#but the news about his passing has been all over the news so i imagine it would be hard to miss for anyone

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Epilogue: An Elf's Devotion

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 11.2k (ye have to suffer for yer smut) ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ Smut, Oral (f!receiving), PinV, nipple play, praise kink, creampie. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Healing, acceptance, and the start of a new life.

You sat in one of the castle's many courtyards at a circular table under a stone gazebo. The day was still young and you could hear the birds chirping as they flew from tree to tree. The lanterns strung under the roof of the gazebo illuminated the space you were in. The elder trees, in their great beauty, shrouded all light. It was surprising how easily you had adjusted to the perpetual darkness. 

A near-empty teacup was balanced in your lap. Your forefinger tapped rhythmically against the rim as you stared out at the plants surrounding you. It had been odd for you to be sitting and resting. All you had done for nearly two weeks was work in your laboratory. The healers, Daeron, and you, had been working tirelessly in brewing large portions of the cure. 

While unable to participate in the blood part of the brews, you had been preparing all the ingredients and orchestrating all of the shipments that were being sent to the far reaches of the kingdom. Reports were sent back that showed that the potion was working on swaths of land, restoring what had once been dead.

It was only yesterday that the last of the sick hall patients were released. It had been emotional, seeing all the beds empty and knowing they were not dead but now free to live the rest of their lives in comfort. After that, Daeron practically pushed you out of the laboratory to take some time off. You did not like it but decided to listen to him lest you incur his brotherly wrath. 

Now, you were eating lunch with Helaena. On the table sat empty dishes, with only a few scraps of food left. The large teapot was empty and the remnants left in your cup had gone cold. On the table in front of Helaena were dragonflies in their cages. They were the ones you had gifted her when you first met. She stared intently at them, occasionally brushing the wooden cage with her finger. 

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” You spoke. Helaena raised her gaze to meet yours with furrowed brows. 

“For what?” She asked. 

Your finger continued its relentless drumming against the porcelain cup, “For coming back after we met. If it weren't for you, all of this… well, none of this would have happened.”

“Yes, the world works in mysterious ways,” She wore a small smile as if she was thinking about something nobody else knew.  

“Thank you, truly, for allowing me to be here. I would have never been able to make a cure, or have met the people I now know.” You picked up your cup and placed it on the table. A small breeze rushed through the courtyard, eliciting a small chill. The once vibrant days of summer were coming to a close and the icy hold of winter began to creep into the passing days. 

“Then I should thank you as well. How is everything with the potions?” Helaena asked. 

“It’s good,” You paused for a moment, “It has been a busy two weeks. Everything is a chaotic mess and I’m not sure how long it will be until it all calms.” 

“I can only imagine. And Aemond, how is he handling the hunt for Cole’s spies?” Helaena leaned back into her chair.

You let out an awkward cough, “I wouldn’t know… We, uh, have not had any time to speak since the uprising.” It was true. You had been so busy with creating more potions, you had even spent nights in the lab. Your guest room had been long abandoned and exchanged for a cot in the corner of the laboratory. Hours spent hunkered over the pots and ingredients, overseeing it all.

Aemond had been working non-stop in hunting down any conspirer that colluded with Cole. He had been busy in his own right, as had you, but you would be lying if you said it did not hurt. There were brief moments when you would see one another in the halls, but there was never any time to stop and talk. Nothing but longing glances thrown across corridors. 

“My brother hasn’t been a good husband?” Helaena said. You shook your head at her words and shifted in your seat. The firefly lanterns above you glinted. 

“We are married, but we are not together.” You clarified. It was simply a union to save him from the brink of death. 

“Has marriage been given a different definition since I last checked?” She asked you. You wanted to laugh, perhaps match a jest to her words, but nothing could escape your throat. Aemond and your relationship had hit some kind of barrier. You were married, souls bonded, but there was an underlying issue. Distance had been given, and you could only assume it was Aemond’s attempts at keeping you at arm's length. He does not want you to get the wrong idea – that this union means anything beyond convenience. 

The crunching of feet on the ground and clanging of armour interrupted your tea time. At the entrance of the courtyard stood two guards who had opened the latticed doors to let in their king. Aemond stood a few paces away from the gazebo. His gaze was trained directly on you, a look of compassion across his features. You remembered just what kind of day this was. 

Today was not a day you had been looking forward to. The black dress that clung to your frame felt nearly suffocating. While only black in colour, it held a mix of stitched details and threaded patterns that were heavily nature-centric. It was beautiful and if it had been another reason for wearing it, you would have loved it. Facing the truth of your father’s death had been a path largely consumed by denial. One thing that made it hurt the most was no recovery of his body, not that there would be much given the years since his murder. You just wanted something tangible to mark his passing. 

Aemond had decided to hold a small funeral service with a marked grave in the royal cemetery. His plan was entirely unprompted, as you had never even indicated your feelings. He could have understood because of the union of your souls and how your emotions were fairly intertwined. Apparently for elves, sensing their bond's emotion was as easy as breathing. Unfortunately, because of your humanness, you did not exactly feel his emotions as an elf would. It only came with great concentration, something of which you had no time for. 

Perhaps, a better explanation for why he came up with this funeral was the simple fact of shared experience. He too shared the burden, grief, and inexplicable loss of a father, thus understanding that you may need certain things provided to journey through the grieving process. 

You took in a breath and got up from your chair. The wooden poles scraped against the stone flooring. Your feet took you to the stone steps of the gazebo and you proceeded to take a step. Aemond had moved forward and held out his hand for you to take. You hesitated for a moment, but gently rested your hand on his palm. It was warm and calloused, but inexplicably comforting. A surge of energy shot through your body. The hands that had joined were the ones cut in the marriage ceremony. 

He escorted you through the courtyard and down a few flights of stairs outside of the castle. Helaena followed, soon joined by Aegon, Daeron, Amara, and Liriel. You did not want to make a spectacle of it, choosing to only have those close to you attend. 

The royal graveyard was located just beside the giant elder tree that made up the castle. Graveyards had always felt weird to you. Tombstones and monuments were permanent markers of the impermanent. They represented, in some capacity, the inability to move on; yet all must one day. It was more odd, that despite the elvish customs of being so in tune with nature, they did not allow their bodies to return to nature after death – instead enshrining their bodies in stone. 

Your group stopped, coming in front of the stone for your father. It had his name, along with the years he lived and died. The stone was granite, reflecting a speckled mess of white, black, and gray. The sight of it caused tears to brim your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Aemond’s grip on your hand squeezed a few beets in succession in a rhythm similar to the beating of a heart. He stood to your right. 

Aegon walked out from behind you and Aemond. He carried a bouquet of white roses in his hands and crouched to gently place it at the base of the stone. You remember learning white roses signify peace and hope, which caused the edges of your lips to curl up just slightly. Aegon was silent for a moment before he stood up and walked back towards you. He stopped to face you on your left side. Aegon’s arm reached out, placed itself on your shoulder, and then gave it a gentle squeeze. You looked at him and he gave you a comforting smile. You nodded, grateful for his support but unable to vocalize it. 

After he went to stand at your side, Daeron came forward and repeated the same process. He placed a bouquet of daises beside Aegons, paused for a moment of silence, moved towards you and gave your shoulder a small squeeze before joining beside his brother. Next was Helaena, who placed lavender on the tombstone. She repeated the same process as her brothers and gave you a squeeze of comfort. Amara and Liriel both had their bouquets; tulips and orchids. They gave a moment of silence and then each squeezed your shoulder and offered small smiles. 

By then, you were overwhelmed with the support. Aemond brushed his thumb over the knuckles of the hand he had gripped and brought a bouquet of elf azures from behind his back. He held them to you and you grabbed them with him. The two of you carried the flowers to be placed at the centre of the grave. You took a moment of silence and thought of the words you would want to tell him if he were here. 

You could speak to him about all the breakthroughs you had made in your research. Detail the extensive and life-changing move from the capital to a village on the outskirts. 

You would tell him of your chance meeting with Helaena and how that one choice to help someone in need radically changed your life. Meeting everyone after, Daeron, Aegon, Amara, and Liriel. You could look him in the eyes and tell him all those scary stories about Aemond were false; that he saved your life in more ways than one. Your father could know that you were safe now, cared for and happy.

Most of all, you wished you could tell him you loved him one last time. So, muttering with the quietest whisper, you spoke, “I love you, father.” 

Aemond and you stood up and moved back to stand in your previous positions. Aemond brought your hand up to place a comforting kiss on your hand. The action caused your cheeks to heat up and turn a bright shade of red. Your heart thumped faster. 

One by one, your friends each said goodbye and left you to have your moment at the grave. Aemond was the only one who stayed standing by your side as you stared at the stone. He kept his one hand locked with yours but used the other to reach up and brush some hair behind your ear. 

“Are you alright?” He asked you. 

Your gaze was locked on the stone, “I had mourned him long ago.” Aemond nodded at your words.  

“There is something else, rūklon.” He spoke. 

You angled your head to look at him and furrowed your brows. He tugged one of your hands and gently led you a short walk away from the gravestone. You walked amidst the burials of all the royal family members that came before. At the edge of the yard was a young tree, newly planted by the looks of the recently tilled earth around it. Young and just beginning to leave its years of adolescence. 

Another granite grave was placed just by the tree. It stood straight and gleaming in the light of the lit lanterns strung about. The two of you got closer and you could finally see the inscription on the stone surface. 

Aemond had given Lyra a place of rest in the royal cemetery. 

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. Your grip on his hand tightened as you looked between him and the gravestone. To be placed in the royal cemetery despite not being a member of the family was a great honour not afforded to most. Aemond had given it to two important people in your life. 

 “An elder tree sapling has been planted over her body. Soon, she’ll be as tall as the other elder trees with time. Big enough to join the ancestors and protect us all.” Aemond spoke softly. His words seemed to break the damn that you had built up to keep the emotions in. The water pooling in your eyes sprung forth as a sob ripped its way out your throat. Aemond moved quickly to pull you into a hug. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head and pulled your face in to rest on his chest. 

The two of you stood there while you cried in his arms. There was so much you wished you could change. You wanted to apologize to Lyra for how long it took you to find a cure. Aemond’s grip tightened as your sobs came out harder. You wanted your father, you wanted your mother. Aemond’s hand on the small part of your back moved rhythmically up and down while his fingers cradled your head and carted through your hair.

There was no way to track the time that had passed as you cried. It had finally been a moment where you could just let it all go. The build-up of days, weeks, months, and years swept over you like a storm; destroying the fortresses you had built in your mind to protect yourself. With careful grace, you pulled away. You sniffled a few times and then looked back to the grave. 

“Thank you, Aemond.” You said between tears. He shook his head and moved his hands to cup your face. There was unspeakable warmth in his touch. 

“You need not thank me, ‘tis only an honour both deserve.” His thumbs swiped at the salty trails of water on your face. Your eyes traced the stone and for a moment you thought of the image of the sweet little elf girl who always smiled in spite of the pain. The strength Lyra carried, without ever truly acknowledging it herself, inspired you. 

“Amara and Liriel should be waiting in your room soon to ready you for tonight,” Aemond spoke, “But if you truly do not wish to attend I can move it to another day.” 

It was unfortunate that the first day you had off, the day of your father's funeral, fell on the same day the weekly celebration the elves held. You had wanted to delay the funeral at first, but could not stand being stuck in limbo any longer. You needed to process and move on. There was no way you would be the cause of a delay in the elves' tradition – it had been that way for multiple millennia. You felt you had disrupted their lives enough simply by being there. Now that you were the wife to the king, it would be best to tread your case lightly. 

You did not think you could ever get over the simple fact that you were married. However, you did speak to Daeron about the contingencies of your marriage. It had been a long day of brewing and you were more delirious than conscious. He was in the laboratory with you after all the elf healers had left. You had confessed your worries about being stuck in a loveless relationship, but he had simply shook his head with a small smile on his face and told you to sleep. 

You had a strong urge then to chuck a glass pitcher at his head. 

“No, everyone deserves to celebrate this victory.” You paused a moment and then looked towards him. However, you could not meet his eye and instead looked at his forehead, “Could I be alone for a moment?” 

Aemond’s jaw tensed at your standoffish attitude but gave you a curt nod, “As you wish.” His body turned, but he halted for a moment and looked at you. His mouth opened as if to say something, but he choked it down and stalked out of the cemetery. 

When he was gone, it felt like your ability to breathe went with him. You wondered how long it would take for you to spill your guts to the king. Would this be your life from now on? Where you would be attached at the hip to the person you loved, but unable to act on your feelings because of your fear. It was nothing but the truth. 

You were terrified. 

If you chose to act on your feelings and confess to him, what if he did not feel the same? All Aemond had given you since you arrived were mixed signals. One moment he is saving your life and the next insulting you. At the time, you did not understand why he had acted that way. Now, as you came to truly see him, you understood that he was grappling with his past and trying to balance the kingdom in the midst of the spreading taint. 

In some odd way, your presence in the kingdom had reminded him of the prince that took his eye. His on-and-off attitude was nothing but his inner child and leftover naivety clawing for a moment to be seen. War-torn and violent, under it all was a child facing the death of his parents, protecting a kingdom, and dealing with a betrayal like no other. 

He wanted to be your friend. He wanted to run back to the comfort of a human like he had long ago but was left paralyzed by his past. 

Yet, his actions towards you have changed dramatically as of late. Aemond was kinder, tender even. He had shown you patience and understanding, guarding you with his life when Cole revealed his falsehood. Aemond had agreed to marry you and while it was to save his life, he could not have made that decision entirely on that. He was your friend and you could only hope it could stay that way. 

Perhaps, in time, he could look at you the way you do to him.

You fiddled with the jewelry on your wrist as you walked the halls of the castle. It had been hours since the funeral and you had spent that time in your room. You had left the graveyard shortly after Aemond and were greeted by Amara and Liriel. Despite becoming your friends, they still acted as handmaids to you. You wanted them to stop, for it felt weird to make them serve you, but they adored dressing you up so you let them. 

When you had gotten to your room, they had already laid out a multitude of dresses and jewelry. You were undressed from your black mourning dress and immediately ushered into the adjoining room to bathe in a myriad of oils. Amara insisted on some of her lilac-scented oils, but you opted for the azure scent. She left you to have some privacy and you slowly cleaned yourself. 

Over the next couple of hours, the two elves dressed you up in various dresses and colours, until finally picking one that suited you the most. Now that you were a part of the elven kingdom, you thought it only fitting if you dressed in the kingdom's colours. The dark emerald green dress you wore was light and flowy, the dyed linen freely brushing the floor. Careful and detailed embroidered patterns lined the ends of your sleeves, skirt, and around your waist. The same pattern of stitched flowery imagery outlined your neckline, which plunged in a v formation. 

Amara and Liriel had spent another large portion of time getting your hair ready and sorting through the polished jewels and metals that would adorn your wrists, fingers, and neck. You were glad they had not brought up the funeral and chose to distract you by other means. 

They left you to go to the celebration, but you stayed behind for a few moments to collect yourself. Now, you were walking through the halls of the castle towards the grand hall. As you approached the large oak doors, taller than your lofted old cottage was, two guards noticed you coming. They immediately got out of their standing positions and each grabbed a large wrought iron handle. They leaned back to pull the doors open, as the weight of the wood was heavy. 

Upon entering the grand hall, the band halted their music and the elves turned to look at you. Suddenly, you felt hot under their intense gazes. This amount of attention was uncomfortable and reminded you of your first few weeks in the kingdom; when they would look at you with curiosity. Now, the intensity of their gaze had changed to something different, better even. 

You could spot Daeron as he made his way through the crowd. When he broke from them and approached, he smiled widely at you and clapped. Like a tidal wave, all of the other elves began to clap as well. You heard a sharp whistle and spotted Aegon over by your friends sporting a wolfish grin.

“I was wondering when our star would show up.” Daeron jested as he took your arm in his to escort you to your friends. The clapping began to cease and the band went back to their jovial tunes. The tunes of their flutes, fiddles, and lutes echoed across the hall as the elves resumed dancing and mingling.

“Star?” Your voice wavered. The celebration had been held to commemorate the cure and the missed war. 

“This would not be possible without you,” Daeron spoke like his words were an obvious observation. 

“Without all of the healers,” You interjected, “Do not forget you and your workers' sacrifices.” 

Daeron nodded at your words, but kept his cheeky grin, “Of course, my queen.” The way he addressed you felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over your body. The elf healers had used such a title to address you, but you quickly put an end to it. It felt like theft to take up such a role. By now, you had neared your friend group where Aegon, Amara, and Liriel waited. Helaena was perched in the back, having made the effort to come for just a moment despite disliking such large gatherings. 

“Do not address me as such until I have spoken to Aemond. We may be married, but it is not appropriate to seize such a title.” You reprimanded. Daeron released you from his hold and held up his hands in defence, but only returned with a quiet hum. 

“There she is!” Aegon placed his chalice down at a nearby long table, covered in large amounts of food for the feast, “Might I so humbly request a dance with her grace?” Aegon bowed and held out his hand, but his actions still held this joking manner that was refreshing to see. You disliked how he used your royal rank but nodded gratefully and took his arm. You waved goodbye to your friends as he escorted you to the dance floor. 

“Lovely night. I have ordered some of the oldest wine barrels to be brought out. It is high time they were used.” Aegon spoke as he placed one hand on your waist and held your hand in the other. It was a quick waltz, with rushed movements and interspersed twirls. 

“Like you needed such an excuse to drink them,” You teased, “Though, I must thank you properly. Everything that you have done for me, agreeing to help me with my father… truly Aegon, it helped immensely.” During your noon tea time with Helaena, you finally found the opportunity to thank her. Now, you felt it was only necessary to begin thanking everyone else. Aegon looked appreciative of your thanks but was uncomfortable with the praise he was receiving having not been too used to it. 

“Truthfully I had been waiting for a moment to strike at…” Aegon paused, unwilling to speak Cole’s name, “We were close, for a time. He wasn’t always so, well,” His lips moved to a frown, unsure how to continue speaking.

Aegon shook his head and gave you a gentle smile, “I am just grateful I can go back to what matters most, drinking. Staying sober during all of this was the hardest part.” Aegon joked. You could tell, deep underneath, that he used humour to cope with his struggles. He was skilled at deflecting. It reminded you of that glimpse you saw many weeks ago. How you escorted him to his room after a night of drinking and he confessed his feelings of inadequacy compared to his siblings. You had given him advice then. Did he even remember your words? 

Just as you wanted to bring it up again, Aegon spotted something from behind you and a wicked smirk plastered itself on his face. He spun you around one last time as the song came to a close. The two of you backed away and bowed. 

“Might I cut in?” Aemond’s voice was calm and you could feel his breath brushing against your neck as he stood behind you. You turned to see him standing before you, dressed in finer clothes than he normally would wear. These ones fit the occasion of celebration but were still dark in colour. This might have been the only time you saw him without his longsword strapped to his side. There was no need for him to display such defence anymore. 

“Of course, brother.” Aegon then looked at you, gave a quick almost imperceptible wink and walked away. The band began to play a slower, more calm song. Aemond placed both of his hands along your waist, his fingers brushing your sides soothingly. You rested your hands on his chest and felt the warmth emanating from him. 

“I feel as though I owe you an explanation,” Aemond spoke as the two of you began to waltz across the floor with the other dancing elves. 

“An explanation?” You questioned. Aemond’s eye was scanning the room. You could see it in his stance, he wanted to talk about something. Deeply. However, his posture held hints of nervousness. 

“I know our union may have been done in haste, but I need you to know that,” Aemond licked his lips, took a deep breath in, and locked his eye on you, “I–” He huffed. You could feel his fingers tighten just slightly as his gaze swept to the floor. You were unsure of how to proceed. You had never seen him in this state. 

“I’m not good at speaking about all of this.” He muttered with frustration. 

“You don’t have to be.” You gave him a gentle smile, “Aemond, king or not, you don’t have to always be perfect at everything.” 

His eye trailed back to you, scanning over your face. The shine of the blue reflected the gold light of the lanterns strung from the high vaulted roof of the hall. There was something almost unreadable on his face, but a moment of clarity washed over his features. 

“You’re beautiful,” He blurted out. You sucked in a breath at his compliment. Heat flushed over your face and your hands gripped the fabric of his doublet. Your heartbeat picked up. 

Aemond pulled you closer and spun you two, “I wish I could see you, truly.” You could see his cheek with the scar twitch, causing you to be more aware of his eyepatch. In all honesty, it was not something you noticed anymore.

“You already do, Aemond, more than anyone else has.” You gave him a reassuring smile. At this point, your heart was bleeding on your sleeve. You did not care to hide your affection anymore. You did not wish to hide a part of yourself from the person your soul was intertwined with. Aemond stopped dancing and the two of you stood amongst dancing elves. The song was in full swing, the elegant tune flitting about the room. 

“Come with me,” Aemond grabbed a hold of your hand, “We need to talk.” He tugged you through the crowd, expertly weaving his way so you would not bump into anyone. He was on a mission, his shoulders squared with determination. Aemond paid no attention to the elves in the hall who sent causal glances his way, watching on as their king and queen left the hall. It was slightly disappointing to leave the party early, but you knew there would be plenty more to attend over the course of your life here. 

He guided you through the dimly lit stone halls and up a flight of stairs. It was a repetitive process. You two would move down a hallway and then walk up a bunch of stairs. It repeated multiple times and you had begun to get a little tired. You were unfamiliar with this part of the castle. Your legs ached just slightly, but Aemond continued. You could feel the elevation increase. Finally, you came across the spiralling steps of a tower and Aemond walked up. His grip on your hand tightened to guide you up the stairs and make sure you did not slip. 

You happened across double doors. Aemond pushed one open and guided you into a large room. Quickly scanning the area, you came to see that it was one of the exact rooms you saw when you were in that unconscious state; Aemond’s room. The stone walls were adorned with tapestries, making it feel warm. Countless bookshelves lined the room, filled to the brim with various tomes. There were multiple areas with lounge furniture. On one end of the room was a raised section that held a hearth, a four-poster canopy bed, and doors that opened to a balcony. Rich fabrics and furs covered the bed and floors, adding touches of luxury amid the fortress-like surroundings.

He guided you up the raised steps and out onto the balcony. There, you could see the dark shapes of the tops of the elder trees. Above you, as far as your eyes could see, spanned a starry night sky. The stars looked like different sizes of salt grains spilled across a dark-stained wood table. They sparkled like the jewels that adorned your neck. You were struck by the sight and slowly walked to the end of the balcony. You leaned against the stone railing and watched with revered awe. 

Aemond moved to stand beside you. Unlike other times in the past, he stood on your left, so his good eye was on your side. Your hands traced the rough grooves of the stone. You glanced towards Aemond and found him already looking at you. For a brief moment, you felt as though you were transported back to that night at Lake Rosmagne when you and Aemond were sat around the campfire. The night he had opened up to you, and you to him. 

“Our union,” You spoke, “I know it was not a choice and I am sorry for taking it from you. But since then, it feels like there is a crack in our friendship. I’m sorry if it broke your trust.” 

“Why would it have broken my trust?” Aemond turned so his hip rested against the railing and focused his form on you. 

“It is a bond forged out of desperation. You had no option other than death. It was cruel to suggest it and even crueller to make you go through with it.” You reasoned. It was all out in the open now. The thing that had been bugging you for many days now, something that had kept you up most nights. 

“Did you hold a knife against my throat? Bind my hands and tie me to a chair?” Aemond questioned. 

You shook your head, “Well no, but-”

“I could have chosen to die on that field, like a king, a warrior, but I did not.” He interrupted you. You thought about his words for a moment. It still did not entirely make sense to you. In your kingdom, anything would have been done to save a king from death. Though, because of that, the king typically never fought on the field. Yet here, it was seen as dishonourable to make your people fight without joining. His death in battle would have been seen as a tragic, but kingly end.

“I apologize if any of my actions have given you the wrong impression. This is not my area of expertise.” He reached out with his arm and grabbed your hand and his thumb swiped over your knuckles. You welcomed the warmth his touch brought. 

“Rūklon, why do you think I planned to go to war?” He questioned, his voice soft and comforting. The area between your brows wrinkled. It was such an obvious answer so why would he be asking that question?

“Because you believed my kind broke the treaty and attacked your castle. They destroyed part of the research, so you were bound by duty to retaliate.” You answered. Aemond looked at you with a small smile, his eye shining. His head tilted down due to the height difference. It was like he found amusement in your answer. 

He slowly shook his head back and forth, “No,” Aemond spoke with gentleness, “I declared war because I thought their spies killed you. I didn’t give a damn about the rest. You did not force me into this union, I welcome it gladly.” His words were like a jolt of lighting that had hit your body, electrifying your limbs and shocking your brain. 

Your fingers tightened against the stone of the railing, “But you had no other choice. What I did…” 

“There is nothing you could ever do to hurt me or make me detest you. Rūklon, you could cut out my other eye and I would still only see you. You could cut off my ears, yet only your voice would remain in my head. You could run to the far corners of the earth and my heart would still call to you, guide me to you.” Aemond used the hand that cradled yours to pull you closer to him. He brought it up and opened your closed fist to lay on his chest, right where his heart was. You could feel the gentle thrum of the beats, picking up just slightly at your proximity. 

His eye looked into yours and with an overwhelming glint of pure devotion, he whispered, “You have conquered me. Wholly and truly.” His hand cradled yours delicately and he moved closer to you, nearly chest to chest. Your breath got caught in your throat. Your hands moved to rest on his forearms and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. 

This was all you had wanted and more. You needed to mend the weird rift that had been created between you. You had thought, due to the circumstances of your union, that Aemond did not want to be that close to you. How stupid this had all been. Both of you were unsure and scared to proceed further as you both did not want to push the other. Your souls had intertwined, going so far as to share trepidation in confessing those feelings. 

You took a moment to reach up and cup his face, tracing the line of his scar. Your fingers reached his eyepatch. You halted your movement and hovered over the leather, waiting for his permission. Aemond tilted his head down in a curt nod. With his permission, you gently pulled it off and rested the leather on the stone railing. Looking back up, you saw the sapphire stone that sat in his socket. In the past, all you had seen was a storm of blue. Angry waves that crashed against the dark stone of his iris. Now, that had changed. With the sapphire, you could see the iridescent deep blue that reflected the glittering light of the stars. In it, you could see the universe. 

It was then that you understood what people meant when they said that eyes are windows to a person's soul. 

“I love you, Aemond.” You whispered delicately. Those simple words caused the elf in front of you to almost crumble. His one eye, brimming with unshed tears, closed and you watched a streak of saltwater come down his cheek and rest at his sharp jaw. His lips trembled almost imperceptibly. You wanted to cry with him, suddenly feeling all of his emotions through your bond. 

Slowly, Aemond’s arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers brushing the small of your back. Your hands that were tracing his cheeks dropped to his chest. He carefully moved forward and leaned in. Under your hands, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Aemond’s face got closer and you felt his breath brush your face. Both of your foreheads connected and your eyes fluttered close to savour the tender moment. 

“Avy jorrāelan,” Aemond spoke softly. You did not need to know his language to understand he had said it back to you. The delicate nature of his voice and the emotion in the words were all you needed to know. Even if the world plunged into darkness you would be able to find him anywhere. 

There, in the midst of your comfort, you felt his lips brush yours. Despite the skin being slightly chapped, it felt soft and warm. Your skin was flushed with heat and it spread throughout your body. Aemond's lips began to move with yours, slowly and gently. The action came as naturally as walking, as breathing. There was nothing else that mattered but that moment. 

His grip moved to your waist, tightening as he pulled you closer to him. The movement caused you to let out a hum and that spurred him on. His nose brushed your cheek as he turned his head to get a better angle and he became starved for you. It was like the wall that separated you two crumbled in an instant. All pieces of inhibitions were disregarded as you sunk into it, into him. A grumble made its way out of his throat and the vibrations were passed on to you.

Your heart was pounding and your hands were sweaty. You were nervous. This was not an area you had experience in and you suddenly felt like that would be a negative for him. You did not want to disappoint Aemond. 

The two of you pulled away, only slightly. Your noses were still touching. His eye opened and you looked into it. The blue had darkened significantly and with your hands on his chest, you could feel it rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. You moved your hands and the touch made him shudder. That alone sparked an unknown heat you had never felt before that budded in your lower stomach. You needed him, carnally. 

For a moment, all you two did was look at one another, eyes tracing every inch; learning, memorizing. 

“I need you, Aemond.” You could barely recognize your voice. Your body was overcome with instinct over mind, but you did not care. There must have been something in your words because it caused his breath to hitch and hold on you tighten. 

“Do you want this?” While his words were coated in arousal, you could still sense some insecurity. He needed your permission as much as he needed reassurance. 

You nodded, “Please, Aemond, touch me.” He wasted no time in connecting your lips again. Except this time it was not soft but desperate. Every emotion you had struggled with melted away as you succumbed to his fervour. Your hands could no longer stay still and so could his. They moved up to his hair and tangled themselves in the silk strands. You had always wanted to know what his hair felt like. Aemond’s own hands ran over the outline your your form, up and down. It was like he was trying to map out your body in his head – a way to permanently memorize every inch. 

Every moment, every interaction, each sliver of attention you both gave one another in the past culminated to this. Full, complete, and unencumbered trust in the throes of pleasure.

Your back dug into the high stone railing as he pushed into you further. A small bit of frustration began to bud in you. No matter how close he was, it did not feel like enough. Your brain could not think of much else, other than the complete need for more. One of his hands trailed over your ass and stopped at the back of your thigh. His fingers dug into the plush fabric of your dress as he lifted your leg. You caught on instantly and wrapped it around his waist.

There were little moments when you two of you would pull away to breathe, but they only lasted less than a second before you reunited again – a mess of wet lips and unquenchable fire. With your leg hiked up, he was able to press his crotch against your core. It lit up something in your lower stomach. His hand that held your thigh moved to grab the hem of your dress and hiked it up further. The crisp and cool night air hit your skin and it was then that you were able to truly feel how much your body had heated up in this moment. Aemond’s hands were not the only wandering thing. His lips trailed from yours and landed repeatedly against the flush skin of your face. 

It was like Aemond was gone, replaced with a starving devout worshipper pleading for any ounce of reprieve. His opened-mouthed kisses moved further towards your neck, nipping and licking at the skin. All you could do was release short bursts of breaths, where you could see the small puffs in the cool air. The dress had a low neckline, exposing a good portion of the skin. The movement caused your breasts to heave against the fabric and Aemond wasted no time in moving his attention to your chest. 

His hand that pushed back the fabric on your leg trailed the skin and moved closer to your core. He hesitated for a moment and pulled away, finally making eye contact with you. He gave you a moment to catch your breath from the intensity, resting his forehead against yours. Aemond was asking for permission and you shook your head in agreement. 

“Words, rūklon. I need to hear it. What do you want?” His words erupted some frustration from you. 

“Gods damn it, Aemond, please I’ve already said it. Touch me, please.” Your voice was horse with desperation. All he did was let out a small chuckle and smile. 

He leaned in so his breath brushed your ear and whispered, “I know, but you’re so easy to rile up.” Aemond picked up your other leg and hoisted you up. You let out a squeal of surprise. He was an elite fighter, training for centuries, but it still shocked you just how strong he was. Your hands rested on his shoulders and he wasted no time in kissing you again. With each step he took, your core rubbed against his. You could feel the hardness of his length brush a particularly sensitive spot through the fabric and let out a moan. 

As quickly as you were carried, was as quickly as you found yourself being tossed against the plush warmth of his bed, amidst furs and quilted fabric. Your hips hung near the edge of the bed. You sat up immediately, wanting to chase after Aemond’s lips, but he kneeled in front of you. His head was tilted upwards to watch you as his hands went to unlace your turn shoes. He carefully took them off, his hands caressing your ankles, but his gaze remained on you, wanting to drink up each time you squirmed at his touch.

It was almost painful the way he took his slow time in untying the ribbons that held up your stockings and pulled the embroidered fabric down. Whenever he would expose more skin, his hands would trail over and massage it gently in worshipping movements. 

His hands hiked up, and up, and up; pulling the fabric to bunch at your waist. You watched him visibly swallow as he took you in. Because you had believed you would be dancing for most of the night, you prepared for the inevitable heat you would be facing – by only wearing a light undergarment under your dress with no covering over your core. You reasoned that if you were going to be moving a lot, you would need the least amount of clothes to keep cool. 

Now, in the heat of this moment, you knew that even if you were wearing nothing, it would not keep you cool from feeling like the fire that roared in the hearth next to the bed. 

Aemond grabbed your hips to hang over the edge of the bed as he moved closer in his kneeling position. He manoeuvred your thighs to rest on both of his shoulders as he began to kiss and lick the inside of them, brushing so carefully against the soft skin. He moved up further to kiss the juncture between your leg and hip. 

He then moved his care to your lower stomach – what little of it was exposed due to the bunched-up dress. Aemond’s lips trailed the area that had lit up with heat since the moment he kissed you on the balcony. You could feel his lips form a smile as he moved further, so dangerously close to your core that had become dripping with want. 

Aemond hovered above you, looked up into your eyes, and whispered, “Let me take care of you.” Your breath caught in your throat as his hot breath brushed against your most sensitive spot. There was no time to react when you felt his tongue lick a strip along the length of your slit. The feeling, so sudden and new, had you fall to lay back with your elbows supporting your upper body. Short, quick gasps left your mouth. 

His demeanour changed completely, getting lost in his movements as he lapped at your juices. Aemond’s hands rubbed up and down your thighs. One moved up and under your dress, trailing across your heaving stomach and making a home at your breasts. The swipe of his finger against your nipple and the quickening of his tongue’s pace caused a surge of energy to shoot through your body and your arms could no longer support yourself. You fell back fully on the bed with your back arching. Your arms, which had once held strength, fell limp. 

Aemond seemed quite content to stay between your thighs. With what little control you had left, you managed to move your hands to his hair, tugging at the strands. That movement spurred Aemond further and he let out a low groan into your flesh. Still fondling your breasts, his other hand moved to your clit and began a steady circular motion. Your gasps turned to wanton moans. Thankfully, Aemond’s room was so far from the others you were glad, for surely with the balcony doors open someone would have heard. His tongue entered you, meticulously caressing your walls.

Your body began to tremble as the pressure in your lower abdomen began to intensify. Your thighs jerked to his motions, nearly grinding on his face. 

“A-” You could barely speak and huffed to get the words out, “Aemond I-” He had you on the verge of being undone and knew it. Each movement of his hands and tongue was carefully calculated as he quickly picked up on all the little motions that made you squirm. 

“So good,” Between the moments when he would take a second to breathe, he muttered against your skin, “You’re so good f’me.” 

It was inescapable now, the buildup. You were lost in the feeling of pleasure that hit you to a degree you had yet to experience. With a final gasp and loud moan, you felt the damn break. It was like falling despite being on a solid surface. Your eyes closed and your fingers tightened in Aemond’s hair as you were overcome with every sensation but somehow none at the same time. You shuddered, but he paid no mind as he continued his movements to help you ride out your high. 

Your skin felt warm and feverish. All of this was foreign to you, but you welcomed it. You understood why some people were so hooked on the feeling. If you could experience this with Aemond every day, you would stake your life on it and forgo the rest of the world. 

Aemond pulled away, though reluctantly. He grabbed your thighs that rested on his shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze before lifting them off and pushing you further onto the bed. Your knees still hung off, but it did not matter as you could barely feel your legs. He stood up and bent to hover over you, his looming presence making you ache for more. 

As if he did not just finish feverishly eating you out, he gave you a quick, chaste kiss on the lips with utmost care. While he did so, his hands went to your back and began to untie the dress. Thankfully, it was a light and easy-to-remove one. You watched the darkened expression of his heated gaze as the top layer of your dress was pulled away and exposed the thin see-through white chemise you wore underneath. 

It did not exactly leave anything to the imagination. You could hear Aemond’s breath hitch at the sight of you and when you reached up to cup his face his body shuddered as his eye closed for a moment. He grabbed your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist, feeling the pulse point thump faster at his actions.

As soon as his comforting touch met you was as quickly as it left when he pulled back. He worked quickly and diligently, unfastening his doublet and pulling it off with record speed. All you could do was watch on as he undressed himself. You were too stuck in the trance of his form. He kicked off his boots and was then left in nothing but his pants and a thin white loose shirt that tightened at his mid-forearms. You could see the small scars that littered his arms, the same pattern seen in the small area of the exposed part of his chest. 

You shuffled forward to plant your feet on the floor but still sat down on the bed. Aemond moved instantly to you, his hands hovering on the short hemline of your chemise. While maintaining eye contact, he pulled up your last layer and up over your head. He tossed it to the side, its existence quickly forgotten and not cared for. You were now completely bare in front of him and suddenly more self-conscious than ever. An uncontrollable feeling to cover yourself began to gnaw at your brain but was quickly quelled by the low groan that came from Aemond.

“So beautiful, ñuha ābrazȳrys.” He whispered as if caught in a trance. 

He moved to shed his layers as well, but you quickly covered his hands with your own. You wanted to help him as he did for you. It was a moment indescribable between you two. It was tender and calm but underlined with an intense feeling of desire that only grew with each passing second. You took his shirt off and observed the sight of his lean muscles. His arms, which you had quickly grown to love when they were wrapped around you, were composed of lithe muscle built over centuries of training that matched the composition of his torso. 

Since that first day in the throne room when you saw him perched upon his throne of tree roots and swords, you had seen him as nothing short of an ethereal vision. A haunting, striking beauty. Before you now, was the same person, but now softer and comforting. 

You could not help but get antsy and reached out to pull him to your level. Your arms wrapped around his neck, being engulfed by his free-flowing silk hair. Aemond seemed caught off guard by your sudden dominant movements but melted into your embrace. You met his lips in another hot, searing kiss that reignited the tense fire within your stomach.

As soon as he latched onto you, your hands trailed down the front of his chest. Your fingers felt the rise and fall of his breathing and traced the taught muscled skin further down. When you brushed his stomach, you felt him shudder. He started to plant open-mouthed kisses on your cheek and moved to your neck as your hands quickly moved to make work of the tie for his pants. Everything you did was heated and desperate but met with the same fervour as Aemond.

Once you untied the pants, Aemond quickly shrugged them off. It looked like it pained him to separate from you for only a few seconds. You did not have time to look, for Aemond picked you up from the edge of your bed and tossed you back. Your body fell against the lush bed coverings and your head hit the soft, plush pillows. Now further away, you could take in the full sight of Aemond.

The image of him there, unclothed and waiting for you, was enough to make you feel as though you had died. 

He got onto the bed, crawling until he was over you. Being caged in his arms was the safest you had ever felt. Just him and you in the warmth of his chambers high in the sky with nothing but the stars outside. 

One of Aemond’s hands trailed to your core, rubbing circular motions over your bud. You bit your lip to hold back the moans, but he instantly stopped after your reaction. His hand hovered over the area, so close you could almost feel it brushing you. Your hips moved up to chase that feeling, but he only pushed you back.

“Don’t bite your lip. Let me hear you, my love.” Aemond’s husky breath was enough to make you melt. You nodded obediently and he resumed his movements. You hummed with content, but was quickly ended when he stopped. 

You watched as his hand then drifted to his cock, gripping the base. It was already fully erect and you struggled to comprehend how it would fit. Surely, he did not plan on it all fitting, did he? 

Aemond guided his cock down to drag the head between your folds to gather the slick there before settling just outside your entrance. You sucked in a breath at the feeling, desperately waiting for him to move. One of his hands was still gripping your hip while his other forearm rested by your head. 

He slowly slid into you, gradually pushing forward. You let out a shuddered gasp and your fingers gripped the sheets below you. He did not rush, nor move with the frantic nature he had previously. Aemond was content where he was, enjoying that his slow pace made you come undone and desperate for more. He let out a low groan as he bottomed out. The intensity of the feeling, of being so full, had you squirming for more movement. You craved friction, really anything, that would send you into another spiralling frenzy.

Aemond kissed your chest softly a few times, “So fucking beautiful.” His silver hair fell like a curtain around you as he lifted his head to kiss you. It was a possessive, protective kiss. You ached for more, but he remained still in you, letting you adjust to his size. 

In an act of defiance against him, you move your hips up, chasing some sense of friction. Aemond hissed at that, his grip on your waist tightening. 

“Words, baby, tell me what you want.” His kisses that he left on your chest morphed into hot ones as he paid particular attention to one of your nipples. The new sensation had you gasp in surprise. 

“Aemond…” You huffed, “Please move.” 

He let out a short laugh at your pleading, “As you wish.” Aemond took his time in pulling out, dragging to the very last moment. He then pushed back in and set a steady pace of thrusts. You quickly became a mess of moans at the feeling of being so full of him. His kisses burned into your skin. Your arms wrapped around his lithe figure, trailing nails down his back. The scratching elicited a low groan from the back of his throat and his hips snapped faster. 

While his pace had increased, it still did not feel enough. You were not sure you could ever have enough of him. The stretch that his cock gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core. You could hear the low sounds that emanated from Aemond as he too chased the high he was feeling. You began to match his pace, moving your hips in rhythm with his. 

It was not intended, but you could not resist reaching out to cup his face and moan out, “So beautiful.” 

Aemond faltered at our words, his hips going still as he arched his head up from kissing your neck to look into your eyes. It was like he was searching for the truth, that you really meant the words you said.

“Say that again, rūklon, and I won’t be able to hold back.” He rasped. You wanted to meet his challenge. You had a habit of not obeying his authority, ever since your first days here. 

One of your hands moved up to tug at the base of his hair. The action caused something in Aemond’s eye to flicker with a mix of emotions – mischief, lust, and unadulterated love. 

“Then don’t.” Something in Aemond snapped. He dropped his hand that was holding your waist and moved the forearms to rest beside your head. He now fully caged you beneath him and something about that dominating move blew more life into the fire within you.

He gave you no warning when he lost it, thrusting into you with relentless speed. Your back arched at the change of pace. Air caught in your lungs and you could barely make any noise. Aemond was the opposite. He buried his head in your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin as he started to babble incoherent words in his language. 

The once stable movement he held began to unwind as he moved with reckless abandon. No longer did Aemond care for the perfect posture, but his brain chased any and every ounce of pleasure he could find. You could feel his emotions and it was all overwhelming. You could feel the care, the love, and the hunger he had for you. You were glad to know he could feel the same from you. Your cunt squeezed around him as the build-up in your stomach started to increase. 

Aemond could sense it and he moved a hand carefully down your stomach and towards your bud, moving his fingers with the pace he was going. His calloused fingers added another texture and sensation that had you moaning with every inhale and exhale. You were careening over the edge of bliss.

“You feel so fucking good. Gods-” Aemond moaned. His other hand connected with yours. They were both the cut hands from your ceremony. Something about the physical remains of your joined souls stimulated a sensation that overcame you both. You recklessly moved your hips up to chase more of it. 

“Aemond I-” You bit down hard on your lip, but that did nothing to conceal the sweet noises that left them. Tears pooled in your eyes from the pleasure. Aemond moved his head up to kiss you on the lips, both becoming swollen from the day's events. His thrusts felt better than anything and you wished to indulge in this for eternity. 

“Don’t fight it, my love, let go,” Aemond murmured between kissing you. You bit his bottom lip and it made him growl. Somehow, in a way that struck you as impossible, Aemond thrust faster. It was enough to send you toppling over the precipice. Your mouth opened wide as your head pushed back into the plush pillows. Aemond continued his pace, but it soon became a mix of fast and slow movement as he came. 

The two of you were lost in it all, each accepting the shattering moment. You both rode out your highs, moaning a mix of curses and each other's names. Everything mixed into a muted mess of sensations and sounds. You felt his body drop onto yours, sweaty and hot just like you. You clung to him, wishing to continue to feel that sense of closeness. 

Minutes of silence passed. Aemond breathed deeply to catch himself and you rubbed up and down his back gently, your fingers trailing over the battle scars and marks your very nails just made. It was almost beautiful to feel marks made out of love cover the ones from hate and aggression. If you had voiced that, Aemond would have likely said you applied that sentiment to all aspects of his life. 

He pulled off of you and moved to your side. You laid on your back, slightly angled to look at him as he propped himself on his side. You felt his arm wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him. The skin-on-skin contact was something you wished to never end. There, with the sounds of the crackling fire and the gentle breeze from the open balcony doors cooling your skin off, you felt like you were home.

You surveyed his form next to you. The muscular stature had some patches of scars from various training blunders and moments of futility on the battlefield. There, next to the abs on his stomach, was the scar that he had received from Cole. Your hand moved to trace it, suddenly caught in the memories of how close he was to death. 

“It does not hurt anymore. Just another mark from my life.” Aemond dismissed your worry and wished to provide comfort. He kissed your temple, letting his lips linger for a moment. He too moved his hand to your side, where the scar you had received from Cole was. For you, this was the first one you got. 

It was at that moment that something odd struck you, causing you to laugh gently. Aemond’s face scrunched up at your sudden outburst.

“We have two sets of matching scars.” It was both funny but also upsetting. Only one of those sets, the marriage cuts, were welcomed. The other, you could do without. But, without such hurt, you were not sure you and Aemond would be where you were in your relationship then. 

“That we do,” Aemond responded. His eye was trained on your face, unwilling to look away. You shivered, either from his touch or the cool breeze coming in from the outside. Aemond then grabbed the sheets from around you, pulling on the thin silk sheet and adding some plush furs on top. You hardly felt the need for them when his warm body next to yours was enough. 

Aemond shifted onto his back and let you rest your head on his chest. You used your fingers to trace patterns on his skin, relishing in the closeness of the moment. He stroked your hair, placing a kiss on the side of your head every few minutes. The two of you basked in the comfort of silence. 

For so long each of your lives had been nothing but chaos. Barrier after barrier flung in your way. It was good and rewarding to know there was nothing imminent. No need to rush and get something done, or sleep whenever you can for just a little moment of rest. 

Nothing existed outside the door of this chamber. No one but you two. 

Aemond interrupted the silence, “I’m afraid I will have to spend the rest of eternity between your thighs.” Despite the recent indulgence of your growing desire, his comment caused your cheeks to heat up. You were so flustered by his words as if he had not just made you see stars a few minutes prior. 

“And neglect your kingdom? Surely at some point, your guards would pull you away so you could serve.” You angled your head to look at him, poking fun at his words. Aemond rubbed your side, his hand trailing to the back of your thigh and dragging your leg to rest across his waist. He could not get enough of feeling you close to him. 

“I serve my wife before all.” Aemond spoke, “Every guard in this damn castle could try and pull me away.” You could hear the joking lilt in his voice and it was comforting to know how far you had come with him. Never in any possible time would you have guessed you would be close enough with him to jest.

“You think you’re a jester, my king?” You challenged. Aemoned licked his lips and you could see his eye darken with a familiar feeling of lust.

“Only for you, my queen.” He muttered before lifting his head to kiss you. It was slow and patient, indulging in every emotion you felt for one another. You let out a low, pleased moan. Taking advantage of your position, you moved your legs to rest on either side of his hips and sat on top of him. You could feel him smile into the kiss at your eagerness to be with him again. Your hands pinned his above his head and you deepened the kiss, urging for more.

Aemond was your everything. Your king, your friend, your lover, your husband.

Perhaps, now, you did not mind the title of queen, because it meant that you were his and he was yours. 

And that's a wrap on book one!

Since the early phases of planning, I have always intended to write two books. Now, this was written in a way that you could stop at the first one if you wished, but there are still some unanswered questions that will be addressed in the next book. (Such as Cole’s mysterious last words…)

The next one is an Aegon and OC centred book that I am super excited about! There will be moments with Aemond and the new Queen, but ultimately it will revolve around Aegon. It has been extremely hard to resist from immediately releasing it. 

As always, thank you all so much for the support. I did not expect to see so many people supporting it and for that, I am eternally grateful. If you choose to stick around, I’ll see you in the next book! <3 

BOOK TWO MASTERLIST HERE.

[teejaystumbles]

for the @sandman-connect4 prompt - feast

[Part of Go Forth, a story told losely with pictures and snippets - find more on it here  other Sandman Connect 4 prompts related to this story: kidnap, predator, goldfish]

The last story - The Masque of the Red Death

(I even wrote something, I've had this done from the beginning because the idea grabbed me by the throat)

When Hob comes to, he finds himself in the middle of what looks like a masquerade ball. A feast has been laid out on a dozen tables in a room with a ceiling so high he can barely see it. Chandeliers with hundreds of wax candles light the room and people wearing voluptuous ball gowns and masks mill about, laughing and sipping wine from delicate glasses. Hob looks down at himself and sees that he’s dressed in a tight and quite revealing black and dark red leather ensemble that would not be amiss in a fantasy role playing game. He chuckles in disbelief and lifts his head again to survey the room. If the last few stories he has traversed have been any indication, Dream must be here somewhere, possibly in trouble. Hob wonders what kind of story this is. A ballroom…so maybe this is a fairytale with another prince or princess. Maybe Cinderella? Hob cannot imagine Dream dancing at a ball voluntarily, but who knows, maybe he’s in for a surprise. He starts to mingle and smiles amicably at the other guests while keeping an eye out for Dream.

After a few minutes there is a fanfare, announcing a new guest. Hob turns to look at the ballroom doors like all the others and watches as the huge double doors open slowly. People step back to make room for whoever is about to enter and Hob cranes his neck to see better when he catches a glimpse of telltale wild black hair.

The Dream who enters is a vision in red and black. His mask seems to be weeping blood, his mantle is tattered and flowing in an invisible wind. Hob holds his breath as an unseen clock chimes and all the guests fall silent. Dream seems to float towards the middle of the hall, leaving a bloody trail smeared after him on the marble floor.

The clock chimes twelve.

"This dream," the nightmare's voice rumbles, like scraping stone on stone, "is over."

His coat opens and a flood of blood gushes out, pooling around everyone's feet and making them scream in horror and try to get away from the terrible figure in their midst. Hob finds himself rooted to the spot between the running guests who he knows will find the doors locked. Ignoring the cacophony of screams Hob steps slowly towards Dream.

Hob feels something wet trickle down his forehead. His vision is turning red. He sees a woman stumble past him, blood running from her pores, her terrified eyes bleeding, and he knows without doubt which story he is in this time.

"Poe, huh? Figures."

Hob ignores the discomfort he is starting to feel and zeroes in on Dream, standing silently amidst the bloody chaos like an avenging angel. Stepping right in front of him, Hob can see crystal clear tears run down his friend's cheeks. Hob smiles sadly and curls his tongue around the taste of blood. "Hello, my friend."

The mask hides most of Dream's face and Hob can't see his eyes but he knows when the other recognises him. He stiffens and lifts his chin almost imperceptibly, his mouth opening a fraction in astonishment.

"I know what you're trying to do," Hob says quietly, knowing that his friend can hear him despite the rising screams. Hob feels blood trickle out of his nose and ears into his beard. He ignores it, as well as the pain under his skin and in his abdomen, telling him he's close to experiencing something very unpleasant. Blood beads on the back of Hob's hands and he knows he has only minutes before he'll pass out from blood loss. He takes another step closer and lifts his hands, gently cradling Dream's face. His friend shivers under his touch and Hob cocks his head, trying to find the eyes beneath the mask.

"You will not lose me," he says and finally there's a light behind the mask's shadowed eyes. "I'm not going to die, love. And neither are you, or your kingdom."

Hob smiles at Dream and steps even closer, feeling his head become light from the loss of blood. He can feel it running down his arms and legs now, soaking through his fancy clothes.

"All this," Hob says, leaning his forehead against his friend's, "is not going to scare me. And if you're trying to punish yourself.... don't you think it's been long enough?"

[captain039]

Part 4 Heal your hurt

Viktor x reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, health issues, mental health issues, light swearing, chubby reader, intimacy, smut, friends to lovers, reader has chronic pain

warnings for the smut when it happens xD: Dominant Viktor, needy Viktor, needy ready, oral F and M receiving, praises, first times, riding, body worship, marking

Previous part <-

It’s been days since you’ve seen Viktor. It’s normal for him to go off for days without returning, just this time it feels targeted. Your last interaction was a whirlwind and you figure he needs some space to process what happened, hell you still need to process what happened. His voice was sharp and firm unlike his usual self. You bush yourself with your book, your MC’s have finally confessed and shared a steamy night which left you giggling to yourself till you imagined it was you and Viktor and then you contemplated. When Viktor does stumble home it’s 2 at night. You weren’t asleep, your hips aching from sitting all day. You were awkwardly lying on your stomach three pillows under your hips which somehow helped a bit. You just hoped he’d not look in and see you in this awkward position. You weren’t able to close your curtains so the moonlight was shining in. You hear him shuffle, sigh, place things down before he shuffles some more then stops.

“Are- are you awake?” Viktors uncertain voice comes from your doorway.

“I uh- maybe” you say turning your head so you’re facing him. Your bed is in a position so you can see out the door on your side.

“Is there a reason for such a position?” He asks head tilting a bit.

“Relief?” You say before realising that this in fact looks stupid and suspicious.

“Not like that!- my hips are hurting and if I put pressure on my knees they hurt too so I thought I’d shove pillows under my hips to elevate them and not hurt my knees” you babble in explanation cheeks hot, you’re thankful for your dimly lit room.

“I see” he says simply and you sigh really not wanting to move because even if it looks funny it’s not hurting.

“Are you ok?” You ask and he nods.

“A new project?” You add.

“Something like that” he shrugs a bit and you frown a bit as he looks to the floor instead. You nod and he shifts his weight.

“Goodnight” he says and heads off.

“Viktor-“ you call and move slowly.

“Yes?” He answers stopping.

“Did- did you wanna talk?” You ask sheepishly sitting a little stiffly. He hesitated and you think he’s going to brush you off.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you nod a little too quickly. He walks in and sits down beside you resting his cane beside him. You switch your lamp on wincing at the pain throbbing.

“A bad day?” He asks noticing and you sigh and nod.

“You know when I was growing up, I was always open about my pain, sharing it with my mum because I didn’t know what was going on, always crying in agony leaning on her for help. She let me, she helped me every step of the way and then she got sick when I was 18 and I just, bottled it all up. My father became a drunk and I had to do everything around the house and suffer in silence, if I showed any weakness in front of him I knew something would happen. Then my mother passed away and I shut everything down. I forced myself to think that none of this pain was real, made myself work and live alone even if I’d sometimes collapse from exhaustion” you open up to him staring at the floor as memory’s wash over of painful, sleepless nights.

“It’s worse at night” he says softly and you look to him.

“There’s a throb of pain from my ankle to knee to hip that goes up my spine” you feel your heart break at his words.

“It isn’t a one off throb, it’s constant, like a heartbeat pulsing” he adds.

“It stiffens my joints and muscles makes them cramp and tense” your hand twitches to hold his, but you don’t want to scare him.

“Mine is focused, thankfully. Yours is everywhere? Not just your legs and hips?” He asks and you nod.

“My shoulders, neck, arms, chest, ribs” you list sagging a bit to relieve some of the pain in your hips.

“A screw over of creation” you mutter insulting yourself.

“You are not, a ‘screw over of creation’” Viktor says frowning.

“You are beautiful, perfectly imperfect” you look to him noticing his eyes on you intensely and you feel a swell of emotion. You take a small breath and look away embarrassed.

“Were you away a few days because of what happened between us?” You whisper, you know it’s silly thinking but it still lingered.

“I- yes” he sighs and it stings but you nod.

“I don’t know what came over me” he mutters leaning against his cane.

“You were bossy” you try to joke lightly.

“I was” he smiles softly.

“Feelings, are complex, a puzzle I cannot solve with the equation constantly changing every second, there is no answer for emotions and feelings” his words make you frown lightly in thought.

“That’s what makes us human” you say shrugging a bit.

“I learnt to control my emotions very young, when they spiral so do my thoughts and I cannot have a jumble of thoughts as an inventor” you understand what he’s saying, sort of, you get where his point of view is coming from.

“You cannot have emotions when inventing otherwise you mess up” he adds and for some reason it leaves a hole in your heart, a string breaking.

“But you- you bring these feelings forwards, emotions I cannot understand, but it doesn’t… make me spiral in a way I don’t enjoy” his admission makes you tense on the spot and you hold breath thinking this is some sort of dream.

“When we were young, you never shied away from me or my strange inventions, you were always intrigued you never left me alone” he smiles faintly and you do to. It was true, you hardly let him be by himself whenever you were out.

“I was found by the academy, moved through training to be an assistant. I always wondered if I’d see you again” he says softly.

“The first time I did I didn’t believe it, I was heading home very late and I saw you, exhausted in a dirty white shirt and black pants covered in flour” you frown lightly he saw you coming home from work.

“I thought I was going mad seeing you, but then I saw you again, and again, same time leaving the bakery” he explains.

“I never saw you” you say confused.

“I didn’t want you to see me” he says and you frown.

“What- why?” You say baffled.

“You were so beautiful” he whispers and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Sweaty, covered in flour and dirt?” You ask.

“Raw, unrefined, perfectly imperfect” he mutters.

“I saw your advertisement for a shared apartment and for selfish reasons I took it down and contacted you about it” you remember that day. Getting a letter signed with the letter V when you saw him at the apartment you were shocked. You figured V stood for Victoria or something like that, his hand writing was so neat.

“I watched you over the years, you’d become your own woman and I my own man, I watched the way you pushed yourself when you were working, finding you passed out on the couch, still in dirty work clothes” you remember the day Viktor had talked to you about your job, saying he could afford it if you quit, you’d never been so relieved in your life but you swore to work for rent another way. So you worked out a system you’ve stuck by. You wondered what he was getting at thought with all this reminiscing.

“I started- to fall” he says and you frown, fall? Fall in work? Life?

“Fall?” You say confused.

“In love” he says and you freeze processing.

“In love” you repeat and he nods.

“With- me?” You add.

“Yes with you” he confirms and you blink a few times.

“You fell in love with me?” You repeat.

“I did” he says.

“You did? You’re not anymore?” You frown and you hear him sigh annoyed, a hand goes to your face and forces you to look at him before lips are pressed against yours. You’re shell shocked before you kiss back hand lifting up to grip his vest.

“I sometimes forget you’re a little oblivious to things” he mutters against your lips you go to argue back but he silences you with his lips again. His thumb strokes against your cheek and you’re the one to pull back to breathe. His hand falls and you pant softly as you process the kiss.

“I’m not oblivious” you finally manage and you hear him laugh softly. It’s one of the rare times you’ve seen him laugh.

[gaycousinlarry]

.

[yueebby]

happy wife, happy life  — gojo satoru

synopsis. not fawning over his wife may prove to be harder than gojo thought.

contents. fluff, gojo is so whipped for his wife and everyone is tired (whats new), ooc gojo?

notes. this was pure self indulgence. i wanted to slander and coddle gojo all at once and this was it teehee :3

the first thing you hear when you stand up to leave the staff meeting is a wolf whistle.

“looking good,” satoru looks you up and down. you roll your eyes playfully, your husband’s behavior is not foreign to you. he taps your upper thigh, dangerously close to your butt as you take your leave. however, the others in the room don't take kindly to the action.

“highly inappropriate behavior gojo,” utahime mutters under her breath from across the table. beside her, nanami is giving your husband a hard stare. 

satoru pays no mind to them though, smiling up at you as you walk out of the room. you shake your head when he continuously blows a series of kisses. he ignores your rejection, opting to mouth crude comments instead.

the moment the door shuts, the strongest sorcerer immediately deflates, disinterested in whatever matters the rest had to discuss about. 

“i don’t know how she puts up with you,” utahime takes a long sip out of her cup of tea. beside her, shoko snorts.

“probably for his body.” shoko is not unfamiliar with satoru’s antics, having witnessed it since his rowdy school days. she applauds him for coming far with you, but it was still fun to tease him.

gojo crosses his arms, emitting a disgruntled sound. “and my golden personality?”

nanami sighs, “ieiri’s conclusion is most likely right.”

the limitless user wiggles his finger playfully. “nanamin, how scandalous of you to fantasize about my body! i’m a married man y’know~” 

nanami looks like he has eaten something sour. unlike you, nanami’s attitude towards gojo has not softened as the years passed.

“i’m surprised she’s still with you.” utahime snickers. “she’s a sensible woman and you’re–” 

satoru frowns at her statement.  he’d never thought about how you felt about his behavior. perhaps that was his fatal flaw. gojo satoru had a nasty streak of negligence. and the last time he failed to notice someone dear to him —   

“well i’m glad she ended up choosing me, yeah?” his frown is quickly covered up by the wide smirk on his face. he leans back on his chair that’s starting to feel less comfortable by the second. the chair creaks under the weight of his body. honestly, how old are these old wooden things? “as much as i’d like to keep chatting about my lovely wife, i’d like to get this meeting over with so i can see her again.”

the rest of the meeting ensues as usual.

“sensei has been weird… right?” itadori offers his hand after knocking megumi down during a sparring match. the black haired boy grunts as he is pulled up.

“if by weird, you mean normal.” megumi glances back at you and gojo who are watching intently at the first and second years practicing close combat on the training field. it was a bit peculiar to see satoru not throw himself all over you. gojo without pda is like a jigsaw puzzle missing its most essential piece, leaving the overall picture incomplete and lacking the electrifying energy that defines his existence. 

“i feel like i should be happy, but it’s unsettling to see him not initiating some misconduct. do you think they’re fighting?” nobara is panting on the grassy floor. she raises her hand in surrender when maki leaps in to take her head off with a spear.

maki retracts her blade, turning back to observe you and gojo, “nah, gojo would fold at her command.” 

“salmon.”

from across the training field, you turn to your husband nervously, “why are they staring at us?”

satoru hums, his blindfolded gaze focuses on the field in front of you, “hm, maybe they’re admiring their very beautiful [name] sensei.” the blindfolded man pauses. compliments should still be okay– right? satoru can’t imagine a life without lavishing you with love, yet he will content himself with gently sprinkling you with affection. 

you smack his shoulder playfully. to your surprise, your husband doesn’t reciprocate with some form of physical affection. you tilt your head, perplexed. 

quickly dismissing it, you yell at your students to continue their training.

you don’t notice the way satoru clenches his fists, keeping his eyes trained anywhere but you.

the next time satoru is tempted by your presence is when he comes back home after a mission. it was a walk in the park, but the heavy stack of paperwork that followed it had depleted his energy. all he wanted was to snuggle in bed with his wife, selfishly keeping you all to himself.

and you’re not making it easier to resist with the way you warmly greet him with a smile in nothing but a small cotton tee and those tiny pajama shorts. eyes up, eyes up, eyes up, satoru mentally chants.

he thinks he might actually die.

“toru!” you abandon the book you had been reading to pay your husband taxes (kisses that satoru demands he must have). “you’re home awfully late.”

“mission… paperwork,” his clipped response is mumbled as he hurries past you and to your shared bathroom, avoiding your touch. satoru silently prays to the heavens that you don’t notice his suspicious efforts as he makes his way to take a much needed ice cold shower.

you stand in your spot in confusion, letting your husband go. slowly, you start to connect the pieces of satoru’s strange behavior from his refusal to touch you to his sudden responsible disposition. gojo satoru never does paperwork– not unless you bribe him with a dozen kisses. speaking of kisses, you don’t even remember the last time he had demanded one. something was definitely wrong. 

without missing a beat, you quickly follow your lover’s trail into the bathroom.

to your delight, your husband had failed to lock the door. in the hush of your silence, you can hear the subtle rustle of satoru's garments.

his sky blue eyes go wide when he sees you walk through the door.

“toru… is there something wrong?” your voice is careful. 

the white haired man in front of you nervously laughs as he covers his bare chest, “geez, ask me out to dinner first.” 

“gojo satoru.”

your husband winces at his full name being used, but he puts on another mask. a faux smile plays on his lips as he shrugs. “i don’t know what you mean, gojo.” 

your heart drops at his insistence to shut you out, but you stand your ground. with sheer determination, you walk up to your husband, closing the gap between the two of you. you cup his cheek with a hand while you start to lean closer, your lips nearly brushing.

satoru shuts his eyes, inhaling a deep breath to regain composure. he even sucks in his lips, making him look utterly ridiculous. despite the dangerous allure of your proximity, he resolves to stand firm.

"you won’t even kiss me anymore! satoru, this is absurd. what's happening?" you distance yourself, seeking answers.

despite his towering stature, a snort escapes you as satoru resembles a mere child when mumbling something under his breath.

"come on, use your big boy words."

"i don't want to drive you away," he avoids making eye contact now that his blindfold is off. "i know i can be a bit overwhelming at times."

upon hearing his excuse, you snort loudly, “seriously?”

“seriously.”

“i can’t believe i married such an idiot.” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck.

satoru pouts, “you’re breaking my heart wifey.”

your lips softly kiss the corner of his mouth. like it was muscle memory, satoru’s lips chase yours even after you pull away. you smile.

“for such a genius, you really are stupid ‘toru.” you flick his forehead. he whines and you know it didn’t hurt, yet you entertain him by leaning up to kiss his injury. “believe it or not, i married you for reasons beyond your pretty face and body.”

“you think i’m pretty?” his eyes shine bright as they lovingly gaze into yours. you take one hand to cup his cheek. he nuzzles his face into it.

“of course you’d say that.” you laugh softly. “but honestly, i’m offended that you thought i would ever be annoyed by your affections. might i remind you that we have been madly in love since our youth? i found myself captivated by your ability to love effortlessly, and the way you hopelessly pined for me for years? i knew i was a goner. that… and your bank accoun–”

satoru kisses you with an intensity that leaves you feeling blissfully lightheaded. lost in the haze of the moment, he showers the rest of your face with tender, wet kisses, and you stand there, surrendering to the sweet assault.

upon withdrawing, satoru wears a broad grin. "i was an idiot today, wasn't i?" you nod, breathless. "how about i make it up to you tonight?" he proposes, drawing you close. you are all too familiar with that feral grin adorning his face.

[primofate]

Where he would propose and how it happens [Genshin Men]

Warnings: haven’t written in a while please excuse and tell me about pronoun slips, I’m sleep deprived, not proofread (this will be my fixed disclaimer as a writing parent, haha)

Notes: All of these were captured by me in game. I just felt like exploring the beauty of Genshin more and this was a great way to do it while mixing it with writing. Note that you may not agree with some of these, and that's totally fine, these are my thoughts and ideas :)

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Aether

Aether is a simple man, and though he plans his proposal he doesn't really think much of the place, somewhere where the two of you frequent, maybe on your daily/nightly walks.

It happens just as the two of you are about to go back, this is where you sit and relax for a while as the sun sets. You can see Mondstadt in the distance and the beautiful orange sky.

As you're about to turn and walk away he catches your wrist and pulls you back into the middle of those tiny pink flowers.

Now that he thinks about it... This is where his journey really started: Starfell Lake, and how perfect would it be to start a new one with you?

"Y/N, I...want you to stay. I mean, forever," the words are simple but it gets across.

Albedo

Also a simple person. You might think Dragonspine when you think Albedo and I agree that all that snow could be romantic but I went for Starsnatch Cliff. It's a good place to see Mondstadt, and he takes you there after the sun has set.

He would probably comment about how you can see a lot of things from here, and how the world is such a great, vast place, full of things to explore and discover.

"...and yet I find myself thinking... how all that I want is right next to me. Would you do me the honour of being my lifelong partner?"

Alhaitham

Something's up and you can tell, this isn't your usual route home, and honestly you've never stopped in these parts of the city. You've passed by it sure, but never with Alhaitham.

You ask him where the two of you are going and if there are some extra errands to run before going home. He only shakes his head and ends up leading you over right next to the glowing Padisarah flower.

He HAS planned this, so why does it feel like he hasn't? Even has a ring in his pocket (granted it is the SIMPLEST ring one could ever imagine, that's just how he is)

Ends up just taking the ring box out and showing it to you while trying to speak "I..." doesn't speak much of his emotions so has a hard time, but feels pathetic afterwards so meets your eyes straight on. "...A promise... That what I feel for you... is everlasting,"

Ayato

That small shrine/garden/sitting area just outside the Kamisato Estate. It's just a bit more private than the sitting area INSIDE the estate.

You wouldn't think anything of it because you do hang out here from time to time.

Ayato might seem like a grand person but in the end he doesn't want to stray far from home.

"I'm...sorry if this is a bit abrupt," fishes out a ring box from his long sleeve. "I've been meaning to ask for a while now, will you share your life with me as my beloved?"

Baizhu

That nice little hill just outside of Bubu Pharmacy, where you can find Glaze Lilies strewn about and the night view is quite nice. It's a place the two of you go just to get some quick, fresh air if Baizhu isn't feeling too well. Changsheng is left at the pharmacy from time to time, this is one of those times.

"I've been thinking...how precious time really is," he looks at you with tenderness in his eyes, yet a lot of uncertainty shrouded in them. "I don't know where this road will lead me... but you alone are my lifelong remedy. Would you accompany me on this journey?"

Cyno

Cyno often comes here to watch the sun set, since he was a student, but he does think it's more beautiful at night.

The two of you are leaning over the railway and looking at Sumeru, just talking about the day.

Cyno doesn't really plan it. He seems to be the type to but when he feels that it's the right time, specially when he feels it strongly, there's no better time than the present.

It's while he's watching you talk enthusiastically about your day, that there's a sudden twist in his heart. This is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

"Y/N--" he cuts you off successfully, wonder in his eyes. "What do you say to being intertwined for life?"

Dainsleif

Anywhere where there is an unobstructed view of the stars and night sky, but particularly at the hill of Cape Oath, where the two of you lie side by side on the grass, staring up at the stars.

At this point the two of you have been travelling together for a while, looking for answers to his curse. To Dainsleif, the two of you are pretty much married already, but just to confirm it, every night, he asks "Is this the path that you choose? To bind your fate with mine?"

And every night, like a promise, you say yes.

Diluc

Diluc doesn't stray far from home too. He prefers to stay close to his memories, no matter how painful they are.

He HAS planned it, but ends up proposing at an unexpected time.

It's when he's on the road home and you're waiting right by the lamp post for him. It's late. Later than usual and here you are worrying about how it's a cold night and that he should've worn more.

It's at that moment that it hits him, "Y/N, the thought of being separated...it's not something I'd want to imagine" he grips your hand tightly. "...For the rest of my life, it's you that I want to spend it with,"

Doesn't even have the planned ring on him and apologizes about the word vomit he just did. He was just overcome with emotions right then and there.

Gorou

That small spot next to Bourou Village. Watatsumi Island is beautiful in general, but Gorou knows the good spots.

Is nervous but tries not to show it, but you can totally tell because he's way too stiff.

"Wh-What do you mean? Nothing's wrong!" When asked if everything's fine.

When standing at this spot though, his nervousness seems to go away and for a minute everything is normal until... "H-Hey, Y/N, so..." you look at him and he's fumbling with his hands, unable to meet your gaze. "Y-You, and I--We've been...You know--"

Seems to panic. He is SO uncool right now. Closes his eyes and just blurts it out when he realizes this isn't working out "With all my heart, will you marry me?!"

Heizou

Little secret garden just next to Inazuma city. Quiet place yet you can hear a bit of the hustle and bustle in the city.

Heizou is the type to get on one knee and confidently, directly say it.

He's planned it, and gets you right in the middle of the bridge (has probably asked someone to take a photo as well)

"Y/N, beloved," grins "would you unravel the mysteries of life with me?" (thinks it was such a cool line, then hands you the ring in a box)

Itto

Does not think about it nor plans it. Just happens and it happens because he talks about it casually. You can't really tell if he's serious.

He has this conversation with you in Chinjuu Forest, which is a naturally beautiful place, but he's really only there with you to look for onikabuto.

"You know, it'd be really cool if we could keep doing this huh?"

You ask what he means cause you don't really have any idea. You guys have been doing this for ages. Why would it stop now, is what you think.

"I mean, like, you know, forever," he says this while looking under a rock. "Like if we were just onikabuto fightin' partners forever, get it?"

You stall for a moment and wonder if he knows what he's saying, and you ask if he specifically means he just wants you as an onikabuto fighting partner.

"Oh, well, yea it's ONE of the things I like about you, but I like your kisses too. Hehe," scratches the back of his head then looks like he gets a bright idea. "Oh hey that's an idea! How 'bout we just become partners for life, Y/N?"

Yeah, that's how it happens.

Kaeya

Kaeya keeps it simple, but also romantic. He gets that spot above the gate of Mondstadt, where you can see Barbatos' statue from a distance. He knows how much you love the city and he has a special place in his heart for it too.

The two of you pretty much keep each other warm up there, with him behind you and his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

At some point, as the two of you have been talking for ages and when the perfect silence descends, he leans into your ear and asks you to close your eyes. When you do, you feel him slip something onto your ring finger as he says "A thousand words wouldn't be enough to tell you how I really feel...Would you want to create a thousand and more memories together instead?"

Kaveh

Kaveh thinks its only appropriate to propose at his masterpiece, but he thinks you're even more of a masterpiece than anything he's made or encountered before.

Plus the place just holds a lot of meaning and memories for him. It's beautiful too and you've always said that you're proud of him for completing it.

His is a pretty simple proposal. "I've always thought that something's been missing in my life...I think I've figured out that it's you, Y/N. It's only going to be you,"

Kazuha

Inazuma holds a lot of memories for Kazuha, some that are rather unpleasant. But home is still home and perhaps he wanted to create more good memories there.

Truth be told he could have proposed to you anywhere, and I don't think he had really planned it. It was just something heartfelt that he wanted to say as he sees you climbing up the stairs to the shrine. The sunlight hitting you perfectly and the sakura blossoms just cascading around your form. It's perfect, he thought.

You're a few steps further up from him and it makes him look up at you the slightest bit. With a shine in his eyes and a smile on his face he asks, quite sincerely "Have you ever felt like home was right next to you, Y/N?"

and before you could answer he answers his own question first. "I have, despite the storms and catastrophes I've gone through...Y/N, you're the home that my heart forever needs,"

Lyney

Lyney plans it, but doesn't do it in a grand way. He just wants it to be sincere and special. He thinks this place is cute, what with the little sort of gazebo with a small sitting space to just sit and drink tea.

He proposes to you as the two of you sit, you've never been here before and wonder why the two of you are out here, actually.

"Oh, is it strange? Haha, I just wanted a bit of a change," Rubs the back of his neck and starts to feel nervous.

You explain that you're not complaining, just curious, but you like it!

"Oh, that's a relief. I'm...Uh..." sort of fumbles with something in his coat, really funny seeing as he's a magician and is supposed to be nimble with his fingers. Recovers quite fast and manages to do his classic "flower-behind-your-ear" trick and hands it over to you.

He does the same trick, but this time takes a ring out. "Y/N, you complete me in ways words can't express...will you..." gulps before he continues "marry me?"

Neuvillette

Seems very posh but prefers to keep it simple. He thinks its more special rather than making a super grand gesture. He could of easily proposed in front of the Opera Epiclese, but instead did it at one of the small fountains in Marcotte Station.

The two of you are out on a nightly stroll and this is just where the two of you ended up.

Clears his throat before starting, takes your hand in his, but its his eyes that really do the talking. "I may not be the best in expressing my deepest thoughts and emotions...but there is one single thing that I am quite sure about," he stalls here and seems to look into your soul.

"And it's you, my love. As I take my next steps into this life I lead, I would be honoured if I take them with you by my side,"

Scaramouche

Has it on his mind but doesn't particularly plans when or where he's going to say it. Just knows that he wants to.

While out on an assignment the two of you pass by Mawtiyima Forest. You've always thought it looked like such a magical place. You request to sit on a hill for a bit before moving on.

Scaramouche, as usual, grumbles about this but relents and ends up plopping next to you as well. Truth be told he also liked this particular forest and how quiet yet vibrant it was.

No words are exchanged for a while, just the two of you looking at the view. Scaramouche sneaks a glance at you and you have that stupid, wide eyed look on your face, the glowing blue mushrooms reflecting off of your eyes.

He secretly thinks its cute.

He shows that by aggressively saying. "I don't know what you had in mind when you agreed to come with me, but you're stuck with me till the end now, got it?"

Yes. That's pretty much his proposal.

Tartaglia

Is one who would take you on a vacation off on an isolated, quaint and cute island like Petrichor with wonderful views of Fontaine's waterfalls.

Is the type to get down on one knee while this beautiful background is in sight. Totally plans it and is the cliche, basic proposal. Would totally love the townspeople to clap and cheer while this is happening too.

"Y/N, every day spent with you is a treasure, and I want it to continue for the rest of my life, will you marry me?"

Thoma

Has planned it. Makes sure you have a good time beforehand, probably at some festival and it's when the two of you are winding down, sitting on that rock with the lamp on it that he asks.

"Isn't it magical?" he asks as a starter and you ask what exactly he's talking about. "How it's always a good time and how easy life seems when I'm with you,"

You tell him that's because he always takes good care of you and he laughs heartily at that. "I'm glad to hear it," kisses your forehead and smiles down at you.

"Every day, Y/N, I just fall deeper in love with you...Do you think, maybe, we could spend our whole lives together?"

Tighnari

Plans it and is calm about it. Has everything under control. He chose Pardis Dhyai specifically for its aesthetics and specifically the inside in case it rains. (He doesn't want you to get wet as he proposes, but also doesn't want his ears and tail wet as it happens.)

Clears his throat before he starts, doesn't have a ring because he just doesn't seem the type, for him its more of a pact.

"Rather than talk about emotions alone, I'd want to highlight that you've been quite the mind-stimulating study partner," coughs into his hand "but of course, that's only one aspect of you that I like...it's safe to say that I like you enough to propose the pact of marriage...would that be alright with you?"

Venti

Where else would he think was a good place to propose? Of course he would do it here.

No roundabout way of saying it. Confident in all aspects, partly because he's a God but partly because...what has he got to lose, really?

Doesn't really propose marriage cause...he's not a mortal. Forever might be a thing for him but maybe not for you.

"It's been a while since I've felt really at ease with someone, you know?"

You jokingly say he seems to be at ease with everyone, specially after a few bottles of wine. He laughs out loud at that, and remarks back that no one can make him laugh the way you do.

"It's blossomed into something more beautiful than I thought it would be, Y/N. You, me, and us. Can we stay like this till the end?"

Wriothesley

Has planned it and has stuck to his plan. At a little vacation home at the Southeast of the Beryl Region. The two of you spent a few days relaxing there, under the guise that Wriothesley needed a break.

On the last day he surprised you by revealing that he had asked your family and friends, both from faraway regions and nearby towns to come and celebrate with the two of you.

Celebrate what, you ask.

That's when he gets down on one knee and pops the question "You know, I could still be mistaken," he grins at this but is clearly joking. "but I don't think I am and seeing as you've put up with me, Y/N, I think it's safe to say you're my forever person,"

It was days after when you realize how confident he is of this whole thing when you think about the fact that he had pre planned to invite all your friends and family over to "celebrate"

Xiao

Also a person who doesn't stray far from home. The rooftop of Wangshu Inn is actually quite romantic on quiet nights, with a view of Liyue and a gentle breeze.

To Xiao, marriage isn't really about a ring and signing papers. It's a contract and a promise to each other.

On one of the nights, he just thinks it's the right time to say it.

He's more quiet than usual and you ask if something's wrong.

He pauses for a while before answering. "...Apologies, there's a lot on my mind..."

Xiao has become a lot more open with you through the years.

"...I... just wanted to propose the prospect of being...binded together," you ask what that means cause you're not really familiar, you end up asking if that's the same as marriage.

"M-Marriage? Uh... Yes... I suppose that's what mortals call it... but being binded together is more..." stops talking and gets red in the face. "Let's... just leave it at that,"

I like to think that the process of binding is just that your souls are entwined together...So when one of you passes, you still remember them in your next life, type of thing. Cause if you're a mortal, chances are, you'll die earlier than Xiao. Anyhow, that's a completely different story.

Zhongli

Zhongli prefers the quiet and the nature. This is probably part of your occasional stroll when the two of you need some quiet time.

Zhongli, with how long he has lived, also doesn't see marriage as the normal get-down-on-one-knee-with-a-ring-thing, but for him, it's a contract. It's more binding than anything in the world.

"Y/N, we've walked this path countless of times before," he starts as the two of you continue to stroll. You reply saying that you like this particular area where the bamboos are.

"Is that so?" suddenly stops and looks at you. "In that case, would you care to listen to a proposal I have?"

Clears his throat when you give the approval. "As I've said, we've walked this path countless of times before..." he takes your hand in his "but for me, who has lived longer than you, I've traversed this path for even more times," he closes his eyes. "Yet, with you by my side, this path changes. It transforms into something resplendent. As if...every time had been the first time I've walked through it. It is with you, Y/N, that I discover life anew, despite the thousands of years I've lived. Would you consider forming a contract of lifelong partnership with me, and only me?"

End

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Click here.

Consider supporting me to read some exclusive fics:

Ko-Fi

buymeacoffee

Here's the masterlist:

Masterlist

[pucksandpower]

Rumour Has It

Franco Colapinto x Princess of Norway!Reader

Summary: you’ve never heard of Franco before and Franco has certainly never heard of you … but when gossip magazines decide to set you two up, Franco realizes that he wouldn’t mind making the rumors a reality

“Have you seen this?” Noora says, bursting into your study with a tablet clutched to her chest, her eyes wide and frantic.

You look up, half-expecting the sky to have fallen or for Oslo to be under siege. “Seen what?”

Noora slams the tablet down on your desk, and your face is met with a tabloid headline in bold, obnoxious letters: Norway’s Princess Caught in Secret Romance with Argentinian Racing Prodigy Franco Colapinto!

You blink at the screen, then back at Noora, and then at the screen again, as if maybe the headline might rearrange itself into something more sensible. “Sorry, who?”

“Franco Colapinto!” She says, exasperated. “The Argentine driver — the rookie! In Formula 1!”

You tilt your head. “I don’t know who that is.”

Noora gives you a look that’s somewhere between sympathy and horror. “Okay, well, apparently you’re dating him. And half of Norway seems to think so too, thanks to this article.”

“Dating? Noora, I’ve never even heard of him, let alone met him! And this … this is nonsense!” You shove the tablet back at her, feeling your cheeks flush. “How did this even happen?”

Noora sighs, sliding the tablet away. “It’s the internet. They don’t need facts to build a story — they just need a blurry photo and a wild imagination.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling sharply. “And why didn’t anyone tell me sooner? It’s not like we don’t have a whole team for this.”

“Well, to be fair, it only surfaced last night,” she says, crossing her arms. “But now it’s all over social media, and your name is attached to his. People are actually talking about you two as if you’re the new royal couple.”

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. You’ve spent years cultivating a careful, respectable image — a modern princess who’s still traditional enough to respect the expectations placed on her. And now, you’re supposedly dating a race car driver?

“What exactly are they saying?” You ask, your voice quieter, laced with dread.

Noora hesitates, but you give her a pointed look until she relents. “They’re saying you met him at some secret event in Monaco and that you’ve been hiding your relationship to avoid the media frenzy. Apparently, he’s been visiting Norway on his off-days just to see you.” She snorts. “It’s absurd, really. But people are eating it up.”

You stare at her, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “This cannot be happening.”

“Oh, but it is. And the comments …” She trails off, biting her lip.

“Out with it, Noora.”

She sighs. “Some are saying it’s refreshing that you’re dating someone so … I don’t know, normal. But others …” She winces. “Others think it’s irresponsible. That you’re … well, neglecting your duty for some glamorous fling.”

You take a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “Neglecting my duty,” you repeat, more to yourself than to her. “Because I’m apparently sneaking off with some Formula 1 driver I’ve never even met.”

“I know,” she says, reaching out and giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “But it’ll pass. A few days, maybe a week, and they’ll have moved on to the next scandal.”

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to imagine it blowing over. “And what if it doesn’t?”

“Then we get PR involved. Make a statement, deny everything.” She pauses, eyeing you with a wary smile. “Or, you know, we could just arrange a very public appearance with you and someone else. Nothing quashes rumors like a little royal romance with a suitable partner.”

Your eyes snap open. “Noora.”

She grins, unphased by your glare. “What? It’s an option.”

“I’m not going to parade around with someone just to make the tabloids happy,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Well, that leaves us with the boring option: addressing it head-on, squashing the rumor, and hoping it dies quickly.”

“That will just make it worse,” you sigh resignedly. “The press will think any denial means we have something to hide.”

Noora nods, still eyeing you cautiously. “You could always lean into it a little — make it sound mysterious.”

“Mysterious?” You echo. “No, Noora. I want it gone. I don’t even know this man!”

“All right, all right,” she concedes, hands raised in surrender. “But you know, you could at least look him up.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“Because people are going to be asking questions. You’re the Princess of Norway. If they think you’re dating him, it would help to know who he is.”

You open your mouth to argue, but she’s already pulling out her phone. “Just … humor me, okay? It’ll take two seconds.”

She taps her screen, and suddenly a series of photos pops up — images of a young man with dark hair and a serious expression, usually in some variation of a racing suit, often holding a helmet. He’s smiling in one photo, a faint smirk in another, but the confident gleam in his eyes is unmistakable.

“He’s twenty-one,” Noora says, scrolling through some text. “Started karting young, worked his way up. Got his big break with Formula 1 this year.”

You try not to look interested, but it’s hard to ignore the pictures flashing by. He has a kind of easy charisma, that much is obvious.

“And look,” she adds, holding up a picture of him on the track, eyes focused, mouth set in a determined line. “He’s pretty talented, apparently.”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to look away. “None of this matters. Because I don’t know him, and I’m certainly not dating him.”

Noora smirks. “Doesn’t matter. The media thinks you are, and as far as they’re concerned, that makes it practically true.”

You groan, sinking back in your chair. “So what do I do?”

“For now? Sit tight, let PR work their magic. But you might want to brush up on your Formula 1 knowledge, just in case anyone asks.” She grins, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Wouldn’t want you to sound unprepared.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for the tablet and skimming the article’s ridiculous details. “He brought me roses on the first date?” You mutter, incredulous. “We had a secret dinner at a villa on the Côte d’Azur? Do they just make this up?”

“Pretty much. And it’s only going to get worse if people keep sharing it.”

You rub your temples, trying to banish the lingering image of Franco’s cocky smile from your mind. “Fantastic. Just what I needed — a fake romance with a twenty-one-year-old race car driver.”

Noora pats your shoulder sympathetically. “Could be worse.”

“How, exactly?”

“It could be real.”

***

Franco is hunched over his phone, scrolling mindlessly through his notifications as he waits for his PR briefing to start. The Williams headquarters is bustling this morning, and he barely notices when the door opens until Abbie, his PR officer, strides in, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

“Franco, we need to talk,” she says, folding her arms.

He glances up, one eyebrow raised. “Am I in trouble already? That’s got to be a record.”

Abbie sighs. “No, you’re not in trouble. But you’re in … let’s call it a situation.” She pulls up a chair across from him, lowering her voice as if sharing state secrets. “Have you seen the news?”

“Can’t say I have,” he replies, half-interested. “What, did Carlos suddenly decide to retire and I get to keep my seat for next season?”

Abbie doesn’t laugh, which is a bit worrying. Instead, she hands him her phone, showing a screen filled with a tabloid headline. Princess Y/N of Norway in Secret Romance with F1’s Newest Rising Star, Franco Colapinto!

His brows furrow as he reads, slowly, taking in the headline, the photos, the fabricated “romantic details.”

“Wait … I’m dating a princess?” He says, breaking into a grin. “And nobody thought to tell me?”

Abbie sighs. “Apparently. They’ve got edited photos, fake details — everything.”

He leans back, intrigued. “Princess Y/N,” he muses, tapping his chin with a thoughtful smirk. “Of Norway?”

“Yes, of Norway.” She leans in closer, her expression serious. “This has gone viral, Franco. Everyone’s talking about it.”

He can’t resist; he grabs his own phone and taps out “Princess Y/N of Norway.” The first few links are about her background, her position in the line of succession. “So, she’s next in line to be queen or something?”

“Second in line,” Abbie corrects. “After her father. She’s a pretty big deal over there.”

Franco’s eyes sparkle with interest. “Second in line. And she’s what … like, forty?”

“Not even close,” Abbie says, exasperated. “She’s around your age, I think. She’s twenty-something.”

Franco looks at her, skeptical. “Twenty-something? And a princess?” He scrolls through images of palaces, state functions, and some photos of you smiling politely at dignitaries. She’s dressed elegantly, impeccably, not a hair out of place.

Then, finally, he finds one candid shot, and he stops scrolling. You’re laughing in the photo, a little windswept, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, your smile bright and entirely un-royal. He smirks.

“All right, all right,” he mutters to himself, still looking at the photo. “She’s pretty cute.” He taps back to the headline with a glint of amusement in his eye. “But still not a MILF.”

Abbie groans. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugs, still looking delighted. “Come on. You know my type. I like them older. But …” He trails off, grinning wider. “I could certainly do worse.”

“You’re not actually considering this, are you?” Abbie says, horrified. “Franco, this is a fake rumor. You’re supposed to be distancing yourself from it.”

“Oh, I know. I know.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “But it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? Me, a royal boyfriend?” He leans back, arms crossed, still smirking. “I’m almost flattered.”

Abbie sighs and taps her own phone, clearly typing something in response to the rest of the Williams PR team. “Look, flattered or not, you need to be careful. She’s a public figure. If you say the wrong thing, it’ll just fuel the fire.”

“Oh, please,” he says, waving a hand. “What are they gonna do? Put me on trial?”

“Maybe not you,” Abbie replies, giving him a warning look, “but she has an image to protect. This isn’t just gossip for her — it’s her whole life.”

He lets out a low whistle, thinking. “Must be hard, huh? Everyone expecting you to act a certain way. Not much room for fun.”

Abbie eyes him, her expression softening a bit. “I’m sure it is. Which is why we need to treat this carefully.”

Franco glances back at the photos, his smile fading a bit as he considers. He may not know you, but he can picture the situation well enough: the relentless tabloids, the public judgment, all the expectations.

“All right, fine,” he says, finally. “What’s the plan?”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’ll be working with her team to prepare a statement. The usual ‘there’s no truth to these rumors’ line. But until then, keep it low-key.”

He raises a brow. “Low-key? Since when have I ever been low-key?”

“Then try for once.” She gives him a pleading look. “It’ll help her out. Trust me.”

Franco nods, though there’s a spark of amusement still flickering in his eyes. He can’t help it — he’s never been one to turn down a little excitement, and this whole thing is exactly that. He glances at Abbie. “So … if someone were to ask about it …”

She narrows her eyes. “Franco. Don’t even think about it.”

He chuckles. “Relax. I’ll be good.”

But as he heads back to the simulator, he can’t resist a smirk.

***

The meeting room is far more understated than you would’ve expected for something of this scale, tucked away in a discreet corner of a private suite in a London hotel. But it’s neutral ground, and it’s quiet, and no one outside this room will ever have to know about this awkward collision of worlds.

You’re early, of course. You’ve been pacing for the last ten minutes, scrolling through every frantic email your team has sent since this ridiculous rumor broke, trying to make sense of the tabloids’ spiraling narrative.

Franco arrives with a small entourage, though it feels like the entire room shifts the moment he steps in. He looks relaxed, perfectly at ease — too at ease. He catches your eye almost immediately, smirking as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this absurd situation to unfold.

“Princess,” he says, as if the word is a private joke just for the two of you. He holds out his hand, that ever-present glint of mischief in his eyes.

You don’t take it, instead clearing your throat and nodding a polite, “Mr. Colapinto.”

He drops his hand, unfazed. “Mr. Colapinto? Ouch. I thought we were past formalities, what with the whole secret romance thing.”

You stare, unamused, but he only laughs, taking a seat at the conference table across from you. He leans back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair, entirely too comfortable.

Abbie enters behind him, followed by Noora and two more of your advisors, who exchange a brief look with you before giving Franco a wary glance. The room feels divided: your side tense, professional; his side relaxed, as if they’re here for afternoon tea.

Noora clears her throat. “Thank you all for coming. We’re here to discuss … the situation between Her Royal Highness and Mr. Colapinto.”

Franco raises his hand like a schoolboy. “Just Franco’s fine.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I think it’s important that we treat this with the gravity it deserves.”

“Right,” Franco says, his tone playful. “Like a royal summit.”

Ignoring him, you turn to Noora. “What’s our best option? A joint statement? Something definitive?”

Noora nods, producing a folder from her bag. “Yes, we think a mutual statement from both parties would be the most effective way to dispel the rumors. The tone should be clear, respectful, and leave no room for interpretation.”

Franco grins at you. “So, no room for romance?”

You bite back a sigh. “Exactly.”

He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand as if studying you. “Pity. I thought we made a pretty good pair.”

You shift in your seat, folding your hands tightly in front of you. “This isn’t a joke. It’s an issue of public perception, protocol-”

“Protocol,” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “Can’t say I’m big on protocol. Haven’t you heard? I’m dating a princess now. Practically makes me royalty, right? Protocol doesn’t apply to me.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Protocol applies to everyone.”

“Boring people,” he counters, grinning wider. “Which, by the way, you are not. I don’t buy it.”

You feel your cheeks flush. “I don’t think you understand the stakes here.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly. But, come on …” He gestures to the small group of advisors around the table. “Look at this! Two teams acting like we’re two PR disasters waiting to happen … it’s ridiculous. You would think we were in the middle of an international scandal.”

“We are in the middle of an international scandal,” you say, exasperated. “People think we’re dating. It’s a breach of public trust for both of us-”

He snorts. “You’re talking like I’m some kind of international criminal. Come on, Princess. It’s just a rumor.”

“It’s more than that,” you insist, struggling to keep your voice steady. “This rumor reflects on me, on my family. On Norway.”

He watches you, head tilted, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And do you care?”

You frown, feeling that flush creep back to your cheeks. “Of course I care.”

“No, I mean, do you care about it — us? I mean, the rumor?”

There’s something disarming in the way he says it, like he’s testing you. You can’t help but hesitate, your well-rehearsed words slipping just out of reach.

“It’s my duty,” you finally say, straightening your shoulders, “to uphold my family’s reputation.”

He doesn’t seem impressed. Instead, he shakes his head, a bemused smile on his lips. “You’re so serious. Makes me think I really did pick the right princess.”

Noora coughs, clearly eager to refocus the meeting. “Let’s discuss the actual statement, shall we?”

You nod, relieved to move on, but Franco holds up a hand, eyes still locked on yours. “I just want to say, for the record … I don’t think I’d mind the rumors, if they were true.”

There’s a moment of silence, thick and uncomfortable. You can feel the curious stares of your team, the surprise on Noora’s face, the quiet snickers from Franco’s side.

“Mr. Colapinto,” you say carefully, “this is neither the time nor place for that kind of … remark.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Who decides that?”

Noora jumps in. “We do. And as such, we have a preliminary draft we’d like to review with both of you. It’s brief and to the point, which is important.”

Abbie leans in, already reading over the statement. “The recent reports of a romantic relationship between Princess Y/N and Franco Colapinto are entirely false and without merit. Both parties are focused on their respective roles and responsibilities and have not been involved in any way that would support these rumors.” She looks up, pleased with herself.

You give an approving nod, glancing at Franco. “Short and factual. Perfect.”

Franco frowns, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a little … cold, don’t you think?”

“That’s the point,” you say flatly. “We’re supposed to be shutting down the rumors, not fueling them.”

He lifts an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. “How about something more like … while I have great respect for Princess Y/N and have enjoyed our time together, I can confirm that we are, unfortunately, just friends?”

You look at him, horrified. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on.” He gives you a devilish grin. “It’s all about the narrative, Princess. People want romance, intrigue. You’re literal royalty — give them a little fairytale.”

You feel your cheeks burn, and it takes everything you have not to snap back at him. “This isn’t some soap opera, Mr. Colapinto.”

“Franco,” he corrects, eyes still dancing with mischief.

Noora clears her throat again. “I think it’s best we stick with the original statement.”

He gives you a mockingly solemn nod. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

You give a small, exasperated sigh, looking back to Noora and Abbie. “If we’re all agreed, can we proceed?”

Abbie glances between you and Franco, as if gauging the tension in the air. “Yes. We’ll finalize the statement this evening and have it released tomorrow morning.”

Franco pushes back his chair, rising to his feet. “Well, I suppose that settles it, then.” He glances down at you, his gaze lingering a bit too long. “Shame, though. This could’ve been fun.”

You fold your arms, giving him a pointed look. “We have very different definitions of fun.”

“Clearly,” he says, his smirk deepening. “But tell me, don’t you ever get tired of all this?” He gestures around at the meeting room, the stacks of paperwork, the solemn faces of your advisors. “The rules, the protocol. Doesn’t it get … dull?”

You purse your lips, resisting the temptation to give him a real answer. “It’s my duty.”

He tilts his head, his expression softening just slightly. “I get duty. But where’s the fun?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. And for a second, just a second, you wonder if he has a point.

Franco’s gaze sharpens as he watches you struggle to respond. And then, to your utter shock, he steps closer, his hand reaching for yours. “Here,” he says, with that sly, teasing smile.

Before you can pull away, he lifts your hand, bringing it to his lips in a slow, deliberate gesture. His eyes hold yours as he brushes his mouth over your knuckles, lingering just long enough to make you feel the heat creeping up your face.

“I promise,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, “the next time I kiss you, Princess, it’ll be somewhere much more pleasurable.”

You pull your hand back, heart pounding, but he only grins, unbothered, and gives you a playful wink.

“Until next time, Your Highness.”

***

The bar is dimly lit, tucked away on a quiet street where no one knows who you are and, more importantly, no one cares. It’s the perfect place to slip away from the weight of your title, from the headlines, from the rules and the statement that your team is probably drafting up at this very moment. For once, you just want to sit here, nursing a drink, and pretend you’re anyone else.

The whiskey burns as it goes down, but it’s a welcome distraction. You let out a breath, easing back against the bar, feeling some of the tension in your shoulders release. For the first time all day, no one is watching, no one is whispering. You’re just … here.

Until a voice slides into the quiet like a warm breeze. “Didn’t think I’d find royalty in a place like this.”

You don’t even need to look to know it’s him. You don’t turn, but your grip on the glass tightens as Franco slides onto the stool beside you, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, not bothering to mask the exasperation in your voice.

“Me?” He says, all innocence. “Just having a drink. Same as you.” He signals the bartender. “Tequila,” he says, then nods at your glass, smirking. “And whatever she’s having.”

You sigh. “Of all the bars in London, you had to pick this one?”

He grins, shameless. “Maybe I just have good taste.”

You roll your eyes. “Highly doubtful.”

He chuckles, unfazed. “Come on, Princess. I know you’re thrilled to see me.”

“Thrilled isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

He leans in, his voice dropping low enough that it feels like a secret. “What would you use, then?”

You pause, taking a sip of your drink as you consider. “Mildly inconvenienced.”

He laughs at that, a warm, genuine sound that catches you off guard. You try to keep your face impassive, but there’s something disarming about his laughter, something that makes you wonder why it feels like he’s always able to unravel you with so little effort.

“Fine,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar, mirroring your posture. “Then I’ll just sit here, mildly inconveniencing you until you admit you’re enjoying yourself.”

You scoff. “That’s not going to happen.”

His whiskey arrives, and he raises his glass, clinking it lightly against yours. “Care to bet on that?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you always think everything’s a game?”

“Only when it’s fun,” he says, his gaze dropping to your lips. There’s something undeniably bold about the way he watches you, something that sends a little thrill down your spine despite yourself.

You hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here?”

“I thought that was obvious,” he says, his voice turning softer, more intimate. “I’m trying to get to know you.”

You snort. “Get to know me? I’m pretty sure you just want to use this as an excuse to fuel the rumors.”

“Maybe the rumors are more interesting than you think,” he counters smoothly, sipping his drink. “Or maybe I’m just curious.”

“Curious?” You echo, lifting an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About what a princess does when no one’s watching.” His eyes flash with that familiar glint, and he gives you a lazy, unapologetic smile. “And so far, you don’t disappoint.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “If you’re trying to charm me, it’s not working.”

“Oh, I don’t need to try,” he says, his voice soft but self-assured. “I just do.”

You shake your head, determined not to let him win this little game. “I don’t think you’re as irresistible as you think you are.”

“Maybe.” He tilts his head, studying you with an infuriating level of focus. “But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your retort dies on your lips as his hand moves closer, resting just on the edge of the bar, fingers inching toward yours. It’s subtle, but it sends a pulse of awareness up your arm, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is, the warmth radiating from him, the intensity of his gaze as it lingers on you.

You straighten, clearing your throat. “So what’s your endgame here, Franco?”

“No endgame,” he says easily, but there’s a promise in his tone, a flicker in his eyes that makes it hard to believe. “Just wanted a drink with a pretty princess.”

You almost laugh. Almost. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Is that why you’re smiling?” He asks, leaning closer.

You hadn’t realized you were. You quickly straighten your face, but he’s already noticed, that knowing smirk widening as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Relax, Princess. You’re allowed to have fun, too.”

“Define fun,” you say, though you’re painfully aware that you’re actually enjoying this little back-and-forth. It’s dangerous, exhilarating — two things you never let yourself indulge in.

“Fun?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “Fun is you, sitting here, pretending you don’t like me, while secretly hoping I’ll keep talking.”

You roll your eyes. “Delusional.”

“Maybe,” he says, and his hand moves again — this time, resting casually on your thigh under the bar. The touch is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch, enough to make you momentarily forget the carefully constructed boundaries you’ve set.

“Franco,” you warn, though your voice is less steady than you’d like.

He raises an eyebrow, his fingers tracing a slow, almost absentminded circle against your leg. “Problem?”

You don’t answer, but he takes your silence as permission, his fingers edging just a little higher, teasingly close, as if he’s daring you to stop him. And you should. You know you should. But for some reason, you don’t.

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me to stop, Princess. And I will.”

Your mind races, every sensible thought colliding with the thrill that’s building inside you. You swallow, feeling the weight of his gaze, the heat of his touch.

“Why would I tell you to stop,” you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper, “if I don’t want you to?”

He grins, satisfied. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Before you can respond, he’s closing the distance, his hand slipping higher under your dress, his thumb brushing slow circles that make your heart race. It’s reckless and wild and nothing you’d ever thought you’d do — but in this moment, it feels impossible to resist.

The next few minutes are a blur of whispered words and stolen glances, your resolve slipping with every soft touch, every cocky grin he throws your way. You barely register the decision to leave the bar until you’re outside, standing on the quiet street, the night air cool against your flushed skin.

“Your place or mine?” He asks, his voice a playful drawl.

You hesitate, a thousand reasons to walk away tumbling through your mind. But when you look at him — at that unrelenting confidence, the challenge in his eyes — you feel your control waver. Just this once, you tell yourself. Just this once, you’ll let yourself break the rules.

“Yours,” you say, surprised at the steadiness of your voice.

He doesn’t waste a second, taking your hand and leading you down the street, his grip warm and solid, grounding you even as your heart races. You follow him, pulse pounding with each step, until you’re standing outside his hotel room door, the reality of what you’re doing hitting you in a rush.

But then he’s looking at you again, that mischievous smile softening into something more intimate, and your doubts fade. He opens the door, and you step inside, feeling as though you’re crossing some invisible line.

The room is dim, the city lights casting a faint glow through the windows. He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, almost reverent, and for a moment, you see a different side of him — something softer, deeper.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his words. But instead of answering, you lean up, closing the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that’s tentative at first, then deepening as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

And for the first time in as long as you can remember, you don’t think about duty, or protocol, or anything else. In this moment, there’s only you and him and the quiet thrill of finally letting go.

***

francolapinto

Liked by f1wagupdates, royalwatchers, and 714,925 others

francolapinto all the rumours are true

View all 3,816 comments

pintobean everyone called me crazy for believing the articles but look who’s laughing now!

coca-colapinto because as much as i love franco, there’s no way i was about to believe he could’ve pulled a whole ass princess

pintobean this is a lesson not to underestimate his rizz

coca-colapinto please never say that unironically again

f1wagupdates pray for their PR teams, whatever they’re earning is not nearly enough 🙏

gridgossip franco had exactly nine races to turn the paddock upside down and boy did he not disappoint

f1wagupdates who needs an f1 seat in 2025 when you can have a throne?

***

The morning arrives far too soon, sunlight streaming through the hotel curtains and casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets. You barely have time to blink yourself awake when a loud, frantic banging rattles the door, shaking you out of the haze of last night.

Franco groans beside you, his arm lazily draped over your waist. “You expecting someone?”

You’re too comfortable, too wrapped up in the warmth of his skin and the lingering bliss to even think straight. “Not … exactly.”

The pounding persists, and then voices — urgent, unmistakable voices — filter through the door. “Franco! Y/N! Are you in there? It’s urgent!”

Your eyes widen, a flash of panic cutting through the sleepiness. Franco doesn’t seem fazed. He barely lifts his head off the pillow, his hand lazily running down your spine as he mutters, “They’ll go away.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” You push yourself up slightly, glancing over the bed, finding discarded clothes and a vague sense of regret somewhere on the floor. The pounding grows louder, and finally, Franco sits up, rubbing his eyes, his hair adorably disheveled.

He stretches, glancing at you with a lazy grin. “What do you think? Just a few more minutes or …”

“Open the door!” Comes a familiar, exasperated voice from the hallway. You recognize it immediately — Noora.

Franco’s eyes meet yours, amusement glinting there. “Looks like we don’t have a choice.”

Reluctantly, he pulls himself out of bed, grabbing a pair of pants from the floor and slipping them on with a casual ease that only makes your heartbeat quicken. He tosses you a smirk over his shoulder before heading to the door.

As he opens it, a whirlwind of people floods into the room — Noora, Abbie, and a few more members of both your PR teams, all of them looking like they’re seconds away from losing their minds.

“Oh my god,” Noora gasps, her gaze darting between you and Franco, her face turning several shades of pink. “This … this is-”

“Completely reckless!” Abbie finishes, giving you a look that’s half shock, half scandalized admiration. “What were you two thinking?”

Franco crosses his arms, unfazed. “Good morning to you too.”

One of Williams’ other PR officers steps forward, looking ready to faint. “Franco, do you have any idea what you’ve done? Those photos … your Instagram …”

Franco grins, leaning casually against the doorframe. “What, people are talking?”

“Talking?” Noora squeaks, her voice an octave higher than usual. She glares at you, her eyes wide, almost pleading. “This is a disaster! Do you understand what you’ve done to our schedule, our statement plan? And the … the-” Her gaze flickers to the faint marks on your neck, and her knees buckle. Abbie reaches out quickly, guiding her to a chair.

“Maybe we overreacted,” Abbie mutters, though she doesn’t take her eyes off you. “Or maybe we didn’t react enough.”

You feel a rush of heat flood your face as everyone’s gaze lands on you. Franco catches it and gives you a cheeky wink, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s created.

“Look,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “maybe we got a little carried away, but it’s … it’s not like we did anything wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?” Noora says, her voice faint as she studies the marks on your neck again. “You … you have no idea how this looks, do you?”

Franco, completely unfazed, strolls over to the mirror above the dresser. He takes a long look at his own reflection, tilting his head to admire the scratches and darkening bruises scattered across his skin. “Looks like a good night to me.”

Your PR teams collectively groan, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. Franco catches your eye in the mirror, and the mischievous spark there makes it impossible not to crack a smile.

“Franco, this isn’t a joke!” One of his managers snaps, practically pulling at his hair. “Do you know how many calls we’ve received since you posted those photos?”

Franco shrugs, giving them a lazy grin. “Then turn off your phone. Worked for me.”

Another round of exasperated sighs fills the room, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for your PR team. Not enough, though, to actually feel bad.

Noora steps forward, hands on her hips, looking at you with an expression that’s somehow both sympathetic and stern. “Your Highness, this is … unprecedented. We need to issue a statement immediately, clarify this situation-”

“Or not,” Franco interrupts, his tone far too nonchalant. He turns away from the mirror, crossing his arms. “Honestly, I think the people like a little mystery, don’t you?”

Noora gives him a look that could wilt flowers. “This isn’t about what the people like, Mr. Colapinto. It’s about protecting reputations.”

“Oh, so we’re doing that now?” Franco glances at you, his smile playful. “Funny, last night I didn’t get the sense that the two of us in this room were all that worried about reputations.”

Your face flushes, and you shoot him a look that’s half reprimand, half reluctant amusement. “You’re not helping.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Who said I was trying to help?”

Abbie lets out a long sigh, rubbing her temples. “Can we at least agree that this … whatever this is, stays here? Quietly?”

Franco raises an eyebrow, looking at you with a smirk. “You hear that, Princess? Quietly. Doesn’t sound like much fun to me.”

You swallow, trying to ignore the way his gaze makes your stomach flip. “Maybe some things should be quiet,” you say, though your voice sounds unconvincing even to you.

Noora, still looking a bit wobbly, clears her throat. “Please, can we just … make a plan?”

Franco sighs, feigning disappointment. “Fine. Make your plan. But don’t expect me to follow it.”

Before anyone can respond, he gives you one last smirk and strides over to the door, pulling it open. “In fact, I think it’s about time we had the room to ourselves, don’t you think?”

The PR teams exchange panicked glances, but they don’t have much choice as Franco gives them a not-so-subtle wave toward the exit. Noora opens her mouth to protest, but Abbie gently ushers her toward the door, casting one last look at you that’s a mix of concern and reluctant approval.

“We’ll be in touch,” Abbie says, but there’s a hint of resignation in her tone, as if she knows that whatever control they thought they had is slipping fast.

Once the last of them has been herded out, Franco shuts the door with a decisive click. He turns back to you, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and before you can process it, he’s crossing the room, closing the distance between you in seconds.

“You know,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “I think we gave them quite a show.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “We? That was mostly you.”

He laughs softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You didn’t exactly object.”

You’re about to respond, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His hands find your waist, and suddenly you’re being guided backward, the mattress hitting the back of your legs as he eases you down. His gaze is intense, his smirk fading into something more serious, more intent.

“Franco,” you murmur, but the way he’s looking at you steals the rest of your words.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, “We’re not done yet, Princess.”

Your heart races as he shifts, his hands warm against your skin, his weight pressing you back into the bed. And as he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s somehow both playful and possessive, you realize that whatever the consequences, whatever scandal might follow … right now, none of it matters.

Right now, there’s only him, the quiet thrill of his touch, and the feeling of finally — finally — giving in.

***

The night sky over Las Vegas glitters with a million lights, bright enough to drown out the stars, as the drivers’ parade winds down the track. The grandstands are packed, the excitement in the air palpable even before the race has started.

Franco is perched atop the back of a bus, arms folded, his easy smirk in place as he surveys the flashing cameras and cheering fans. Beside him stands Lewis Hamilton, calm and collected as always, with that practiced smile of someone who’s done this a thousand times.

Franco nudges Lewis with his elbow, grinning. “So, you know we’re both basically royalty now, right?”

Lewis chuckles, giving him a sideways look. “Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?”

Franco shrugs, looking as if he’s contemplating something serious for a split second, then tilts his head. “Well, you’ve got the knighthood, Sir Hamilton,” he says, drawing out the words with an exaggerated British accent. “And I’ve got, well …” He grins, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. “The princess.”

Lewis laughs, a rich, full sound. “Ah, I see. So you’re actually out here trying to one-up my knighthood?”

Franco clutches his chest dramatically. “Exactly. I mean, not to make it a competition, but I’m basically a prince now. Which, if we’re being technical, puts me a bit above you in rank.”

Lewis lets out a snort, rolling his eyes. “Shut up, man. I’m a knight, not a court jester.”

Franco raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Hey, I’m just stating the facts. I’m sure knighthood’s very nice, but I think there’s something to be said for having a princess.”

Lewis shakes his head, trying not to laugh. “So it’s true, then?”

For the first time, Franco’s smirk softens into something else, something quieter. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen with an expression that’s unmistakably fond. He’s not looking at Lewis now, or at the cheering fans, or even the flashing cameras around them. His gaze is locked on his phone, where an image fills the screen.

It’s you, cozy on the couch with your Cavalier King Charles Spaniel in your lap, a warm blanket wrapped around you, hair falling casually over your shoulder. You’re looking straight into the camera, a relaxed smile on your face, and there’s an almost surprising intimacy in the photo — the kind that doesn’t come from a staged royal portrait but from a simple, real moment. It’s the type of photo someone only sends to someone they care about.

Franco doesn’t say anything right away. He just stares at the image, his thumb tracing lightly over the screen, as if he’s savoring the private moment before he has to lock his phone away for the race.

He nods, almost to himself. “Yeah. It’s true.”

Lewis studies him slowly, an almost invisible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think I’d see the day,” he murmurs, a touch of amusement there. “Guess you’re growing up, huh?”

Franco finally looks up, chuckling. “Speak for yourself, man. I’m still a kid at heart.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow. “A kid at heart who’s dating a princess? That’s a combination I didn’t see coming.”

“Neither did I, to be honest.” Franco leans back, stretching his arms out along the edge of the bus, still clutching his phone in one hand. “One minute, I’m just minding my business, and the next … boom.” He snaps his fingers. “The entire world decides we’re dating. Didn’t even know her name before then.”

Lewis chuckles. “And now you’re on your phone looking at pictures she sent you. You’ve come a long way.”

Franco glances down at the picture again, a private smile playing on his lips. “Guess I have.”

The parade continues, the roar of the crowd swelling around them as they pass another section of the grandstand, but it all feels distant. The conversation falls into a comfortable silence, and Franco finds himself thinking back over the past few weeks, the whirlwind of rumors and statements, and then … the quiet moments that somehow followed.

Lewis studies him, eyes narrowing in that perceptive way he has. “So … you and her. Is it, like, official?”

Franco lets out a short laugh. “Are you kidding? This is Her Royal Highness we’re talking about. There’s no ‘official’ until we’ve been courting for at least a year. There’s procedure and … what’s the word she loves to use? Protocol.”

“Protocol.” Lewis grins. “That sounds … exactly like what you hate.”

“Oh, believe me.” Franco laughs, shaking his head. “She’s been trying to teach me, but I don’t think I’ve followed protocol a single time. I mean, she actually tried to tell me what utensils I should use at dinner. Like, why does it matter?”

“Didn’t go well, huh?”

“Let’s just say I’ve decided that those tiny forks are optional.” Franco sighs, pocketing his phone. “But that’s her. She takes it all so seriously. Makes me want to take it seriously too, in some strange way.”

Lewis tilts his head, watching him. “I get that. That’s what happens when someone really means something to you.” He pauses, as if weighing his words. “So, she’s watching tonight?”

Franco nods, a flash of pride evident in his smile. “She sent me this right before we went out for the parade.” He taps his pocket, where his phone is hidden now. “Said she’d be watching. Don’t know how she manages to get away with it, with her schedule planned out months in advance, but she’s … creative.”

Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “The lengths you two go to. Like some kind of fairytale romance.”

The bus they’re on takes another slow turn around the parade route, the lights of Las Vegas casting a surreal glow over the scene. The streets are packed with fans, all of them waving and shouting, and Franco finds himself wondering if you’re watching this right now. He imagines you, curled up on the couch with that fluffy little dog of yours, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Franco smiles. “Yeah, I guess it really is.”

[chobunz]

── stress relief. ( sjy ) 🎧

๑ Jake hasn’t gotten as much attention from you lately, so I guess he has to bother you in order to receive it..

pair: clingy bf!jake ㅊ busy gf!reader | warnings: smut, pwp, fluff, very silly and unserious banter, teasing, begging, fingering, oral (f. rec), spit kink (?), marking, unprotected s.x, creampie | words: 4.0k

welp- this was a lot longer than i intended it to be lol, srry not sorry. also why am i always making jake such a needy bf ? LOL, idek.. i just love a man that’s down bad for me what else can i rlly say shdhshsd

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

exam season never stroke you as easy, that’s why you took more time than you had into studying. you spent most of your days sitting infront of your laptop and it’s handy dandy partner— your notebook. on the side of that you were juggling your boyfriend’s needs, alongside your mother’s constant smothering over the phone about how she wants to see you this week. you constantly tell her that you don’t have the time and if you had the time you’d rather go over there than anything. you loved your mother dearly, but you wanted big things for your future, especially when you imagine a family one day with your lover.

“mom, we’ve been over this a million times, i love you and all but i’ve told you. i don’t have the time to go and see you right now..” you hated having to put your studies first before anything, but that was the only way in order to become successful. you couldn’t afford to slack off and just take time for yourself to do whatever you wanted, you had to remain focused.

your mom didn’t seem too happy with that answer, she really wanted to see you and you could hear it in her voice. it broke your heart the way she sounded. “i understand that, but i really miss you staying over sweetheart.. maybe we can plan something this week ?” she truly hoped that you’d say yes but you couldn’t just drop everything and go home for the weekend, unfortunately things were far more complicated than that.

you were beyond stressed out, and along with her constant nagging it only pushed you over the edge, you were well over aggravated. it’s like she only thinks for herself sometimes..

“doesn’t sound like you understand, i don’t have time and i can’t come see you ! you’re being really selfish right now.” you’ve tried reasoning with her but it just never worked, usually you’d give in and comply with her demands but you had to put yourself first this time. “i’m sorry but not today or tomorrow, not even this week, i love you mom.”

“i love you too.. i guess i’ll talk to you later then ?..”

“mhm, bye mom.”

and with that, you quickly hung up. you felt bad with how you raised your voice at her, but sometimes she doesn’t think. you could tell she had gotten upset just by the tone of her voice and that by itself made you feel like shit.

weight on your shoulder: multiplied.

not long after, jake had came home, he’d seen you working your ass off and understood how this upcoming exam was important to you. although, he also got to shake hands with this disasteress stress. for one, he constantly has to force you off your work to go to bed. he hated seeing you risk your own health for the sake of success. jake knew you’d pass with flying colors, he believed in you, he always had. you were few of the top students in your class. of course you had it. while he also studied for exams, he’d rather not risk his mental health for a test he could easily just take again. and he always told you that, but you’re too stubborn to ever listen.

“babe, i’m home !” he shifted to the living area, where you just so happened to be at the time. “new station?” he giggled, joking about how you finally moved from the dining area.

“yeah, i guess..” you yawned while busily typing away at your HP. jake checked the time once hearing you yawn.

“baby, get up. bed time, now.” he clasped his hands together a second before walking towards you and your silly little laptop. you don’t say anything back, only continuing what you were doing, as if he wasn’t even important enough to acknowledge.

“uh.. are my words delayed ? did i stutter? save whatever you’re doing, right now and get your little ass into bed.” he cocked a brow at you, waiting for you to comply, hands taped to his waist.

“jakeee, just a little more.. ‘m almost done ! i promise. it’s just a little bit left !” you plea at him, hands speeding up it’s pace, dancing along the keys moving to the save button after typing another sentence. your face looked drowsy. you looked tired. and you knew it.

“great then just a little bit for you to do tomorrow ! room, now.” his one arm and his other grasp you, taking you under your arms and up on your feet. “bu-”

“go.” he cut you off, nodding his head in the direction of your shared bedroom. you finally caved, maybe you did need rest. and that’s just what you did, but not before talking to the sweetness that lay beside you.

๑ ๑ ๑

“so, how was your day..” you ask the half sleeping boy who’s face was deeply snuggled in between your breasts. he couldn’t sleep unless he was holding you, the warmth of your body against his gave him the much needed comfort he desired.

“mm.. good, i just wish you were more involved in it..” you felt the vibration of his voice through your skin making you giggle, yet, you were upset with how it’s now just dawned on you that you chose studying over the man who’d give you the whole world if he could.

it seems you’ve been acting awfully selfish lately, barely returning any of his calls or responding to his texts hours later. he feels like he’s constantly giving one hundred percent in this relationship while you barely gave half of that. jake knows you love him, you wouldn’t be coming home every night if you didn’t, but he misses that stage where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know how caught up in exams i were, i haven’t been giving you much attention, have i ? ..”

“you holding me is all i need.. i cherish the time i get when you aren’t studying..” he mumbles, hands tracing shapes along the slope of your waist.

“thank you for giving me time and understanding.. i love you baby..” you kissed his head tenderly. receiving a hum in reply you knew he was tired, so you yourself dripped into slumber.

๑ ๑ ๑

your alarm rang forcing you out of bed and before doing so you switched your alarms off. you looked over at your resting partner. he was so peaceful when he slept he looked just like a baby, and you wanted nothing more than to baby him ;(

*okay.. i wanna hurry and finish this.* you pulled the blanket off your arm before dangling your feet off the cushion of the bed.

“what’re you doing ? where are you going ?” he instantly wakes up when he feels the weight of bed lighten, hands capturing the hem of your sweatshirt to forcefully halt your movement.

“i’m just going to finish up my studying,” you remind him from yesterday, cupping his face as you turn around to face him.

“goodmorning, jakey.” you cheesed.

a strong pair of strong arms wraps around your figure, “gummorning, princess.” he half yawns, looking up at you with those precious, endearing eyes of his.

“c’mon, let’s go play in toothpaste.” you tap his arms signaling him to let go.

“are you saying my breath smells bad ?” he chuckled, finally setting you free.

“i mean, if the shoe fits !” you playfully joked, getting up immediately after he unarms you.

“c’mon babyyy.” you try one more attempt to get him out of bed, hearing him act all whiney since he didn’t want to. he’d much rather still be under the sheets and laid up with you, but you were on a mission today.

finally, you two ended up in the bathroom. mornings were always chaotic, so much going on as you took turns brushing your teeth. while he brushed his, you were brushing your hair and doing your skincare routine. you were getting ready to take a shower so you gathered all of your needed things, only waiting to brush your teeth. when you finally got a hold of the sink you got your tooth brush and sat on the counter, kicking your legs. you were sometimes childish, but so what ? nobody wants to age anyway.

“stop being weird, little girl..” you were laughing almost choking with the minty taste of toothpaste in your mouth, you quickly spat it out. “and you pee loud ! it’s like gun fire !”

he chuckles at your comparison, “i know a few things i do loud.” he mumbled before walking over to your figure that sat tall on the sink as you rinsed your toothbrush, caging you in.

once your toothbrush was away your arms immediately swung around his neck, you’d missed holding him all day everyday, which is why you contemplated on cutting your studying short for today.

“you’re so cute..” jake couldn’t help but be all over you, he’s waited far too long just to have you like this again; peppering kisses all over your face and jawline, trailing them all the way down to your collarbone. your body tingles in excitement, wanting nothing but to have your boyfriend’s hands roam your whole body. but you’d soon snap back to reality— the sad, underwhelming reality of what you’re actually supposed to be doing.

“jake.. we can’t.. i have to finish, remember ?” you felt like a broken record at this point but it seems as though it goes in one ear and straight out the other. he hasn’t touched you in so long, he doesn’t even know how he’s survived without it. he has his needs too, and his hand wasn’t going to cut it anymore. he desperately needed you more than anything right now.

“i’ll be quick ! i swear, pleaseeee.” he tries his hardest to plead with you, eyes practically begging you for an ounce of sympathy. “just want you so bad…”

usually you wouldn’t give in so easily, but the way he looked at you made you wanna fold in a heartbeat. was studying really more important than getting some dick ? yeah probably. but how could you say no to that face ? it’s been weeks since you got some and the urges were only getting stronger. you had no willpower left, so you finally surrendered to him.

he now has you in the palm of his hands, exactly how he wanted. he’d constantly be thinking of you, and all those times where he’s had to pleasure himself in order to get some form of satisfaction has now paid off; he could simply act out all of his horny thoughts on you now. and since he’s already got you where he wants, he wasn’t letting you go anywhere like you usually do. jake plays with the hem of your sweatshirt before lifting it up over your head, practically dying to kiss every inch of your body. he doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have someone as pretty and smart as you, but he’d never take it for granted— holding you within his grasp, carrying you back to your shared bedroom and gently placing you down onto the bed.

“my pretty baby.. ” jake couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off you for a second, drinking in the sight of you underneath him, it made him wanna tear you to shreds.

though he couldn’t do that just yet, he wanted to take his time with you. show you how much he truly appreciates and loves you. he definitely lied earlier when he said he’d be quick, there’s no way he’d be able to rush this. not when he’s had all this built up sexual tension that’s been eating at him since the last time you two fucked. the neediness of his actions were more than telling of his intentions, you knew he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him— if not more. plus, how could you refuse that puppy dog look he’s given you ?? he made you go crazy just from his facial expressions alone.

his hands slowly traveled up to caress your breasts, the pads of his fingers swiping over it’s hardened bud, rubbing in slow, lazy circles. he loves the way your body reacts to his touch, how you’d arch your back just from the feel of him. your low moans and whimpers were enough to make him go even more feral than he already is, feeling his cock twitch just from the way you’d sound. he craved you more than anything right now. you bit your lip when his mouth wraps around the base of your nipple, his hand working it’s way down to cup your clothed core, getting a feel of how much of a dripping mess you were for him.

“mmh.. so wet for me already babygirl,” he giggles when noticing the dampness of your panties. you seriously couldn’t believe you’ve fucked yourself over his touch just for exams. you often found yourself subconsciously humping your pillow to the thought of him, wishing that his face was buried between your legs instead of it. your body grew so sensitive over time, it was like you forgot how good he made you feel..

“need you so bad baby.. let me relieve all the stress and tension out of you..” his voice was low, full of lust and desire for only you. he kept teasing you with his fingers, enjoying every minute of you writhing and squirming under his body. he’s missed this dearly, and he was going to take full advantage of this. your mind drew itself blank, unable to think of anything but your beautiful boyfriend on top of you. you judd your hips up against his hand, building a steady rhythm to match his, the friction driving you absolutely insane.

“oh..fuck-” you let out a gasp when his thumb “accidentally” brushes over your clit, his hands shift to tug the fabric of your panties down as fast as he possibly could— but that didn’t stop him from continuing his little torturous teasing spree.

his head rested perfectly between your plush thighs, staring down at your pretty, glistening folds, tracing his finger everywhere expect where you needed him most. “mm.. jake, quit teasin’..” you whined out of frustration, which only made him giggle even more, until he finally complies with your demand.

“you’re right, my hardworking girl deserves a reward. doesn’t she ?” he looks up at you with a devious smirk plastered on his lips, all while sinking two digits into your small entrance— making you cry out from the sudden fill he’s added.

“spread your legs wider for me baby.” you didn’t even hesitate upon hearing that command, legs shooting open immediately. keeping your thighs open with your hands so jake could get a better look at your sopping cunt.

“feels good, huh ? you missed having my fingers inside you ?” he continuously thrusts in and out, gradually increasing his speed as you’re on the verge of falling apart. he absolutely loved seeing you like this, it’s what he lives for. he felt so accomplished knowing that only he can make you feel this way; no one else could ever have the same effect on you that he does.

jake knew you were far too weak to speak, your moans echoing the walls of the room was pure music to his ears. with just a curl of his fingers, your walls cinch around them greedily, watching as they’d disappear into your tight hole. your whole body trembles, as you cupped your breasts to knead them gently.

“fuck, you’re so hot. such a pretty little pussy, all for me.” he pants softly, taking in the sight of your eyes squeezing shut, how you were so overwhelmed already. he could bust just from this alone.

his head dips down in between your thighs, latching his mouth to your clit. he’d switch from harshly sucking to lapping his tongue on the swollen bud, eliciting the prettiest sounds out of you. “taste so fucking good baby. could eat you out all damn day..” he praised again, drowning himself in your sweetness.

you don’t know how much more you can possibly take but you firmly pull on his hair for leverage, tightly tugging it not even registering that it could possibly hurt him. but he doesn’t complain, his free hand caresses your thigh gently, flicking his tongue rapidly on your clit and drinking up your wetness, you taste like a dream. you mewl slightly above a whisper, forgetting how to use your own voice. his mouth was making you feel more than amazing, better than anything you’ve felt before.

“ ‘m gonna come !..” your hand now held onto his hand for support, lacing your fingers to intertwine with his. you grind your hips harder, feeling like you’re about to explode.. your juices squirt onto his fingers and his chin, making a mess all over the sheets beneath you, in utter utopia from the intensity of your orgasm.

“shit..baby” he moaned, licking his lips to savor every taste of you. he lifts his head up, beaming with a rush of excitement to finally have you take his cock. “get up,” it sounded a lot more demanding than he thought, but he couldn’t wait any longer. he was so horny that he wouldn’t even be surprised if he nuts the minute he enters you, (but thankfully he won’t because that would simply defeat the whole purpose of everything).

you did as you were told and quickly got up to land yourself on top of him. it’s obvious what he wanted you to do, he wants you to ride him while he looks up at your pretty face. it’s one of his favorite positions, not only does he get to lay back and let you do all the work but he secretly loves that you’re the one in control.

“mm.. that’s my girl,” he groans once you hover over his length, gently stroking the base of his shaft. his hands slid up to find purchase on your hips.

his embrace felt all the more than loving— it was familiar, warm, and protective. skin on skin, body to body; beautifully unraveling as one. your mouth flung open when you slid yourself inside but no audible noise came out— it was but a silent scream. he was sporting a semi-hard on but once fully submerged and accustomed to you tightening around him, your walls could feel his length slowly swell up inside you, it was one of those indescribable feelings that you cherish forever.

“better start moving baby, this dicks not gonna ride itself.” he playfully demands, slightly bucking his hips up to feel some motion, “or do you want me to do all the work instead, hm ?” that offer was extremely tempting, but it’s not like he wasn’t going to do that later on.

“n-no, wanna ride you jakey… i’ll start moving” you stutter, shakily rutting your hips against him, he fills you up so perfectly as if his cock was designed solely for you. placing both palms on his broad shoulders for anchorage whilst raising your hips to now finally properly ride his fully erect.

“fuck… s-so big— so full..” you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how he stuffs you completely. his low grunts were the most melodic tone to your ears, along with his heavy panting and nails digging into the dips of your hips— he had your head spinning.

jake was enthralled with the fact only he could have you like this, a pretty little whining mess just for him. his cock throbbing in you intensely made you clench around the thickness, mouth falling back open to reveal a long strand of your saliva, this only brought him more joy as he pulled you in for another kiss, moaning nonstop into his mouth. you picked up a steady rhythm while riding him, moving up and down as you thread your fingers in his soft hair, feverishly making out with him. it all felt too good, he felt unreal, it became almost too much for you.

you gnawed at his lower lip when you pulled slightly away, leaving another string of your spit connected together; he drove you madly insane. his attention went soaring elsewhere now, producing wet kisses along your side profile, to your neck, gently sucking and biting on the skin to admit a reaction. a deliberate shriek leaves your mouth, feeling your muscles tighten as you tremble, he left more faint love bites to your collarbone and visible bite marks to your shoulder. he notices your struggle to stay balanced and shifts his arm, firmly on your waist to keep you in place.

“love the way you take this dick like a pro babe, you’re fucking amazing.” he praised you over and over, his words of encouragement helping you build quicker stamina, bouncing on his cock as if you were deprived of it for months (technically speaking you were, but maybe not for that long).

“you know i love you right princess ?” he husks, assuring that this’ll always mean something more than just sex to him, you were far from disposable, his love runs deeper than you could ever imagine.

“y-yes jake, i do. i love you t-too— mmh fuck !” your head plunges backward when he thrusts his cock back into you to match your movements, bringing one of his veiny hands to come rub your ass, sinking you further into him.

you kept a steady pace as you lower your middle finger to play with your clit as you rode him, the extra stimulation to your nub had your head dropping lower in reverse. you were so excruciatingly wet all you could hear were his hard breaths mixed with your soaking arousal slamming into his cock, only thing running through your mind was getting to milk him empty once you both reach your climax. a moan slips the both of your lips in unison as you scrunched your eyes shut from euphoric sense of pleasure.

“no no, look at me baby— keep ‘em open.” he ordered. your eyes flicker open once again, obediently following his rules, giving him the eye contact he so desperately craves.

“love looking at this pretty face every single fucking day,” he groans, still holding your hips securely in his grasp, “all of this is mine, mine, mine.” each time he’d say it another deep stroke would slam into your cervix. a final hit to your sweet spot had you trembling under him, crying out his name while screaming at the top of your lungs— you can tell he was getting close too by his chest heaving and sultry grunts and moans laced with an endless loop of your name being said.

your face contorts from your nearing orgasm imploding you, the o-shape formation of your lips taking over, “g-gonna come jake… can feel it !” a drawn out sigh leaving your breath as you catch it.

“yeah ? gonna make a mess all over this cock ?” he felt you clench around him at his every word, your hand reaches down to your bud caressing it slowly ready to reach your high again.

“go ahead baby, let go for me.” he grants your undying wish with those words, chasing your high as you finally let go, cream leaking down the sides of his cock.

“fuck, so good.. such a good girl for me.” he felt himself closer to the edge, “where do you want my cum this time babe ?” he asks impatiently.

“inside, inside me please !” you practically beg for it, eyes growing heavy, and your breathing becomes irregular. you soon felt your walls being coated with his thick, hot cum, filling you up with every last drop. you instantly collapsed onto his chest, completely drained and worn out by the end. the room remained silent for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s company, lost in his warm embrace.

“hmm.. what about now ?” jake broke the quite atmosphere with his random question, leaning closer to peck the side of your face, “how does my breath smell now ??” he teased from earlier’s incident.

“oh my god, shut up,” you turned away from him with hot cheeks. “what does it smell like huh ?” he laughed at your embarrassed state.

“go away !” you pushed him off of you to go do your little pee pee check. “smells like your yummy little pussy, donnit baby !” he watched you hop into the bathroom.

“my pee too loud ! can’t hear you !!” you shut the bathroom door with a tiny giggle.

you could still hear jake hysterically laughing in the background.

2 am smut hits differentt >:33 had to post a cute lil fluffy fic for my jakey pooh cs he’s so cutieful hehehe <3

also, hii lee ik ur reading this loll ilyyy .+(´^ω^`)+ .

@leeechin ♡︎

[urhoneycombwitch]

common tongue of you lovin' me

🍯 honey flavour: touchstarved loverboy smut

🐝 the bees: Eddie x reader

wc: 2.5k 

content warnings: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope

foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o

____

By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.

Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.

You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake. 

Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.

He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.  

Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night. 

Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…

Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.  

You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”

Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”

You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.

Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.

“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.

He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”

“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his. 

“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim. 

When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly. 

So he does want to touch you. Interesting.  

You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.

But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first. 

You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.

“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.

Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.

It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.

He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.

When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening. 

“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”

“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.

“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.

The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.

You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.

“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.

Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”

So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up. 

Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”

When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.

“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”

He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.

Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.

He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.

Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”

“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing. 

Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.

“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”

Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.”

He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”

You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”

“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”

He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.

When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.

“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”

His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”

“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”

You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him. 

The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy. 

“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”

“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat. 

Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release. 

You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths. 

“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.

His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”

You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”

He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”

He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.

He whispers, “Can I ask you something?” 

When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”

You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck. 

________

guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me 

[gloomwitchwrites]

I absolutely love your stories they’re so amazing! Can I please request the task force and pranking them by telling them a guy did your Brazilian wax

Thank you! I can't take all the credit. I might be the writer, but the Imagines Series couldn't be what it is without all the amazing ideas people have submitted. I'm honestly blown away by the amount of creativity and ideas sent my way. My inbox is full of wonderful requests, and while it's going to take me a bit to get to them all, I'm eager to complete them!

The amount of prank requests I've been getting has been so fun. Not just this one, but telling mom to shut up, and the premium air prank, etc. All of these make me giggle and have been a blast to work on. Thank you so much for sending this in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, established relationship, pranks, non-descriptive nudity

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John briefly licks the pad of his thumb before counting out the appropriate amount of pound notes.

“This enough?” he asks, presenting it to you.

It’s more than enough. “Plenty. Thank you, John.”

He leans forward a bit, and you eagerly greet him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Drawing back, you give him your best smile. But beneath the grin is a trick.

You want to mess with him a bit.

“I have a new waxer,” you shrug, adding the cash to your wallet. “Cheryl put in her notice.”

Cheryl did not put in her notice. That woman probably won’t retire until she dies.

John inclines his head, already turning away. “That’s too bad. You liked her.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing your purse. “They’ve put me with someone new. A Mark? Mike? No—Marcus? I think.”

John freezes. He slowly turns back, cheeks bright red. “What?”

“It starts with an ‘m’,” you muse.

“Your new waxer is a man?”

“Yes,” you shrug. “And?” John’s face resembles a beet. “Everything good?”

“Where does Cherly work now?”

“John—”

He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts tapping away at it. "I want to know if she accepts walk-ins."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle's hand slowly runs over your newly waxed skin. "Look at you. So soft and smooth." His touch makes you shiver.

"You paid for it," you murmur.

"I did," smiles Kyle, head dipping.

His tongue makes contact, and you release a moan. It’s slightly distracting, but not enough to detract from you poking at him.

“Had a new waxer,” you sigh as Kyle goes in for another taste.

“Did you?” he asks absently, more interested in your new smoothness.

“A man, actually. Undergoing training. There were two of them in the room.”

Kyle's head snaps up. "What?"

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper.

"There were two men that waxed you?"

“No, Kyle. Just one.”

A series of emotions pass over Kyle's face. His mouth opens. Closes. And then his hand forms a fist, fingers flexing and relaxing as he mulls over something.

"Everything okay?" you ask, suddenly worried.

“Can’t be that hard.” Kyle pushes away from the couch and reaches for his phone. “Or expensive.”

“What can’t? Kyle. What are you talking about?”

You lean forward and see him adding a waxing kit to his online shopping cart.

“No,” you say firmly. “You’re not putting hot wax anywhere near my vagina.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Oh, what's this?"

Johnny's hands are on your thighs and then beneath your skirt in a moment.

"Johnny!"

"Is this for me? You don't have to. You know I like a good adventure through the woods."

"Johnny!" you say again, slapping his arm playfully as his fingers lightly squeeze, making your squirm in his grasp.

"Was this on my dime?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"Oh, aye. Am I gonna find an unknown charge?"

"With a tip. A large tip. My waxer deserved it. He did a good job."

"Oh, they—he?"

"Yes. That a problem?"

Johnny's hands don't retreat but he's staring at you—hard. You arch an eyebrow and he finally speaks. "Your waxer is a man?"

No.

"Yes."

Johnny nods and then he leans in, lowering his voice. “You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m—”

“I saw your location. I checked it out. They don’t have a single male employee in that place.”

Your face grows hot.

Johnny’s hands squeeze a bit harder, and then he lands a brief smack against the curve of your ass. “Lying to me, love?” Johnny tsks. He palms the curve of your ass where it stings. “Suppose I should punish you.”

“Maybe you should.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You reject the call and clutch your phone to your chest. You've messed up. Royally. Pranking Simon is always a terrible idea.

The texts were just a tease. Just a way to push Simon’s buttons.

I have a new waxer.

I thought it would be one of the other ladies.

But no!

It was a guy!

Your phone buzzes again and you nearly throw it across the room. It’s Simon. You decline the call. Everything is quiet for a few brief seconds before a text message from him comes through.

Answer your phone.

You click out a reply.

I'm in the car!

His reply comes instantly.

You're at home. I know your location.

Another incoming call. This one you answer.

"Simon,” you say flatly.

"What location did you go to?" he asks, voice rough with tension.

"Why?" you counter.

"What's his name?" he snaps.

"I know what you're doing, Simon.”

You always forget just how deep his possessive streak goes.

Silence. Then, "I just want to talk."

"Simon.”

He growls your name in warning.

"You don't need to go there. Just...come home. You can see the results for yourself."

He sighs. "I'll be there in ten. Be ready for me."

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @cherryofdeath @ferns-fics

@tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus @no-oneelsebutnsu

@marispunk @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307 @itsberrydreemurstuff

@cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic @sammysinger04

@kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld @umno-yeah

@daemondoll @jackrabbitem @lxblm @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @greeniegreengreen @certainlygay

[sturniolohouse]

That's Life - M.S

A.N: After the stream where Matt said he liked the name June– which has been a name on my baby list for YEARS now – I couldn't stop thinking about this scenario, so I decided to write it. Sorry if it's bad. (I'd also say they are still very young in this, maybe 23/24. But imagine any age you want, I don't really specify.) Hope you enjoy!

summary: dad!matt - a cute snippet of Matt and y/n becoming brand new parents and Chris and Nick meeting their niece for the first time. mainly fluff :')

warnings: none, really. maybe swearing and mentions of blood? (also use of y/n because apparently that is hated? idk)

word count: 2.4k

--

"Kid, hold her fucking neck." Matt panics as Chris readjusts in his seat on the couch.

"Matt shut the fuck up, I think I know how to hold my own niece." he retorts.

"No, you clearly don't you idiot."

I peer to my left, he holds her with one hand under her head and one hand under her butt, propping her in front of him on his lap. She's perfectly fine, Matt just worries.

"Look she's fine. She's with uncle Chris." Chris looks at her adoringly but Matt cautiously watches, biting his nails.

"How are you feeling?" Nick asks beside me, rubbing my shoulder as I eat my burger. I was starving and the first thing I wanted after giving birth was In and Out, so Matt made sure Nick and Chris brought it for me.

"I'm so tired but just relieved everything went okay."

It was a long labor, almost 20 hours and about an hour of pushing. I waited to the very last minute to get an epidural and Matt almost passed out once he saw what it actually was.

-

"That goes in your fucking spine?" He squeaks, his face turning pale as he nearly keels over.

I'm sat up with the anesthesiologist behind me prepping the needle. I grab Matt's forearms and bring him to stand between my legs so he's hunching in front of me before I collapse my head into his chest and groan.

"Don't fucking look at it, hold my hands." I seethe through the pain as I wait for the contraction to pass.

"I'm so sorry," He says into my ear as they stick the catheter into my spine and I stay as still as possible.

"I want In and Out after this is all over," I breath out, beginning to feel my lower half go numb.

"I'm getting you whatever you fucking want, sweetheart." He looks me dead in the eyes.

-

"It's kinda fucking nuts that she was just inside you, how the fuck did you like..." Chris speaks up looking between the baby and me. "Push her out..." He hesitates and I burst out laughing as Matt throws his arms up and shakes his head at him, stopping himself from knocking Chris' shoulder.

"Well, it wasn't easy." I wipe my tears from my eyes due to my laughter and Nick gives me my water so I don't choke on my dry ass fries.

"Women are the strongest people on the planet." Nick chimes and Matt smiles proudly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's fucking right. So much respect after all I witnessed." Matt rubs his eyes, seeming to be mentally reflecting the past 36 hours.

"She's so fucking cute, looks nothing like Matt." Chris comments, a small smirk growing on his face at the playful jab.

"Okay, give her back you're pissing me off." Matt quickly but gently takes her back even as Chris protests and pouts, sulking back into his chair.

"Lost your baby holding privileges," Nick points at him as Chris makes a face and sticks his tongue out, a throaty bellow echoing in the hospital room.

Nick immediately hushes him. "Can you not act like a barbarian? Fucking idiot." He scolds him.

Matt cradles her softly and my heart still melts at the sight of him holding her. It makes everything I went through so worth it. The both of them do.

-

I lay there in shock with a wailing baby placed on my chest. I look up at Matt on my left and he's got his hand over his mouth and tears brimming his eyes, staring at our baby with so much love.

My chest blooms with warmth and I look down at our daughter. Anyone else would look at her and think she was gross, being purple, covered in goop and blood, but she was quite literally breathtaking. Matt blubbers and bends down so he's more level to me.

"Oh my fucking god," he laughs through his emotion, wiping his eyes quickly and placing a hand on her blanketed back, her cries dying down.

"How the fuck did you do that? You're amazing oh my god." He rambles, kissing my sweaty hairline and I shake my head not really knowing how I did this either.

They let Matt cut the umbilical cord before taking her off me to bathe her quickly.

Matt grabs my face checking in on me. He scans all over my face,"You okay? You did so good, oh my fucking god." I nod quickly, feeling my adrenaline still rushing. It's a weird feeling to describe, but I am so happy.

"She was so tiny, did you see her?" I ask him, my voice a little shaky and he nods laughing, tears still shining in his eyes.

"I did, I did. She's perfect. Thank you." He kisses my lips this time and then looks over to the nurses bringing her over to him.

"You want to hold her, dad?" The nurse smiles and he visibly pales but nods nonetheless and takes her into his arms.

He looks at her and begins to tear up again, having to compose himself by looking up shaking his head. When he looks back at me, I'm sent me over the edge into my own fit of tears.

I would relive this day over and over again to just see that look on his face.

-

He walks over to Nick who's still beside me, bouncing her slightly.

"Nick, cmon. You've yet to hold her." Matt nods toward Nick to take her from his arms. Nick immediately shakes his head and steps back.

"No she's too fresh and tiny. I don't want to break her." He declines.

"Chris get him the pillow. Nick, hold her. You won't break her I promise you." I give him a reassuring rub on the arm and his eyes widen.

"I'm scared," He squeals quietly as he sits down in the chair and Chris sets up the pillow in his lap. Nick covers his mouth as he watches Matt walk over to him. 

Chris puts a hand on his shoulder, "Nick it's gonna be fine." He giggles at his antics and I stifle my own laughter.

"Dude c'mon, I'm telling you to hold my kid not a bomb." Matt rolls his eyes and Nick flips him off.

Matt places her carefully so she's snug in Nick's arms and he freezes immediately.

"What do I do?" He looks up at me in fear.

"Just that. You're doing fine. See, she's perfectly content in your arms." I tell him softly and grab Matt's arm so he stands next to me.

I kiss his forearm and he looks back at me with a warm smile, wrapping his arm around me and sitting beside me on the bed. He pulls me in gently before kissing the top of my head.

"I'm trying to see any real defining features in her but she quite literally just looks like a baby," he studies her face as Chris takes photos of them.

"She definitely looks more like y/n," Matt says, rubbing my arm lightly before stealing one of my fries from my tray.

"I think she has my nose for sure. She hasn't really opened her eyes yet, maybe you can try and wake her up. The nurse should be coming soon to help me feed her."

"I just realized, what's her name?" Nick asks, lightly rubbing her cheek with the back of his finger to try and wake her.

"Yeah, have you guys finally decided?" Chris sits down next to Nick on the couch.

Matt and I look at each other. We had been debating her name since we first saw her face. Of course we had a list prepared but we didn't want to settle on a name until we could match it to her face.

It was hard agreeing on names at first as we had very different tastes but there was one that kept coming back up in conversation and once we saw her it was a no brainer.

I nudge Matt, "Go ahead, tell them." I lean my head against his shoulder.

"Her name is June," They 'aw' in unison.

"June Iris Sturniolo." Matt tells them her full name and he can't help the smile that spreads across his face. 

"I love that, such a sweet name.” Nick smiles down at her.

"Does it have a meaning? Or did you guys just like the name?" Chris pulls back her hat.

"Holy shit, she has a lot of hair." he comments.

"Explains all of my heartburn." I huff and Matt giggles beside me.

"We liked the name and we were looking at lot of nature names, month names, classic names. We landed on June a few times when going over names but didn't want to make it official until we saw her." I start and Matt nods before speaking up.

"Well, we had some music playing during the whole labor and everything but after Y/N started pushing, our playlist ended and started playing whatever. And right before June came out, the song That's Life by Frank Sinatra played. And in the song, there's a line that goes: You're riding high in April, shot down in May but I know I'm gonna change that tune when I'm back on top, back on top in June. Right when we heard that and then we saw her face, we knew that was her name." Matt concluded and I tear up.

"That's so fucking cool," 

"Stop I have chills, oh my god."

"And Iris was my grandmothers name, but we also liked how it sounded with June. It was proven really hard to find a middle name that sounded good with June and Sturniolo." I laugh.

“I love that her name has a cool story behind it that you can tell her one day.” Nick says and I get emotional thinking about telling my daughter the day of her birth.

"Hi June, you gonna wake up for us?" Chris speaks softly to her. She stays put as Nick and Chris look at her expectantly.

"I wouldn't want to open my eyes either if I were just in a a warm dark place for almost nine months and all of sudden I'm in a bright ass hospital room with a loud idiot." Matt speaks looking directly at Chris.

"She must take that after you," I say playfully and rub his chest. He rolls his eyes.

"Aw, a little Mattitude." Chris uses a baby voice, tickling her belly playfully. “Look she even makes Matt’s stank face he does when he’s mad.” He points.

“Oh my god she does,” Nick exclaims.

"Not to be weird, but you are all basically her father since you have identical DNA. Also if you guys have children one day, they'll be genetically June's half-siblings." I state my fun fact and all their faces drop.

Nick gasps, "Wait, that's actually crazy because I was just going to joke around and say 'aw she has my eye-bags'." His eyes widen and I shrug at him proving my point.

"That's so fucking weird." Matt shakes his head in realization.

Chris acts repulsed, putting a hand up. "Yeah, I don't like thinking about that. I'm no one's father, thank God." He does the sign of the cross.

"Yes. Thank God for that." Matt says shortly.

"I don't know, I think Chris will be a good dad one day." I defend him and Matt gives the side eye. 

"Thank you y/n," He says with a hand over his heart.

He walks over to me and gives me a side hug. I kiss his cheek, offering him a fry and he takes it appreciatively.

"I'm definitely staying the fun uncle." Nick states, turning his attention back to June. "One day, you'll be big enough to stay at Uncle Nick's and I'll get you anything you want without your parents knowing," he says quietly to her but we can all still hear him.

She begins to stir in his arms and he freezes again.

"Oh no, she's waking up. Is she gonna cry?" he panics. "Matt quick, take her."

"She might want the boob," he says taking June out of Nick's hold.

She begins to fuss and squirm but Matt calmly shushes her and begins to bounce lightly.

"It's her feeding time in 15 minutes, should I try without the nurse?" I look up at Matt and he shrugs.

"I don't see why not. She's clearly hungry now."

"Uh, should we leave?" Chris says awkwardly and I wave him off.

"I'm gonna cover myself don't worry. Unless you want to leave," I say nonchalantly, not having a care in the world after just about everyone in this hospital has seen me naked. But of course I won't be flashing anyone.

"Junie don't cry, here's mama. She's got the food." Matt tells her quietly, bringing her to me as Chris clears my lap for me and goes to sit down next to Nick again.

"My baby," I pout as I grab her and her little cries die down once she's in my arms. "You already know the deal sister, let's see if we can do this." I talk to her confidently hoping I can do this on my own.

Matt stands beside helping me cover up and get June in the right position.

"There you go, all better." Matt speaks to her softly as she latches on and I exhale in relief. "Good job, mama." He runs his fingers through my hair and rubs my neck.

The nurse walks in mid-feed and praises me. "Looks like you've got it under control here." She smiles and checks my vitals quickly before stepping back out of the room.

Once June finishes eating I burp her upright on my lap, facing her towards everyone. At this point she's wide awake and everyone is staring at her.

"Oh my gosh, her eyes are like, gray," Nick says. 

"Can she see me?" Chris waves at her, shaking his head and sticking his tongue out.

"Her eyes will most likely change color, they can change up until she's a year." I tell them. "And she can probably see you as a blob, Chris. Stop dancing." I tell him and he stops mid griddy. 

"Oh..." He looks defeated and she burps loudly in that moment, making him laugh. "Why does she burp louder than me, she's like 12 hours old." he jokes.

I feel Matt's hand on my shoulder again and he gives me another squeeze. I look up at him and smile tiredly, he leans down to give me a kiss. Something we rarely do in front of others because we hate PDA. But we can't help it this time.

 I hear a snap of a camera and we both look to see Nick with his film camera.

"I couldn't resist. First family portrait." he smiles softly. "I can't believe you're a father, Matthew."

"Believe it, kid."

"Nick, will you actually take our family photos when we get home." I ask rubbing Junie's back. 

"The fact that you even asked that," he says looking offended and everyone laughs. "Of course I will, though."

[hyewka]

warnings. sub!tyun, noona!reader, desperate shit, degrading, use of whore/slut, handjob

flirt freshman!taehyun who, even if he looks polite and at times would even be described as cute, is definitely a heartbreaker. stringing along, fucking, then ghosting.

you see right through his nice guy act when he subtly hits on you, flashing you his white pearls, blinding smile that show off his dimpled cheeks and the way his eyes form into crescents, his simple charms almost, almost having an effect on you. but you know better, you’ve already passed this chapter of your life, getting yourself fucked over by cute assholes. so you reject any and all advances that he makes on you, even as so far as to completely ignore him whenever he addresses you in a group setting.

you wanted to protect yourself, because again, you knew better. but what you dont realize is how often your blatant rejections have been either straight up cruelly humiliating or just plain harsh to the younger boy. not until you’re stuck with taehyun as you awkwardly wait in the car for your friends.

“why dont you like me?” he starts, quiet as he looks out the window. you turn to look at him, a little astonished that he decided to confront you. then you quickly recollect yourself, clearing your throat.

“who told you that?”

he scoffs, a sneer retching his expression. “you’re kidding aren’t you? i don’t think i know anybody more repulsed with me than you. everyone can see it. you almost jumped out of the car when they told you i was going to sit in the back tonight.”

it’s like hes been keeping all of his thoughts behind a lock with how fast everything spilled out of his mouth and you take in a breath. “okay now that’s an exaggeration.”

“not really.”

then it falls silent again, hearing the distant horns of cars and you awkwardly shift. he’s right, its not.

then suddenly, his eyes shift from the window to you, and the eye contact catches you off guard, you can make out the slight furrow of his brows and the small pout that rests on his lips—you’ve never seen him look like that. you avert your gaze almost immediately.

but he’s still staring. and it has you nervously tapping your finger on your lap.

“i like you, noona.”

your eyes widen a little. not because of the confession, you knew it was coming eventually. something about this variation of gentleness with his voice that you don’t think you’ve quite heard…ever coming from a man has your heart beat just a little faster. noona? its nothing new coming from taehyun, but your hands still slight dig into the fabric of your skirt. “if that wasn’t already obvious enough.” he says bitterly with a non humored laugh.

you spend the entire night, staring at your blank empty google doc, wallowing in all thoughts related to taehyun. it kind of pisses you off that he’s managed to chip a little away from your wall, you usually disperse any thought that comes up in your head that has to do with him. but now you choose to give yourself a leeway, just a little to think over whether he was being genuine, and whatever happened in the car was taehyun serving his heart on the platter to be so…vulnerable, or if it was just the last trick up his sleeve to lure you in like a toy he can’t have.

but then you remember the little features—the way his brows slightly turned up, the way his bottom lip instinctively stuck out, just a tiny bit—the way his eyes twinkled, just somewhat, as cliché as it is to say, it felt genuine, real.

when taehyun sends you a text that night, with a string of other unread messages from weeks or days ago before it—you come to the conclusion that he likes you, really likes you.

sorry, ignore what i said today

i don’t want you feeling uncomfortable around me any more than you do

your heart swells a little, simultaneously feeling the guilt conscience slowly creeping up on you. maybe you really did misread him this entire time.

so imagine your surprise when the next time you see taehyun, a week later, it’s at a frat party, looking down at a girl clinging onto his arms with those same twinkling eyes, smile, dimples, gentle look—eventually laughing then biting down on his lips as he looks away, the red on tips of his ears making you fume more than you’d admit. you don’t know what it was, what exactly made you insane enough to stomp over to him in long strides, wobbly pushing through the drunks, seeing red as you grab taehyun by the arm when he’s of reach—the surprised look on his face only lasting for a second before you furiously turn around, dragging him away from the confused girl that he was getting way too flirty with.

he could’ve easily shaken off your grip, it was weak, but he followed, he let you take him, only when you push him in a non occupied room and lock the door does he finally say something.

“hey, what the fuck was that—”

then you go for it. throwing all logical justifications and reasoning, you pull him into you harshly by the collar of his shirt, crashing your lips onto his. you don’t know what you expected, up to now it felt like you’ve been on airplane mode, but you know it wasn’t what taehyun returns. even if youre the one who came onto him first, he kisses back even more passionately, leaning into you, so quick to be receptive, hands going up to your cheeks as he lets you walk him hard into the door, latching onto your lips as if its a taste of a drug that has him hooked right from the first dose.

he’s so…desperate, it scares you, and turns you on at the same time. every time you try to pull away a little he reels you back almost immediately following your lips, the kiss becoming open mouthed as he breathes in and gets more and more messy, sloppy—he’s so sloppy, it’s the last thing you expected from him.

you finally manage to pull away, both of you catching your breath, with his lips glistening and red, mouth agape, chest heaving, up and down as he stares stunned.

“wha—um, so—fuck, sorry, no wait—” hes stumbling over his words. again, something taehyun never does. whenever hes spoken to you, it always felt so calculated, like every word hes thought over, because it felt so perfect. hes always collected.

you clasp your hand over his mouth, weakly, but he stills shuts up his ramble and jumble of words, blinking at you, with those god damn adorable brown eyes.

“kindly, shut the fuck up.”

his brows twitch a little, but he’s still silent.

your eyes search for something in his, you don’t know what, but it feels like you’ve gotten a green light, sighing. “i wanna fuck you.”

“shit.” he marvels, feeling his breath against your palm, his eyes still just as wide. you don’t know what exactly he’s thinking but if the dick already poking against your thigh was any indication, it was that he wanted it. really bad.

you slip your hand off his lips, then you whisper, fixated on how plump they are, “open your mouth.”

he blinks confused, hesitant until you take it upon yourself to rub your thigh against the tent in his pants, having him almost immediately buckle as he lets out a sinful groan. you should know he’s probably not into what you’re into, so you ease into it, testing the waters as you press yourself flush against him, rubbing your leg up and down against his clothed dick. “feel good?”

“y-yeah, shit, noona, please touch me.”

“i am touching you,” you swipe your hand over his bottom lip, fuck, they really are pretty. and so kissable. you’re shocked you haven’t kissed them sooner.

“no, i want your hand.”

you scoff, he’s so confident with what he wants, and so demanding. bratty. he’s probably so used to dominating. “this isn’t enough? me getting off your crusty dick isn’t enough for you? you’re feeling good, aren’t you?”

you press harder and with no consent of his own, his breaths knocked out of him, a slight squeak by the end that has his ears running red again. your thumb slips into his mouth, easing into it, slowly, before you fully press on his tongue as the friction of your knees against his cock gets more and more frantic and torturous. “you tell me you like me then decide i’m not worth the headache, a week later you run off to another innocent girl you’ll try to break the heart of after getting your fill. someone needs to keep you in check for becoming such an asshole, no? do you have no shame?” you mock, feeding him another finger in his mouth so he can’t retort like you know the smartass in him would do.

he sucks on them, surprising you as you feel his tongue licking eagerly…fuck, how badly did you misread him?

but you can tell with the way his eyes involuntarily water, and the way he shakes his vehemently, he still has the audacity to deny everything.

you scoff, slipping them out of his mouth, string of his saliva coating your fingers and shoving that hand down his pants, promplty grabbing his dick, marveling at the soft, wet feel. he already spilled so much pre-cum—slut. he likes this.

“you don’t like me, you have no right to be jea—hahhh..fuck, you can’t be jealous, you c-can’t. shit, faster, faster please noona, noona…” he whines, delirious as he gets lost at the feeling of your hand, bucking his hips, clearly getting frustrated with how irritatingly slow you’re tugging at his dick.

“i don’t. i don’t like you. i don’t like slutty men who’re bad.”

he whimpers, and fuck does that noise have you pooling your underwear.

“how have i been bad? how? i’m always good to you, i always—”

you twist your hand a little and his head immedietely falls back against the door, mouth hung open as he lets out pathetic, needy pants, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“like it? is it how you imagined it’d feel to have my hands wrapped around your cock?” you press, kissing down his jawline, hand letting out wet sounds as you jerk him off with more speed

“yes, yes, so much better noona, so much—” he chokes on his own words when you suck on his neck, feeling him let out shuddering breaths. cute.

when you use your other hand to trail up under his shirt, feeling up his muscle, you can hear him gulp, and for whatever reason, it turns you on even more.

“fuck, you’ve been trying to dom me, haven’t you?” he breathes out.

you let out an airy laugh out of your nose, grazing your thumb over his nipple, the hitch of his breath being your undoing. “i have been domming you—this entire time. what, don’t like it when a womans in charge?”

he shakes his head immediately, “no, no, i like it. i really do, i like it a lot. i like it when its you, noona.”

even when you have his mind sent to overdrive, he still knows exactly what to say to have your heart racing, it’s dangerous.

“hm?” you hum, throat dry, trying to forget the comment thats repeating over and over in your head. he likes it when its you. you scoff a laugh, “you really know how to get a girl going huh?”

“would treat you right. give me a chance noona, i’ll treat you like a queen.”

“a queen?” you laugh, then pretend to ponder on it as you play with his bud more, his dick leaking through your hand—he’s enjoying it all too much. “think would like goddess more.”

he moans wantonly when you thumb his tip, then transitioning to jacking off his shaft in frantic speed, it gets him delirious. “goddess, goddess, fuck—i’ll treat you like a goddess baby, swear.”

“sure you wouldn’t ghost me?”

his breath hitches again, head dipping into your shoulder, jaw practically hung open, mix of moans and whines spilling out of his mouth dumbly—who would’ve thought, huh? “never. so pretty, you’re so pretty and smart, and and—”

“such a slut, just want your dick touched and you’ll say anything.”

you feel him shake his head, still panting heavily as he grabbles onto you for support. he’s clingier than you expected, he holds onto you so often.

“faster…faster please, ‘m sososo close.” he sobs, his shaky breath fanning on your shoulder.

you chuckle, giving him what he wants, the wet squelching sounds heightening until he breaks. “gonna—gonna-” he spills before he could even finish his sentence, with a high pitched noise he cums in his pants, no doubt creating a big stain in the area of his crotch.

well, shit.

but when he lifts his head, a dopey smile on his face, eyes glazed over still, you think he might not mind all too much.

############

note. long overdue sub taehyun and a noona smut from me 🙏 did they fuck. no. will there be a future continuation of this au. perhaps.

[zaczenemiji]

Hi! Just saw your request are open. I thought it would be a great to request a OS of Kenji Sato x Fem! Reader.

I got inspired by that song of "Too Sweet" from Hozier and I got the idea of how good is Reader with Emi, (since she knows he's Ultraman and also raises a baby Kaiju alone) such a Sunshine, even Emi sees her as a new maternal figure, he thinks she's too sweet, getting the idea of having kids with her but having the thought she deserves better.

But she thinks on the contrary, he's such a bad boy with a good heart. If you wanna add more things, it's up to you. I'll leave it to your imagination. Take your time and no need to rush. Take care.

Too Good, Too True

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,456

Genre/Warnings: Established Relationship, Found Family

Author’s Note: Particularly in love with this one, and Too Sweet plays rent-free in my head.

MASTERLIST

You know everything about Kenji: his past—the reason he’s distant from his dad, his secret—that he’s Ultraman, and his love child the 20-foot-tall kaiju baby in his basement.

You guys have been together for a long while now, even before everyone knew him as Ken Sato, the baseball star—the one whose name dominates the headlines.

With millions of adoring fans, you’re grateful you still have a place in his life. At first, there was a looming thought at the back of your head that tells you how easily replaceable you are.

No matter how you repress the thought, the fact remains that it is true. Who are you when compared to Kenji? You weren’t a model, an icon, a singer, or the daughter of a CEO—like all the other women waiting in line for him.

You were just… you. Simply (y/n) in her soft pastel and floral dresses. You don’t own a lot either, just a flower shop in LA. Your favorite hobby is tending to your garden where you grew the flowers that you sold.

All of your issues regarding this have long been resolved since Kenji has always been quick to reassure you of his love. That to him, everything and anyone else pails in comparison to you. He wishes you knew your impact on his life.

You have always been his breath of fresh air. It started at college during his baseball trainings, he’d wait for a certain girl to pass by. His eyes were always quick to find you among your group of friends.

On his games, you were his number one cheerleader. Your friends and his teammates were always so surprised to see the quiet dainty girl that you were yelling and cheering for his name.

Back when his mom was around, you got along with her so well. Kenji would find you and his mom in their kitchen baking cakes and making cute little pastries.

His mom loved having you around. You were always welcome at his house. When she found out that you were an international student who flew to LA alone and lived in a dorm, she almost wanted to adopt you.

But ain’t no way Kenji wanted to be just a brother in your life.

Many things have changed since then. In becoming a baseball star, half of his life was no longer private. In becoming Ultraman, his responsibilities were no longer limited to that of his career and personal life. And in becoming a daddy to a kaiju baby, he realized you deserve better.

You came over to his house every day to visit Emi. He admired your patience with her and how you were always a ray of sunshine to everyone, including a kaiju. And you’re not afraid of playing with her even if she could literally crush you out of nowhere.

You’d come over with fresh flowers picked from your parents’ garden. You’d make big flower crowns just for Emi and smaller ones for yourself and Mina.

Today was a particularly rough day as Kenji got home from a game. You wanted to accompany him today but he insisted for you to watch over Emi. He has been feeling like shit lately, not knowing what to do with Emi and his declining performance in his games.

Upon passing by the kitchen table, he sees a can of his favorite fizzy drink. Under it, a note. He lifted the can and read, “left this up here so mina won’t see (｡- .•)”

For the first time that day, he smiled. You’ve always told him how lucky you thought you were for being with someone as great as him. But the truth is, it’s the other way around.

In one go, he finished his drink so he could immediately head down to see you. You and Mina were too busy playing with Emi to notice him. He stayed at the lounge where he could see you from the other side of the glass.

There you were, beautiful, with flowers adorning your hair. You looked so pure and innocent. Your gentle demeanor had always put him at ease.

Your expressive eyes looked up at Emi in an attempt to communicate beyond words. Kenji loved your eyes. They were always filled with warmth and kindness but when you look at him, all he sees is love.

On the contrary, there’s him. He and his troubled past.

He is distant from his dad, wanting little to no connection with him. If it wasn’t for his mom, he wouldn’t have returned to Japan.

You weren’t like that. You had a good relationship with your parents. You deserve someone who could give you and your future children the same kind of environment you grew up in—peaceful and without the fear of the possibility that one day, your husband might not come home.

He worries he’d be like his dad, absent. He is Ultraman now. His duties would one day require him to be away, sometimes without notice and for extended periods. You deserve someone who can be there for you consistently.

He is constantly under the scrutiny of the public eye, both as Ultraman and the baseball star that he is. And the public is not often gentle. You deserve a private and peaceful life, away from the criticisms of society.

Kenji loves you dearly, he really does. But oftentimes, he thinks he’s not the best person for you. He thinks you deserve someone who can offer you a simpler and safer life.

Too deep in his thoughts, he failed to notice you enter the room. The kiss you gave on his cheek pulled him back to reality.

“Tough day?” You asked, sitting beside him on the couch.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But I’m okay now. You’re here now.” He turned to look at you, his rest.

“Would you like to talk about your day?” You asked, reaching out to brush strands of his hair away from his face.

He shook his head. “I’d like to hear about yours first.”

You smiled, excited to tell him what you planned on doing. Since he’s staying here in Japan for good, you thought you would too. The flower shop in LA would be left in a good friend’s care. And here, you thought of working as a kindergarten teacher. You had doubts before but after being able to take care of Emi and enjoying it, you were now sure that this is the kind of job for you.

Kenji’s expression shifted upon knowing this. A shadow of doubt crossed his face. “What’s wrong?” you asked. “Do you not approve?”

“You deserve better,” he said, eyes falling downward before turning away to lean properly on the couch.

Confused, you leaned back as well. “Better job?” You asked. “Kenji, I think this is the bes—“

“Better than a guy who’s got a kaiju baby to take care of and a past, present, and future that’s complicated,” he continued his earlier statement, cutting you mid-sentence.

You were shocked. You never expected him to feel this way. You felt bad because for every time he assured you of his love, you failed to realize that he needed reassurance too.

“Oh no, Kenji,” you said. You turned his face to look at you, cupping it with both of your hands. “You’re a good man.”

“I’m worried, (y/n),” he said softly. “I worry that I can’t give you the life you deserve.“

He wants to marry you, he truly does. He dreamed of having children with you, teaching them, watching them grow. And when all is done, living the rest of his life with you.

When he passes by jewelry stores, he always thinks of you. He’d get in, and browse their selection of rings, but thinking of how you’re too sweet for him holds him back from buying.

"You're the best man for me, Kenji. Not despite your past and your duties, but because of them. They've shaped you into the person I love,” you told him.

“You're a wonderful father to Emi. And if you ever wanted more—if you ever wanted us to be more,” you leaned in to press your forehead on his. “I know you'll be an amazing father because of how you love me every day.”

Kenji closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, the tension slowly leaving his body. "You really believe that?"

"Every word," you said softly. "You are my home, Kenji. As long as we're together, I'm not afraid of anything."

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Thank you, (y/n),” he said. “I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," you replied, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@flowerloves

[simpjaes]

desecration. (s.j)

the one where no gods exist when you’re alone with jake sim.

minors dni !! | if you read it, reblog it. 

WORDCOUNT ― 6.4k

PAIRING ― jake sim x afab reader

GENRE ― top/dom jake sim, characters are in their twenties, sub/bratty reader, religious kink/fetish

WARNINGS― mild dub con, desecration of holy a relic, inaccurate descriptions of whatever religion this is– im not doing research for a 5k fic that’s mostly smut, sorry. 

NOTE― if you’ve read this before, it’s because I wrote it for mark lee over on my other blog [ncteez]. we wanted to make it jake, and by we i mean me. i wanted to read this as jake. sorry to religious ppl, don’t read this if you don’t wanna be railed by a hot guy wielding a cross. 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― DUB CON.  use of the words: whore, slut, for the record, the cross is not raw wood and has a smooth finish,  reader is first attempting to seduce the priest through confession lmao, she’s also just a massive whore just like me :), jake is the priest’s son, jerking off, penetration using a wooden cross, unprotected sex, spitting, choking on and/or sucking off a cross, degradation, and name-calling, he’s a godfearing man but also he likes sexual perversions, humiliation, explicitly getting fucked in a church, kind of fingering? 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake wonders why you’re always making confessions, time and time again, once a week, every single week….eagerly. Like you’re excited for your sin or something. 

Huh.

Then again, once a week his father is expected to listen to confessions from the other churchgoers, even Jake himself is expected to confess. Often he will make up sins that he has committed just to seem as though he has been learning from some sort of mistake. Never would Jake actually tell his father through a confession booth what he has done or is willing to do. He’s an adult, he can confess whatever he wants. 

You, on the other hand, you’re working his father to the bone in terms of forgiveness. 

Jake’s interest piques at the very idea of a young woman, around his age, wanting to confess so much. Did you  hurt someone? Does you hurt yourself? Did you kill someone? Or maybe you’re just caught up in a situation that makes you commit atrocities? He can’t even imagine what one person could be doing to elicit such an eager need of forgiveness so consistently. 

Always the first in the box, always with those inappropriate outfits too. 

 Jake makes his way to the back of the church to complete his duties and, of course, he isn’t surprised to see you enter the confession booth. After all, it is the start of a new week. 

Hushed whispers were echoing through the large space and only now does he realize that you almost always confess when the church is nearly empty. You must not be unaware of his presence at all, unaware that he is the son of the priest that you spill your sins to, and unaware that he can absolutely hear you when he walks closer.

He isn’t entirely sure why he is listening. The walls of this church echo any and every sound, and to be fair, the only reason his interest is piqued is because his father was silent from the moment you had entered the booth. All he heard was you. You didn’t seem to start the confession off in a proper manner either, so yeah, maybe it caught him off guard too.

His ears make attempts to adjust to the words coming from the booth, but your voice is coming out in a tone that he has never used himself when seeking salvation. Minutes pass and he still hasn’t heard his father speak a word back to you, not to encourage you, not to stop you. It’s just you, addressing dreams, visions, wants, and needs. 

Certainly not confession. In fact, you’re actively sinning, attempting to seduce. 

“I woke up shaking, Father. What should I do?” 

Jake notes how quiet his father is still, despite you asking him what to do about the dream. His face sours when you continue to speak, this time in a slightly louder tone. 

“I just can’t help myself sometimes, I–”

It’s not that it’s intentional, really, it isn’t. If anything at all, Jake is incredibly disgusted by your attempts to dirty talk during a confession. Disgusted that you’d do such a thing, and…maybe intrigued by what you may have said that he wasn’t quite able to catch before. He quietly moves to the other side of the booth, the side where you seem to be spouting off all sorts of things, and he raises his head to listen a bit more. 

“You were big, you know? I can’t get thoughts of you out of my head. Have you ever touched a woman, Father?”

Jake leans in further, his body reacting more than his disgust. Unfortunately, his length growing in his pants ceases the moment his father cuts you off. 

“Enough.” His father finally stops you from abusing the booth, from abusing him.

Not another word is spoken and Jake does his best to back away quickly and quietly as you exit the booth. Of course, he’s acting as though he is sweeping a corner when he turns to look at you. Eye contact is made and he can feel an intense rush of heat spread across his cheeks.

Ah, so you’re a whore.

His father stays inside of the booth for a long, drawn out, three or so minutes before exiting and all Jake can think about is if you walked out of the church soaked and warm between your legs. It’s not even that Jake is into sinning. He isn’t. His entire life was built around this church, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a man. He has needs just like you do, apparently.

Never would he get what he needs from a woman as dirty as yourself, though, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about it and how your voice sounds when you were actively trying to fuck his dad.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You’re disgusting.” Jake narrows his eyes at you when you pass by, spitting the words at you with a grimace. 

“Excuse me?” You ask, stopping in your tracks and looking back at him just as harshly. You didn’t provoke him to speak to you at all, let alone fucking insult you? 

“You think I can’t hear the way you speak to my dad during your little “confessions”?” He takes a step forward as he whispers at you, air quoting the word confession with a roll of his eyes.. “You really think he’s just going to take you up on the offer?” 

Narrowing your own eyes, you step closer to Jake to stop anyone else from hearing his little tantrum. 

“Wanna tell me why he always listens to my “confessions” then?” You question back, mimicking the air quotes and smirking as you walk away from him, not even letting him answer.

Jake watches as you leave, upset that he didn’t get a rise out of you at all and instead was offered a genuine question that sits in his mind. Why does his father allow you to make a confession after confession if all it is, is an attempt to seduce him? You’re even ashamed of it, it seems, and it pisses him off to no end. 

Rushing after you, he is quick to grab at your dress and pull you back.

“Might as well just show up naked with the way you act around here,” He starts with a bite in his tone, dragging you off, down the hall and into a side room that usually remains empty. 

He intends to put a stop to this because he’s heard several more of your confessions by his own will and learns that, apparently, your only sin is being a fucking slut. 

“You have no place here.” He adds as he closes the door behind the two of you. Unintentionally locking you into a space that he’s directly saying you don’t belong in.

“Acting like you don’t think about fucking. Hah. We both know I’m not the only one,” You laugh, walking across the room with a shrug. It’s not the first time you’ve been reprimanded in a church, and it probably won’t be the last. “Besides, your dad probably thinks about me late at night after tucking your grown ass into bed like a child.” 

Jake narrows his eyes even more at you.

“Bet that pisses you off.”

“You’re ridiculous to think he would even want someone like you.” Jake scoffs harshly at you, gut bubbling with annoyance. “To think about sex this often too? I can’t imagine anyone would want to touch such a slut.”

You watch him walk towards you, with his perfectly tucked shirt and his darkened and angry eyes. Being alone with him doesn’t help his argument though because, in all fairness, he’s just as hot, if not hotter than his father. 

“What about you then?” You ask, leaning against one of the shelves in the room, running your hand up your legs, and hiking your dress up a couple of inches. 

“Your dad with his lingering eyes won’t admit to having ever touched a woman. Yet here you are.” You call out the priest’s lie with a snide chuckle before continuing. Fingers massaging your own fleshy thighs, watching the way Jake struggles with his own lingering eyes. “What about you? You ever fuck anyone?”

Jake grimaces, wrinkling his nose as he watches you. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” He questions, stomping over to you and pushing your dress back down below your knees.

“Oh!” You laugh, ticking your tongue at him and tilting your head. “You said a bad word. Aren’t you going to ask for forgiveness?���

He stares at you for a few seconds, being face to face with a woman that seems so desperate for any touch has his heart racing. He’s trying to call you out, not turn you on.

“Can’t you act decent? I barely know you and you’re flaunting yourself at me.” Jake bellows, stumbling back from you and examining the way your body is relaxed.

 You really seem to be enjoying this. 

“You’re the one who pulled me in here. Was it really to argue with me, or were you trying to get to me before Father does?”

Thinking for a moment, Jake realizes he’s the reason this is happening. He could have just let you leave like everyone else, after all, you were attempting to go home. Here he is though, and there you are. 

“He would never.” Jake laughs, mocking your attempts to pretend his father would be interested in you. 

“And again, what about you?” You shoot back instantaneously, watching the way his words get caught in his throat. 

He’s a weak man, truly, because the very thought of what’s under your dress, the very idea that you’re so willing, fogs his brain to the point of almost malfunctioning. It would be so fucking easy if he wanted to. 

No one would even know. 

Before you even know it, you can feel the air in the room change as he storms closer to you and rips your dress upwards to your waist. Instantly, he’s shoving his hand straight between your legs. 

A small yelp leaves your throat followed by a laugh. Perfect. 

“I knew it.” You giggle,  bumping your head a bit against the shelf at the force of his movement. You can feel the way his palm cups your core and presses in harshly through his silent breaths. “I fucking knew you were dirty.”

“Stop,” Jake demands, bringing his other hand to cover your mouth. “Stop talking.” He continues, already pulling his hand from your core and second-guessing himself. 

“If you want it so bad, I’m going to need you to shut the fuck up.” 

You nod with a smile against his palm, breathing in when he pulls it back and trusts your ability to stay quiet. He’s staring directly into your eyes as if he’s threatening you. As if he will stop if you make a single peep. A promise that he will probably get you banned from the church if anyone were to find out what’s happening in this room right now.  At his darkened gaze, you poke your tongue out, licking his palm and watching him pull back in aroused shock at how unashamed you are regarding your arousal. But, you do stay true to your work and remain quiet once his eyes trail down. 

He looks at you as if you’re some sort of monstrous entity, and for him at this moment, you probably are. But even with that, you see what’s growing in his pants before he lowers himself onto the floor. Positioning his face right in front of your clothed pussy. 

What a dirty, dirty boy.

Jake can see the wet stain of your panties and all he can do is roll his eyes. 

“You’re insane.” He laughs, eyes darting up to your face, looking at you like he wants to shame you. “Getting so messy in such a place, all for men who don’t fucking want you?” 

You nod, wiggling your hips at him in an attempt to entice his lips to attach there. But he doesn’t. He just stands right back up to his feet and takes a step backwards. 

“I bet if I left you here, you’d chase after me.” He mocks. “I bet you think I’m gonna stick it in you, don’t you?”

Proudly, you smile with a nod. Of course he's going to stick it in. You can see how hard he’s gotten. Sin or not, you know when a man wants to fuck you. Jake won’t be able to resist sooner or later, son of the priest or not. 

“Wow,” He laughs quietly, shaking his head at you as he reaches behind a podium and pulls out a large, lacquered wooden cross. “You really are stupid.”

Great, you think as your face falls. He’s definitely about to start preaching to you with that stupid fucking cross. Maybe he will even attempt to perform an exorcism to expel the horny demons out of you.

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes, standing yourself up straight from against the shelf and patting your dress back down into position. “Don’t start this shit.” You’re already preparing to walk out without looking twice at him, but he laughs right back at you.

“You think you know everything.” He chuckles, walking towards the door and locking it. He stands in front of it now, crossing his arms and staring at you. 

“Don’t I?” You ask, eyeing the way he presents himself to you right now. 

“Did I not just imply that I wouldn’t use my cock on you?” He questions, twitching in his pants at the way you stand before him, much smaller in energy now. 

He can tell you’re still trying to act brave, and it delights him to see the realization spread across that pretty, silent mouth. 

Oh. Oh. 

“You’re going to–?” You swallow hard, realizing that of all the sins you could commit, the implication of being penetrated with a cross, solely so this man doesn’t have to fuck a whore isn’t one you ever thought of. 

This room doesn’t even feel like part of a church now as he holds the cross with more reason than praying. 

“Yeah,” He assures you. “I am.” Stepping forward toward you and looming down at your face. “Now get on the desk.” 

You don’t know why, but your body acts on instinct for him. Immediately walking to the desk and propping yourself onto it. 

“Take off your clothes.” He demands again, watching you intently as he stays in place, rubbing the long end of the cross much like he’d like to do for himself right now. 

God, watching such a stubborn woman do everything he says is…well, it’s new for him and it ignites a new type of arousal within him. 

And you watch him back as you begin to slip your dress from your shoulders, lifting your ass so that you can push it down and onto the floor. 

“Oh, now you wanna act shy?” He mocks, walking towards you as you attempt to tug at your panties. “And keep those on. No one wants to see that.”

Goddamn, you don’t even have the decency to wear a bra to service? Lucky for him though, your breasts are enough to drive him past the point of return. There’s no thought, fear, or prayer in his head right now as you reveal yourself to him. Going as far as trying to flash your pussy? Oh, he could laugh. 

You stay quiet, doing as you’re told and watching the way he examines you. He must feel so in control right now and you’re happy to let him, but you can see him falling apart behind his eyes. 

His cock is incredibly obvious beneath his nice dress pants, but you wouldn’t dare reach out to touch him, not yet at least. You’ll let him have his fun, despite the slight nervousness within you regarding that cross.

“Open your mouth.” He says, dragging the cross against your nipples and onto your chin. “Suck it.”

You almost shake your head at him. Such a hard wood sliding down your throat would surely hurt. It’ll bruise, it’ll fucking suffocate you.

Jake doesn’t seem to care about any of that though, because all he does in response to your widened and fear-stricken eyes is press the wood against your lips with a face of concentration. 

You purse your lips, muffling a displeased grunt at his acts.

“You scared?” He smiles first, pulling the cross away and now tracing his fingers along your lips before prying them inside and hooking your mouth open. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know how to suck.”

You relent this time, feeling the cold and smooth tip of the cross enter past your lips when he resumes his previous assault. It’s not that you are against doing it, you just…haven’t done it before.

 You’re not exactly sure of how to respect a holy relic such as this one when you’re expected to choke on it. 

“That’s it.” Jake coos, pressing the cross further into your mouth. “Open up real wide.” 

You close your eyes at his voice, licking the smoothed object with an intensity you didn’t know you had. After all, it’s been so long since you’ve been intimate with a person, hence the constant wet dreams about your priest. This is somehow, incredibly hot to you. To have his son fucking your mouth, regardless of what object he’s using to do it. 

Still, it does hurt. The intricate edges of the cross bruises each time it hits the clenching walls of your throat and mouth, but Jake seems to like the sound of you choking and sobbing around it. After all, he just continues to press the cross further and further in. Probably relishing in the way you try to swallow around it and relax your throat. 

His eyes are so focused, seeing how much of it you can take and only imagining how good it would feel if it were his cock choking you right now. Despite your sputtering and crying eyes, you’re taking it so well. 

Yeah, you’ve definitely done this before. Probably swallowed up some guy’s cum and begged for more despite still having a cock wedged in your throat. How lucky for them to have someone so desperate to be gagged. 

“You’re filthy for doing this, you know that?” He laughs at your pain and how you don’t try to pull at his pushing hand, tipping the cross just a bit so that its hardened wood hits your throat in a way that hurts a bit too much.

You cough around it, only now pushing his hand back in protest. The tears are pouring from your eyes when the cross slides out of your mouth, and all you can do is blink up at him as you try to regain your breath. 

Half expecting him to immediately hold your head in place just to shove the cross back in, Jake pulls back instead, tilting his head down to look at your panties. 

Your legs instinctively cross to hide your arousal, but he prys your legs open regardless, forcing you to act as the whore you so wanted to be. For his father, for him, for anyone who would be willing, honestly. 

You’ve gotten wetter. 

“You’re so gross, I can’t believe you get off to this–” He laughs, feeling his cock begin to fucking ache. “You can take more, then.” 

No, no. You don’t want to keep sucking it, but your mouth opens anyway. Too turned on by the idea of seeing Jake’s reaction to watching you be so dirty, so blasphemous. 

The way he moans when you open your mouth willingly this time is…well, he looks fucking good. He sounds even better. 

You take it into your mouth without so much as a second thought this time, allowing him to slide the cross back and forth against your tongue and into your throat. You willingly swallow around the harsh edges, tears falling all the while, of course.  

You’re gagging so softly around it, he’s almost jealous over how you wanted his dad before you wanted him. Surely no one would do this for you, right? His father would never be with such a horny, needy, and dirty woman. 

Jake though….shamefully, is very into it. 

Into you, rather.

When he pulls it out this time, your saliva coats the cross in a way that nearly breaks his brain. Intensely, he stares at your lips, slack and waiting for him to continue his abuse. God, he’s so jealous. To think you would do this with someone else? With anyone? Anything? 

It turns him on beyond belief, but feeling jealous of the fucking cross isn’t exactly something Jake wants to admit. His father? Sure, whatever. But a relic he’s prayed to his whole life? Growing resentful of it just because you take it down your pretty and bruised throat? 

No. 

Jake shifts now, unable to satiate the arousal within him without grabbing your hand and forcing you to grope his hidden cock. So hard, so fucking hard, he nearly lets out his own sob at the euphoric touch when he actually does it. 

You’re a bit shocked that he’s letting you touch him, but you take the opportunity and run with it. You press your palm against him without any amount of shame, and all you can do is watch as he hangs his head, the saliva coated cross still gripped in his other hand. 

“Bet you wanted to fuck my mouth.” You croak out, your voice sounding just as raw at your throat. “Bet you wanted me to take all of it and beg for your cum.” 

His head shoots up in response to that as he grabs your face harshly, bucking against your hand at the same time. “Stop talking.” He seethes, releasing your face and inserting his fingers into your mouth instead. “Stick your tongue out.”

You do as he says, feeling his heavy cock twitching against your palm with each press. 

Jake seems like an expert at this, you aren’t sure, but when he presses your tongue down with his fingers to open your throat up, he spits into your mouth so easily that you have no choice but to swallow it.

Well, okay. He could probably get away with doing that a few more times if he wanted to.

You moan when you swallow, lending him a dopey smile that shocks him. You weren’t supposed to like that in his eyes, but when you grab his cock in response rather than just palm at it, he can’t help but moan back at you. 

His fingers continue to hold your tongue down as you jerk him off over his pants, and his hips stutter all the while until he loses all composure. Within a second, he stalks even closer, slamming both hands against the desk on either side of you and leaning forward to pin you there.

And then he grinds forward against your weak hand, pinned between him and the edge of the desk. 

Yet still, he’s gripping that fucking cross as he pins you here.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, I can see it.” He croaks, not even allowing you to offer him a nod before he’s got his lips attached to yours and he’s licking into your mouth. It feels impossibly better than that cross pressing against the back of your throat but you swallow his kiss just as easily. 

His hips continue to grind as he licks into your mouth like a man who doesn’t know how to kiss at all. So rough and messy with it, groaning more and more before he’s nearly a panting mess before you. He pulls back from the kiss only for a moment to stare at you, eye contact more fierce than it was before. 

“I think you’re the one who wants to fuck me.” You manage to slip out before he can silence you again, and his eyes narrow instantly. 

More than anything, that’s what he wants to do to you. He wants to shut you up in as many ways possible right now, and he definitely wants fucking you to be one of those ways. But he can’t, and he won't. 

“Hah–you’d love that.” He laughs, reaching his empty hand between the two of you to press his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. 

You can’t even get a good look at it, because he’s instantly grabbing himself and fucking his fist before looking back up at you. 

“Go on, look.” He says, leaning a bit so that you can watch him jerk off in full view now. “Bet you’d beg for it if I told you to.”

“Please?” You instantly let out, eyes staring at the angry head of his cock leaking and pulsing.

“I didn’t say to actually beg–” He groans, halting his hand and instead, thrusting his hips into the tightly formed hole he’s created. “I’m not going to fuck you.” He laughs again, now pulling the cross back and into your view with a wicked smirk. 

Of course. The cross. Well, at least you’re going to be fucked with something right?

 You eye the piece of wood and then go back to watching him. You’re not sure what it is about this situation but it feels like your body is on fire. Maybe it’s because hell is right beneath you, just a floorboard away from what the two of you have gotten yourselves into behind this locked door.

“Oh?” He halts his hips and licks his lips. “You actually want me to fuck you with this?”

You nod frantically, spreading your legs in front of him and showing off how large the spot on your panties has grown since he last inspected it. You watch as his eyes practically burn a hole through your pussy.

Only then does he release his own cock and look back into your eyes. More seriously this time when reality and guilt clicks in his head. 

“You are aware of what we are about to do, right?” His confidence falters blatantly as he glances at the cross. “Like, if you ever tell my dad about this, I will be disowned.” 

“You think I’d snitch on you?” You roll your eyes, body nearly shaking to get fucked. God, why does he have to stop now?

“Well, since you’re so inclined to confess every fucking day–”

“Jake, you literally just fucked my throat with it.” You deadpan, hooking your legs around him to pull him close enough to feel his cock hit your wet panties. “You’re the dirtiest one here, I’m not going to give that up just to see you get disowned.” 

He laughs at you for that. Because yeah, maybe he is. Maybe he’s the one who shouldn’t be in church, and maybe he’s the one who should have been confessing this whole time. Never in his life has he ever done this, or so much as imagined doing it, it’s so perverse. So, wrong. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what’s attractive about it. 

For some reason, his cock jumps when you say you’re not giving him up because he’s dirty. 

“And–” You soften your voice, trying to lure him. “You don’t have to use the cross, you know.” 

“No.” He barks out, pulling his hips back and pressing the cross against you instead. “Now, keep your legs open.” 

He gets right back into it without a second thought. He doesn’t care what he’s doing or what the repercussions of doing this will be. It’s not like he wasn’t going to hell before any of this, not based on the fantasies he’s had anyway.

Jake hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down your legs harshly, to the point that they’re stretching so far that it feels like they could cut through your skin. He backs away for a moment upon seeing you grimace at that, allowing you to slip them down your legs before positioning himself back between them.

“I’m dirty?” He says, looking at your pussy and the way it clenches around absolutely nothing. He sees the slick seeping out of you already, and it’s not only pathetic but so fucking desperate of you. “Fucking look at that.”

You smile at it, knowing that he’s degrading you but absolutely loving the view if his focused eyes are anything to go by.

Before the cross, he experimentally traces his fingers along your folds until he gets to your hole, and without hesitation, he slips one of them in. The grip of your walls alone could probably send him over the edge if he were to make a last-minute change and shove his cock into you, but he holds back. Instead, he traces the cross against you in the same way he did with his fingers, slowly inserting it alongside his digit. 

Pulling back, Jake watches your face as the cross opens you up, probably dragging against your walls uncomfortably as a reminder of the ultimate sin you’re committing with him right now. 

When your face doesn’t contort into that of pain, he pulls his finger out of you and places his hand back on his cock. Still staring at your face, he fucks the cross in and out of you. Relishing in the sound of how wet you are for this, and for him to give it to you.

 He does this until, finally, you moan.

Upon that little whimper of a moan, Jake is sent into a different headspace. One that quickens his pace with the object inside of you, one that tightens the grip on himself. 

Now, oh now, he’s playing for fun. He presses it in and then pulls it all the way out just to see your pussy beg for more. Holding back a moan over how fucking hot it is to see, he opts to coo out at you.

“Bet it would feel so good.” He breathes, trying to ignore the shiver that shoots through his body at the way you yearn for it. “Could shove my cock right in, you’d just take it, wouldn’t you?” 

Before you can answer, he’s thrusting the relic right back into you. In, out, in, out. Deeper, harder, fucking faster. And he offers the same for himself, tightening his fist, nearly abusing his own cock at the sight of your swollen hole swallow up the wood. Really, he makes a point to fuck himself just to imagine it’s you that’s squeezing him.  

If he thinks hard enough, it really is almost like he’s the one fucking you. 

He keeps this up for a few minutes, up until your legs are shaking around him and you begin to reach out with your hands. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s incredibly fucking horny right now, he’d probably be rushing for the altar to save you from whatever demon is possessing you.

 But, he knows that this is no demon, this is all his own doing. He’s loving it. Every single bit of this situation is being burned into his memory, and when your legs shake, it only urges him to fuck the object into you harder.

You whimper out strings of nonsense, almost begging for a release from this grasp he is holding over you both physically and mentally, but he doesn’t relent. Your pathetic cunt is being pounded by an object that should have you crying in fear, but instead, you’re so close to release you can only beg for more, more, fucking more. 

And god, he keeps giving it to you.

In an attempt to open your eyes, you feel dizzy with lust. Your hips buck up against the object with intent, and you can’t stop watching him. 

“Goddamn.” Jake stutters a sin, watching you fuck yourself against the holy relic. Thankful to rest his arm and be able to just…watch.

And oh, he’s watching and intensely imagining that it’s you on him. He can’t stop thinking about how fucking warm you must be, how tight, how sinfully delicious your pussy must be for you to be acting like this. And that thought is what forces him to lose it.

You were so focused, on the verge of your orgasm when you feel him practically tear the cross out of you, dropping it to the floor before – oh fuck.

You feel him. Something bigger, something thicker ramming into you. He’s prying you open more than he did previously, already pumping in and out at a frantic speed. Instantly, you cling onto him with a bruising grip, listening to his shameless moans as he realizes the lack of control he has over his own body or thoughts. 

Jake practically falls over you in euphoria as you cling, forcing you to fall back against the desk as he relentlessly plunges his hips. His breath is heavy against your neck as he loses himself, and all you can do is thank the same god you just disrespected for this cock that’s abusing your hole in all of the right ways.

“I can’t–” He groans out against your ear, his hips not stopping their relentless assault. “You’re so fucking dirty.” He insults, pushing you up the desk with each thrust. “So good.”

You can barely make a sound from the force behind his hips, only small yelps leaving your throat each time he slams in. And fuck, you want nothing more than to rub your clit right now. You could cum all over him, you could really make him feel good. 

And as if your prayers are answered, Jake apparently knows exactly how to pleasure a woman. Hm, curious. He knows how to do it fucking well too, as you feel his fingers rub against the swollen nub in the exact same way you would right now. Painful, intense.

The fact that he wants you to cum is delicious.

Your orgasm hits you almost instantly, pussy sucking in him each time he goes to thrust, and the sounds coming from your throat could be considered demonic by some, but he swallows them up with ease when he notes that you’re cumming all over him. 

Jake licks into your mouth, soothing you with dirty words when he pulls back to breathe. 

“You should see yourself–” He pants out, sticking his tongue out to lick against your lip. “Getting me all messy too?” He says again through a moan. “You’re beautiful.” He adds like a period at the end of a sentence. 

That alone makes you feel…different. In fact, it prolongs your orgasm far past sensitivity when he continues to thrust into you. You can’t tell if he said that because he’s close, or if it’s because he meant it. 

Quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck if he meant it. 

Jake stutters his hips when you lift your head just slightly, gripping his hair and skewing his head to the side so that you can whisper into his ear. 

“Want me to beg for your cum?” You whisper with a shaking voice. “You’d love that too, wouldn’t you? I know I would.”

His eyes squeeze shut as he aggressively turns his head and, once again, pries your mouth open with his tongue. A bruising kiss follows as he fucks his last few thrusts into you, doing just as you implied he should.

He pumps his cum into you relentlessly, thankful that it’s not all over his pants and entirely milked into that sinful cunt of yours. Thankful that you also got off around him instead of that forgotten cross on the floor. 

He wants nothing more than to remind you time and time again who got to you first. It was him, not his father. 

You smile at him when he pulls back out of breath, examining his pants before stuffing his sensitive cock back into them and reaching down for the cross.

“If you ever fucking tell my dad about this–” He seethes out of breath, trying to pretend that he can regain composure so soon after fucking you the way he just did. Still, he narrows his eyes at you much as he had done before. 

“Go on.” You say, voice shaking as you try to grasp back onto reality from whatever world his cock had sent you into. 

Jake is at a loss for words, because, what could he possibly do about it if you were to tell? He looks at you, still spread out against the desk, dress crumpled, his cum seeping out of you in a messy show of how much of an absolute whore he forced you to be.

“Just, don’t tell him.” He finally says, averting his eyes from you and looking at the cross in his hand. 

“Do you feel bad already?” You ask out, finally lifting to get off of the desk.

“Don’t you?” 

You shake your head, struggling to stand as the seething pain of having a wooden cross stuck into you shoots through your body. “Not really.” You try to laugh, but you wince instead.

“Yeah, I figured you’d probably be hurting after all of that.” He finally says in a somewhat apologetic tone, walking up to you with a soothing hand.

You’re a little shocked by his kindness. 

“Yeah, a little.” You laugh it off though because, at the moment, it felt good. You wouldn’t have wanted it any other way despite how blasphemous the act was.  

“Oh.” Jake seems sorrowful in his tone, but his gaze doesn't leave you. “I- um, I don’t know how to make it like, not hurt?” He scratches the back of his head.

In your attempt to put your dress back on, you do note that the pain inside of you isn’t unfamiliar. You’d been fucked hard before, but that was a long time ago. You missed this feeling, realizing that it was exactly what you think you needed. 

“It’ll pass.” You assure him, taking a deep breath and trying to stumble your way to the door. “I guess I’ll see you later, then?” 

Jake dips his head with a small nod, feeling guilty for what he’s done. Not because of the cross, not because of the sin, but because he’s unsure of how to pretend like he wouldn’t want to do it again.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"Where's Mummy?"

A oneshot fluff, entirely headcanon based, featuring all 3 of the LNDS men being a father. Requested by a lovely follower of mine. Hope this is an enjoyable read for you all. The names of the kids are based on my take, but if you want to include names of kids you had thought of with your husbandos, you may slot that in on your own will!

Want some angst? Go with this series of mine, tears guaranteed: Damnation

Warnings: Fluff as per usual however, there shall be suggestive themes for this, soooo let you imagination run free :)

RAFAYEL - FATHER TO A GIRL

"I'll be fine. Stop worrying would you?" Rafayel groaned with a smile. "Our daughter will be alright." He walked beside you, accompanying you towards the front door. "I am more worried about you with your work instead. So take care of yourself, please? For our sake?"

His concern made you rolled your eyes playfully, leaning in to give him a long kiss. "I will be home by evening, I promise." Your eyes stared into those mauve purple eyes of your husband's, only to have him yank you back into his arms and pressing his lips to yours again. Provocating you into a minor makeout session. Breaths becoming heavier by every passing minute.

You bit your lip the moment he pulled away, reminiscing the feeling of his soft and tender lips against yours. "Don't want you to be late, unless you want to call in sick for the day, hmm?" He winked, a hint dropped for you to decipher. "You know I can't Rafayel." Your answer made the man pout, arms crossed, but eventually surrendering to the reality of your situation. He press a small kiss against your cheek and sent you off on your way. He stood at the entryway, watching you get onto your bike and rode it out of the front yard and onto the empty streets.

Heading back in, he sat at his usual thinking corner, eyeing the piece of artwork he had yet to finish. Thomas was expecting this piece to be done by two days ago. But an artist's work should not be rushed, Rafayel being an advocate for quality over quantity. He sighed, walking over to pick up his palette stained with an array of colours, before sitting himself in front of the artwork and continued working on his piece.

Hours had passed since then, the strokes of the painter finally stopped when his artwork is finished. He grabbed his phone off of the coffee table and called Thomas. "Rafayel, where the hell is the piece of---"

"It's done, you can come and collect it tonight once it is all dried up." Rafayel spoke, then Thomas started to inform him about the upcoming interviews that he has to attend, one for the local magazine, one for an exhibition taking place abroad... Pitters and patters of feet across the marble floor made Rafayel lost his focus. He turned around to find his daughter, Mariela awake. "Daddy duty calls."

The phone call ended abruptly, with Thomas ending his note on 'There was also an artwork you have to---' Call ended. Ever since Rafayel had taken on his duties as a father, he made sure his works are delayed long enough just so he could spend time with his own family. Recently, you had been called on for many more missions as there has been a shortage of deepspace hunters.

Rafayel and you had discussed about the delegation of responsibilities while being parents to a newborn. Rafayel insisted that you should quit your job so that you could stay at home with him and Mariela. Money not being any concern to your family to begin with. But you could not, you could not abandon your duties as a deepspace hunter, especially when there are not a lot of new recruits coming in.

So you both settled on a solution that meets both ends. Rafayel would delay his paintings and take care of Mariela if you happen to not be at home, but your sacrifice would be to not work past evening times. Him not wanting you to overexert yourself and still being able to spend time with you as a family. The miniature version of you and Rafayel clumsily walked over to him. Small and chubby hands rubbing her cheeks in circles.

"Good morning my little fishie." Rafayel knelt down and gave her a hug, a usual greeting for morning and night. "How was your sleep?"

"Good." She replied, arms curled around her father's neck as he carried her up in his arms. "Where is mummy?"

"Mummy has to work so today, you will hang out with daddy, yeah?" Rafayel sat her at her baby chair by the dining table. He took a plate of ready-made mini pancakes and poured a cup of warm milk into a cup. "Mummy even made you your favourite breakfast." The idea of having his kid eating such sugary stuffs in the morning is unfavoured. But since y/n had woken up extra early today to prepare the breakfast for her daughter, Rafayel will let it slide for this once. but we all know he too soft of a father to reject that if it ever happens again

Watching his child dig into the pancakes, Rafayel started allowing his mind to wander. Mariela's name came about while his wife was pregnant, and you had both agreed on wanting your child to have names related to the sea to remind the child's origins of being half-Lemurian. Rafayel was thrilled to have their names being related to the waters he used to live in and so the naming process is entirely within his control. Both of you settled on Mariela eventually, the name a direct representation of the star of the sea.

...

When y/n rode past the main gates and towards the yard, you found you husband, with your daughter standing next to him, waiting for you at the front of the door. Mariela the size of a toadstool next to her 6' tall father. But her big, doe-like eyes took the shade of Rafayel's, a mirror of his lilac-blue mixture. "Hey there!" You greeted excitedly, quickly pushing yourself off of your motorbike and rushed over to hug your daughter tightly in your arms.

"Mummy!" The brunette toddler giggled, arms wrapped around her mother and head tucked into your neck. The hug between the two was interrupted with Rafayel hugging both of them. Three of them within a circle of a hug. "Hi, mummy. I missed you."

"I missed you too, so so much." A big kiss was given to the toddler's cheek and they all walked further into the house. "What did you do with daddy today?"

"Daddy taught me how to draw fish and he taught me Wewuma." She spoke, a wide grin evident on her cherubic cheeks. This made y/n confused and you turned to look for Rafayel for an explanation but sees him being on the phone. Assuming it is Thomas on the other end of the line.

"That's good darling." You held her close to you, legs directing towards her bedroom. "But I think it is nap time for you okay? Mummy and daddy will make dinner and then later we are going to have pasta!" Mariela's eyes lit up at the word 'pasta', for she is a huge lover of carbs just like you. No doubt you two are of the same bloodline.

Once you had laid your daughter to nap, you started prepping the ingredients in the huge kitchen. Rafayel came by your side and hugged you from behind, breathing in your scent deeply. "I missed you wifey." He mumbled into the crooks of your neck and drew circles on the side of your hips.

"What is wewuma?" You turned over slightly, the question directed towards your husband. But his expression matches yours, confusion written all over his face. "Our daughter said you taught her wewuma today."

That sentence made Rafayel laughed, releasing you from his embrace and with him smacking his hand against the marble counter a couple of times. "Wewuma!" He continued his laugh, but mellowed down when he noticed that you became more confused than ever. "I taught her how to speak Lemurian." He said, the wide, cheeky grin not leaving his face anytime soon.

"Oh." Realisation hits you about his lesson for the day and you shake your head, chuckling at how your daughter had the word pronounced earlier. You can't blame her, as she is not a preschooler yet. Rafayel attached himself to your back again, his lips pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear and you blushed. Despite being married for quite some time, his intimate actions never failed to make you feel like a giddy teen girl.

"Lemurian is already a dying language. So, wifey..." He nibbled your ears lightly, whispering his question quietly. "How about we make one more little us?" His arms tightened around your hips and you felt something pressed against your bum, making you gasped in teasing pleasure. He turned you around forcefully and pushed you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly, spreading your legs. "Right here. Tonight."

˚ · • . ° .

ZAYNE - FATHER TO A PAIR OF TWINS

"Thanks a lot, my love." You leaned forward to hug your husband, after knowing that he had planned an itinerary for you to get yourself pampered for a whole day. That includes making the necessary bookings and paying for all of the expenses. Not to mention the extra money he had given you so you may use it to buy anything you please from the mall you would be visiting later in your itinerary. "You deserve it. Given how much you had cared for the kids the past few days as I was busy with work." He leaned down slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as a loving gesture. "In return, I shall take care of the kids today."

Zayne fetched you to the middle of Linkon city, where all of the activities planned out in the itinerary are located before he headed back. Not wanting to go home to his toddlers being awake from their sleep. When he arrived home, he heard the creak of a door as he was placing his shoes on the shoe rack. Lumi and Iver, hand in hand, facing their father.

"Daddy?" The both of them spoke in sync, given their connection as twins. Fraternal twins, a rare occurrence for any mothers in life. They are considered a miracle given the statistics whereas out of 100 births that happen, only 2 mothers would end up with fraternal twins. And the percentage of getting fraternal twins are way lesser as compared to conceiving twins of the same gender.

Short way to put it, y/n and Zayne have a very special family, in fact they may be one of the few families within Linkon city to have a pair of fraternal twins. Hence, they are very lucky indeed. Both of the twins were named after snow or winter season, with Zayne's evol being the main inspiration. Zayne's daughter Lumi, carries the meaning of snow and light, while Iver's name means winter in French.

Contrary to their names, none of them have any features that are pale as the cold weather, except for their milky white skin. There had always been a debate on which child inherited the looks of which parent, in this case, Lumi looks like her mother and Iver takes on his father's looks. And it could easily be differentiated from their hair and eye colour.

"Both of you just woke up?" Zayne's voice was gentle, going over to both of his kids and bending down to their eye level. They are both 3 years old, so you can imagine how tough it was for him to lower his height just to meet their eyes. "What do you want to eat?"

"Daddy, can we watch you make eggs?" Iver asked, his hazel green orbs twinkled under the sun rays shining in through their sky light. "The ones that are flat?" He even used his hand to draw a line in the air, to demonstrate the word 'flat' to his father.

Zayne smiled, nodding his head and walked towards the kitchen with the two toddlers bobbing behind him. Their standard breakfast had consisted of nothing but nutritious food which are vital for their growths. For their father is a doctor afterall. Zayne sat them both into their respective baby chairs and put on an apron, not wanting to dirty his outfit, and he started to cook, with the twins watching his every move. A few 'wah' and 'daddy, daddy, do it again!' slipping from their mouths every once in a while when Zayne does something out of the blue.

Half of the day passed, Lumi and Iver sat in the living room after Zayne had given them a bath and a change of clothings. They will be heading out soon for dinner. Zayne has never been a huge fan of cooking, but only does it out of necessity. The same rule applies even now, breakfasts can be done at home but for dinners, if time allows for both of the parents, Zayne would much rather eat out with his family.

"Daddy, time! Time!" Lumi shouted from the living room when they heard the cuckoo's chime, hailing from the handmade wooden clock that you bought a while ago. Although the toddlers had yet to enter pre-school, they are both surprisingly fast-learners. 9 months in, both of them had already started learning alphabets, and by now, their vocabulary has expanded beyond the age of usual three year olds. You strongly believe Zayne's genes are the cause behind this.

Zayne appeared from the room, a long-sleeved black turtleneck clad to his well-built physique, his iconic black slacks makes yet another appearance, and his hand held a dark grey coat. The weather was getting chilly and he decided to bring along a coat for you, the colour identical to his.

"Lumi, Iver, get your coats and I will help you to wear them." Zayne instructed, picking his car key off of the key holder on the wall. He had decided to go with the Maserati Levante i am not sponsored by them but the cars does scream his taste today, a comfortable SUV for his family of four.

"It's okay daddy. Iver will help me." Lumi responded, arms held up horizontally as Iver put on one of the sleeves for her light grey coat, then running over to the other side to help her to put on the remaining sleeves. "My turn." Lumi did the same for her sibling. When they are both done, they walked over to Zayne and held their arms up in sync again, urging their father silently to help them to tie their coats.

Zayne did just that, hair as dark as the night cascading in front his face when he bent down to help his kids tied a knot to secure their coats. Satisfied at the way their knots turned out, he gave each of them a kiss on their cheeks. "Are you both excited to see mummy?"

"YES!" Both of the kids shouted, arms raising, a sign of elatedness. Zayne held onto both of their hands, one on each side and slowly walked them to the car.

...

Zayne had chosen a western restaurant for dinner, reservation timing marked at 6pm. Now, here he sat, with both of his kids secured tightly behind in baby car seats. He was parked temporarily at the valet parking, patiently waiting for his wife. Soft piano music was played in the car to ease the silence as the kids were sound asleep in the back.

Seeing a familiar figure closing in, Zayne got out of the car and walked towards the passenger side, greeting you with a warm hug. "I could not have asked for a better day to pamper myself." You sighed contently, face flat against his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. A scent he would only use whenever he is out with you, a soft mix of pine wood and oakwood as the top notes, vanilla as the middle notes and cinnamon as end notes. A scent you are all too familiar with.

"Then I shall plan more of this for you." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. "You must be hungry, I had already booked us a table at one of the nearby restaurants." He opened the car door and you got into the car. Getting into the car, he added. "The kids are sound asleep behind, I will wake them up once we arrived at the restaurant."

"Hello my babies." You greeted once the car door to the back was opened, watching your twins stirred in their sleep, before eyes slowly fluttering open.

"Iver..." Zayne cooed to his son, standing on the other side of the door, unbuckling the baby seats for the twins. "We had arrived at the restaurant. Let me give you a lift, alright?" You had never imagine Zayne with kids, given how cold he is of a person. Not mean and ignorant, but just, monotonous, quiet and calm. Having kids with him was unexpected, but him asking for kids was even more shocking.

The young man lifted his son into his arms, smoothing the back of his son's coat to make sure he is fully covered from the brazen cold wind and he headed in after locking the car. With you, holding onto your half-awake daughter behind in, walking swiftly into the restaurant.

The dinner was enjoyable, with the twins munching on to their kids meals and with you sat next to Zayne, having a delectable meal based on the waiter's recommendation. "The food here is good." You commented and your twins looked up, Lumi smiled and nodded, while Iver, with his face stuffed, nodded as well. "So what have you kids been doing today?"

"We watched cartoons." Lumi said, eyes mimicking your eye colours radiating her giddiness. You assumed the cartoons would be more educational rather than entertaining as Zayne does prefer the twins having to gain some form of knowledge from the cartoons. For him, the method is practically killing two birds with one stone. "Daddy also read some storybooks for us." Iver added in, still chewing onto his food, which made Zayne leaned forward to wipe the boy's lips clean with the napkin. "And we took a nap on daddy's chest."

"Be careful of choking, Iver." Zayne warned, his tone soft, giving him son's cheek a soft pinch. Zayne's lips tugged upwards, there is no way he could be mad at his own twins. That is how much he loves them.

"That is good to hear. Sounds like an eventful day for today. And I think daddy did a great job." You happily stated, resuming your meal. A hand on your thigh made you jerked slightly and you looked over, your husband's smile had exchanged for a smirk.

"It is my responsibility to take good care of the kids." He eyed the twins, and facing back to you, his orbs turning a shade darker. "But, it is also my responsibility to make my wife feel good. Mentally..." He trailed off, hands smoothing up your thighs till his thumb glided slowly over your intimate area. The table cloth a good disguise as Zayne's fingers worked his way to pull your panties to the side, collecting the wetness that was pooled there.

You shot daggers towards your husband as this is a public area but he paid no mind to you. The tip of his middle finger, the one adorning the wedding ring, slowly pushed its' way inside of you, pumping an agonizing pace into you. "And physically, of course." pls do this to me too Zayne, i want more babies too

˚ · • . ° .

XAVIER - FATHER TO A SON

"DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!" Lucian came bursting in through the door leading to his parent's room, causing Xavier to stir in his sleep. Eyebrows furrowed at the loud sounds of his son's voice at the early start of the weekend. The copy of Xavier jumped onto the bed and grabbed ahold of his father. "Wake up daddy!"

"Yeah, yeah I am awake now." Xavier yawned, rubbing his eyes with one hand and the other coming up to secure his son on him so he don't fall off. "What's the matter?"

"Mummy said you can take me to go get ice-cream today." His light blue eyes just a tone lighter than his father's when he propped himself up on his father's chest, patiently awaiting for a response. "Daddy please?"

"Okay okay." Xavier chuckled, hugging his son tight in his arms and the young boy laughed. With that, Xavier got out of the bed, with Lucian in his embrace. The hallways outside of the room wafted the smell of noodles and he knew immediately that you are still within the house.

But he was wrong, when he saw you being all dressed up, in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, sitting at the front of your door when you are tying the shoelaces to your sneakers. "Where are you going?" Xavier asked.

You turned at the sound of his voice and watched as Lucian was placed onto the floor by his father and the little boy came running to hug you. "I am heading to the mall with Tara for a little while. She needed me to help her pick out a dress." Standing up, you checked your outfit in the standing mirror for one last time. "At the meantime, you okay with bringing Lucian out for ice-cream?"

Xavier smiled and nodded obediently, taking long strides to press a loving kiss to his wife's lips and he sees her off. Lucian waving his small hands to say bye-bye to his own mother. "Have you eaten yet kiddo?" Xavier asked his son, only for the toddler to shake his head. "Alright, come on, let's have breakfast together. Then we will go for ice-cream later."

Xavier placed Lucian into the baby seat at the dining table and he took off the lid of the pot that was on the stove and he noticed that you had made tomato soup noodles. A dish that you had recently learned from social media. Your first try at making this dish however, was a failure. With Xavier finishing the tasteless noodles and struggling with diarrhea for the next few days. This time, he had his fingers crossed, hoping that the soup would be edible and not cause any unwanted effects.

Before giving the bowl to his son, Xavier tasted the soup base first, to taste if it would be too hot for his son to ingest. To his surprise, the soup was sweet and tangy, which marks a win for your cooking this time. He hungrily filled up his own bowl, before scooping a few spoonfuls of soup and noodles into Lucian's bowl. He also made sure to cut the noodles short enough so it would not cause Lucian to choke on his own food.

"Did mummy made this?" The 3 year old asked, eyes wide, moving in between his father's lips, and to his bear-shaped plastic bowl. Lucian have had a fair share of his father's cooking. The experience of watching his father cook was just as traumatic as eating the food his father had made. There was even this one time, Xavier nearly set the kitchen on fire because he added in some cooking wine into a very hot pan filled with oil and that made Lucian cried for the whole night.

"Yes, your mum made this." Xavier ate his noodles, slurping onto it like a champ. "If she asks me to make breakfast for you, we can just skip breakfast and go for ice-cream instead." Xavier acknowledges his incompetence when it comes to cooking, and it is the only one thing he would not dare to compete with you. he just cant cook anything that deals with fire or electric, just admit it with me boys and girls

...

"Daddy, what do you want?" Lucian asked his father, looking at the flavours that was on display. "Do you want the blue one? Or the green one? Or the red one?" He swung his short legs back and forth, all the while sitting on Xavier's shoulders. The little one did not feel like walking earlier on and that was why Xavier gave him a lift on his shoulders.

"Which one would you like kiddo?" Xavier smiled politely at the waitress behind the counter and the waitress returned the smile, a blush coming onto her face. Who would not blush at the sight of a good looking young man with a son that looks just exactly like him? "How about the blue and red one?"

"Okay!" The young boy excitedly agreed, watching the process of the ice-creamed getting scooped out of the canister and placed onto a cone. Xavier slowly lowered his son down and held onto the hand of the young boy before making the payment at the counter. "Thank you!" Lucian spoke to the cashier when the ice-cream was handed to him and they both took a seat by the window in the store, facing the streets.

Xavier had always wanted a boy, the sole purpose being he could train the son well enough so you can be protected. You were not buying into his idea to begin with but the moment you found out that you were pregnant with a boy, Xavier could not be more than glad. He was so happy to the point he said. "We should name him Lucian, as he shall be the light in our lives." Xavier's words touched your heart and since then, Lucian has been the light in both of your hearts. just like you are the light in OUR HEARTS hello?

The young boy took a lick out of the blue ice-cream, then switched to the red ice-cream and took another lick. Seeing his tongue turning purple, Xavier pointed at his son. "Your tongue is turning purple because of the ice-cream, kiddo." Taking his phone out, he took a picture of Lucian with his purple tongue hanging out of his mouth. He then sent the picture to you, with the caption 'Brain Freeze'.

"Daddy, here." Lucian stretched his arm out, the ice cream in hand and held it in front of his father's face. Xavier took it as an invitation and he took a big bite out of the ice-cream. His action made the young boy flabbergasted, mouth forming an 'O' when he realised that his father just bit off a whole chunk and now he is left with a few more lick of ice cream.

The son's intense gaze at the ice-cream made Xavier felt guilty that he took such a huge bite. His son was not much a naggy child, but he still would not want to upset his little boy. "I'm sorry kiddo, I can---" He wanted to offer to buy the boy another ice-cream but Lucian only laughed, his tone amused.

"That is so funny daddy, when you go AHHH---" Lucian mimicked the way Xavier bit the ice-cream, mouth widely opened and face all crinkled up to show just how big of a bite Xavier had conducted. His son's reaction made Xavier laughed as well, Never knowing his son has such a sense of humour.

The door opened, chiming of the bells at the door could be heard and Xavier looked up, seeing you walking in with a bag in your hands. "Hey boys!" You called out and Lucian turned in his seat and called out to you, arms opened and waiting for you to hug him. Xavier took the ice-cream out of his son's hand so he would not dirty your shirt and he stood up, taking his place to stand next to you.

"How was the outing with Tara?" Xavier took the bag from you and pulled a chair over from the other table as you set your son back down onto his chair. The ice-cream that your husband was holding previously was returned to its rightful owner.

"It was eventful. We only managed to find the dress she wanted at the highest floor." You fanned yourself, sweat beading at your forehead. Your husband took a piece of tissue out of the tissue holder and he dabbed it across your forehead, not wanting to ruin your makeup since you are still on an outing with him. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem." Xavier purposely avoided your gaze, hiding his smile. "The tomato-based noodle soup you made this morning is very good by the way. I enjoyed every bite of it." He complimented, looking over to his son and noticing the young boy, staring out of the window, in the direction of two kids playing by the park, chasing one another.

"Daddy, mummy." Your son's voice beckoned the both of you to turn your heads to face him. His stubby little fingers pressed against the window, pointing towards the two kids at the park. "Can I have a brother?" The way he phrased the questions sounded like siblings could be bought off of a shelf. Your jaw dropped.

But Xavier was expecting this, expecting the fact he would not just settle for one child. He loves you so much, not only as his lover, but he also loves the way you look, with your stomach bulging during the days you are pregnant, carrying a miniature version of him inside. And not to mention, he enjoys the process of giving you a baby. Just the thought of seeing you pregnant again, his cerulean eyes catch yours, similar to a gaze of a predator awaiting to jump onto its prey. He reached his hand out to take yours on the table, giving it a small squeeze of comfort.

"Of course you can." Xavier's gaze darkened, hungry for intimacy. He dragged his fingertips up and down your arms, and stopping right at the back of your hand to draw mindless circles on it. Doing all that without getting his eyes off of you. "Daddy will not stop until you get a brother."

Sorry this took wayyy longer than expected, the toughest part was to find the pictures that would match the faces of the kids and also having to do research for their names and figuring our scenarios that would make the fathers take care of their kids. Other than Rafayel, Zayne and Xavier are going to be out most of the time due to their work!

But I had fun creating this piece, hope you guys enjoyed this! Lots of love <3

[charliemwrites]

Hahahaha good morning I had the wildest dream last night so I’m going to inflict it on all of you:

(I’m not done with keeper/kept. Just had to get this out)

Warnings for obsessive/possessive behavior, unhealthy and semi-one sided relationship, not-quite-dark John price.

John Price who decides it time he has a wife. Not retiring, god no! He’s not done yet. But his home is lonely when he’s on leave; he’s getting sentimental as he gets “older”. So, he wants a wife.

In theory, it sounds like just what he wants. A pretty warm thing snoozing in his bed when he gets home at ass o’clock in the morning. Someone to fret over new scars and fresh bandages. Someone to fuss at him for “taste testing” meals and wrinkle their nose at his cigars.

In practice, it’s not so easy. If it was, he reckons he would have been married by now. Good thing he’s already got the perfect candidate picked out.

You own a small business in his town. Not fabulously wealthy, but comfortable and independent. Something to keep you busy while he’s away but you make your own hours so your schedule it flexible to see him when he has infrequent leave.

And he adores you, knows that you’ve got more than a little crush on him. You smile and blush and reciprocate his interest, have only refrained from perusing anything because you didn’t think he was serious. But oh, he is.

One day you say something particularly charming and he says, “marry me.”

He’s been dropping these little jokes for a while now and you always start laughing because it’s just the kind of dramatic humor you love. Today you say something different than your usual overdramatic “oh but it could never work, captain.”

Today you say, “if only.”

How pathetic is it that you’re holding a candle for a man you’ve never even gotten a coffee with? Your family laments that your can’t spend your whole life married to your job. That they want grandchildren and nieces/nephews, someone to tell embarrassing stories about you to on holidays. You used to roll your eyes, but the prospect doesn’t feel so obligatory anymore.

Anytime you imagine it, it’s John Price there. You’ve stopped trying to imagine it for your heart’s sake.

Except a week later he’s sweeping into your shop and dropping a kiss on your cheek. An unusual greeting, but maybe he’s in a good mood. His hand lingers on the small of your back while you show him the new product that just came in.

You live above your shop and one day he shows up at the door with a bottle of wine, telling you he could use some good company. You’re shocked and confused but he looks like an amalgamation of every heartthrob in a hallmark or romcom you’ve ever “ironically” enjoyed. You invite him in.

By mid morning, he’s had you in every room of your apartment. Ate you out slow and greedy on the counters. Bent you over the dining table. Bounced you on his cock on your couch. Fingered his cum out of you in the bathtub. And absolutely ruined you twice over in your own bed.

He even changes the sheets before the two of you pass out that final time. And when you finally do wake up, he’s taken the initiative to brew coffee and make breakfast. It’s like a dream.

He fucks you against the door before he leaves.

When he’s deployed again, he calls you every night. You don’t expect it the first time, but it’s a sweet gesture to show things aren’t ruined. You’re not expecting the second time either and have to call him back when you climb out of the shower. The third time you wait for it, but still startle a bit when his name pops up on the screen.

He calls you every night he can while he’s away. You don’t know what to make of it.

Then one day you come back from errands to see movers in the yard. You think it’s some kind of mistake until John meets you at your car.

“Fire in the next building over,” he explains. “Their insurance will cover all the damages but it’s not safe to stay in your place. Mine’s just up the road. Figured you could stay until it’s sorted out.”

You want to be annoyed, and you almost are. But the overwhelm of nearly losing everything - only to have all the stress already handled and the important, nerve wracking decisions smoothed over? You just take the good luck.

To thank John for his generosity (and to fill the void of not running the shop) you bustle around his too-big house. Cook meals, keep things tidy. Keep John company when he manages to snag you from your gratitude-induced work.

He spends hours fucking you nice and slow, whispering things you barely remember in your ear. That you’re perfect for him, so sweet like a little wife, that he’d come home to you for the rest of his life. You kiss him quiet and rock back against him when it starts sounding too tempting.

Eventually, the repairs on your shop/apartment are done. It feels like a rude awakening to a pleasant dream. Instead of moving your things back, John moves more things in. When you tell him that you appreciate his kindness, but you should probably get back to your own space, he gets an odd look. Asks what you mean when this is your space.

And the trap springs closed.

“John,” you half-laugh, shaking your head. “We’re not actually married you know?”

“Not last I checked.”

The marriage certificate gets framed in the bedroom you’ve been sharing for a month. You storm out and stay in a hotel. He lets you for three days before coming to retrieve you. When you try to be stubborn, he gives you an exasperated look (as if you’re the one being unreasonable) and politely asks that you not make a scene by forcing him to carry you of there.

For your own reputation, you comply, glowering out his car window the whole ride to his house. Try to give him the silent treatment which lasts about 30 minutes before he’s got you moaning and whining on his cock.

He drives you to the shop in the morning and picks you up at night. Anytime you try to put your little foot down, he just scoops you off them. The neighbors start cooing that he’s such a good man. You try not to scream.

When he’s finally deployed again, you try to move all your things back to your home. Except the movers apologetically tell you that they can’t trespass on John’s property.

Fine, you’ll do it yourself. Somehow.

You pack two suitcases and some of your cookware. Load it all up in a rental - because John sent your damn car into the shop - and trying to get comfortable in your own flat again.

Except it’s all wrong. The scent of smoke still lingers, it’s cold because the heating hasn’t been turned on yet this year. Half your things are gone and there’s no food in the fridge or pantries. You tough it out. Buy a ready-made meal and new bed linens and pillow. Sleep in a bed too cold even with the heat finally on.

When John calls, you don’t answer. He sends a text that simply reads “I love you.” You toss your phone across the room.

The next night, when he calls again and you don’t answer, he sends a “stay safe, love.” You spend twenty minutes with fingers poised over the keys. Chug a glass of wine and send back a neutral “you too, John”.

When he calls on the third night, you pick up, bark a sharp “knock it off” and hang up. Another text that he was so happy to hear your voice.

Another call, you pick up and demand “what are you doing?” He chuckles on the other end. “Calling my darling wife. I miss you.” You believe him. That’s the worst part.

When he gets back, you ride the long, long river of denial right up until he’s at your door, eyebrows arched. “Really, love,” he hums, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here just because you missed me.”

You want to hit him. You storm off to your bedroom instead. He wanders the house. You hear him clattering in the kitchen and wandering around the living room. When you hear the door close, you think he’s finally left and given all this up.

Twenty minutes later, he’s casually removing the door (sans hinges) and gathering you up. When you get back to his house, he carries you inside and fucks the tantrum right out of you in the shower, growling that you don’t smell like home anymore.

When you wake up from your three-orgasm induced nap, he’s washing the clothes you took to your old flat. On your left hand is a pretty diamond with “JP” carved into the band.

At the store, people start calling you “Mrs. Price”. The neighbors (John’s neighbors) invite you over as “the Prices”. You glare at him when he starts looking too smug about it.

When he’s set to deploy again, he sits you on the kitchen counter, caging you in with arms.

“Don’t make me come get you this time,” he warns, pressing kisses along your jaw. “This is gonna be a rough one. I just want to see you when I get home.”

It’s a warning that you know to heed. You don’t try to leave this time. When he calls, you answer, rattling off stupid details about your day. You’re shocked to hear him remember names and dates and tasks with everything else hes got going on. Promises he’ll deal with the creep at the post office when he gets home.

“And… you are coming home… right?” you ask.

“Nothing could keep me away, love.”

He doesn’t call for three days straight. You tell yourself the tightness in your chest is just anxiety over how the hell to handle his assets if he’s dead.

At 3am, the bed dips, a warm body pressing up against your back. You recognize John’s arms wrapping tight around your waist. You stir.

“Are you alright?” you ask.

“Perfect now, love.”

“Mm welcome home.”

“Good to be home, gorgeous.”