue. his hair was messy, matted down slightly from where he rested his head, a stray curl resting on his forehead.

“come ‘ere,” he mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to her exposed shoulder before pulling at her hip, guiding her to shuffle back into his embrace. she felt his soft breaths blowing on her hair, trailing down the back of her neck, tingles shooting down her spine as she rolled further into his arms. her body moulded into his as though they were made for each other, each curve of her back fitted perfectly with his chest. her legs bent upwards, resting above his, feeling the dull warmth of his thighs spread to hers.

his hand resting on her hip, fingers drawing circles on her thigh, twisting the fabric of her shorts as he did.

“what’s wrong?” he asked again, sensing there was more to her restlessness.

“nothing,” she said with a sigh, “well, i don’t think there’s anything wrong.”

“the girl who sleeps anywhere anytime can’t fall asleep - never thought i’d see the day,” he joked, laughing lightly, his chest shaking lightly on her back as he did.

“maybe ive slept too much and now im doomed to an eternity of sleepless nights,” she replied, leading lando to laugh lightly again.

“right,” he started, “shut your eyes for me, focus on steady breathing.”

she nodded at him, hoping that lando could feel her response, as his eyes had shut again, his head rolling forwards to rest his forehead on her shoulder.

and so, y/n laid there silently for minutes, eyes closed. she’d just about given up counting sheep, trying to recall a long journey, even focusing on numbing her entire body head to toe - nothing was working. finally, she decided that shuffling backwards, further into her boyfriends embrace might help, maybe the white noise of his heavy breathing, or the warmth of his chest on her back would lull her into the deep sleep she needed.

her hips rolled back first, pushing into lando’s crotch as she did, her back moving to arch into his chest. but before she could get comfortable, the grip on her waist tightened, a small grunt escaping lando’s mouth as he held her impossible close to him.

“if you wanted me that bad, you should’ve just said,” he mumbled in her ear again, his hips jutting forwards slightly.

“i didn’t mean to,” she whined in defence, before considering the situation, “but since you mentioned it, and since i can feel a little problem forming…”

“little?” he gasped jokingly, “you’ve never complained about the size of it before.”

“ill think you’ll find i have,” she replied, her hips absentmindedly grinding down on his growing bulge as she spoke, “do you not remember the jaw pain i had after i suc-”

she was interrupted by his hand landing firmly over her mouth.

“don’t finish that sentence if you don’t want this to escalate,” he warned.

“and what if i want it to?” she teased, “might help to tire me out?”

“well in that case, i guess im obliged to help,” he sighed, jokingly conceding as his fingers tugged at the waistband of her shorts. her hand reached down to grab his, halting his movements slightly, she could feel his face contort in confusion from where it still rested on her skin.

“just pull them to the side,” she told him, “im too tired to take my clothes off.”

he laughed at her honesty, never one to complain about being lazy with his girl, especially when he himself was too exhausted to put his full effort into sex right now.

“yeah?” he asked her, needing reassurance before she nodded, mumbling a quick “please”.

lando’s hands reached around to y/n’s front, pulling her shorts to the side, running his rough fingers through her folds. his head near shot up in shock, pushing himself up slightly to look down at the woman below him, fingers still working through her heat, circling her clit.

“how are you already that wet?” he asked her, chuckling lightly as the moon’s soft glow illuminated the flush rising her cheeks, “all i did was press my cock into your ass and you’re dripping?”

“ok?” she replied, feigning offence, “all i did was push my hips into your cock and you got hard? you know, lan, most men wouldn’t complain when their girlfriends find them attractive,” she joked, exposing his hypocrisy with a giggle.

“this wet, though? all for me?” he asked again, though his voice no longer held it’s playful tone, it became almost possessive, proud of his effect on her.

“all for you,” she choked out, stuttering as his fingers circled her entrance, his thumb moving to continue his assault on her clit. he pushed into her, fingers curling in as he did.

“please lan,” she begged him, panting as he did. any other time, she’d be embarrassed how quickly she was falling apart for him, but right now she couldn’t think about anything but being full with him.

“please, what, angel?” he asked, smirking at her submission, “words, baby.”

“need you now,” she whined, rolling her hips to deepen his fingers, intensifying the pressure of his thumb on her heat.

“patience, angel. gettin’ you ready for me,” he grunted, hips still jutting sporadically into her every time she moaned out for him.

“i’m ready,” she argued, “i can take it.”

“you sure?” he teased, though his hand slipped away from her, pushing her shorts to the side again and tugging his boxers down to free himself. lando tugged at his length a few times, spreading precum down the shaft before lining himself up with her entrance. he felt her lean forwards slightly, moving her leg to raise it over his, opening herself up to him.

he pushed in slowly, feeling her walls stretch around his cock as she moaned out at the intrusion, soon feeling the cotton of her shorts brushing against the skin at the base of his pelvis. her hand reached back, gripping at his arm to stop his movements.

“need a moment,” she whined.

“who’s little now?” he joked, careful to keep himself still inside her, “’i’m ready, i can take it,’“ he mocked.

“shut up or i’m leaving,” she warned, grinding down on him as she grew used to the feeling of being full.

“sure you will,” he gloated, hand moving back down to her clit, pinching at it lightly as his hips began to thrust into her at a gentle pace. she couldn’t argue back if she tried, his warmth engulfing her as he held her close, strings of curses tumbling from her mouth with every thrust.

“love having you so close to me,” he grunted, his teeth nipping at the skin on her shoulder lightly, “so full of me. feel so good, wrapped around my cock like this.”

his pace remained gentle - his thrusts deep inside her, the tip of his cock hitting the spot that had her purring for him. the feeling of lando’s hands on her, gripping at her thigh, holding her open for him to slide in and out of her. his chest pressed up against her back, a light sweat coating his skin.

it was no surprise she reached her climax so quickly, overwhelmed at the feeling of him thrusting deep inside her, his body surrounding her every senses, soft grunts that travelled through her ears and straight to her heat - he was like a drug she could never quit. she came hard and fast, body shaking around his cock as her body grew limp. lando followed soon after, his strong grip holding her body still for him to use however he pleased.

his hips moved to pull back, to slip out of her slowly but her exhausted whines stopped his movements.

“leave it in,” she mumbled, face pressed into the pillow.

“what?” he asked, trying to disguise the mixture of shock and excitement he felt at the prospect of being so close to her.

“you heard me, lan. leave it in. want to feel full,” she replied, a small smile rising on lando’s face at her tired desperation, as she shuffled back into his warm embrace once again. his arms tightened around her again, her laboured breathing lulling them both into a deep sleep.

[hwajin]

☆°. — ᴋɪss ᴇs

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hyunjin x afab!reader

𝐰𝐜: 3.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: oral (afab receiving), very soft, lots of tension

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: something sweet for valentines day!! it's a bit rushed, hope you enjoy it nontheless <33

You lay sprawled across the bed, a book in hand. You had no blanket on you, yet you felt warm, and a heavy weight was pressing you down; Hyunjin was snoring softly against the sensitive crook of your neck, working far better than any weighted blanket you could acquire. His arms, lanky and long, were snaked around you, tightly, holding you so close that you almost didn’t believe that he was sleeping, that he was only pretending so you wouldn’t shoo him off. Not that you ever would, in the first place; you enjoyed being crushed beneath his weight far too much to ever deny his affection and love.

One hand of yours was tangled in his hair, massaging his scalp — you figured it was the very thing which has put him into his semi-deep slumber in the first place, so you only stopped it when necessary, after finishing a page and turning to the next one. Hyunjin's soft grunts of protest never went unnoticed; you huffed in amusement every time your fingers untangled from his messy locks and he sighed out in tired disagreement, before sounding entirely content again the moment your hands found themselves deep in his locks again. It was endearing. You thought you could find eternal happiness right then, right there.

It must have been several minutes, and you were twenty-something pages further in your book when the man stirred, suddenly, without a reason — you were but a statue beneath his body, not moving even an inch to not disturb, to not wake. Yet he stirred, moved around atop your body; his face buried further into your neck, tickling you, his breath hot and intoxicating, burning on your skin. He hummed, arms tightening around you - if possible - and he looked up at you. He was awake, though he didn't look it. His hair was an adorable mess, falling over his eyes and standing to all directions, his eyes barely open and puffy, only a little, and his left cheek wore the imprint of your shirt he had laid on. Endearing. You thought you could find eternal beauty if you as much as looked at him. Even minutes after waking up.

You giggled, softly, your hand still in his hair, still massaging.

"Hi."

He huffed out amusement at that, closing his eyes to bask in your antics at his hair, leaning into your hand, fully at peace. He hummed again, in satisfaction now, in pleasure, and it sent a shock of electricity throughout every fibre of your body. He must have noticed, must have sensed you tensing up, and he smiled - not in malice, simply acknowledging. A shiver ran down your spine then.

"You're still reading, huh?"

Hyunjin's voice sounded quietly through the room, almost melodic, harmonizing with the birdsong outside. It didn't disturb the silence, only added to the atmosphere, leisure, lazy, loving. You nodded at his question, continued massaging the skin in his nape, hummed, then, affirmatively. There was a lot of humming in the room, sighs and huffs instead of words, for words seemed, almost, too heavy; and you understood each other without.

Hyunjin's face buried into your neck again - though not without a plan this time, not to merely rest. He kissed the skin there, softly, patient. Slow. As though dragging out his movements would make the moment last forever. He kissed, open-mouthed kisses, wet kisses, loud kisses, stingy kisses; he couldn't help but bite down on you every other moment, not a lot, enough only to show purest affection, most primal desire.

Your skin was sensitive. You were shivering in his hold, you were shivering at the feeling of the warmth his breath glazed over your neck. He was holding you close, his hands exploring the expanse of your back; though barely noticeable. He was barely even moving his hands, so slow you weren't sure he was at all, until you noticed them laying elsewhere, suddenly - close to your neck, then the small of your back, then wrapping around your shoulders from behind. Always pulling you closer. Always keeping you near, as much as physically possible. You moaned out quietly, softly, barely even audible, but it dizzied him, and Hyunjin bit down against the back of your ear with more fervour than before. You mewled, and you felt him smile against your skin.

When he spoke his next words, his voice was muffled, absorbed almost entirely by your body.

"Read for me. Out loud… please."

You chuckled, not less because the words against your skin sent tickles down the entirety of your body. Hyunjin, despite his wish, stayed buried in your neck; he was nibbling at the lobe of your ear now, kissing there a second after, listening to the way your breath hitched in your throat. He wasn't making a move to separate from you - you tried shoving him off, giggling softly in the process.

"You need to let me... actually read, then"

Your voice was quiet, amused, and followed momentarily by a sigh of pleasure. Hyunjin licked at the goosebumps on your neck, right where it connected to the shoulder; your favourite spot, the most sensitive one. He hummed out in disagreement, didn't as much as raise his head to answer you.

"Just read. While I...", he traced off, kissed your shoulder, touched your waist, squeezed your hips; he looked up at you with puppy eyes, and you nearly lost it all, "...do this..." More kisses to your body; seemingly, he wanted to cover every possible inch of you in traces of his love. If to mark you his, or to remind himself of having you, you weren't sure, but you loved it all the same.

So you read. With his lips on your body, distracting you embarrassingly from the words you tried to make sense of. They didn't quite, and after having read an entire page you lost sight of the plot, entirely. What you never lost sight of, never lost feeling about was Hyunjin's body on your own, his melting into yours. He was consistent, determined, almost. It was pathetic how often your voice trembled and shook when his lips met your body anew; you ought to be used to it already, now that his kisses had reached the expanse of your chest, your collarbones, now that he nibbled right below your shoulders - yet you weren't. You hissed every time his mouth swallowed you whole, every time his wet lips came in contact with an additional inch of your body. You would never get used to it, would never grow tired of him.

You read, and he kissed. Kissed your body away, not leaving a spot of yours undoted. And his hands were sinful. They were wandering, exploring your body while you tried not to lose hold of the book with your own trembling fingers. You tried to keep your composure, tried to be coy when Hyunjin's nimble, cold fingers, far too long for his own good, far too sensual, unclipped the first button of your sleepwear. You stopped reading when he opened the next one - though the man merely looked at you from below his lashes, eyes dark and blown out, urging you on to continue while another kiss met your body. You blinked, once, twice, five times, watching him cover your chest in kisses and love-bites, in spit and hushed confessions. You watched him open another button - at that point your chest lay entirely in the nude, your lack of underwear always delighting the man, and the little bit of stomach Hyunjin had exposed was covered momentarily in his mouth. You watched him, long forgotten the literature in your hands; and then he stopped. Suddenly stopped sucking on your skin, licking and biting on it, easing it with kisses instantly. He stopped moving his hands along your body, too - he looked up at you, expectantly, waiting. You watched him, and he only reciprocated your gaze.

"Read."

Not a command, yet his voice was but a whisper, and it sent thousand shivers to your core. They ran all across your body, the shivers, painting you in goose flesh before they collected right between your legs, right where the man’s body was laying, right where you needed him, right where he was miles away from, seemingly. He wouldn't give in too easily. You knew him - he would drag it out, he would wait on you to continue reading, which, stupidly, you were oh so unable to do, with him all around you, and he wouldn't give you what you craved for before he'd complete his travel on your body, before his lips had tasted every inch of you excessively.

So you continued reading. Shakily, your voice trembling, though you couldn't be embarrassed by it, not when seconds later you felt Hyunjin's lips on your skin again, seemingly satisfied. He had reached your stomach, left wet patches where his mouth met, left love-bites. Left smirks, too; you could feel his amusement on your body whenever your breath hitched in your throat, whenever you restarted a sentence because your voice had trailed off to sighs of frustration. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed that you enjoyed it.

It must have been ages until he had opened all buttons on the flimsy pyjama top you were wearing. You were squirming by then, impatient, intoxicated, needing. Hyunjin lay between your thighs, his face now levelled with your lower tummy, with your core. His arms were snaked around your thighs, holding you close - so close you thought he was scared that you'd slip away if he let go for only a second, but you didn't mind it. You felt his hot breath on your skin, his hotter mouth on the plush of your stomach, the cold breeze against your hardening nipples. Your senses overwhelmed, and Hyunjin wasn't making it easy on you, either; he continued kissing, continued licking, never stopped biting at your body, doting on all his favourite parts, caressing all your favourite spots. He knew you inside and out, he knew the sensitivity of your inner thighs, he knew you enjoyed feeling his breath fawn over it before he gave it a kiss - so he did just that, and he smiled to himself when you mewled out his name. You couldn't keep reading. It was impossible for you to.

"Hyun..."

Your voice was quiet, as though shy; it was needy, too, and if Hyunjin wasn't so focused on basking in your pleasure, he'd blow right then and there. He'd lose his mind over the way your thighs tensed with every kiss he planted there, how your body squirmed when he neared your core, only to pull away again and lick and kiss near your knees. He almost whimpered out in bashful satisfaction at the way you stopped reading, entirely, to call out his name, to let your hands search for his hair, to pull on it slightly when you found it moments later - he lost himself in everything you were, in everything he loved about you.

Though he could keep his composure, just enough. Seemingly mirically, because his body was reacting to your own like flames, igniting one another and impossible to put out. He was as hot as you felt, as intoxicated, just as needing.

"You gotta keep reading, babe."

Another kiss to your inner thighs, an open-mouthed one, a wet one. He was determined to drive you insane.

You whimpered, huffed out in what sounded like amusement. Hyunjin looked up at you, his mouth never breaking contact with your skin. He watched your closed eyes, the way you relished in the feeling of him, the way you were asking for more, silently, wordlessly. The way your body was pleading, the way he could read it without you saying as much as a word about it. He continued kissing, waiting for an answer. He moved slow, giving attention to every inch of your body before he even thought of moving on.

"Feels so good, though."

He trembled at your words. He shivered at the shake of your voice, at the sigh that followed it. He wanted you, he needed you, always. He would never grow sick of it. He would never grow sick of you. You lay there before him, and you wanted him. You lay there so vulnerable for him, and only him. You lay there, and were so honest about your pleasure, pleasure only he could give you; Hyunjin would never grow tired of the way you loved him.

Though, mirically, he continued keeping his composure. Witchcraft, surely, because you were irresistible, having pulled him in entirely, long ago.

"I know... wanna hear you read to me, though."

Your sigh of frustration was music to his ears. The scent of your clothed core, your scent, the feeling of the plush of your thighs, your bare chest, your tortured expression, your fingers in the depth of his hair - it was his death sentence.

"C'mon."

So you continued reading. Because you knew him enough to know he was patient - though, barely, just enough - to not give into you too fast, only to relish in you more. You continued reading, and every further word of yours made him move closer to your core. Shaky words, trembling words, though you made it through one sentence, then through another. And Hyunjin's mouth was closer, and closer, and closer to where you needed him so very urgently.

It must have been ten sentences when his fingers fanned over your waist, the part where your underwear cut into your flesh. He toyed with the elastic band, let it wrap around his fingers, only teased to take it off though never did. Not for another minute, not for another two. He stopped entirely when you stopped reading; only when you picked it up again he continued his ministrations. After a moment or two, Hyunjin pulled down your underwear, though only enough to expose a bit of your pubic bone. You hissed, voice fading almost into nothingness, though you kept reading until a kiss of his met your skin. You hissed again, then, and you were ready to kill him for the past thirty minutes of teasing, and doting, and malice, and loving. You needed him, and you weren’t sure how much longer your patience could hold out.

Hyunjin kissed your thighs. He didn’t leave your core forgotten, though – his mouth sucked onto the plushest part of your inner leg, right below your sex, and his fingers tangled into the waistband of your white, lacen panties, his favourite pair, to take them off you, slowly. If you hadn’t been quick enough, or attentive enough, or far too hyperaware of every of his movement, you wouldn’t have as much as noticed how you, excruciating moments later, lay before him in the nude, almost entirely – only your pyjama top adorning you, though it was barely enough to leave anything to the imagination. And Hyunjin yet took his time, yet didn’t give into you – you weren’t sure how he did it. You were exposed, you were vulnerable; though he acted like you weren’t, for a while longer. His lips painted most frustrating picture on your thighs, travelling to the hollow of your knees – slowly, relishing in your squirming, basking in the way your skin felt against his, as you relished in the way his hands accompanied his lips’ journey along your heated body. You were hot, very much so; Hyunjin ignited you with every touch, with every kiss, with every lick of his sinful tongue – he ignited you, even, with a gaze, eyes so lewd and speaking you didn’t know what was harder; looking straight into them or keeping track of your reading.

And it was when you lost your patience altogether, entirely, finally, that he did, too. It was a mewl, barely a whisper, even; you were surprised Hyunjin heard the weak call of his name in the first place, the plead in your voice, the longing. And it wasn’t a second after that his lips, the ones that had been tracing your body for seeming hours, for and eternity, that had covered you in spit and love and longing and passion, finally connected with your wetness. You were dripping, practically, his tireless teasing having egged you on far more than you were brave to admit. You felt Hyunjin kiss against your clit, lick it right after only to elicit a moan from you – it was embarrassing, how fast you were reacting to him and his body, how very little your composure held; but then again, you were hypersensitive. Had been, ever since he’d opened that first button, ever since a first kiss had fluttered over your body in a manner so loving it pulled at your heart.

Hyunjin’s hands were wrapped around you again, your own – book long forgotten and discarded somewhere next to you – tangled tightly in his hair. With every pull he moaned, groaned deeply into your pussy, and with every of his sound your body jolted, and vibrations set off in the entirety of your body. And he noticed, too, for he never made attempts to quiet down.

The sounds of your pleasure echoed through the room in harmony. The melodies of your names created a symphony, topped off with the lewd noise of his lips against your sex. He was making out with it, was sucking on your clit, kissing it, licking it, sucking it again. He was breathing you in, he was inhaling you entirely; as though wanting to make you his, wanting to annihilate your body with his own, to make one out of two, to melt together for eternity, as though a candle standing too close to the other. And you lost yourself at his passion. You were squirming, screaming, almost, his name, pleads, his name again. You weren’t sure you knew any other words that moment, your own name, even; he was everything you thought of, his tongue now lying flat against your slit and licking in thick stripes the only thing your mind was occupied with. All attempts of keeping your composure were long forgotten; you couldn’t possibly if he made you feel this way, when shocks of fire and electricity shot through your body with every squeeze his hands granted your thighs, and you didn’t want to, in the first place. You didn’t want to keep your composure. You didn’t want to try and not lose yourself in him; because you knew him enough to know he wanted you entirely, in honesty. And you knew him enough to know he lost himself within you all the same.

It wasn’t until two of his fingers teased your entrance, while his tongue flicked across your clit that your body started trembling. As though it was lain in ice suddenly, shaking against your lover who wasn’t giving you a chance to catch your breath. He inserted two digits into your warmth, smiled against your clit at the way you clenched around him momentarily. A soul-ripping whine left your throat then, and your fingers dug into the man’s scalp – it was bound to hurt, though he liked it. He would never not.

And Hyunjin yet moved slow. He didn’t move his fingers, even, for several moments after filling you with them; he kept them still, felt you wiggling around in search of friction. Only after you cried out his name, in obvious frustration, which, anew, made him smile against your sex, his hand started moving. Sensually, patiently, pumping in, then out, then in, then out again – before he curled his long, cold fingers up, and caressed that gooey spot within you. It was too easy, too thoughtless for him. A second nature, almost, the way he knew your body. Almost better than his own.

And you cried out again. You felt Hyunjin pump against your spot, over and over and over until your body felt in flames entirely, until you ignited him with them, until his own desire took over his body, made him feral. He fastened his pace now, sucked a little harsher, cursed a little louder, kissed a little harder. Against your clit, against your heat, against your very vulnerability, the one only he had access to. The one you only ever gifted him – and then you came, when his free hand pulled you closer to his body, tightly around your thigh and groping at your flesh, when the sensitivity tip-toed on the verge of being too much. You came in waves, stormy and urgent, entirely overwhelming. Your body shook, your voice was loud, your eyes were shut so close you saw stars against the darkness; and Hyunjin held you through it. Held you close, held you near to him, as though you’d disappear if he didn’t. As though he almost succeeded in merging your body with his own, in connecting your very souls to one.

And maybe he did. Maybe your body was his own, and maybe his was yours. And maybe your souls had been one and the same the very moment he had first longed for you, had first loved you; had first let his lips dance upon your skin, had first kissed you.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife

[desireangel]

Honey & Venom | Chapter 1

Vampire!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: In exchange for an escape from his death, the curse upon Aemond had seemed an easy price to pay for an eternal life of strength and power. But when the time comes for his debt to be collected and a mysterious illness sends you to the doorstep of the reclusive and fearsome Lord of Harrenhal's century-old castle, Aemond is faced with the other half of his soul and the agonising realisation that perhaps the cost of his salvation will also become his downfall.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: MDNI - Strictly 18+ ONLY. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Blood, sex and horror. Gore. Dub-con elements. Very similar to a soulmate type trope. This is set centuries after the Dance of Dragons: some deviations from canon. Dark!Aemond. Aemond and Alys are psychos together. Plenty detailed mention of sex. Lots of blood. It is about 2AM; I only (briefly!) did an edit run through once :0.

Author's Note: hello! in taking a break from Dark Cherry because my motivation was on the rocks for that one, this entire series has been planned out. I seriously, seriously couldn't wait to get into this one. This chapter is still pretty introductory and in pure me fashion; it ended up very heavy on the internal happenings etc. Some things may not make as much sense just yet but trust me, it will in chapters to come!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and please let me know of your thoughts, feelings, advice, etc etc etc. Love you all!

(p.s: check out the prologue for a bit of important background!)

Series Masterlist. General Masterlist.

The storm that had taken place inside Aemond’s veins had calmed by the third day that had passed since your arrival. His mind had cleared and he’d finally managed to satiate the onslaught of violent hunger through other means, and while there was still an empty pit in the depths of his stomach that would fill with only your blood, he had to make do with poor merchant who had lost his way on his travels. 

As he sat at the armchair in the corner of the chambers he had readied for you all but centuries ago, Aemond realised that your recovery was quicker than he had anticipated. You didn’t fit well in the vastness of the bed that you lay in, lost among the sheets and cushions, your frame overwhelmed by the immensity of the room that was still one of the smallest that Harrenhal had to offer. 

Three days had passed and you had yet to wake from the first sleep you fell into. 

Fever had taken you for the first day and a half, quelled with the second dose of his blood that he had dripped from his wrist to your soft mouth. It was rather difficult to ensure you had swallowed it while unconscious but Aemond was familiar with such issues and had held your lips shut and whispered in your ear until your body had no choice but to swallow. 

Coming back to his senses after being forced so suddenly into a foreign, all consuming need for a stranger’s blood was like a slap to his face. Aemond had never met you before today but he had known exactly who you were as soon as the Shadow had lifted from him. 

The parchment in his hand felt heavier than it ever had before now. It crossed Aemond’s mind that he had no other way to be sure of who you were aside from the way you called to him just by your presence alone. He could swear that you were whispering to him, even in your slumber and in your silence, the key to his salvation and all the answers he had spent centuries tirelessly searching for. So softly and so distantly that Aemond couldn’t make out what you were trying to tell him; what he needed to hear. 

Yet he could almost feel the words your body and blood wished to tell him within his own veins, burning him from the inside out in a wordless call for him to return to you or you’d both turn to dust and ashes on the cold floor.

Moonlight that streamed in from the opened window cast a soft, pearly glow on your skin. Aemond scowled at the thought of how angelic you looked despite being amidst the evil and sin that tainted the walls of this castle. 

Innocent. Pure. Soft. 

Out of place in his home, doomed to a fate you were undeserving of. The thought of it weighed heavy in his chest but he turned away from you, chiding himself for letting his mind wander where it was not welcome. Instead, his eye fell to the rough roll of parchment in his hands. 

Red seeped through to the other side of the paper. Another curse written in Alys’ blood, words he had studied over and over since the moment she had thrown it in his face. 

The price of your rebirth, my love. The debt that you owe me for all of this that I have done for you. And for the pain you will bestow upon me which I will never escape from. 

The price of his rebirth had already been paid. Yet Aemond knew there was no use in reasoning with Alys Rivers. Not when he had scorned her so strongly within her mind that even upon turning her into the same powerful creature she had created in him, and even upon making her his wife, she would not speak of her curse any further.

It was of no importance until Oliver had brought you through the gates of Harrenhal. Until Aemond had been face to face with the missing piece of his soul, gazing at him with a hurricane of emotions in your eyes and balancing on the brink of your death. 

Aemond wasn’t quite sure which of the villages or towns had sent you but he understood well enough that their doctor must have spun some tale of how you were not to be saved by any practitioner of the ordinary sort to direct you here. Had the doctor not upheld his end of the understanding the townsfolk had with their Lord, his little angel would have succumbed to a death far more peaceful than the one she now faces. 

You stirred, rustling the sheets and grumbling under your breath about an ache in your bones. The dryness in your throat had surprised you, and before you had even opened your eyes, Aemond was sitting on the edge of the bed with a glass of water held towards you. There was something dark and twisted that flashed through his gaze and he smirked, the corner of his lips raised in amusement.

The unfamiliarity of your surroundings startled you, and you gasped at the man who was beside you, jaw falling slack as you scrambled to sit up. Grumbling at a wave of dizziness, you scooted away from Aemond with a sleepy glare. You winced at the rawness in your throat, looking at the glass in his hand warily. 

Something lingered in the air around him. A dark, unsettling stillness that felt like a foreboding warning of suffering and panic. Lord Targaryen, as you had realised this man was none other than the Lord that you had been lead towards, had a face that was sharp and stern. The dark eye patch and scar along his cheek did nothing to undermine the radiating, inhumane sense of beauty that had thrown you off guard upon your first sight of him.

“‘Tis only water,” his voice was deep and low yet still oddly gentle. “I’ve practically brought you back from death, sweet thing. You do not need to doubt me.”

The entire room seemed to be covered in shadows save for the bed, which was under the light that streamed in from the window. You surveyed the rest of what you assumed had become your bedchamber with caution, looking for any sign of Oliver’s presence. There was nothing. 

Apprehensively, you reached for the glass and tried not to drink the water too quickly, ignoring the hum of satisfaction that sounded beside you. “Where is my brother?”

“Perhaps an Inn at one of the neighbouring villages.”

“He would not leave me here alone,” you grumbled, remembering the way he had fought to turn you around before you had been taken within the castle’s walls. Fear settled in your gut when you saw the careless shrug of the Lord’s shoulder, his eye trailing down your face and resting at your neck. 

Sweeter and richer. The scent of you had tugged at his restraint from the moment Aemond had known of your arrival at Harrenhal. But as you looked at him now, wide eyes gazing at him with a sense of fear mixed with a dangerous curiosity and your lips shining from the water you had just drank, he understood that he was mistaken in assuming things would be as straightforward as he had prepared for.

“Don’t worry about him,” Aemond’s fists clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to reach for you and have his way with your flesh. His patience had worn itself thin over the many years of his life but this was bordering on too much. 

It was as if you were sent to push him over the edge, so that he gave into whatever lay simmering under the layers of his skin, rushing through him with a primal need to sink his teeth and his cock into your perfect body. Aemond’s hand raised to your cheek, pausing in the moment that you flinched away with a gasp, before dragging the back of his knuckles along the skin of your jaw. 

Another hum from the depths of his chest and he felt the shiver of your body as a result. “Lean back. Be calm.”

“Be calm?” You practically gaped at him. “Why was my brother so afraid of you? What did he see–what did you say to him?”

A scowl grew on his face at the way you bypassed his command with an onslaught of questions. Aemond swatted at your hand when you raised it to push him away, tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling your head back with a tug. 

So pliable in his hands, you hadn’t fought him further than the sneer you had flashed him and it sent a satisfied rush right down to his core. All you needed to do was look at him, to be close enough so that all he could taste in the air was the homely sweetness of your blood and the deliciousness between your legs, and Aemond thought that he would be as hard as stone for the rest of his eternal life.

“Your brother is fine. I did nothing to him, he was merely tired from your travels–stop trying to scratch me. I am only trying to help you,” he smacked at your hands once again. With a swift movement, he dragged the skin of his wrist against his teeth and held it above your lips. “Drink. Just two drops. Clearly you are recovering well enough to be a nuisance already but we must return you to perfect health.”

The first small drop of warm scarlet against your mouth instantly made you gag, and you stared at him with a wide eyed shock and revulsion as you spat it back at him. It made him grunt, his frustration manifesting in a sharp jerk of the hand that had fisted in your hair. 

He was feeding you his own blood. 

You struggled, barely able to find the strength to form a strong fist before swinging it at him. It missed when he gracefully dodged your hit. 

“What is this–”

Aemond huffed, pressing his wrist against your mouth and moving his hand from your hair to your jaw. “This is what has saved your tiny little life.”

The doubt in your mind had yielded in a matter of seconds and you had forgotten all about the fleeting thoughts of what nonsense he could be speaking of. For blood was just blood and it was no miracle cure; it couldn’t possibly be. But whatever he had been doing, it had worked when nothing else had and your body felt one thousand times lighter than it had before. 

There was only a measly couple of drops that had hit your tongue, sugary and metallic, and before you could register anything, a moan had fallen from your lips. For a second, your eyelids drooped at the wave of ease and warmth through your body. 

Aemond’s fingers on your jaw tightened and he had pulled you into his chest in a single jolt. Much to his distaste, his body forever seemed to act on its own accord when you were near. It was a primal instinct that was forcing him to have you, body and soul, as a part of himself. That sound you had made from the taste of him, the feeling of your lips on his skin and the soft gasps that you failed to hold back had snapped the final string of his restraint. 

Blood and sex were one and the same for Aemond. His taste for depravity and sin came hand in hand with his appetite for violence and death. And while Aemond had to consume human blood to survive, it was more than just what he needed. He enjoyed the gore and the fear that he created, he enjoyed the power he held over life and death, and he enjoyed knowing that whichever poor soul had met its end at his hands had become a part of his own endless youth.

His cock was always quick to respond to the sight of blood. But this was different. For one, Aemond had never cared for his own blood. It was not special and it didn’t flow as freely as human blood did. And secondly, Aemond had never cared for much more than the momentary, physical release that sex gave him and the satisfaction of a good meal. Yet here he was, almost gagging with a new, unwelcome and frantic desire that he could not recognise. 

The shift was so fast that it had you dizzy, the slight buzz on your skin from just two drops of his blood lingered as you lifted your gaze to meet his. Being so close to him that the hardness of his body was flush against your own placed a veil over your mind, expelling all thoughts to run from your head. 

Amongst the arms of a Lord, held to him as if he intended to merge the two of you into one, you thought of nothing else but the loud rush of want in your veins. Still, there was a voice at the back of your mind that was screaming danger, and you winced at the harshness of his grip on you. 

“I am laying here in the home of a stranger, my lord. Forgive me for my worry if it offends you, but there is all the chance that you could hurt me. Or kill me.” When you spoke, your words were shaky. Head held high, you found the will to ignore whatever force was compelling your body to unite with his in every way that it could.

Aemond hummed. “I will not kill you.”

Lie. I will tear you limb from limb and bleed you dry. 

“I guess I have no choice other than to take your word for it,” you muttered, staring long and hard at the sheets that covered you. The phantom taste of his blood on your tongue was enough for you to doubt him. You would not stay here with him. “But I am feeling far better now. If you tell me where my brother is, I will leave by nightfall.”

“It is already past nightfall. And I do not know where he is.”

Curiously, it was indeed. Only upon looking towards the window did you notice that it was night. In the state that you had felt upon waking up, you could have sworn it would have been morning with the sunlight shining through the curtains. Aemond ignored your confusion. 

“You are yet to recover completely.” He gave you an odd smile, tight lipped and accompanied by a glimmer in his eye. The bed shifted as he let go of you with great hesitance, standing tall and moving towards the doors.  “Until then, you are a welcome guest in our home. Once you are freshened up, I hope you will join my wife and I in the dining hall for a meal.”

A hot bath and fresh clothes had done you well. About an hour had passed while you were tended to by Delya, the quiet young maid who looked to be rather uncomfortable in your presence. Delya had reminded you of your belongings that had been kept in the drawer beside the bed, your small bag squashed into the tight space. You pulled the faded blue cotton dress that you had packed. A dress that was fit for a woman of your standing, from a family not poor enough to be a part of the peasantry yet still without the sufficient riches to be nobility. 

From the moment you had stepped from your bath, you noticed the complete lack of mirrors in the apartment. Strangely enough, Delya had combed through your hair and helped you get ready without a mirror, ignoring you entirely when you had asked both about the mirror and about having your meal alone in your room. By the time that she was finished, you had accepted her reluctance to answer your questions. The only words she had spoken were the directions to the dining hall. There was a long, sideways glare that she had given you paired with her grin and she all but sang her instructions. 

Left, then right at the window at the end of the hallway, down the stairs and left again at the first turn. No earlier than an hour from when Delya had left you to yourself. 

Even though Delya had told you to wait for an hour, the deep pangs of hunger and a gnawing curiosity had sent you out of your chamber doors after the first thirty minutes. Candles were mounted onto the walls and the silence was so intense that you could hear them flicker if you strained your ears. It was still dimly lit with whatever light there was, reflecting off of the dark walls in orange hues. You could only see a short distance down the hallway to the right, shadows creating the illusion that the path down there would lead to a never ending void of black nothingness. 

So you turned left, as was the directions and let yourself admire the tapestries that hung on the walls. It would have been a grand and beautiful home had it been cared for with warmth and love. And you had the urge to discover more of it, reaching for the handle of the first door you had come across. After all, should the Lord of the Land have anything to say about it, it was he who had called you a welcome guest. 

Locked. As was the next door. And the next. 

With a shrug, you continued down the hallway, fiddling with the locked door handles as a pointless distraction from reaching the dining hall earlier than you were told to. But as you neared the end of the hallway, the window lighting up the final stretch with moonlight, you turned away suddenly from the doors and tapestries of the left wall.

First, you noticed the putrid, rotting scent. It made you gag, and you instantly lifted your hand to cover your mouth and nose, sleeve pulled far over your fingers. When you frantically searched for the source of it - maybe an open door, or something decomposed stuck to a spider web, there was nothing. 

Until you cast your eyes to the floor, gasping and gagging once more. The drop in your stomach and a stab of fear in your gut forced you forwards, following the pool of scarlet that seemed to start only inches away from your feet. 

It went on towards the end of the hallway, where it turned around around the corner to the right, away from the staircase that was to the left. At parts, it was merely streaks that had been dragged from a larger puddle of blood and left thinner stains. And at others, it pooled and settled, marred with bits of what you could only assume was flesh and fabrics. 

There was a dizzying, strong flush of prickling heat that rushed over you and while it seemed like in an instant, you could hear more and feel more and smell more, you couldn’t focus on anything coherent within your mind.

A distant curdling scream that came from a man, followed by another one that cried for help pulled you out of your shock. Whoever had bled so much had surely met a violent and painful fate and you were suddenly hyper aware that something or someone had done this only moments before, right where you stood. 

The trail of blood turned in the direction away from where Delya had directed but at the sound of another cry for help, muffled from distance, you turned right and followed it. Another gag, and you turned to rest against the opposite wall, hunching over and retching emptily. There was nothing aside from bile to lose in your stomach.  

When you looked to see where the blood led, it stopped only a few more feet down the corridor, disappearing under a door that was left only slightly ajar. 

Suddenly, upon noticing the way the door moved gently as if it had only just been opened, all you felt was a white, ringing dread. Instinctively, your legs moved to turn around and the only thing that you could piece together from your panic was to run. 

You screamed the moment you felt him behind you, his presence making you yell out and your only reflex was to move forwards and away from him. In an instant you had moved towards the door, to hide behind it maybe–you had no idea, only for a strong arm to pull it shut, slamming it into your body that was now pressed tightly against the hardwood. The heels of your slippers slid atop the blood but before you could fall, a hard, strong body had caged you in.

There was dread in your body like you had never felt before and no matter how hard you gasped and panted, you just could not breathe. Again, a scream of agony and terror that was louder, and echoed now that you were forced against the door and you sobbed at the thought of what may lay behind it. 

It was Aemond’s chest flush against your back, a hand flat against the wood and the other gripping your hip with a fierceness that shot a bolt of sharp pain up your side. His face fell to the valley of your neck, inhaling strongly against your skin and when you cried, struggling against him to turn and run, he growled. “Do not turn around.”

Something about Aemond was different. It was not as if you knew him before at all but there was a strange strength in his body, you hadn’t felt it when he had held you just hours ago. Whenever he was near, your body screamed at you that he was dangerous, that you needed to leave and be far away from him and this place. Nevertheless, you were drawn to Aemond amongst your fear of him. 

Now, you had every urge to flee. And you struggled even more, without thinking to, pushing against Aemond as he was hardly affected by how you fought him. If anything, he would continue to force himself unbearably closer.  Tears that welled in your eyes blinded you as you tried to glance to the side, hoping and praying that there would be someone who could get him away from you. 

Aemond smelled woody and smoky under the sickly stench of blood and flesh. It overwhelmed everything, and it seemed like he was more animal than man with the way his chest heaved against you, and he snarled into your skin. When you grunted, shoving as hard as you can, all he did was drop a hand to push your face forward. Again, Aemond told you to stay still. 

“You can try and fight me all that you wish,” he chuckled, the deep vibration of his voice against the skin of your neck made you whimper. “It will be of no use. There are many dangers among these halls and I am the worst of them. But you do not need to be afraid of me. I will not hurt you.”

You sobbed. “What have you done to that poor–”

Aemond delighted in the way that you trembled, the tempting scent of you taking his mind entirely by tenfold. It was his hopeless charge to resist sinking his teeth in the soft flesh that his tongue swiped across, the heaviness of your frightened heartbeat pulsing against his lips. 

“You have no idea how divine your terror smells,” he muttered deeply, flexing the fingers that were pressed into your hip. You could feel all of him. And the hardness of his cock pressed against your backside sent a heat straight down to your core when Aemond nipped gently at the skin above your pulse point. “There is only so much of your torture that I can endure before I lose the last of my control, my dove. Nothing tastes better than fear and lust. And your body sings with both for me.”

The Shadow of bloodlust that befell him and what was left of his precious family was no stranger to Aemond. In his centuries of life after the war that had taken everything from him, he had never felt it so absolutely and so relentlessly. 

For lifetime after lifetime Aemond had waited eagerly for the moment you would come to him so that he could rid himself of the weakness you were certain to bring him. Because you were here to die and in your death, Aemond would be freed of his sorrow and his torment. 

Aemond had convinced himself that when the time came, that he could resist. That he had the strength to pay the price he owed easily. That if he tried enough, you would never become so important to him that losing you would mean to lose a part of himself. Thinking of it now that you were here, in his home and in his arms, it would be a difficult task. 

Nonetheless, now that you were here and now that Aemond knew what it meant to need you to satiate the new incessant, uncontrollable hunger that he was burdened with, it was his cross to bear. Eventually, once your blood is free of illness and you have served your purpose, Aemond could indulge in you without consequence. There was a tug at the thought, deep in his gut and in the hollows of his chest, that he refused to acknowledge. 

“What is happening in there? Is that person–did someone kill him?” You were finding it difficult to breathe. The sounds coming from the other side of the door had stopped and you turned to look at him, only for him to grunt and keep you in place.  

“He came to us like this. Dying. I may be able to help him just as I’ve helped you.”

He wasn’t even trying to be convincing. There was more to what he said than just his words, and when you swallowed thickly and squirmed against him, Aemond let his lips return to your neck. The soft, tingling sensation on your skin made you whine, scrambling to make sense of everything that was happening. 

It was horrid. Sinful. Disastrous. Shameful. 

Here was the man in whose home you were witnessing such horror. The man who was naught but a stranger, no matter how your entire being felt as if you were reuniting with a lost part of your soul. But the way Aemond’s voice caressed your nerves, calmed you and set you into a very different frenzy was absolute and irrevocable. You were terrified in a way that you had never felt until now yet there was a thrum of desire between your legs, and your body urged you to both run away and melt into him. 

“There is nowhere for you to run away to,” he drawled. Aemond’s hands were everywhere as he kept you pinned against the door with his body, squeezing your hips, the flesh of your backside and thighs. If you pushed against him, he would only breathe out a laugh muffled into your neck and squeeze harder. “It delights me to have found you like this. And while I enjoy your fear, my dove, you are in no state to be so distressed.”

You wanted to scream and scratch at him. “Who are you?”

“You already know my name. It is all you need.”

“That’s not–why did you hurt that man?” The sensitivity of your skin under his touch jostled all of the thoughts in your brain into a mess of nonsense. “This is not right–”

“Of course it is. All of this body,” Aemond couldn’t help but smother his lips into your skin, licking and sucking kissing across your neck. He yanked at the sleeve of your dress until it had ripped right off, nipping his way across the newly exposed skin of your shoulder. “All of its perfect dips and curves, your skin and everything beneath it. It was made for me. There is nothing more right, my dove, than this.” 

“I don’t understand,” you gasped, arching into him when his kisses grazed a sensitive spot along your bicep. Gingerly, Aemond held your arm to the side, making his way to your wrist. “Please, I do not understand.”

A hum was the only response he gave you, sighing as he dragged the tip of his nose over the underside of your wrist. Aemond’s hips rutted forward, rubbing his throbbing cock against you in the moment that he had taken a loud, desperate breath in. You realised that he was smelling you again and turned to watch him. Quick as lightning, he turned his face away from you but placed a tender kiss to your wrist. 

Red had been streaked across your arm, smudged all along the expanse of your skin. It wasn’t your own and when it came to your mind that it was the same blood of whoever the man behind the door was, you cried out. Catching a glimpse only of his chin and lips messy with the blood, the haze of arousal lifted from your mind as if someone had beat you out of it. 

“Stop–stop, please,” you thrashed and thrashed, hoping it would shove him off you somehow. “Please, my Lord.”

Aemond understood what you pleaded for. His hips stilled but he kept you pressed against the surface, your wrist grazing his teeth when he spoke. “As much as I ache for you, I will not fuck you yet. Not if you do not want me to. But a taste of you is the least I deserve and I cannot deprive myself of it any further.”

There was something animalistic in the way he spoke. Something had overcome him, something far different to the version of him you experienced just before. But before you could think on any of it further, a sultry, feminine voice called for him. Instantly, Aemond had pushed you away, snarling audibly at the dark haired woman who had approached from the other side of the corridor. 

You felt the relief of it instantly. But your breath still caught in your throat and you fell to lean on the door in the absence of Aemond’s body holding you upright. 

The Lord’s back was turned to you and you could see the tenseness in his muscles through the billowy, bloodstained shirt that he wore. Aemond was silent, seething quietly as the dark haired woman stepped into him, her nimble fingers reaching to stroke his cheek and rest at his jaw. You couldn’t see much of her, but she was speaking to him, softly so that you couldn’t hear her.  

Aemond was unnaturally stiff, a stark contrast to the softness of the woman who had saved you from something you couldn’t even bring yourself to think about. 

Briefly, you wondered if she was the wife he had mentioned earlier. It would make sense if she were but you caught her eye over his shoulder before you could consider that any further. Her eyes, simultaneously cold and calculating while also kind and warm, flickered towards the direction from which you came. 

At the subtle nod of her head, a sign that this was your chance to leave, you forced yourself to move. All but sprinting back down the halls that lead you here, you were surprised to find Delya standing outside your chamber doors, watching as you rushed inside and slammed the heavy door shut behind you. 

More silence. But the sound of pained wails rang around in your head as you closed your eyes for a moment, catching your breath and trying to stall the panic that caused you to retch once again. The image of so much blood, chunks of flesh and torn clothes was stuck in the forefront of your mind. 

It took only minutes to drag whatever furniture you could to pile it in front of the large door. There was little chance anyone could push the door open with such a blockade by the time you were done. Yet it did nothing to quell the fright and worry that you felt as you collapsed against the bed, a sudden weakness crashing into you all at once. 

Sleep did not come easy. But in the rush of all that had happened, you hardly noticed that the curtains had been drawn while you were gone. They were large and heavy, and had you the strength to look behind them, you would have seen that it was already morning.

[thrumugnyr]

My @acotargiftexchange gift for @witch-and-her-witcher: Secret lovers Tamlin and Rhysand

Big thanks go out to Santa helper @highlordofkrypton, who graciously offered to contribute a little ficlet for the piece as well~! You can read it under the cut:

Meet me when the spirit blossoms bloom

The stars fall from the sky, sneaky little droplets under the cover of Night. They slip through the crack of Tamlin’s window, dancing across his sheets with their tails entwined like held hands. The bright baubles play, forgetting their missive for a brief moment of joy. The littlest one tumbles, bumping right into the young lord’s chin. It scrambles over his lips and wiggles under his nose until its a—ah—

“Achoo!”

Tamlin wakes with a surprise. He looks at the lights, and they pass on the message with great theatrics. He scoops them into his arms, and carries them to the window sill where they may watch, or leave. Whatever they please. He dresses swiftly, faster than the anxious beat of his heart.

I shouldn’t. I can’t allow this to continue.

And yet, his fingers fly across the buttons of his shirt, buttoning them with swift ease. His body thrums with eagerness. Each thump in his chest speaks his truth: I want to see him, I want to see him, I want to see him. Tamlin scoops up the stars as he leaps onto the sill, gently tossing them into the sky. They have a duty now, too, to watch over them and warn them of danger. With each escape, Tamlin cannot help but expect the sound of the alarms, of the furious steps of his brothers and of his name twisted into that of a traitor’s, but it never comes. One day, it will, but he takes today for himself and gifts it to the one who summons him.

Tamlin slips out of his father’s court and flies the rest of the way, trusting his great tawny wings to carry him where he needs to go. Past Summer, past Winter and over the Middle. If these Lords sense his trespassing, they say nothing.

I have to tell him. I have to be strong for both of us.

The meadow in Dawn is one of many safe spaces where duty, tradition and expectation cannot find them. It is a quiet place shielded by trees where alabaster flowers bloom. Their cores are not of colourful pollen, but of tiny little wisps, little spirits of neither human nor faerie nature. The wisps keep their secret, and Tamlin will be eternally grateful to them.

There is no choice to make, only something he must do. Love or life. He cannot love if one of them is dead. By ending this, he is protecting both of them. He is making sure that his beauty, his wonder and his charm carry on somewhere in this damned world, even if it’s not with Tamlin. 

He will change lives. He has already changed mine.

It’s different in his presence. Rhysand brings the moon and the stars with him, his personal guard while the rest of the nation slumbers. A dashing smile blooms on his handsome features, growing wider and wider at the sight of Tamlin. His joy is clear on his face, and the flush on his cheeks is a matching pair to Tamlin’s.

“Rhysand,” Tamlin breathes.

“Darling,” Rhysand hums, reaching for him.

“Wait—”

The words get caught in his throat as he sees the elation in Rhysand’s face falter. The smile slips away, replaced with worry and… sadness.

“What is it?” Rhysand asks, just a whisper, as if he can still prevent the moment from shattering.

I can’t do it.

Tamlin closes his eyes, shaking his head. He exhales, and leans in close. “I think… I think I’m in love with you.”

Rhysand chuckles in relief. He bumps his head against Tamlin’s, mindful of his antlers. “I thought you were going to say something else. I love you too.”

There’s a sorrow in Rhysand’s eyes that never quite leaves, no matter how fine he appears. He knows what Tamlin was going to say. The end is coming, sooner or later, but not now. Not if Rhysand can help it.

Just one more day.

One more day by the spirit blossoms.

[janumun]

Nomos (Xavier - NSFW/18+)

Pairing: Xavier/Queen Reader (based on Xavier’s first myth) Word Count: 3.7k Tags: religious imagery/desecration sex, angst, evol bondage, oral sex, orgasm denial, Knight Xavier on his knees repenting to his Queen MC, spoilers for Xavier’s first myth, female dominating, canon divergence, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Summary: The Queen of Philos had sacrificed her heart ultimately and along with it, part of her humanity, in the wake of Xavier’s failed Backtrack mission; binding it to Philos’ core for eternity. Now, returned to her, centuries after, Xavier seeks his Goddess’ audience, and her forgiveness, within the stone-cold chambers of her castle. 

But centuries suffered alone, and with her heart now gone, she is a former frigid cast of the woman he used to love. Xavier is adamant on repenting, even if it costs him his life this time round. 

[A fic where Prince Xavier manages to return to Philos but he is too late; his Queen has long thrown her powerful core, her heart, into Philos’ centre and now, she has nothing to offer Xavier but her bitter resentment.]

O celestial body of mine, Slumbering adrift in darkness, Which never heeds the whispers of life, Till it fades into oblivion, nothingness. 

The rolling echo of thunder — knelling an approaching storm — was the only sound that rippled across the heavy, cold silence that had settled itself across the throne room. Wan shadows clung to the wide, dismal stone pillars of the great hall. Barely quelled by the flickering protocore lamps interspersed on either sides of the room. 

A looming, stone figure of the Goddess adorned the space right behind her great throne, staging Her chosen Sovereign to rule and obey, for all of Philos to see, placed by Her will upon the throne. The Goddess; doused in cool shadow, her sculpted eyes stared down glacial and unforgiving, set into regal stone. Her great Sword aimed at length towards the altar Xavier knelt at. 

The flagstone beneath his knee was a harsh and frigid reminder; Xavier considered, not for the first time how it too had frozen in on desolate isolation, just like his Queen’s majestic figure in front. She stood tall and silent — the paradigm of dignity she’d forced herself to be, for the sake of Philos... and for the sake of a lover who’d refused to accept the wretched Crown of a King.  

Solitary and unattended — he’d allowed her to experience the empty desolation that came with a Sovereign’s crown of lonely leadership. And yet, even confined to the yawning silence of her frigid throne room, she’d ushered Philos into an era of prosperity. While he— 

Xavier had failed her; her hopes, her dreams... her yearnings he’d turned blind to each time she’d granted him the soft brunt of her affections sifting like stone against his heart. So in love with her — she would never know — and yet, the distance he’d maintained stretched flimsy in between them; closer than friends, stranger than lovers.  

The burden of her past life, their first life, lived in futility, through a heart that brought her no end of pain until it had burned her life out of existence — and in turn, ended his, in spirit — with her untimely demise.  

And he had — in misguided intentions, she viewed them as — refused to let the cycle of tragedy repeat once more, in the sacrifice of her sole being. As Xavier, prince of Philos. And a mere man in love with a woman. The one heart he could never bear to let go. In the name of a ‘greater good’, his father, the previous King had called it such. For Philos.  

To hell with a nation his father and his wretched co-conspirators had painted from the ground up, drenched in the blood of numerous sacrifices before her. Xavier had wanted no part in the perpetuation of that horrifying ritual.  

Desperation had eventually led him to adopt far perilous measures, to prevent her oblation in this lifetime — two centuries spent in between their tentative meetings, and then several countless more spent traversing the stars and through worlds in search of a solution. To prevent Philos’ downfall without the need to hold on to age old rustic customs. 

And he had promised her, his beautiful lonely Queen, a victory he had failed to bring to her feet. Swore to her in centuries past, when she’d still looked upon him with love naked in her gaze and worry taut in her features, that he’d search for a better path for Philos from among his travel in the stars, while she’d resolved to stay behind as their planet’s sole Sovereign; their Goddess incarnate.  

The tender warmth of her skin as he’d traced her features into memory on their last meeting all those centuries back, within the plaza rife with life; a reminder of what they were fighting for. The way she’d layered her own hand against his, letting her eyes drift shut as if she too wished to forget their fast-looming separation. 

And on the day of her coronation, he’d left her, branded as a traitor. Chancing one last, proud look upon her majestic form as she’d leveled the blade of her sword against his shoulders apiece, in their private ceremony of two, knighting him as her Grandis Knight. 

A fleeting, tentative touch of her palm she’d pressed against his shoulder in farewell, determined eyes staring into his from beneath the weight of her crown as she’d wished him well. 

“The fate of our nation rests within your hands now, Xavier. And should you fail, the entirety of Philos shall have to pay the price for the Prince’s failings.”  

Her delicate hand had tightened against the pressed shoulder of his regalia, not caring for the badges of honor there, digging into her skin. “May the Goddess be with you. Goodbye, Xavier.” 

 Xavier’s eyes flitter shut in resigned recollection; the very last touch of her warmth still fresh in his mind. In the flex of gloved digits against the badge attached to the hilt of his sword, one she’d gifted to him, in lieu of her star tassel.  

Now, as he kneels at her feet, she hasn’t even moved to touch him. Hasn’t deigned him worthy enough to afford even the mercy of her hands on his body, even if just to strike him. In ire or curses; Goddess, his heart and body have missed her so dearly. And yet, this is not the time for personal weakness. But repentance. And Xavier has always been one devoted to his cause, his one sole duty; to live and serve, to die or be tortured by her will alone.  

His Demiurge regent, his sole Queen.  

She observes great clemency as is expected of a Sovereign of her stature, when her steps shift closer; the dignified brush of her mantle pooling about her feet. Soft fur fabric brushing against the polished heel of pale shoes, the slip of bare skin through the part of her flowing robes at her legs, filling his line of sight as it remains firm, fixated upon the ground. For she has not allowed him leave to freely gaze upon her form. And Xavier is her Grandis Knight, committed to propriety of duty, if it is for her alone.  

He, however, dares: gloved digits reaching for the sweep of her queenly cape brushing the stone-cold flagstone. The pads of them skimming the soft of fur that lines its edges. And when she does not move to refute his brazen touch, he curves his fingers into the fabric and guides it up to his lips, lashes descending shut as he lays a kiss against the cloth, in show of the proper reverence she deserves. “I have returned, my Queen.” 

Xavier feels her shift above his genuflecting form, a response she utters in the voice he has missed. “Why?”  

“I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my failure, your Majesty. If it is my life you seek—”  

“Why have you returned now?”  

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” 

“You are far, far too late.” The first hints of displeasure seep into her intonation, accusing strains of heat Xavier prefers to the thick monotone she’d employed previously.

“Forgive me, your Majesty.”  

An explicable tremor breaks across her still form; minute, missable, were it not for how finely attuned he is to her mannerisms, her emotions, her simmering ire.  

“Why have you returned now, after all this time? You made no promises.” She asks once more, cool resignation in her voice.  

He stares fixedly at the sight of her feet, a response she seeks from him, he has no answer to.  

Silence stretches long and taut, infinite, in between them. 

“After the first five hundred years spent waiting in futility...” she deliberates. “I finally concluded that you’d died. Perished among the unknown.” 

His fist, sunk into the unyielding cold floor at his knee, crushes tighter at her words. “...Please allow me to look upon your Majesty’s face.”  

Her footsteps glide forwards, another step closer. Ignoring his entreaty, she resumes, “I continued to make excuses for your failure to return.” She pauses. 

“It brought me some modicum of comfort to know you had not just abandoned me but that you were simply no more.” The terrifying frigid inflection of her voice numbs Xavier’s heart — cool tendrils of dread coiling vines within his chest, like their first life, he’d held her within his arms. Watched the life pool out of her eyes, leaving her dull and lifeless within his embrace.  

She has lost her heart once more, and the mere thought has Xavier’s nerves driven to near devastation.  

But he is here, he knew of the consequences. And he is here, to bear through them, to accept his Sovereign — and beloved’s — ire; no matter if she remains full or half. She is all he draws breath for, all he fights for, the pinnacle of his existence and his desires. His guiding star, his monarch, his God. 

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” He speaks, once more. 

The first signs of emotion other than cool resentment thread through her low voice: furied indignance. “Utter insolence.” 

The heel of her shoe rises before his very gaze — Xavier’s eyes falling shut to accept the brunt of her oncoming strike. One that does not come. He feels her press the harsh tip of it, instead, underneath his jaw, knocking his face upwards so that his eyes meet hers, glacial turbulence within her gaze. “How does it feel to be demeaned as if you were a mere traitor, at my feet? Do you feel as violated and desolate as I too did all those years ago?” 

She is kind, she remains so gentle; her punishment, she considers it humiliation for him to be put at her feet when it is anything but. As if it could ever be. She offers him her worship instead, and so he follows her regal command. 

Pitching his face to dig deeper against the tip of her shoe, his eyes remain devoted upon hers. Gloved fingers he brings to curl, slow beneath the sole of her boot to support, mouth skimming a kiss of reverence to the polished surface.  

Ire and heat fulgurate within her gaze at his brazen actions, she continues to watch as his mouth parts, pink tongue darting forth to slick a slow, deferential path against the cool leather of her shoe. “This is not punishment enough, your Majesty, when your Grandis Knight has been ever prepared to end his life at your feet, were it your will.” 

The spark of heat within her gaze retreats and shutters itself behind its glacial curtain. “Do you remember what it is I told you when you embarked on your journey, my Knight?” 

“I do.” He murmurs, just as she digs the edge of her heel deeper against his cheek.  

She rips herself away from his worship, sweeping right up close against his kneeling figure, until he can catch the drifts of her perfumed scent emanating from her bone-ivory robes. Can feel the brush of the silken cloth adorning her thighs, against the tip of his nose. 

Wretched, blasphemous desire churns vicious within his belly at having the woman he loves this close, after centuries spent without her — a woman that is not his, never will be. Immoral desires of a sinner for Philos’ Mother. A woman — and their nation — he brought to ruin by his own hand; Philos’ branded traitor. 

“I told you,” she speaks, in the neutrality of a Sovereign, “that were you to fail, all of Philos would have to pay the price for the Prince’s failure.” She stills. “And I am Philos, I am centered to Her core. I am Her life-force as she is mine. Our people paid a hefty price for our peace, oh Grandis Knight.” 

Xavier’s face sinks forward, brushing the edges of her silken robes against his cheek. “Forgive me, your Majesty.” In the harsh clench of his jaw; and when she does not move to spurn him, he devotes a kiss of resigned reverence to the cloth above her thigh. Her body loses part of its stillness at the action.  

“Even after all this time...” she murmurs under her breath. “You refuse to address me by my proper name, like a foolish coward.” A slipping fracture of something akin to torment in her voice.  

Xavier lets his mouth glide further up across the lustrous cloth in begging of her pardon, for the ache he has caused, has continued to cause to her. To Philos. For his protection that he has always known held a double cutting edge to itself.  

He drifts towards her other thigh, mouthing proper worship onto it and his Queen — benevolent, tender in heart still — lets the Sinner at her feet do as he pleases. Canting his gaze heavenwards to watch as she allows; her own eyes that burn into his kneeling form, observing him from her place on high.  

Her legs shift, allowing Xavier the fleeting sight of unblemished skin in between the loose flow of her fabric and like a devotee starved, he’s drawn to the catch of her inner thighs revealed with the slight disarray of her robes beneath his questing mouth. Finding her undeniably warm when his lips brush near the junction of her thighs at bare skin.  

“My Knight—” 

“You may call me by my name, your Majesty.” His hungering tongue slips past his lips to lave gentle at her. “After all, I am no more than servant to your Majesty and her great throne.”  

“Grandis Knight, you are—” 

“I am your Xavier, your sinner.” His hot gaze rolls up towards hers and beseeches. “So, please call me by name so you may curse at me.” 

He feels the fire of her indignant resentment sputter within her gaze, receding the glacial indifference of it. Her cold fingers slink into his hair and wrench harsh at the argent strands, ripping a groan free of Xavier’s throat. The very first gift she makes of pain, to him, one he receives with the reverent ardour it deserves.  

Xavier heaves forward once more to settle in between her legs, nosing at the fabric of her mound, breathing in her scent. Teeth catching at the cloth that keeps her concealed from view before he loosens it apart with a violent jerk of his head.  

Moisture glistens tempting in between her folds — the firm press of her digits against the back of his head is the sole permission Xavier requires to engulf her entirely against an open, hungering mouth, a low moan of desire breaking past his throat at the intoxicating taste of her on his tongue.  

He laps up at her; a man starved — one he is, after the emptiness of her endured in his soul, the burdens of his failures and desires commingled in the wet lave of his tongue from base to hood. Slicking the edge of his tongue against the pearl at her apex. Her low sigh follows the incessant push of his face deep into her mound, his nose brushing at the curls of it, accepting the gift of her benevolence.  

“Did you know, my dear Knight—” her voice skitters mildly in pleasure with the press of the tip of his tongue, cleaving gentle into her slit. “It did get easier.”  

Her wetness seeps past her opening and onto his fervent tongue as he dutifully swallows. He feels incredibly parched, open mouth pressing deeper against her as he works her pleasure, tongue slinking into her depths. She clenches around him at the intrusion, knocking a muffled groan free of his throat.  

“When time finally ran out for your chance to return and Philos neared the end of its life, with our people on the brink of desolate death,” her breath jolts. “I marched out there.” 

His brows knit into a severe frown, stroking his need for her ire to sheath itself deeper into his body. He requires it; his Queen’s rightful anger so that he may take all of it and her, let her bruise her emotions into it, until the moment she’s used him up to her heart’s desires and she finally weeps and hurts no more.  

And so, his lashes descend with the tight spasm of her fingers carded through his hair, steering his mouth however she pleases. 

“And I willingly bound my life force to Philos’ core so that it could continue to live. Cut out the part of me that loved and felt until I turned myself into something entirely non-human for the sake of our people. A true God.” A slow, desolate string of weak sound tapers out of her body before it augments itself into mirthless laughter that rings hollow through the great, empty space of her throne room. “It was all too easy to do so, in a world I knew my Star no longer existed. For my heart had beat for him alone.” 

A heavy bludgeon of agony rips through his chest, tries and clambers its way out of his body before Xavier tamps it mercilessly in the gentle scrape of his teeth against her tight bundle of nerves. Her violent shudders, he feels buffets her limbs before he’s reaching out for her on instinctual, fervid desire in the clasp of gloved palms against the sides of her legs, trekking his touch up her thighs. A low moan parts her lips at the touch. 

Xavier’s audacious attempt at desecrating his God further underneath his obsidian worship is foiled in the twin blades of light that cleave around his wrists, whipping them swift and away from her body to shackle them together at the base of his spine. 

His body jolts through the glaze of his desires, part sense rending through the thick of pain knocking at the back of his breastbone to realize she’s forced his submission in the resonation of her Evol against his. Emulated his Light seamlessly in the binds of radiance — befitting of Philos’ Sovereign — wound tight at his wrists. Even centuries past now, she remembers the precise shape of his Light. 

He tests a flex against his restraints, finding they do not give an inch. “You’ve grown far too bold in your time away,” her voice is a cold dagger that scotches itself right beneath his ribs. She heaves him away from her body, reluctant mouth drenched in the strings of slick and spit that trail from his mouth to the soaked space of her legs. “Grandis Knight, what makes you think you’ve earned even an ounce of me to embrace as you would, a lover?” 

“I have not, your Majesty, forgive—”  

Severing through the rest of his apology in the quiet catch of Xavier’s breath when the sole of her heel comes to rise, knocking a firm, uniformed thigh apart to reveal the indecency of his arousal to her gaze, straining painful against the placket of too tight trousers.  

The edge of her heel trailing the inside of his thigh, she switches towards the heavy length of him. Brushing the underside of his arousal, Xavier’s shoulders tense in heavy need at the barely present stimulation. Before her heel sinks firmer against the length of him, jolting a groan free of him. “Does that feel good then?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” He breathes heavily.  

“Look at you, coming apart under the mere, filthy touch of my foot.” Her brow bunches in an irked frown.  

“No part of you—” His voice breaks apart into quiet, ragged breaths at the stimulation of her heel against the increasingly sensitive strength of his arousal. “—is filthy to me, your Majesty.”  

Xavier tugs against the leash she’s made of her fist at the back of his head and she allows him, in that moment, to arch forwards and nudge the part of her dress aside. Sink into the wet heat of her; a man imprisoned to her tender mercies and the flood of her taste in his mouth. 

He works her open against his tongue, laving at her desires. Back and forth, he doesn’t let a single drop spill past his hungering mouth until he feels the tell-tale evidence of her orgasm in the insistent clench of her walls.  

Her hips gyrate forward in tandem to the suck of his mouth against her tightened bead and Xavier lets his shoulders fall slack to allow her free reign of her release as she grinds herself against his tongue to a precipitous finish. The gush of her desires Xavier drinks down, humming in dazed arousal, to have let her find her relief; used as her personal seat of pleasure, to be tossed at her will alone.  

Her hands flitter about his head, curling on either side of his jaw to pull away from the heaven of her body, and up as she descends, her mouth settling against his in a violent kiss he receives with vehement pleasure.  

Releasing herself, slow, from him only when her desire to breath turns overbearing. The edge of her thumb slips just past his damp bottom lip, urging his mouth open further. Before she spits against his revering tongue and instructs him to, “Swallow.” 

Xavier’s mouth clamps shut on instinct, working the taste of her against himself. Gaze flittering in darkening, vicious desire at the heat of his Goddess’ gift.  

A low hush of withering laughter leaves her mouth. “I’ve tethered a rabid beast to my side.” 

Her thumb and index cup about his jaw, coaxing his gaze to remain on hers, bright, burning. “Swear to me,” she speaks. “Swear that your loyalty shall never lie with another.”  

He feels his Queen curl a tremulous fist into the robes at his shoulders, crumpling the fabric hard in between her fingers. “Swear that you shall remain mine, my Grandis Knight, for all time. That you shall never abandon me again, Xavier.”  

His gaze quivers in fleeting emotions for a moment’s weakness, steel gray resolve returning once more to utter his vow renewed. 

“I have always been yours to have or reject, your Majesty. This Knight — his Body and Soul is yours alone to wield.” 

Making of himself, a promise, he commits to her in the life she shall have; to end at the sweep of her sword, should he ever dare renege on it.  

Declaring himself, at long last, in his clear devotion; to his one Queen and God.  

Tagging: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lamentinee , @unhingedsillygod , @tiredas

(Skipping folks who do not have tagging permissions on, so they cannot be mentioned, unfortunately)

I had the angsty pleasure of reading Xavier’s first myth for the first time a few weeks back and with the help of a Xavier main friend and inspiration drawn from Xavier’s prayer pose in photobooth, this fic was born. I hope you enjoyed your read! 

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, if you are so inclined, lovelies!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM! You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[thewulf]

Whispers in the Night || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Can i request a jake x reader where they're partners/married and she's pregnant (maybe like 6 months) and he has to go on a mission. when he gets back she's just super clingy because 1) she was worried and scared and 2) she just missed him. and maybe he snaps at her

A/N: TY for the request. Love Jake sm!! Enjoy!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.4k +

T/W : Angsty in the beginning

The house felt different without Jake. His absence echoed through the rooms leaving a void that seemed impossible to fill. As you sat on the couch the silence of the house felt deafening in Jake's absence. Your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your swollen belly seeking comfort in the life growing inside you. But despite the reassuring kicks and movements from your unborn child there was an undeniable sense of unease that settled deep within your heart.

Each day without Jake felt like an eternity. The minutes dragging on as you counted down the moments until his return. You tried to distract yourself with mundane tasks, but the worry and anticipation gnawed at your insides like a relentless tide. Jake made sure you weren’t completely alone though. His mom came to stay with you for a few weeks. Your mom popped over as she could as she lived a few hours away. Even friends would come over keeping you busy, and mind occupied when he wasn’t there. But the nights were always hard. Always when you craved his touch and sweet whispers. Six weeks was a long time for him to be away in the middle of your pregnancy, but you knew what you signed up for when you married him a few years ago.

Being accustomed to Jake's dangerous line of work did little to ease your anxiety this time around. If anything, the realization that you were six months pregnant only amplified your fears. Every news report, every phone call filled you with dread. You mind always seemed to imagine the worst-case scenarios playing out. To add insult to injury you couldn’t even call him or write him. They were on a no contact mission. Your least favorite.

You longed for his presence, his reassuring touch, his calming voice. But as the days turned into weeks, the void left by his absence only seemed to grow larger, consuming you with a sense of longing for the man you called your husband.

Perhaps it was just your maternal instinct kicking in, but the fear of the unknown loomed over you like a dark cloud. It cast a shadow over even the brightest moments. You tried to stay strong for yourself and for your unborn child, but deep down the uncertainty gnawed at your heart with every passing moment. Fortunately for you it was coming up on six weeks and thankfully it had been radio silent. That was the best-case scenario for these types of missions.

The familiar sound of the front door opening stirred you from your slumber though you remained in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness. As you shifted slightly in bed you felt a pair of strong arms enveloping you pulling you into a warm embrace. Startled by the touch your eyes fluttered open. Y you were met with the sight of Jake, his beautiful face illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window.

"Jake?" you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep and confusion.

He smiled over at you with his eyes filled with tenderness. "Hey, sweetheart. It's just me. Go back to sleep love." he reassured you. His voice a soothing melody in the quiet of the night.

You blinked trying to process the sudden appearance of your husband. "You're home early though," you observed, your heart fluttering with a mixture of surprise and joy. You were supposed to pick him up from the base in a few days’ time. This was a wonderful surprise though.

Jake nodded as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "The mission ended earlier than expected. Everyone was eager to get back home.  We all voted on coming back. I just couldn’t wait to see my beautiful wife." he explained. His voice tinged with relief as he watched you with the utmost love in his eyes.

You melted into his embrace. Feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the familiar scent of his cologne enveloping you like a comforting blanket. Despite the initial shock of being awakened from your sleep there was no place you'd rather be than in Jake's arms. As you nestled closer to him you became acutely aware of the changes in your body since he had left. The baby had grown significantly in the six weeks of his absence. Evidence of the new life growing inside you.

He shifted slightly in bed his hand finding its way to your larger belly now. With a tender touch, he traced gentle circles on your skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "The little one has grown a lot," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and awe as he held you close to him revealing in your heartbeat. It was always a silent comfort he craved and missed so dearly while deployed.

You smiled feeling a surge of affection for the man lying beside you. "Growing big and strong just like his or her daddy," you teased while running a hand through his now shaggy hair. The two of you opted to keep the gender a surprise.

He chuckled softly as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. "I missed you, angel" he murmured. His words a silent promise of his unwavering devotion. And as you lay entwined in each other's arms the worries and uncertainties of the world faded away leaving behind only the overwhelming love and warmth that bound you together.

As the next day wore on, Jake couldn't shake off the feeling of being overwhelmed by your presence. Not that it was your intention. But the sheer intensity of your need for him seemed to permeate the very air around them. You craved him, your every move mirroring his own as if you couldn't bear to let him out of your sight for even a moment.

At first Jake found your clinginess endearing. It was a testament to the depth of your love and longing. A quiet declaration of your desire to be close to him after his long absence. He welcomed your affection. Your constant need for his presence filling a void he hadn't even realized existed.

But as the hours stretched on your constant proximity began to grate on his nerves. Every time he turned around you were there watching him with worried eyes. Your need for him palpable in every touch, every word. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate your affection – far from it. But the intensity of your clinginess seemed to smother him leaving him gasping for air in the suffocating embrace of your love.

Jake's time on the carrier had left him overstimulated. He was constantly surrounded by noise and activity. Now back in the familiar confines of home the silence seemed deafening, yet your presence felt like an onslaught of sensory overload. He longed for solitude, for a moment of peace to collect his thoughts and decompress after the chaos of his mission.

Your concern for him only heightened the pressure he felt. The weight of your worry pressing down on him. He knew you meant well, that your clinginess was a manifestation of your love and longing for him. But right now, he just needed space. With every touch, every word, he felt the walls closing in around him. The need for air becoming more desperate with each passing moment. He tried to push down the rising tide of frustration. To swallow the bitter taste of guilt that lingered on his tongue. But it was a losing battle.

As he retreated into himself seeking solace in the quiet recesses of his mind, he couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse at the hurt he knew his words would cause you. But in that moment he couldn't bear to think about anything except the overwhelming need to be alone. To find respite from the constant barrage of emotions threatening to engulf him.

No sooner had he settled on the couch trying to catch up on some much-needed rest. He felt your presence hovering nearby. You stood at the edge of the room. Your eyes never leaving him. Your need for his attention a silent plea that echoed in the silence of the house.

"Y/N, can't you find something else to do?" Jake finally asked. Unable to contain his frustration any longer.

Your heart sank at the sharpness of his tone, the hurt evident in your eyes as you took a step back. A tear welled up in the corner of your eye showing him the hurt you felt inside at the words he just spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Jake," you whispered. Your voice trembling with emotion. "I think it's the hormones."

Jake's heart sank at the sound of your voice. The weight of your words hitting him like a ton of bricks. He could see the hurt etched on your face. The vulnerability in your eyes tugging at his heartstrings.

His expression softened at realization of the pain he had caused evident in his eyes. "No, angel, it's not your fault," he murmured. His voice filled with regret. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I was just... overwhelmed."

He reached out to touch your hand, but you pulled away feeling self-conscious over your sudden clinginess to him. With a heavy heart you turned away walking out of the room despite his profuse apologies. Jake watched helplessly as you retreated into yourself. The distance between you growing with each passing moment.

Jake felt a heavy sense of regret weighing on his chest as he watched you retreat away. Despite his apologies he couldn't shake the feeling that he had let you down. That he had failed to provide the comfort and reassurance you needed in that moment of vulnerability. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to you. To wrap you in his arms and soothe away the hurt he had caused, but he knew that he had to give you the space you needed.

As the hours passed Jake found himself pacing the empty rooms of the house. The silence you had grown accustomed to weighing heavily on his shoulders. He tried to focus on the tasks at hand to distract himself from the gnawing sense of unease that lingered in the back of his mind. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to permeate every corner of the house. Was this how you felt when he was gone?

Meanwhile, you lay curled up on the bed. Your thoughts consumed by the events of the day. Despite your best efforts to push them away the hurtful words and the sharpness of Jake's tone echoed in your mind. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious of your actions, second-guessing every word you had spoken and every tear you had shed. Even when Jake checked in on you with his concern evident in every word and gesture you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Your need for solitude outweighing the comfort of his presence. You were embarrassed. How could you not pick up on the signs? Of course, he needed space. Missions were a drag. You knew that better than anyone.

And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the darkness of night descended upon the house you remained cocooned in your own thoughts. The distance between you and Jake stretching on indefinitely.

But as night fell and the quiet of the house enveloped them, Jake couldn't bear it any longer. He found you in the bedroom where you’d been all day, curled up on the bed. Your tears staining the pillow beneath your head. Without a word he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms holding you close as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

As Jake held you in his embrace he felt the tension in your body slowly begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of warmth and comfort that washed over him like a gentle tide. He knew that you were pretending to be asleep, your breathing steady and even, but he also knew you too well to be fooled by the facade.

"I know you're awake, angel," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness of the room.

You remained silent. Your eyes closed as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body enveloping you like a protective shield. Despite the hurt and the distance that had grown between you, you couldn't deny the overwhelming sense of relief that flooded through you at his touch. The knowledge that he was there by your side, ready to mend the cracks in your fragile heart.

"I'm so sorry, angel," Jake whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I never should have snapped at you. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you."

You opened your eyes meeting his gaze with a mixture of sadness and longing. "I'm sorry too," you replied. Your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I don’t know what’s going on with me." And with that you felt more tears falling.

Jake shook his head. His expression softening as he cupped your face in his hands. "No, baby, you have nothing to apologize for," he insisted, his voice gentle but firm. "I love how much you care, how much you need me. It's what makes us work. I let my own stress get the better of me rather than talking about it with you. I should have leaned on you instead of pushing you away."

As his words washed over you, a sense of relief flooded through you, the weight of guilt lifting from your shoulders. You realized that despite the challenges you faced, the love and understanding between you were stronger than ever before.

Jake's thumb gently brushed away the tears that still lingered on your cheeks. His touch tender and reassuring. Pulling you close, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. His hands drifted down to cup your growing belly, whispering sweet nothings to the baby growing inside. The sensation sent your heart into overdrive with a surge of warmth spreading through you at the sight of Jake's adoration for your little one.

And as Jake leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss, you felt the steady emotion of love wash over you. The barriers that had kept you apart crumbling away in the face of your shared love and forgiveness.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

[utterlyotterlyx]

My Tears Are Becoming a Sea

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Azriel wished that you’d wake up in time for Starfall, that you’d be home to see the souls cross the sky. The war against Hybern had wrecked you, and he couldn’t bear to be away from you for another moment.

Warnings - angst, sad boy Azriel, mentions of death and blood, some self loathing, but a beautiful happy ending for our Shadowsinger 🤍

They'd won.

But none of it meant anything if you weren't there with them.

Hybern had been defeated, they had won the impossible battle thanks to you, thanks to your skill, your power, and that shattering determination to find the upper hand your family so desperately needed.

You had disappeared without a word just after the High Lords meeting, after realising that the forces you needed lay beyond the capabilities of armies and blind hope. Azriel knew better than to stop you, he traced the line of your jaw as he kissed you for what could have been the last time. He savoured the taste of your lips, your scent, that smile that had the power to command the attention of anyone or anything.

There were no words that any of them could say the moment they saw you on the battlefield, you stood above them clad in your leathers wearing a sadistic grin as Bryaxis and the Weaver stalked from behind you whilst they all waited to meet their fate.

Azriel puffed his chest out with pride, glancing to Cassian with a smirk. That's my girl.

You were a formidable force, bending the elements around you like it was your mother tongue, sending spears of fire and ice through the chests of whoever opposed you, allowing the ground to swallow whole groups of soldiers as you passed by. Your sword was an extension of your soul, a cunningly beautiful thing, curved and sharp, and coated in the blood of your enemies which had also splashed across your cheeks.

His shadows were in awe of you, a horribly fierce awe as they watched you cut down man after man, paying little mind to anything else other than making sure that Feyre and Amren reached the cauldron.

That wretched thing.

The cauldron had broken. Feyre needed to put it back together. Feyre needed the power to put it back together.

Azriel watched as you tackled Rhys to the ground, as you threw up a shield around yourself and Feyre so that she had no choice but to use you. To take everything you had to stop the world from crumbling into dust.

Feyre had wept and screamed as she held you in her arms, her fingers pushing the hair from your face as she rocked back and forth, begging your soul to return to your body. Azriel fell to your side and pulled you from Feyre's gasp, his shadows flittered anxiously over your face and body whilst their master pressed his lips to your eyes, pleading the High Lords around him to do what they did for Feyre, to bring you back to him.

Each High Lord offered a kernel of their power, even Feyre had thrown in her own in hope it would made a difference.

Rhys had held him tightly as your soul returned to your body, his sobs wracked his chest when your own began to rise and fall in a healthy rhythm. You didn't wake though.

After days of Madja fussing over you, she had exhausted all of her options. You were warm, your heartbeat was strong and your lungs were functioning as they should be, there was no reason why you shouldn't have been awake and telling Azriel how much you loved him.

He had refused to leave you, his shadows less willing to do so, they loved you so dearly to the point you often found a couple of rogue shadows perching on your own shoulder instead of your mates. Deep circles clung to his hazel eyes that were dark and dreary, he hadn't eaten, he just sat beside your cot and held your hand, noting how peaceful you looked in your eternal slumber.

Much to his rage, it had been decided that Helion would transport you to the Day Court with the promise that his army of healers and researchers would find a way to bring you back. Rhys had agreed, willing to try anything to bring you back to your family, and had to order Azriel to stay away from you whilst Helion gave it his best shot. They couldn't have a grief stricken Illyrian forbidding anyone to touch you.

Velaris felt empty without you. The bakeries were far too full and the children too quiet. The Sidra begged for your fingers to run through her ripples, to caress her with that power that complimented her own so perfectly.

The world just felt darker without you annoying them, prodding Cassian with stupid jokes or dragging Mor dress shopping, even Amren was missing your feet propped on her lap whilst she tried to research, and Nesta yearned for your intelligent observations on the plot holes and desires for the books you shared.

Feyre had become a shell, busying herself with preparations for Starfall so that she would forget how guilty she felt for a moment.

Starfall was your favourite thing in the world, nothing bar Azriel could bring so much joy to you. The music, beautiful outfits and food were just minor aspects in comparison to the main event, when those stars would hurtle across the sky and illuminate it with that hot white glow.

Azriel had always found himself stood behind you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist and chin resting atop your head as you both watched in awe. It never ceased to amaze either of you.

This year was different. No amount of flowers or pastries could distract anyone from the fact that you weren't there. He should have stopped you, gotten to you quicker before you could attack Rhys and take his place; you should have just let Rhys give his power, he would have recovered quicker, everything would have been fine.

Mor had tried to get Azriel to dance, but he didn't want to dance with anyone who wasn't you. All he wanted to do was go back to your shared room and wrap himself in your scent so he could dream of you, the only place you were alive and chatting idly about some random fact you'd found in a book that sent your mind spiralling into balanced wonder.

"She wouldn't want you to stand on the side lines, Az," Cassian clapped his shoulder, trying to coax his brother to partake in something this Starfall, for you.

Gasps echoed about the room, a sign that the main event had begun. Usually, you'd be jumping up and down in your spot with excitement, clutching to his fingers as you dragged him from the room and out to the private balcony you had both made yours.

Males and females floated out of the arched doorways, but Azriel stayed behind, not being able to think of witnessing a single Starfall without you.

Burying his hands deep into the pockets of his black pants, Azriel moved in the opposite direction to the enthralled crowd, not being able to stomach even pretending to be happy. With no particular place in mind, Azriel walked, down winding hallways and up a set of steps, along the arched walls until he fell into place in front of a set of familiar doors.

Doors that you had practically torn the handles from one year from the sheer uncontrollable excitement to get outside before either of you missed it.

Azriel sighed, wiping the corners of his eyes, he sniffled softly as he took the handle in his scarred fingers, feeling electricity pouring through it, so intense that he had to pull away with a frown. He stood there for a moment, unsure and bewildered by the sensation.

Then he felt it.

He felt the familiar scent flood where he stood, the shadows reacted quickly, darting to the handle and dancing over the door, fighting for it to be opened.

It couldn't be. Helion would have told them if you had awoken.

It couldn't be.

Azriel flung the doors open and his shadows surged forward, there you stood, your back to him, dressed in Day Court gold with a solid gold halo encasing a full braided bun. The shadows reached you first and you giggled as they kissed every inch of your face, and gods, did that sound have him melting into a blubbering mess.

You turned to him, your mate, and opened your arms to him, ones that he gladly stepped in to. Azriel wrapped his arms around your waist, he ran his fingers over your skin, he left lingering kisses in the nape of your neck and along your shoulder.

"You're home," he strained, sobs of pure happiness tugging at his throat as he pulled away from you, looking down into those eyes he adored too much.

You moved a piece of his hair away from those pools of brown and green, closing the gap between you as the sky came to life, allowing your love to explode around you whilst the world above and below held a calm breath.

"I couldn't full well miss my favourite night of the year, could I?"

Azriel pressed his forehead to yours, stared into your eyes and drank in every single part of you, his fingers not once moving from your body, "You came back to me."

"I'll always come back to you, Az. Always."

Authors Note

I needed something fluffy after my gut wrenching Eris post before.

I'm halfway healed.

[qtboni]

Hey there! ☺️ I've been loving your writing lately and wanted to make a request for a new piece. What about writing about Soldier!Reader and König falling asleep on each other on their way back to base after a mission? I think it would be a sweet moment of intimacy after all the dangers and stress they've been through together. No pressure though, just thought I'd throw it out there! :)

HI, LOVIE! thanks for this request,, this was undeniably the cutest thing I have ever written!! i used gtranslate for the german phrases cz idk any german huhu. anyw, i hope u wd love this, anon <//3

PAIRING: König X Gn!Reader

OVERVIEW: König letting you rest on his shoulder, and him also resting on top of your head <//3

C/W: Everything is fluff.

As you sat in the back of the military vehicle, you felt your shoulders droop as you fought to stay awake. Your mind was fogged from fatigue, and every minute felt like an eternity.

But as your eyes began to flutter closed, you made one last effort, shifting slightly in your seat to avoid dozing off.

You and your team had just completed a long and arduous mission, and you all were tired and eager to get back to base. You looked over at König who was seated next to you in the military vehicle. He looked just as exhausted as you felt, his face lined with the strain of the past few hours.

König, watching over you as he always did on missions, noticed the tell-tale signs of you about to fall asleep. Instead of calling you out, however, he silently watched with concern.

He knew how grueling the mission had been, and he did not want to see you hurt yourself by staying up any longer.

As you continued to struggle to keep your eyes open, your focus began to slip, your head slowly drooping. You didn't even realize it, but eventually your head came to rest on König's shoulder, your breathing growing more and more steady with each passing moment.

König noticed the change in your demeanor immediately, and he watched your face as it relaxed into a peaceful slumber. He knew your exhaustion well, and he saw it as a sign that you had finally reached your limit.

His rough, low voice was warm and comforting as he whispered words to you so softly that you almost didn't catch it, but you felt their meaning deep in your heart.

"Ich bin so stolz auf dich," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "Du bist so mutig und stark."

His whispers continued as you slept, caressing your right arm gently as he does so. "Ich liebe dich..." he murmured softly, sounding almost hesitant. "Du bist meine Welt, meine Liebe."

König knows that you would not be able to understand them, so he lets himself freely express his love and care for you in his mother tongue.

König then adjusted his seat to accommodate you and let you rest against him. Nevertheless, you still slept soundly in his right shoulder, the warmth of his body providing a sense of comfort and security that you desperately needed.

A few hours later, you awoke to the sound of König's snores. He had leaned his head on top of yours, and the sound of his breathing was rhythmic and soothing. Despite the uncomfortable position, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, and you drifted off once more.

As the hours passed, the warmth of his body seept into yours, and your consciousness began to fade. You were lost in a dreamless, restful sleep, feeling safe and protected by his presence.

Finally, the sun began to set, and the military vehicle came to a stop outside the base. You stirred from your slumber, feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever might come next. You opened your eyes to find König still sound asleep, his head resting on top of yours.

You sighed softly, trying not to disturb him. You carefully shifted your position and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "König... Wake up."

He stirred slightly, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Gott sei Dank..." His voice was low and hoarse from exhaustion, but there was a smile in his eyes. "I'll never complain about a nap again."

You giggled quietly, feeling a sudden surge of affection for him. "You'll never complain about anything again," you murmured, reaching up to prepare your stuff and fix your vest.

"Ja," König replied, his eyes gentle as ever as he looked at you. "Thanks for your shoulder, schatz. Sorry for if ever, um, it was uncomfortable."

"Oh?" You smiled softly at him.

"You know, given by your smaller than me, maus."

"Well," you chucked as you leaned over at him once more. "It was actually one of the best and comfortable sleep I have ever encountered in this.. kind of scenario."

König felt a warm sensation sweep over his cheeks as he blushed, clearing his throat nervously. "Is that so? Well, I'm glad."

"Actually, I should have been the one thank you. So, thanks. I really needed that nap." You patted his shoulder, where you previously had slept on.

König felt a nervous jolt run through his body as he realized his blush must have been noticed, even with the mask on, when your smile seems to expand more cheekily.

He doesn't trust his words, fear striking in him if he's going to let out stuttering phrases. So, he instead nodded at you, averting his gaze once again.

You knew that there were plenty of things he couldn't express with his mask on, but you could still tell that he appreciated your gesture. And you were glad to have been there for him, just as he had been there for you.

[multifandomfix]

Imagine Snape taking care of your daughter so you can sleep in.

The room is still and quiet, wrapped in the soft shadows of early morning. You barely stir as the sound of the door creaks open, then shuts with careful precision. Somewhere in the haze of near wakefulness, you hear Severus’ deep, gravelly voice. Low, soothing, and unmistakably calm.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “Your mummy is sleeping.”

Your toddler’s giggle follows, light as a bell, and you imagine her perched on his hip, her tiny fingers likely tugging on his hair or the edge of his robes. You keep your eyes closed, a rare opportunity to let yourself drift back into slumber without worry. Severus is here. He’ll handle her.

From the hallway, the muffled sounds of his footsteps retreat, and you catch snippets of his soft spoken commentary. “No, you may not chew on the hem of my robe. That’s hardly sanitary… Yes, you may have juice, but only after breakfast. That is non negotiable.”

You smile faintly into the pillow, but your body stays heavy, reluctant to break the spell of much needed rest.

Time slips by, and when you finally stir again, you realize the house is quiet. It takes a moment to push yourself upright, the lingering pull of exhaustion still clinging to you. Padding toward the living room, you find the two of them there, Severus seated in the armchair, your daughter nestled in his arms, clutching a soft, worn blanket as if it were her most prized possession.

He’s reading to her.

His voice is even, steady, and somehow softer than you ever thought possible for him. There’s no trace of the sharpness he wields so well in the classroom, no biting dry wit. Instead, his words are deliberate, gentle, as if the weight of his love for her exists in every syllable.

Your daughter shifts in his lap, leaning her cheek against his chest. He adjusts her automatically, one arm curling protectively around her, and continues reading without pause.

You lean against the doorframe, unnoticed, letting the moment sink into your heart. This is Severus Snape as only you and your daughter will ever know him —a man who softens when he thinks no one is looking, who allows himself to be vulnerable, just for her.

When he finally looks up and sees you, his expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of something warm in his eyes. “You’re awake,” he says quietly, as if reluctant to disturb the peaceful scene he’s created.

“I am,” you reply, voice still husky from sleep. “Thank you.”

He nods once, returning his attention to the little girl now dozing in his arms. “I’ll let you handle the next tantrum,” he says dryly, but the corner of his mouth twitches with a hint of a smile.

You walk over and press a kiss to his temple, resting your hand briefly on your daughter’s soft curls. “Deal,” you whisper.

And in that moment, everything feels exactly as it should.

Forever Tag: @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Severus Snape: @brienneseveruscalaway, @darkthought15, @superninjapervert420, @meeksmusic83, @whither-the-wind-goes, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @unexpected-character, @yourdailymemedelivery, @impulse-anchor, @becomingthedreamversionofme, @bloodinthedarksworld, @gothtrash6969, @music-bird, @severusish, @chaotic-mushroomz, @iciclesandsnow, @thenazwife, @phantomofclownery, @animeloverfreak310, @m-rae23, @asocialrandom, @beyondgaby, @scarlettmal, @icanotbelieve, @bibliosophie, @saranasr, @strawberrycakeblog, @wynt3rrr, @geekyandgay98, @pink-sunrise-56, @sweetyprincesschaos, @witchthewriter, @anarrowtotheknee, @thekirbishow, @lannister-apologist

[pointlesschairjokes]

A Needlessly In depth Analysis of the Hypnos Subplot thus far

So, the new update is out and my sleepy boy has gotten his own story moment. I have... concerns. Going purely off of dialog I'm worried the subplot is going to simply be comic relief. The joke set-up has been obvious. Mel thinks Hypnos is wise and powerful, everyone else is being sarcastic because they know he's a lazy goof. Hypnos wakes up, Mel's image of him is shattered, cue laughter. On the one hand, I would personally find that resolution disappointing because I'd like to see more done with his character, but on the other, I hold out hope because a purely comedic subplot just wouldn't make sense. I've seen comments here and there saying Hypnos must just be conked out cause Hades and Nyx aren't there to scold him, and if this were to be pure comedy that'd probably be the case. But, if there is one thing Hades 1 makes clear, even if you interpret Hypos' character in the shallowest possible way, he cares very deeply for those he loves. When he drops his cheerful tone to ask Than to spend more time with him, it is distinct, and he nearly tears up calling Zag his best friend. I simply do not buy that he would choose to sleep for years when it means being separated from his friends and family. But then again, the first games treatment of him was just a bit odd. The only time him being the god of sleep is relevant is a single line of flashback narration where we learn he's able to put the entire house, including Hades, to sleep. For the rest of the game no character acknowledges that it makes sense for the god of sleep to be sleepy, and his keepsake, the coin purse, has nothing to do with his aspect or his character. I really hope the subplot goes in a direction of addressing that disconnect. So as to what we actually have so far: the dream scene. A lot of what we see is fairly easy to interpret, Than is there resting close to Hypnos, Hypnos is surrounded by massive stacks of work with an angry Hades looming in the background. Now this is a bit interesting, as in the first game Hypnos appears oblivious to Hades anger in his interactions with him. Perhaps this is evidence that some of that cheeriness is a defense mechanism, its hard to say, but its clear that Hypnos feels overworked. I feel its also important that Mel remarks how unusual it is that he is still asleep inside the dream. Given that, and given that there's a craftable item involved, I suspect that the scenery of the dream is going to be different each time Mel uses the dream vapors. There may even be a puzzle involving the character cutouts. As for why Hypnos is asleep, its still unclear. Could it be exhaustion due to overwork? Possibly, although it wouldn't be the most satisfying answer. I'm actually a bit reluctant to say its Chronos' doing. None of his magic seems to operate in a way that would make sense in Hypnos' case. I'll throw out one wild theory though, that its actually the Fates who have put him to sleep. We know from the prophecy list that Mel is going to locate them at some point in the story, and thus far its completely unclear how. If she can communicate with them in dreams however... What could be a better ace in the hole than a god who not only is underestimated by everyone, but who's also in an 'eternal' slumber?

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Congratulations, You're Pregnant | Kim Hongjoong

-> Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Wife!Reader

-> Request: No

-> Synopsis: Y/N finds out why she's been sick the past two weeks.

-> Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, fatigue, medical talk. This is terrible and didn't turn out how I expected it to.

-> Word Count: 656

-> Requests: Open.

Hongjoong Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy, modify and/or repost anywhere.

Waking up from her slumber, Y/N turns onto her back and gazes up at her husband through sleepy eyes.  

He smiles down at her, “Hi, sleepyhead.” 

“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you,” she pouts as she starts to feel guilty for falling asleep not even ten minutes into the movie. Now the two-hour movie is almost finished, and she couldn’t tell you how it went or even remembered how it started. 

“It makes up for all the times I’ve fallen asleep on you during movie night,” he assures her and looks at her with concern. “Are you still not feeling too good?” 

She nods and sits up as a wave of nausea washes over her. “I don’t know what’s going. I thought it might be the stomach flu but it’s coming up two weeks and it’s not easing off at all. The nausea, vomiting, loss of appetite, and fatigue. I just want it to end.” 

“I think it's time to see a doctor,” he suggests, turning off the TV and getting up from the couch.  

“I can schedule an appointment for tomorrow. It's not urgent,” she says.  

“It's urgent for me. My wife has been sick for two weeks, and I want to find out what's causing it,” he says, heading to the door to put on his shoes and coat.  

Without protest, she lets him help her with her shoes and jacket before they leave the house. 

Four long hours have passed slowly, making it feel like they’ve been sitting there for an eternity. Y/N's arm is connected to a fluid drip to replenish her hydration while they anxiously await the results of the blood tests. 

Y/N's frustration is reaching its peak as she sits on the hospital bed, ready to throttle the next person who enters. She is becoming more agitated by the minute from all the constant beeping of the machines, people muttering to each other and the smell, that hospital grade disinfectant smell. She swears it’s ten times worse than it usually is and she knows the smell well. Her mother’s been a nurse since before Y/N was born. She’d often bring the smell home with her. 

Finally, the doctor re-enters the cubicle with a surprising announcement. "Congratulations," he says, breaking the silence. "You're pregnant."  

The young couple is left speechless, completely taken aback. They haven’t been trying for a baby, both agreeing to wait until next year after all the tour stuff is over. 

Now, faced with this unexpected news, their plans are thrown into disarray. Y/N's frustration quickly transforms into a whirlwind of emotions - shock, fear, and a hint of excitement.

The doctor continues, explaining the next steps and offering support. Y/N's mind races, not hearing anything the doctor is saying as she looks at Hongjoong, searching for some kind of reassurance.  

Hongjoong, sensing Y/N's shift in emotions, reaches out and takes her hand. They exchange a knowing look, silently acknowledging that their lives are about to change in the best way possible. 

"I’m sorry, could you please repeat all that?" Hongjoong politely asks the doctor, letting Y/N know that she wasn't the only one who missed what was said. 

As soon as Hongjoong and Y/N step foot in their apartment, Hongjoong pulls Y/N into his arms, and buries his face into her neck, as he repeats "I love you," over and over again.  

She wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly, feeling his tears wet her skin. Feeling her own tears build up, she becomes overwhelmed 

As the news of the unexpected pregnancy continues to sink in, the feelings from earlier, the shock, the fear and the little tinge of excitement, intensifies. Especially the fear and excitement.  

In less than 8 months, their small family of two will become a family of three. 

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