#byrne x reader

[love-toxin]

hyrule spice <3 (rauru, byrne, tauro, link)

(general cws: graphic smut, fem/afab pronouns, breeding, knotting, hylian/zonai relations, pet names/name calling, dirty talk, degradation, squirting, fingering, overstim, bondage, unprotected sex, rough sex)

rauru of hyrule

Rauru never falters, never hesitates. He wants you and you're his. There's no fighting it--there simply can't be any doubt that you have his love.

But as the king of Hyrule, he has a duty to fulfill. Marriage, family, continuance of the royal bloodline...you understand, don't you? Even as a Hylian, you must. As a man and a Zonai, he has needs.

One of those needs, especially when faced with a pretty Hylian like yourself, is to breed.

"Ah, ah, ah--ahnnnngh-!" Is it you now, is it him? Who even cares at this point, you're basically the same being by now; bodies intertwined and moving in unison, every shuffle dictated by Rauru's massive Zonaite body towering over yours. Both his furry, clawed hands rest over yours, palms dwarfing your tiny Hylian fingers as he plants his body firmly into every thrust. The thin, fuzzy layer of hair that protects his cock is now coated in your arousal, sticky and slick from the pounding you've taken so all that rings in your ears is a hefty plap plap plap from behind as you take his thrusts.

Rauru once apologized to you, when you met, about his "off-putting" appearance. His ears, his claws, his snout that makes it difficult to kiss, his fur and his tail...he doesn't apologize for it anymore. He knows now that he doesn't have to, not when he gives you treatment like this.

"Forward," He snarls into your ear, gone mad with the weight of his lust and the frenzy of his mid-month heat. His teeth could rip the flesh from your bones, yet even in this state he uses them only to pierce the sweetest of claiming bites into your throat and down your spine. "Bend...until you break."

He can't be satiated by thought alone. Nor even the touch of his own hands, or a concubine if he owned one. It can only be you. Only your soft, squishy flesh rubbing up against his fur, your hands pinned beneath his claws, and your womb pierced on the tip of his thick, knot-heavy cock that's just begging to lock itself within your cunt and never let go.

Those claws dig painfully into your back, yet it doesn't dissuade you, and he loves that. He loves that at the end of the day, you'll submit to your king as he forces you to the sheets and pins your hips under his, his knot swelling and swelling until he finally breaches that soft place and all becomes right with the world. Through the pain you still adore him, and through the pleasure even more so.

Now, it's just a matter of soothing your bruised, marked-up body with his voice and his doting touch, with kisses and whispers of love and promises of all the gorgeous gifts he's going to present to you, as a token of gratitude for allowing the first of the Zonai to mate with the first Hylian--and person--he's ever truly loved.

byrne the dueling spirit

One hundred years. One hundred years of hard labour, training, and agony. Loneliness and isolation and anger, fury building itself up and up and up until it boils, begging to be let out on anyone close enough to make a decent punching bag.

Byrne doesn't know love. Never has, never feels like he ever will--he only knows pain and weakness, the desire to grow stronger clawing at him like a ravenous dog. Maybe that's why he finally lets loose on you. You were within reach. Never said no, never gave him anything but a smile.

And you're regretting it now, he bets. Because you have a muscled, weighty beast of a man on top of you, and you can feel the way he's learning this kind of touch for the first time as well as you can see clouds in the sky.

Or could, if you didn't have your face forced into your pillow, back arched so deeply the sweat pools like a puddle in the dip of your back. And it shakes and spills with the creaking of your bedframe, your down mattress squealing for mercy as Byrne forces you down and bullies your pussy into submission.

"Shut up." He groans, as if his bandana hasn't been balled up and stuffed into your mouth to quiet your incessant noises. If he didn't like you, he wouldn't say anything. But he can't help but tease you...can't help but make you wish you'd never invited him back to your house in the first place. "....Useless bitch." He grumbles, the smirk on his face going unnoticed as your lust-numbed brain leaks out your ears. Your pussy's cute, but it won't let him go--and even when he tries, your body just sucks him back in like you can't go a minute without being fucked.

But it just gives him the chance to put that metal arm to good use. It isn't rubbing or pinching he uses to his advantage, but a cold, hard, wet slap against your clit that finally shocks you enough to let him go--just barely enough to slide out before you clench down on the tip, though, and your muscles won't loosen as if you've been made to have a vice grip most inconveniently. He's gotta go. "Can't stick around fucking you all day. Let go."

Pop. With a deep, clingy squelch, he's finally pulled free from your soaking wet, tight as hell abyss, contrary to your whines and squirmy wiggling that beg him sweetly for more. To stay.

You're pretty and all. He likes you, and he doesn't like anyone. But he can't stay....and you can't get too attached to him, or else you're just gonna end up heartbroken.

But, maybe...maybe he can spare you a little dignity and make you finish. He thinks as he slides his cockhead through your folds again, unaware of just how hard he's falling in love as he sinks back in.

tauro the scholar

Your scholar is a nightmare because he won't let anything just lie. He needs answers. Evidence. Scientific proof. He needs logic and deciphered clues to figure out life's greatest mysteries.

Hence why he's doing today's case study on your soft, cute, and sensitive little pussy.

"Subject-responds-to-stimuli-even-under-duress," He speaks softly as his free hand scribbles out his notes on the pad between his feet, his fingers on the other hand buried deep within your twitching, stretched pussy lips. The 'stimuli' being him, and 'duress'....well, emotional duress counts. Especially when you've orgasmed 8 times today. "I believe in you, baby." Tauro replies cheerfully to your fucked-out groans, a smile permanently etched on his lips as he curls his fingers deep into your cervix. "I can make you ejaculate today! We're almost there!"

Somehow the sterile language he likes to use--which would normally be a bit of a mood killer in bed--just doesn't faze you anymore with Tauro. He's a bit of a kook, a cute airhead with the kind of knowledge the Sheikah themselves would kill for. A sweet, silly man who likes to tease.

A man who isn't intimidated by the pulses of your pussy nor the jerk of your hips as the pressure pushes down on your bladder, who positions his face right up close between your legs despite you gasping out that you feel like you're gonna pee. Embarrassment is nothing to him.

"That's what it's supposed to feel like."

He growls with an eager grin, fucking your cunt even faster with those thick fingers that's toe-curling but not yet cusping on painful. The bristly hairs on his freshly-shaved chin rub your soaked skin as he leans in, laving his huge, hot tongue over your tortured clit that's been messed with like a hot button all day today.

It's only when your shaking hips and arched back come to a standstill that he's finally satisfied--drenched in your juices, his face glistening as he talks you through and urges you to "let it all out baby, give everything to me" until you're squirting just like he told you he'd make you do for him.

Rarely have you seen such satisfaction on his face upon finding the answer he was looking for. Each tremor comes as he eases more out of you, every gasp and spurt of fluid getting him more excited about the results. You drench him from head to lap and he couldn't be more ecstatic, licking every bit he can get off his fingers and his palm as he looks up at you through hooded eyes.

"Now..." He pants, hair slicked down and tongue lolling out of his mouth as he laps up the droplets sticking to your folds as you tremble. "...Let's see if you can do that again, hm?"

link the hero

Link needs very few, simple things in life to coexist with reality. Those are primarily food, warmth, sunshine...and sex.

Poor hero. All he needs is an orgasm or two to get him back into the fight when he's exhausted from his toils. That's not so much to ask for, right?

That's where you come in. Such a pretty thing--and such a nice girl to help him out when he's in need. Link can show up on your doorstep night or day, rain or shine, healthy or half-dead, and to see you let him in and give him a place to put his feet up makes him feel like he's in love.

And whatever ails him is sure to clear up with a dose of your sweet, slick pussy that he swears was moulded just for him.

"Ha...ha...hah, ah-!" Link huffs out as he comes to a close again, hips bucking violently from below as he lets those animal instincts run wild with you. He can't be stopped, hence why you have to use those handy Lynel-silver shackles to cuff him to your bed, all so he won't break free in the heat of the moment and start fucking you rabidly on the floor of your cottage. Not like that's ever happened before, and he accidentally traumatized your milkman when he came knocking on the door....

"D-Don't strain, Link..." You gasp, his cum flooding down your thighs from hours upon hours of rabid coming-home-from-battle sex. "You'll hurt yourself."

Link doesn't talk much as it is, but the wobbly grin and the rolling back of his eyes in his head serves well enough to say what he thinks about that sentiment. Don't care. Need to blow my load. That's what's written all over his expression, and you can't say you're much surprised...or disappointed.

"Fine," You sigh, swirling your hips in deep circles to slow his thrusts--and to remind him of how much he's at your mercy now, no matter how strong of a warrior he is out on the field of battle. Your chuckle causes his back to arch up off the bed, his wrists pulling hard at the cuffs while his heart nearly beats out of his chest. "Then be a good boy and cum already. I've got a mess to clean up."

Link growls, that feral growl that only comes out when he's really, desperately in need of release. He starts thrusting more violently, his hips barely meeting the mattress anymore as he chases that pleasure against your womb--against that blasted little wall that feels like heaven but constantly stops him from shooting ropes right into the source of that ecstasy he loves. Maybe one day.

For now, it only stops once you've had your cervix appropriately bruised, and he's made you slump over him in a panting, gasping mess as his seed flows out of you and into his sweaty lap. Maybe he doesn't need Hyrule, Hylia's blessing, or the Master Sword, or anything anymore.

Maybe all he needs in this world is you.

[beat-the-morning]

AFTER-CONCERT FEAST

Rating: +18

Relationships: Hozier/Reader

Contents: no y/n, oral sex (f! recieving), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, dry humping, accidental orgasm, (by this I mean he starts mindlessly humping the couch

Word count: 1.7k

SUMMARY: After Hozier, your boyfriend, calls you backstage after a concert he eats you out like a starving man and cums after mindlessly dry humping the couch while doing so.

Fic under the cut💜

The concert had ended, and you were making your way backstage with a security guard in front of you. Andrew, your boyfriend, had sent them to get you, and your mind couldn't stop racing with how he’d looked at you while he sang. How his eyes lit up when he saw you in the crowd, the little smile that escaped him, that verse he messed up on when you winked at him. You could have sworn that he didn’t take his eyes off you for the rest of the concert once he noticed you.

“Here,” the security guard said, opening the door to Andrew’s dressing room. You smiled at them and nodded as a thank you before stepping in. He was waiting for you, leaning on the vanity with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Close the door, it’s fine.” He told the security guard, the door closed behind you and you smiled. He practically bounced off the vanity and onto you with how fast he took you into his arms and lifted you off the floor in a spinning hug. “What are you doing here?” He asked as he finally lowered you from his embrace.

“Came to see you,” you answered with a grin.

Andrew chuckled, then started kissing your face with every pause he took from speaking. “Yes, but why? Weren’t you visiting your parents this week?”

“Yes, but you having a concert in the same city distracted me a little.” You giggled, his beard tickling you.

“Oh, forgot your parents lived here,” he looked down at you with loving eyes that turned to confusion the second he realised what you had done. “Wait, so you bought a ticket, queued for God knows how long-”

“Twelve hours.” You interrupted him

“Twelve hours?” His eyes widened at that fact. “You did that, when you could've called me and gotten in faster and also seen me before the concert?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to surprise you!” You smiled. “And I wanted to see if you'd notice me in the crowd.”

“Well I did, couldn't take my eyes off you,” he kissed your lips.

“I know,” you kissed back. “There's going to be a million tiktoks asking who you were looking at.”

“I don't-” he stopped his sentence halfway through once he saw your shirt. “Are you wearing my shirt?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking, he already knew the answer.

“No.” You lied, as it was, in fact, his shirt that he had accidentally left at your house the last time he saw you.

“You definitely are.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you teased, he rested a hand on your hip, his thumb making small circles on your skin.

“I’m sure you don’t.” His other hand rested on your cheek, caressing it gently.

Then he kissed you again, not letting go this time, you got on your tip-toes and wrapped your arms around his neck. He lowered himself lightly and bit your lower lip, you moaned in response. He broke the kiss and guided you to the couch where he pulled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him. You kissed him again, more passionate this time, almost hungrily, his hands explored the skin under your shirt, revelling in your warmth.

You explored each other's mouths, delighting in the taste you had so missed, the way his beard scratched your face felt like heaven, his hands travelled to your hips and ground you against him, you could feel his hardening cock rubbing against you and he could hear your whimpers every time your clit got the slightest bit of friction. He slowly lifted you up and changed the pose you were both in, setting you on the couch, and taking off your shirt and bra, promptly discarding them on the floor next to him.

Andrew's lips left your mouth and moved down from your jawline to your waistband, leaving bites and hickeys on his way, he was giving you goosebumps with the way he caressed your body so lovingly, worshipping every curve, every mole and little imperfection, as you called them, seemed like gold in his eyes, like beautiful stars in a sky only he could see. Once at your hips, he looked up at you with lustful eyes, “I need to taste you, so fucking badly,” he whispered, “but I need you to be quiet, can you do that for me, baby?”

“You know the answer to that,” you answered with a grin, already kicking off your shoes.

“Yeah, I do,” he smiled back, quickly kissing you one last time before he unzipped your shorts and pulled them off completely along with your panties, throwing them to the floor as soon as they were off you, joining the rest of your clothing. He kissed his way up your thighs, resting your legs on his shoulders. He looked up at you with his beautiful green eyes, pupils dilated to a point where they looked black, silently begging you to give him the final go-ahead before he lost himself in you.

You nodded, he smiled.

He dove into you like a starving man having his first meal in weeks, lapping up your juices and drinking you. You arched your back in pleasure. He licked from your entrance up to your clit, pressing his tongue to it just to flick it right after, you bit your lip in an attempt to quiet down, but it barely worked. His tongue worked at you expertly, he knew exactly what to do to make you squirm under his touch. His tongue travelled down from your clit to your entrance, where he lost himself and moaned just with your taste. Your breathing hitched at the sight of him eating you out, completely enamoured with his eyes closed. He was moaning as he fucked you with his tongue. As his nose rubbed on your clit just right, you thanked God for giving him a big one.

You moved his long curls out of his face, he looked up at you. Your breathing stopped for a second as he rubbed his nose against your clit while smiling into your cunt, in blinding lust you grabbed a fistful of his hair and started grinding your hips against his face. You could've sworn you heard him chuckle. The way he was holding onto your hips was sure to leave bruises later on, you didn't care one bit, you were too focused looking into his eyes and the way they were full of lust and admiration for you. How he kept eating you out even as you held his head in place and basically used him.

He was so hard it was starting to become painful, so he started rubbing himself against the couch, and God did it feel good, he started moaning into your pussy, your taste was driving him crazy, the little sounds that escaped you while he devoured you just got him harder and harder. He left your hole to go back up to your clit, sucking on it and pressing his tongue against it while one of his hands left your hip just for two of his fingers to enter your cunt seconds later, your hips buckled against him again, he placed your clit between his teeth and lightly pressed in response. Your legs started shaking when he did that, you had to place a hand over your mouth to not scream. He fingered you faster, curling his fingers into you and hitting your sweet spot.

He continued like this for a while, making a whimpering mess out of you, and thankfully, today he didn't seem to have the need to edge you endlessly until you were begging for release, he needed this as much as you, maybe even more. He was still rubbing against the couch, but he didn't notice he was doing it, he was too occupied getting you to your own high to care for himself at the moment. You were almost there, his fingers replaced his tongue on your clit, rubbing it rapidly. His mouth moved to your entrance, he knew you were close, and he wanted to taste every drop of your release.

You came with a loud moan that was thankfully muffled by your own hand, your vision went white and your legs trembled. Andrew drank you in, letting you ride out your high as he moaned into your pussy, and then you noticed his hips. He was desperately dry humping the couch, what a sight that was, you could tell he wasn't even noticing he was doing it, suddenly his hips buckled repeatedly and he was groaning into your cunt as he drank the last of you, his eyes were closed and his hand that was still grabbing you was doing so in a way that you were surprised it wasn't breaking skin. He'd come, just from eating you out, the thought made you giggle.

He kissed your clit one last time before pulling his head out from between your legs, his hair was a mess and the lower part of his face was glistening with your juices, he was panting heavily. “I- I didn't notice I was-” He said with heavy breaths, but you interrupted before he finished.

“Humping the couch while eating me out?” You asked in a teasing voice. A smirk plastered on your face.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “made a fuckin’ mess.”

“It's not noticeable from here.” You assured him.

“Good,” he leaned closer to you, hovering his body over yours, one hand held him up while the other found your waist. “Tank you for letting me do this, baby.” He kissed you gently, his accent thicker than before.

“Thank you for doing it.” You smiled.

“I love you so much,” he murmured between kisses, “my perfect girl, so fuckin' beautiful.”

“I love you too,” you kissed him back, “I should get dressed though.”

“Hmm, fine, but I'm keeping these until I see you next time.” He said, grabbing your panties from the pile of your clothes from the floor and keeping them in his hand.

“No, you're not, give them back!” You feigned annoyance, thinking he'd give them back.

“Would you rather I take back my shirt, then?”

“What would I wear then? I didn't bring a jacket.”

“Exactly, so these,” he held up your panties again, “are for me.” He placed them in his pocket right after.

“You’re horrible.” You fake pouted.

“You love me.” He grinned while handing you the rest of your clothes.

“You're lucky I do.”

“I know.”

[beetboxx]

a siren’s call home - a.h.b x reader

pure, sickeningly sweet fluff in which you wake up to andy home from tour, finally.

content disclaimers: not proofread, religious reference, reference to sexual activity but no smut, language? maybe?

author’s note: we are so back squad. it’s only been like two years. i haven’t written in so long so we can call this a test run as i get back into the swing of things. ill update my intro post to better align with what im into! feel free to come and talk to me about prompts, ideas, random thoughts, whateva. i miiiiiiggghhhhtttt write some smut next. hope you enjoy!!

orange light intruded through window shutters like holy arms, caressing the cozy room you laid in with a touch of warmth to counteract the bite of cold at your feet and nose. what was also fighting against that was the thumb stroking the small crevice between your nose and your cheek, not doing much to help but comforting nonetheless. it was the exigence to your wakeup, a bit alarming at first until you understood the source- a large hand with long fingers attached to a proportionally long man smiling like the protruding rays of sun through draped brown, ginger-ish curls, most of it lazily pulled back into a bun at the back of his neck. you registered the vague freckles speckling his cheeks as you blinked lazily, huffing and tensing your grip in your blanket.

“hi.” he said, breathing out a laugh as you felt his calf rub up against yours and his hand smooth against your cheek to your hair to comb his fingers through it as best he could, his nails scratching your scalp ever so slightly.

you sleepily murmured a response, a quick, “hi, andy,” scrunching up your face when his palm returned to your cheek. his other ventured to your waist under the comforter, soft and delicate and squeezing the plains and valleys of your side a bit when he felt like it.

”you’re pretty.”

for such a poetic and profound man, able of expressing emotions so difficult to pin down, he was seemingly struck dumb in this moment over the sight of you. maybe in order to allow his wisdom to return, maybe in order to attempt to become impossibly close to you, his other hand paralleled the other on your waist, pulling you into his torso and wrapping around to meet at the small of your back. you nuzzled into his chest, taking in his familiar scent of a cologne reminiscent of dark forestry and a breeze and placing your own hand on his shirt at his heart to feel it flutter at your fingertips. comfortable, comforted.

“when’d you get back?” you asked, voice coming out as a mellow drawl.

andrew hummed, placed a kiss on the top of your head. “late.”

“you should have woken me up,” you whined, rubbing your eyes.

another kiss, this time to your forehead where your skin meets your hairline. his lips were warm against your chilled skin.

“you say that,” he teased, accent thick with sleep and homecoming, “but you would have crucified me had i actually done that.”

“crucified, no. pinned you to the bed in a similar pose and jumped your bones, maybe.”

you grinned, leaning your head back to allow enough room to kiss his jaw. a stubble met your lips, one that had grown out and been trimmed many times over the course of his touring, all phases of which you unfortunately, miserably, missed.

“hush. you’re dreaming.”

“am not.”

andrew laughed, you squeezed him in your arms. his laugh, although quiet in volume, felt like a dose of hospital-grade medicine to your yearning-induced blues in your system as soon as it entered your ears. his voice and presence was coaxing you awake, a process usually so difficult and taxing, flooding your growing consciousness in a pool of comfort. you missed him. you missed him like a wilted flower misses the sun. you missed him in a way that could only be equated to something of cosmic origin.

“i missed you,” he whispered. thank god.

you returned his sentiment. silence then fell like a thick blanket over you both, thicker than the one bunched up at your shoulder. it sat there for a long while, robbing the both of you of thought except for the feeling of relief. andrew’s thumb rubbed back and forth on your back, a reminder of existence so you didn’t float away. you could have sworn he fell asleep with how quiet he was and how steady and light his breathing was.

you sighed, began squirming your way to get up at least to a sitting position- but you didn’t get far, that ambition quickly being squashed by two lean arms squeezing tightly, barring you from moving away from andrew.

“no.”

a mumble, quick and straight to the point. you huffed out a chuckle, choosing not to argue and enjoy the moment. moments, andrew decided for the both of you. very long, undescriptive in quantity moments. one of his hands moved up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in closer and raking into your hair to rub at your scalp. he was wearing a gray crewneck, you noticed, with unfamiliar blue embroidery of the name of some U.S. state, vintage style. you didn’t recognize it, guessing he must have gotten it on tour at whim.

he was definitely tired- exhausted, even. the lines and circles of color under his eyes had emphasized themselves, but the sight of you gave them a certain light that made you know he wasn’t going to sleep. too many thoughts, too many things to do now that he was home and finding himself complete. he was completely overwhelmed with the feeling of being home that he felt perfectly energized- that, and three cups of coffee he had had just before laying down beside you definitely helped. he took your hand in his as if he was inviting you to a dance, pressing the back of yours against his chest. to further trap you in his web or to just get closer to you, you’ll never know.

“honey, i have to get up eventually,” you remarked, trying to convince yourself more than him.

“no you don’t,” andrew immediately replied without skipping a single beat, tightening his grip on you in case you tried to pull a fast one on him and get out of bed. one of his legs, clad in loose cotton sweatpants, swung over both of yours under the covers, effectively holding you right where he wanted you in his arms.

“andrew, i have to be a functioning member of society,” you joked, wiggling around just a little with no actual attempt to break free from his hold. truthfully, you could never: he had a hold on you and your heart so tight and driven by fate that you were damned for eternity to be consumed by your love for him.

“i can make you breakfast,” you added, craning your neck back to smile at him.

andrew hummed, clicking his tongue. “ooh. very enticing and unfair,” he said. “trying to seduce me with the prospect of food.”

“seduce? i am merely giving you incentive.”

he paused, thinking. his head tilted, as it often does when he is thinking. you took his occupation with thought for an opportunity to make a smart decision and begin your day, freeing yourself from his entrapment and slinking off the bed. he acted quick, however, letting out a noise of surprise and disappointment wrapped in one and throwing himself across the bed to your side. andrew wrapped his arms around your waist as you stood, stopping you from moving too far away from

him. not again. you figured he would be a bit clingy getting back from tour, but this was taking it too another (but very welcomed) level.

“andrew!” you whined without any real weight to it as his chin rested on your hip, grinning happily. your fingers tangled themselves in his wild hair, frizzy from travel and the usual irish moisture. his hair tie was certainly not doing a fantastic job at keeping it all back, strands thick and thin escaping its weak confines. you giggle, “you’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?”

“and you’re like.. ehm.. a siren.”

you playfully scoffed, “a siren?”

“oh, yes, a siren,” he grins, pulling your waist in until you were sitting back on the bed. “a beautiful but relentless creature with an inclination for luring and trapping defenseless men such as myself.”

“and eating them,” you added.

“whatever,” andrew said, pulling himself up to sit beside you so he could drag you into his lap. you turned yourself and straddled his thighs, arms wrapping around his neck, your intentions for the morning entirely forgotten.

he kissed your lips, softly, like he was testing the waters. you thought your breath stunk for a second with how gentle he was- until you tried to peel away, only for him to grab your face and keep you in his entrancing kiss. he deepened it, mouth opening slightly in rhythm with yours, lips dancing together like they hadn’t in so long.

you stayed that way for a while, letting andrew delicately consume your heart and soul and very essence with his neglected mouth. you could feel his breath mix with yours and span over your cheeks, and you swear it was full of helium with how light and floaty your lungs felt. you pulled away, eventually, taking a little more willpower than you would like to admit as his charged lips pulled yours in like a magnet.

he sighed, happy and content as he stared at you with big eyes, twinkling with every overwhelming emotion he had towards you.

“you have me entirely whipped, woman. like a siren.”

“i know,” you replied, kissing his lips again. “i’m glad you’re home.”

“i know.”

[padfootagain]

Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Pairing : Hozier x fem!reader

Professor! AU

Warnings: hurt-comfort, angst, fluff, no smut but suggestive scenes so 18+ only

Chapter 1 : 'And that orange, it made me so happy, as ordinary things often do just lately'

Chapter 2 : 'Through me the way to the City of Woe'

Chapter 3 : ‘I miss him in the wheeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide’

Chapter 4 : ‘For he gave all his heart and lost’

Chapter 5 : ‘But here comes the lyrebird passing through the sky’

Chapter 6 : ‘I’ll lie here and learn how, over their ground, trees make a long shadow and a light sound’

Chapter 7 : 'And so I still wait, like a lonely house, for you to see me and inhabit me again. Until that time, my windows ache.'

Chapter 8 : 'I hope she never learns how to peel oranges'

Chapter 9 : 'I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river-- where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues'

Chapter 10 : '[I] was angry that my trust could not repose in the clear light, like poetry or freedom leaning in from sea'

Chapter 11: ‘Lived to see you throwing me aside.’

Chapter 12 : 'Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again'

Chapter 13: ‘So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.’

Chapter 14: ‘Why should I blame her that she filled my days with misery’

Chapter 15: ‘He’s bored- I see it. Don’t I lick his bribes, set his bouquets in water?’

Chapter 16 : ‘Only the things I didn’t do crackle after the blazing dies’

Chapter 17 : ‘Dear pine cone, let me hold you as you open’

Chapter 18 : ‘What the devil do I care what I know, and what I say?’

Chapter 19: ‘I knew winter cold like the nuzzle of fjords at my thighs’

Chapter 20 : 'My heart has made its mind up and I’m afraid it’s you'

Chapter 21: ‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love’

Chapter 22 : ‘And if you missed a day, there was always the next, and if you missed a year, it didn’t matter, the hills weren’t going anywhere’

Chapter 23 : 'Even the dearest that I loved the best are strange – nay, rather, stranger than the rest'

Chapter 24: ‘Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing’

Chapter 25: ‘They will think of ways to make you smile so you can be happy for a while’

Chapter 26: ‘Well, how else are you to live except by denial’

Chapter 27: ‘They loved music and swam in for a singer, who might stand at the end of summer’

Chapter 28: ‘You are neither here nor there, a hurry through which known and strange things pass as big soft buffetings come at the car sideways and catch the heart off guard and blow it open’

Chapter 29: ‘My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips’

Chapter 30: ‘You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects’

Chapter 31 : ‘Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief’

Chapter 32 : ‘How dense it is, how it carries inside it the memory of collapse. How difficult it is to move then’

Chapter 33 : ‘The scent already in the air’

Chapter 34 : ‘One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.’

Chapter 35 : ‘Love comes quietly, finally’

Chapter 36: ‘So I imagine such love of the world—its fervency, its shining, its innocence and hunger to give of itself—I imagine this is how it began’

Chapter 37 : ‘I found the other half above the pillow where you lay’

Chapter 38: ‘They are elsewhere beyond the night way higher than day in the blinding brightness of their first love’

Chapter 39: ‘He grew so tender and I so grateful which maybe tells you something about how it was’

Chapter 40 : ‘Where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.’

Chapter 41 : ‘Just one candle burning on, shadows lurking everywhere: some one came, and kissed me there’

Chapter 42: ‘Love in such a way, as I… love… you.’

Chapter 43: ‘The whole world depends on your pure eyes and all my blood flows into their gaze’

Chapter 44 : ‘I go up to the stone wall for a friendly visit.’

Chapter 45 : ‘Nobody, but nobody can make it out here alone.’

Chapter 46 : ‘Both of us, of the love which makes us one.’

Chapter 47: ‘To whom I owe the leaping delight that quickens my senses in our wakingtime and the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime’

Chapter 48 : ‘It’s love almost too fierce to endure, the bee nuzzling like that into the blouse of the rose’

Chapter 49 : ‘I am the blossom pressed in a book, found again after two hundred years’

[mikyapixie]

Sneak peek at Stephen Byrne’s art from Robin’s story in Lex & the City written by Brendan Hay!!!

[mabelstone]

Common Tongue

hozier x f!reader

part five of lullabies <3 | part four | masterlist

cw: 18+, oral sex, a lot of this is sex ok u should know me by now, the word 'balls', not much plot tbh

word count: 4.1k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure @the-imperfectgirl-blog @l1nd3n @yunonaneko xo

I woke in the delicious warmth of Andrew’s arms, his soft breaths against my neck sending a chill down my spine. I gently nuzzled into his touch, his arms autonomously holding me tighter. For the next week and a half, this was my morning routine. Also part of the morning routine was the part where I would slip out of his grip as gently as possible when I was on the verge of weeing myself.

I’d slip back into bed, entranced by the way sleep drenched breaths swam through the small parting of his lips. The way his muddy greens danced under his eyelids as he dreamt, and the way his thick lashes swept along his high cheekbones made it near impossible for me to look away.

We danced around the fine line of being lovers, friends, and fuck buddies, not even entertaining the thought of defining what we were. I knew it was all probably moving too fast considering I’d just gotten out of a relationship. Not that I really cared - Andy had a way of numbing me. Numbing the heartbreak in a way that I didn’t even have to acknowledge it. He made me feel happy and sexy and loved, if that’s what you’d call it.

Like he could feel it, he’d wake to me watching him, causing me to blush profusely and apologise. He’d either pull me in and kiss my neck and forehead, or remind me with a grin, “staring is rude, y’know,” in his deep, groggy morning voice. It was rare to catch him watching me sleep as I was the early riser of the two of us. But during the day, I’d swear I was his favourite sight. Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

This past week also consisted of numerous phone calls to Andy, all from producers begging to sign him to their labels. I was so ecstatic for him, but of course, he was overtly humble as always. After doing his research and attending a few meetings, he decided to go with Rubyworks.

“Andy!” I threw myself into his arms excitedly, squeezing him so hard, I thought he might implode. “I’m so proud of you… we have to celebrate!”

“I’dunno, baby…” he sighed, raking his hands through the back of my hair while I melted into his touch. “This all might blow up in my face yet.”

“Don’t talk rubbish!” I scolded him, peeling my face away with my arms still around him so he could see me frown. “And you deserve to be celebrated. And we have no plans for dinner. Please?”

“Because you’ve twisted my arm,” he gave in, bending down slightly to capture my lips in his. As if I had any control at this point, I autonomously kissed him back, a squeak leaving me when he effortlessly picked me up and sat me on his kitchen island.

He deepened the kiss, one of his hands squeezing my thigh, the other tangled in my hair. I sighed against him, my hands skating across his abdomen. His tongue slipped into my mouth, forcing me to swallow a grunt of his. Both of his hands now slipped up my thighs, stopping just at the crease of my hip with a firm squeeze.

“You’d better stop,” he warned, pupils blown.

“Or what?” I teased, hands now gripping his biceps. Fuck dinner. I’ll give him something better to eat.

“You’ll see later,” he promised with a kiss to my temple, sliding his hands off me. “Let’s get ready now, or it’ll be impossible to drag me out of this house.”

“Fine,” I sighed in faux disappointment, hopping off the table and dragging him behind me by his hand.

I put on my favourite dress; a flowy black number with a corset like top that did me lots of favours in the breast department. I wore some simple three inch heels, sheer black stockings, and a faux leather coat. My hair was slicked back into a wavy ponytail, complimented by some chunky gold jewellery to break up all the darks I had on. I wore Andrew's favourite perfume of mine, Jimmy Choo's Eau De Parfum. I'd always had an illustrious love for fashion, but oftentimes Joe had an issue with my style. Not Andy, though. His jaw just about hit the floor and he looked as if he were close to calling off our plans and just taking me to bed instead. Not that I would have protested... but no, tonight was about him.

He looked edible in a black button up and brown jacket, with those white converse's that were basically fused to his feet at this point. He trimmed his beard down and has doused himself in Tam Dao by Diptique, and when I say he smelt divine, I mean, I considered calling off our plans as well.

At first, we found ourselves in a cheesy karaoke bar that was walking distance from his house. We threw back a couple shots, laughing and cheering on both the good and… not so good performances. Andy always said that despite the voice he was gifted with, he hated singing karaoke. I eventually convinced him to duet Islands in the Stream with me. It was the most fun I’d ever had. He then gave his own rendition of Sex Bomb, and I hate to admit it, but it did something to me. We snacked on shitty street food as we passed through the weekend markets, enjoying our tipsy people watching.

After that, we found a dim lit bar in the west end with live music and cheap drinks for happy hour. We caught a taxi and walked hand in hand from the car to our booth. For once, I loved having everyone's eyes on us. I wanted everyone to see us together, though we weren't really together.

The combination of the sultry jazz band in the background mingling with the effects of too much alcohol too fast had me sliding my foot up his leg, getting a high from watching his eyes darken as he squirmed. He gave me a warning look, to which I innocently sipped at my drink and averted my head to the band, gently applying pressure to his crotch. I felt his hand grip my ankle, and when I thought he'd move me away, he ran his hands up my leg instead, stopping only when he reached my knee. I turned my head back to him quickly, my core growing hot at the feeling. He looked gorgeous, curls framing his face, his eyes fixed on me as if I were the most interesting thing in the room.

His stare challenged mine, almost daring me to keep going. The look in his eyes screamed, "see what will happen," and I have never been one to turn down a dare.

Drunkenly, I slid my finger around the rim of my glass, bringing the salt to my lips as I sucked my finger clean, making effort to show my tongue at first. I pushed it in far deeper than necessary, almost able to hear the way his breath hitched in his throat. His grip on my ankle tightened, and I applied a bit more pressure with my heel.

"I swear to God, I will throw you into a cab right now," his eyes were hooded and narrowed in on me. It felt like a stand off between a predator and prey, despite feeling nothing but safety in his presence.

"You wanna take me home, big boy?" I teased, relishing in the way his cheeks flushed when I used the ridiculous pet name. He loved a good double entendre. Well, triple entendre, really.

I reached across the table to grab his hands, running my thumb over his knuckles. Despite the often heated nature of our exchanges recently, I'd never felt more loved. Maybe that was the wrong word, it was too soon. I'd never felt more secure.

He abruptly got up from the booth, dragging me to the dance floor with him. I laughed wildly, the alcohol buzzing through both of our veins like a freight train. “You hate dancing!”

“I know!” He shouted back over the music, pulling me in close to him by my waist. “But you’re beautiful and you’ve been force feeding me whiskey.”

“Hardly force feeding,” I scoffed, slapping his arm playfully. We swayed to a cover of I’d Rather Go Blind by Etta James, giggling uncontrollably at how uncoordinated we both were. It didn’t matter, it felt good.

Then there was the feeling of someone bumping into me hard, followed by the cold of a drink soaking the back of my legs. I gasped, pushing myself further into Andy to get away from the feeling.

“Sorry,” the woman spoke with no sign of remorse in her tone or expression. Andy was quick to grab a handful of napkins from the table beside us, wiping me down as I blushed embarrassedly. I was sure I was hallucinating when I looked up and saw Joe smirking. Fucking loser.

“Andy,” I pulled him up by his coat from where he was wiping me down. “Let’s go.”

“It’s okay, darlin’, you can’t even tell-“

“No, Joe is here. Let’s leave, please.” I felt hot and nauseous immediately, the glint in his eye from across the room all too familiar. He was going to make me pay for leaving him.

Andrew’s expression turned unreadable, yet he still nodded and stayed close behind me as I quickly fled the bar. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I nodded, acutely aware of how dry my throat felt. “He’s just unpredictable, I’d rather not deal with him tonight. Or, ever for that matter.”

He just hummed in response, lacing his fingers with mine. He pulled out his phone to order us an Uber. I tried to protest, insisting that we hadn’t celebrated him enough. He shushed me with a kiss, reassuring me that tonight was wonderful and he was grateful. I leaned into his body while we waited in the cold, his arm around my shoulder as we watched the traffic pass us by.

“So you are with him?” Joe scoffed, seeming to appear out of thin air. I startled at his voice, scolding myself internally for peeling away from Andy so quickly. “And you couldn't fuckin' wait for the chance to steal her, could you?"

“We aren’t together,” I quickly interjected, ignoring the way Andy’s face faltered at my clarification. “And even if I was, we are over. It’s over. Don’t you understand?”

“I understand that you can’t keep your legs shut.”

I was taken aback by his comment, unable to think of a snarky reply as my cheeks warmed and my jaw slackened.

"That's no way to speak to a woman, show some fuckin' respect," Andrew growled, stepping closer to my ex, absolutely towering over him. Joe tried to get in his face, both of them puffing their chests out like two pigeons. It was kind of sexy. Is that horrible to say?

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" Joe bit back, grabbing a fistful of Andrew's shirt.

"Stop!" I shrieked, grabbing Andrews' wrist, trying my hardest to get him away from Joe. "I want to go home."

"Home?" Joe seethed through gritted teeth, his face red as a traffic light.

Andrew shoved Joe back, sending him stumbling, barely finding his footing.

"Andy, I want to go home," my voice was fragile as I tugged on his wrist once more, his expression immediately softening when he saw tears in my eyes. He took my hand in his, leading me away as he checked to see if Joe was hanging around. Looks like the security guard saw him, thankfully.

The Uber rolled up two minutes later and I couldn't have climbed in any quicker. I was beyond grateful to be in a warm car rather than out in the cold with Joe.

"That was fuckin' scary," I huffed, throwing my head back against the headrest.

"I'm sorry," he cooed with a gentle hand threading through my hair. "I shouldn't have said anything to him."

"That was not your fault," I assured him, turning to look at those big, doe eyes that were starting to make me weak.

He gave me a half hearted smile and sat in silence for the rest of the drive. I wondered what he was thinking, but felt it was probably best to just let him feel how he needed to. When we got home, we thanked the driver and walked into Andrews house in silence.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently, standing by as he shucked his coat.

"Yeah," he sighed with a shake of his head, though it wasn't convincing in the slightest.

"Did I do something? Or, say something?" I prodded further, softly taking his hand so he'd look at me.

"Really, it's no big deal," he gave me a half hearted smile, squeezing my hand once before heading for the stairs. "I'm gonna go shower."

I watched as he walked away, wracking my brain for anything that could have happened. Surely seeing Joe didn't upset him.

Then I remembered how fast I was to reassure my ex that Andy and I weren't exclusive. Fuck. I planned out my approach in my head for a while so I didn't dig the knife in deeper.

When I made it to his room, he was in his closet with dampened curls and a towel around his waist, looking for clothes, I presume. I knocked softly to let him know I was at the door.

"Andy?"

He hummed in response, turning only his head to me.

"Is it because I said we aren't together?"

He huffed some half witted laugh, almost as if he were embarrassed.

I walked closer to him, taking his hand into mine. "Well we aren't officially together, Andy." I sighed. "But I guess we kind of are together, aren't we?"

That caught his eye.

"And," I continued, "I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be with right now." I took his face into my hands, pulling him close as I softly kissed him. His mouth was much warmer than mine and he smelt so fresh and delicious.

Each time we kissed, something deep inside of me sparked like a flint and steel. The near palpable electricity of that spark conducted its way through my lips straight to his. We found a steady rhythm that was soon forgotten, replaced by tongue and teeth, desperate for more. Without breaking contact, we staggered back onto the bed, only the cotton of his towel and the nylon of my stockings keeping our bodies separated. My hands tugged at his soft auburn curls, eliciting encouraging hymns of appraisal that I wished I could devour. His hands dug into my hips harder than he ever had. Not hard enough to hurt me, but hard enough to let me know he wanted me just as bad as I did him.

I moved my mouth to his neck, sucking at his delicate skin, feeling his pulse against my lips. He shuddered and gasped, desperately trying to grind my body against his. The sinful noises he made only made me crave him more, only made me yearn for his beautiful rhapsodies. To hear them alone, without the deafening ring of my own pleasure in my ears, to hear them without my own pants and sighs overwhelming his. Just him, all of him.

"Andy, I really want to suck your cock," I blurted, pulling away to look at him through drooped eyelids. "May I please?"

"Good manners," he joked, his eyes even more lidded than my own. "Of course, baby." He pulled me in for another kiss, his tongue gliding against mine as I let a hand trail down his stomach and underneath his towel. I felt him twitch in my hand as I started to stroke him, his groans reverberating in my mouth.

I had never wanted to knob somebody off so bad. I always hated it with whoever else I was sleeping with. There was something about Andy. He was such a giver that it felt wrong not to give him something back. Like I'd be missing out on a sacred experience if I didn't do it right now. There was no part of me that didn't get pleasure out of pleasuring him.

I pulled my lips from his, sliding down between his legs. I kissed from his jaw to his collarbones, to his chest and then his stomach, watching goosebumps form along his creamy skin, his calloused hands skating along my forearms.

I finally freed him from the towel, watching his cock jump against his happy trail. I took him into my hand, pumping his length a few times to see his facial expression change. My God, was it the most divine sight. Unable to hold off any longer, I licked a flat stripe over his tip, his precum dancing on my tongue.

"Fuck," he practically gasped, gently grabbing the back of my head.

I slowly wrapped my lips around his tip using one of my hands to guide him into my mouth. Without taking his eyes off me, he reached behind his head for a pillow, staring at me like he might die if he looked away. I didn't dare take my eyes off his.

I slowly took more of him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him as I did so. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, borrowing a whimper from my mouth working around him. I pulled off briefly to blink up at him, "tell me how you like it, please."

He whimpered some response, nodding desperately. I put my mouth on him again, looking up for further instruction.

"Stick your tongue out a little," he breathed, the faintest of smiles on his face. "Good, now start movin', baby."

I nodded best I could with my mouth full, bobbing my head at a steady rhythm. I looked up at him through my lashes, my stomach flipping at the sight before me.

"Gooood girl," he praised me, freeing one of his hands from my hair to brush his thumb over my cheek. "Can you go a little faster, angel?"

I hummed in agreement, moving my head along his length faster, keeping my tongue out along the base the way he liked, making sure to hollow my cheeks the best I could. Not that there was much room for that. I moved one hand to steady myself against his thigh, the other slipping down to massage his balls.

"Jesus Christ," he moaned, throwing his head back. "Yeah, that's it. Just like that." My stomach flipped, my core on the verge of boiling over. I swear I could get off on the sight and sounds of him alone.

I took him as deep as I could, fighting off the urge to gag as he repeatedly hit the back of my throat. My jaw was aching and tears were threatening to fall from my eyes, but I was determined. I could tell he was close by the unsteady rhythm of his breathing.

He gave my hair a firm tug, a warning, almost as if to give me the option to pull off. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you keep going."

I hummed in acknowledgement, no shred of intention to stop in my body.

"Where, baby?" He breathed, the muscles in his stomach beginning to tense. I traced a few shapes with my tongue as a form of communication, my way of showing him where, looking up at him. "Christ, Y/N," he groaned, spilling hot ribbons onto my tongue, his hips stuttering beneath me. I kept my mouth on him as he rode out his high, his face contorted in ecstasy, brows furrowed, mouth agape as his euphonious appraisals slipped from it.

I pulled off, my lips swollen and red, mascara no doubt running down my cheeks, and now uncomfortably horny.

Like he could read my mind, he sat up pulled me into his lap, now kissing my neck. His beard scratched across my collarbones in the most tantalising way, his hands working quickly to unzip my dress. He did so with ease, slipping the material off my shoulders where it pooled in our laps.

"You are perfect," he sighed against my skin, kissing me hard as he palmed one of my breasts. I whimpered against him, my hands in his hair as he buried his face in my chest. One of his hands cradled the bottom of my skull, the other guiding my breast to his mouth as he flicked his tongue across my nipple.

"Andy," I whined, pure need unmistakable in my tone. "Mmh, need you, baby."

He flipped me onto my back without warning, sliding down the bed between my thighs. His eyes were hungry, almost primal. Despite his release only moments prior, he had determination written all over his face as he buried his face between my thighs, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses through my stockings. "Please, I need you now. Please, please," my voice was whinier than I'd ever heard it, so much so I almost didn't recognise it.

My dress was still bunched around my waist, but he didn't seem too inconvenienced. My stockings, however, had no chance of surviving this one. In one fluid movement, he ripped through the crotch of my stockings, tearing them thigh to thigh. I gasped, my stomach flipping at the gesture. He pulled my knickers to the side, sliding his tongue over my clit without warning. Instantly, my back was arching autonomously, my head already thrown back against the mattress.

His tongue flitted against me with expert precision, switching between sucking and licking. "Tell me how you like it," he spoke against me, the vibrations from his voice combined with his soft lips against the most sensitive part of my body making my head go fuzzy. I couldn't even respond, only able to fumble around for his hand.

He slipped two fingers in with ease and I nearly screamed in pleasure. Lewd, wet noises filled the room, my whines and moans somehow even louder than the physical proof of my arousal. His deft fingers worked me to the fastest orgasm known to man, hitting my g-spot with each thrust, his tongue signing love letters onto my clit.

I chanted his name like a mantra, desperately clinging to the bedsheets beneath me as I completely lost myself under his touch. The most incredible feeling ever ripped through my every nerve ending, every fibre, every atom of my being. I shook uncontrollably beneath him, toes curled, eyes screwed shut as I made noises nobody else had ever torn from me. This must be what heaven feels like.

I finally came back down to Earth, panting like I'd ran a marathon. Andy wiped his mouth on the towel, the most satisfied grin I'd ever seen plastered to his face.

"Andy, I-" I stammered, genuinely lost for words as I laid my head on his chest. "I owe you the world. What do you want? Whatever it is, it's yours."

"Are you kiddin' me?" He laughed exasperatedly, kissing my forehead. "I should be givin' you the world. That was the closest to a religious experience I've ever had."

"You'd better write a song about this," I half joked, shimmying my dress off finally.

"Way ahead of ya', darlin'," he sighed in content. "I need to do that more."

"You ruined my stockings, Andy," I sighed in faux disappointment, "but that might have been the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

Then he was back to his shy self, a bashful grin on his face that he covered with his arm, leaving my heart to soar within my chest.

Fuck. I was catching proper feelings. Like... proper. Like, L-Word feelings. The realisation hit me like a tonne of bricks. Andy was to go and record some songs next week. What if he didn't feel the same? What if he got really famous and left me behind? Was I just sex? Was he just a rebound? It all has really moved fast, I shouldn't be getting attached...

"I'm gonna shower," I smiled politely, excusing myself before he had a chance to say anything.

A million thoughts raced through my mind at once. Was I trying to sabotage this for myself? It felt nice to be clean, a nice reset. The water defrosted me, made me feel centred again. I dried off and slipped into one of his hoodies.

"I need to tell you something," I blurted, unable to stop the words from coming out as I walked back into his room.

i did some googling and there might be some confusion (or maybe not, but just in case) when i say stockings i mean toe to hip tights/hosiery. i'm australian lol i apologise if some things don't make sense... i don't like the word hosiery ok

[nevergonnaloveagain-hey]

Hozier Dating Headcannons

He would definitely love to date someone who is more of an old soul, someone who loves older literature or music 

Expect regular serenades after he writes songs about you and personal concerts when you ask to hear a certain song. These moments would probably be very intimate and would just happen in the comfort of your home together.

You would be the first to hear any new ideas he has for his music and would read you his lyrics, asking you what you think he should change. And of course, you can’t think of anything that could make it any better since it is already so beautiful which infuriates him to no end (he loves you tho)

He seems like the kind of partner to go all out for anniversaries or birthdays and would set up really special dates and surprise outings, always making sure that you are comfortable and having fun. He would probably take you to secluded places surrounded by nature where you can just enjoy each other's company with no one else around.

He would hand write you beautiful letters especially when he is going away on tour or if he is going to be having a late night in the studio and won’t see you for a while

He values his privacy and would most likely keep your relationship lowkey and private. He wouldn’t hide you and wouldn’t hesitate to talk about you a little every now and then but he also wouldn’t tell everyone too much about your relationship, he likes to keep certain things to himself.

He would support you in everything that you do, whether it’s just a project that you have taken up or if it is something for work, he would be right behind you at all times cheering you on. If you start to doubt yourself, he would be the one to tell you how well you are doing and would motivate you 

He has a lot of appreciation for you especially since he knows it can be difficult to be with him when he is really focused on his music or if he is touring. So he would always express how thankful he is that you are there for him, even during tough times.

Considering his love for art and literature, he would love to take you on little museum or gallery dates and would definitely tell you the backstory of certain pieces if you seemed interested. He would also take note of the kind of books, poems or art you like and would give you unique gifts inspired by this.

Despite his fame, he is very grounded and values his private time and time with family, so he would love a partner who listens and values your opinions and alone time together. He would love to see you with his family and is in love with how much his parents and friends adore you.

If you’re not Irish, he would love to introduce you to certain foods or traditions from Ireland. He is always really excited to see your reaction to trying Irish snacks/drinks and remembers what you like or dislike

He is a big ‘I remember you said you like this, so i got it for you’ partner. He remembers everything about you, from your favourite food to your favourite songs or movies and even your favourite piece of jewelry

He is a very emotional guy and at first he struggles to open up to you but as your relationship grows, he becomes more comfortable being himself around you and knows you would never judge him just like how he would never judge you. Once he becomes fully comfortable with you, there is not one thing he wouldn't tell you and never hides anything from you. He trusts you with everything.

As I said he is a very private guy, so he wouldn’t be a big fan of PDA but as your relationship goes on, he will start to be more open about it and will show you off whenever he can. He loves hand holding and will periodically kiss your temple and or the back of your hand when you are out

Part 2!!

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter One: Blue Hydrangeas- Gratitude

Summary: Your job as a florist has been the highlight of your day for years. It becomes even more exciting when a certain new customer becomes a regular.

Word Count: 2286

Author's Note: Hey guys! My first multi-chapter fic, i'm so excited!!! i don't have a strict posting schedule, but I won't go more than two weeks without an update. please bear with me here because I have no idea what it's like to be a florist. I hope you all enjoy!!

p.s. special shoutout again to @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading, i can't thank you enough!

fic below the cut :)

You were a part of the small minority of people who actually loved their job.

The concept of this was strange to most people — strangers making small talk, men asking introductory questions on dates, even your own parents. Maybe because it wasn’t exactly a career; more so a job that someone has as a way to make rent while getting their degree, which is how you originally began to work at Earth's Laughter Florists. College had been years ago for you now, and yet you stayed behind the counter, making bouquets for customers with a genuine smile on your face. It got to the point that when the old owner decided it was time to retire, she chose you to take over. Of course, you immediately accepted; this job was the best part of your day. While all of your friends were going insane with their office jobs, you… admittedly still went insane from time to time, just in a much prettier workplace.

You had even taken it upon yourself to learn flower language: different types of flowers having different symbolic meanings. It was almost like extra credit. It gave you a new challenge of arranging flowers while keeping both color and symbolism in mind, and helped you create bouquets and arrangements with more meaning. This, in turn, gave your customers a new incentive to buy different flowers for different occasions based on what they meant. More business for you, more smiles on people's faces, and more money in your pocket. Everyone wins.

Another benefit of the job — your favorite part — was that it gave you small glimpses into the lives of other people. Flowers had a multiplicity of sorts. They were so versatile that people bought from you for almost every occasion. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, dance recitals, you name it. It made you more appreciative of others. Every day was a new insight into whatever your customers had going on. And today was no exception.

You arrived an hour before the store opened, as usual. You went into the back and threw on your apron, adjusting your name tag. Thoughts of everything you had to do before opening ran through your head, and you quickly began to busy yourself with everything from giving some flowers new vases of water to following up on an order for a wedding. Your two coworkers came in around a half an hour after your arrival, donning their aprons, saying their hellos, and also beginning their day. When the time finally came, you flipped around the sign hanging from the door, telling everyone outside you were open. You stood behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

One of the only downsides of your job was that it required a lot of patience.

It's not like you were just staring at the clock, biding your time until a customer entered. You still had work to get done, mostly tying up loose ends from what you didn't finish before. Your coworkers were occupied with a tall order of arrangements, so they stuck to the back, with the occasional popping in to ask if you needed assistance. Politely, you declined.

Mundane was the word that kept repeating itself in your head as you did your odd jobs around the store. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, mundane meant nothing horrible was occurring (even though it meant nothing was occurring). Of course, mundane never does last long.

You had just finished creating an arrangement to put on display when your first customer of the day walked in.

The bell above the door rang, and you quickly walked back over to where you were supposed to be standing, not even bothering to see who had walked in until you were behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed was that he was taller than you had expected, with long brown curls that fell down to his shoulders. His outfit, a black turtleneck, a brown leather jacket, and black jeans, was the right mix of formal and casual; you could tell he had somewhere to be, but with people that wouldn't mind if he laughed a little too loudly.

To top it all off, he was handsome. You couldn't pull your gaze from him if you tried.

He walked forward, slowly looking around at all the flowers on display until his gaze locked onto you. He broke the silence between you.

“Hello. I need some flowers.”

You maintained your composure and brushed off your previous thoughts. You started your usual routine, asking him the same questions to get to know the situation (and him) better.

“What's the occasion?”

“It's my mum’s birthday.”

“Does she have a favorite flower?” You asked. He replied with no hesitation.

“She loves hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. She always has.”

His immediate answer brought a small smile to your face. You nodded intently and began to think of all the possible combinations of flowers that would work well.

“You're specific. I like that. That makes my job easier. Usually guys say something like ‘I don't know’ or ‘the purple ones’ or just ‘roses’. It's like some people don't even pay attention.”

“Well, that's all I know how to do.”

“A blessing and a curse, I imagine.”

“More of a blessing, believe it or not.”

“I have a similar blessing, though it seems to be laser-focused on plants of all things.” You joked. “Speaking of plants, let me start on your bouquet.”

You left your spot, walking over to the wall of flowers on display for you to pick from. You stopped and stood next to the man, fixated on the wall as you tried to decide what flowers would go well together, in meaning and in visuals. Mumbling, you thought out loud.

“Alright. For his mother. Blue hydrangeas… that's gratitude. What can go with that?”

The customer tilted his head in confusion, clearly having heard you.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but what's with blue hydrangeas and gratitude?” He asked. Your eyes widened, and you turned to face him as you started your explanation.

“Oh, it's flower language. I learned about it to help me make more symbolic bouquets. Back in the Victorian era, people would use bouquets of flowers to convey messages they couldn't say out loud. Most of the time it was a love confession, though you could also reject someone if you picked your flora wisely. Individual flowers have meanings, too. Blue hydrangeas, your mum's favorite, symbolize gratitude. There was even a change in the meaning based on which side the ribbon was on, or if they were given upside down, and…” You cut yourself off when you realized you’d been talking for much too long, your excited expression dropping. “I’m rambling about something you definitely don't care about. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a confused look, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped him.

“What? Don't apologize. That was fascinating. I don't know if I’ll ever see flowers the same way again. In a good way, of course”

The fact that he was actually invested in what you had to say pleasantly surprised you. People — not just customers, people you actually choose to surround yourself with — would often tune you out after the first two sentences.

You knew this man for two minutes and he was already raising your standards.

“Well then, I’m happy to give you a new perspective. I’ll get started on your arrangement.”

You stepped back to get a better look at the flowers lining the walls of the room. You already had a vague idea of what you wanted, you just needed to put it into action. Hydrangeas were grabbed first, and made the focal point of the bouquet immediately. Other flowers were picked up and put down, a trial-and-error of sorts until you found which ones truly matched.

Occasionally, you looked over your shoulder to find your customer still standing there, spectating you from a few feet away. He watched you with a certain gleam in his eye, one you would attribute to admiration if you didn't know any better.

Once your selections were made, you picked out a plastic sheet and took the flowers into the back, where there was a smaller room with a much larger table surface for a workspace. The wrapping was laid out, and meticulously, flowers were laid down. Rearranged. Shifted around. After a few small touches, everything was in the exact place you wanted it.

You finally finished up, wrapping the flowers in the silver plastic and tying it up with a blue ribbon. You went back behind the counter and held the bundle of flowers up, pointing at each one as you described the meaning of each specifically selected flower.

“There's the blue hydrangeas for gratitude, white roses for loyalty and beauty, and belladonna delphinium for protection and well-being. You're basically showering your mum with compliments with this thing.”

“It's gorgeous,” he replied, the look of astonishment from before lingering on his face.

“As nature tends to be.”

“I mean, you can't argue with that, but the way you’ve arranged them, it's… stunning. She’ll love it.”

His compliment surprised you; it wasn't too often you got such a compliment for a simple bouquet. It caused your heart to flutter in your chest in a way that definitely crossed the border of the employee-customer relationship you had going on. Frightening. Maybe if you kept acting unaffected, it would magically stop.

“Let me ring you up.”

There was no true cash register, and you instead relied on a pen, a yellow legal pad, and mental math for customers’ totals. It took a moment, but you calculated what he owed you.

“That'll be $54.”

He muttered in agreement, and you watched as he reached into his coat pocket. His hand stayed there, fiddling around. After a moment, he reached the opposite hand into the opposite pocket. He felt around for a second, pulling his hands out and placing them on his hips. His content expression was replaced by one that was much more panicked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“I…I forgot my wallet back at my house. Do you take any online payment?”

You shook your head.

“No, sorry. We're old school. That's alright though, I can put these to the side and you can run home and get your wallet.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, angry more at himself than anything else.

“That's the thing. I live thirty minutes from here and I’m meeting my mum in fifteen minutes, and I have specific instructions to be on time. I might just…”

He stopped his sentence, paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’ll find something else. Thanks for all your help, though. You have a gift.”

You caught the sincerity behind his now bitter tone, and it made your heart ache. He turned to leave and took a few steps forward. You didn't process that you had said anything until his reaction.

“Wait.”

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned around, and you realized your impulses led you to call out for him even though you had no plan whatsoever.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of an idea. You genuinely wanted to help this man give his mother flowers… The fact you found him attractive was merely an added bonus. Besides, the pity you felt for him overrode that. Once the metaphorical light bulb lit above your head, you spoke again, leaning in closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Okay, I’m not supposed to do this, and this definitely isn't a good business practice, but I can tell you're not just doing this to steal flowers from me, so I’ll make an exception.”

He leaned in as well with a look of intrigue. You continued to explain.

“You can take the bouquet for now, and then within… I don't know, two days, you have to pay me back. I’d just need a name and phone number so I can contact you if you don't show up.”

You snatched one of your business cards from the display and flipped it over so the blank side faces upwards, leaving a pen in front of you so he could write. He picked up the ballpoint, seemingly scribbled for a moment, and then slid the card back over to you. Written in surprisingly beautiful handwriting, you read his name aloud.

“Andrew… Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

This caught you off guard. For a second you wondered if maybe you did accidentally give a free bouquet to a shady guy.

“Excuse me?”

Andrew’s mouth went agape as he realized the connotation behind what he said, and he quickly muttered an explanation, flustered. “Oh my god! No. Not like that. You… your name tag.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you gave him a nod.

“Right. Forgot that was there for a second. Alright, take your bouquet. Happy birthday to your mother. And remember, two days.”

He gave you a gesture showing his gratitude, pressing his hands together.

“Thank you. So much. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” He said, grabbing the bouquet.

“Hopefully with money in two days,” you joked.

He let out a laugh.

“Money would do the trick. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You watched as he left, the smile of your face growing as you noticed his appreciation of the flowers you had arranged by the doorway. He paused for a moment before opening the door and leaving, and you caught him humming a tune you'd never heard before.

You hoped he would come back much sooner rather than later.

[sunlight-fics]

I WANT/NEED TO GIVE THIS MAN A HUG SO FUCKING BAD ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY

[angelofsmalldeaath]

i'm starving, darling, let me put my lips to something — a.h.b.

cw: this is just...smut — semi-public sex, choking... minors dni i am so serious

“here?” i gasp, burning, panting. the rock solid wall digs into my back, exhilaration courses through my veins. 

“here,” he smiles, wicked and delightful in the faint light of the streetlamp. 

it’s a shitty alley for christ’s sake—in fact, i’m sure i saw a rat scurrying past us just a few seconds ago—but right now, in this moment when i feel his fingers trailing up my thigh, everything else simply fades away.

“do you want this?” he breathes, lips attached to my neck, shivering when i touch him. 

i nod instantly. “you? always.”

“no,” he laughs. it’s a low, deep sound that echoes around in my skull, “us, here. anyone can walk in, you know?”

“that’s half the thrill,” i tease, begging him to kiss me again. 

“yeah?” he challenges, teeth grazing my neck, just a smidge of pressure on my pulse point until it’s wild and thunderous and echoing throughout my entire body. 

i slap his chest lightly, “tease!”

and he laughs when i have to stand on the very tips of my toes and hold onto him just so i won’t lose my balance. it doesn’t take him much longer though, just when i’m about to stumble, he grabs my face, keeping me still so he can kiss me properly—the kind that knocks the breath out of my chest when he grazes my bottom lip with his teeth, the kind that has me leaning against him entirely for balance when my knees almost buck under me. 

the kind that makes me moan in his mouth, until he’s pulling my leg up, my thigh pressed against his waist and his hands under my ass. 

“when did you get so dirty, darling?” he teases, digs his fingers into my skin, and i squirm, wishing he’d get rid of all the layers between us. wishing he’d fuck me till all i remember is his name. 

till i suddenly find god in the alley behind the bar.

i grind my hips into his, gasping when i feel him against me, “saw how you looked at me in there. couldn’t stop the thoughts after that…”

“is that right?” he whispers, hands reaching into my hair until his fingers are tangled in the tresses. i hiss when the sting comes, when he tugs on my hair to tilt my face up, and i have no choice but to look right at him, at his almost-black, hungry eyes that look ready to devour me.

he looks ready to devour me, like a man starving. 

“touch me,” i whimper, grab his hand and move it up my thigh until his finger is hooked in the waistband of my underwear. he stills, and looks at me with a grin. 

“beg for it.”

“wha—”

“got a filthy mouth on you, haven’t you?” he whispers right into my ear, nips my earlobe while he’s at it and i moan just from that. “tell me your thoughts. tell me everything you thought about me in there.”

i whimper, thumb the zipper of his jeans until it’s half open. “everything?”

“everything. i won’t do it until you ask for it. until you beg for it.”

“thought about your hands,” i breathe, pull down his zipper the rest of the way and hook my fingers in his belt buckle. “saw your hand around the glass and wondered how it would look around my neck…”

“like this?” he asks, voice almost a growl, and wraps a hand around my neck. it’s warm, i feel every bit of callused skin on me, feel his fingers pressing down on the sides of my neck until the air thins. 

i choke out a yes, trying and failing to focus on his belt-buckle, utterly dizzy from everything—the lack of air, his body against mine. him.

“what else?” he prompts. 

heat coils in my belly when i think of the rest. “t-thought about your fingers too, on me, in me, everywhere.”

if he speaks, the words don’t register. they don’t even fall on my ears. all i feel is his fingers, snaking their way inside my underwear—moving, touching, teasing, anywhere but where i want to feel him. “like this?” he tsks, laughs when i whine in protest. 

“you know it’s not.”

“ooh, feisty.” 

this time when i kiss him, i make sure to bite. he hisses in my mouth, enjoying the sting a little too much, and i take advantage of his distraction. “like that,” i moan in his mouth and grab his hand, pushing a finger inside me and slipping my own finger in right after. i hold his hand in place and look him right in the eyes. 

they look pitch black, blown out wide and so dark, it sends a thrill down my spine. 

he presses on my neck again, more and more and more until i’m close to a blackout and grinding on his hand. my finger slips out of me, he instantly pushes in another to replace it, to stretch me out more. 

“please d-don’t stop,” i beg, moving my hips faster and faster, matching the thrust of his fingers, “i’ll die if you stop.”

my voice is raspy and rough, like i’ve been screaming his name for hours. and maybe i have been; he certainly looks like i have been—fucked out and utterly undone. 

“won’t” he promises, and moves his hand faster, thumb circling my clit, “you’ve been so good, darling, so fucking perfect!”

“ohgodohgodohgod,” i chant like a blind devotee, drunk on him, pathetic and desperate. 

“that’s it,” he groans when i clench around his fingers, “that’s it baby, give me all you got. look at me,” he says. no…it’s almost an order, “look at me when you cum.”

instinctually, i open my eyes, look right at him. he loosens his hold around my throat, and just like that the air is flooding into my lungs all at once—too much, too much, overwhelming until i cry out his name and cum all over his hand. 

our pants echo in my ear, barely even audible over the rushing blood. 

“fuck—” he chokes, utterly speechless. i feel no different. 

instead, when he pulls his hand out, i take a hold of it, place it in my mouth. he makes a sound at the back of his throat—a choked moan like he can’t take it anymore. the moan frees itself when i swirl my tongue around his fingers, licking every inch of them, sucking them clean. 

“you’ll be the death of me,” he groans, “fuck darling.”

only when i let go of his fingers do i smile at him—the same wicked smile he’d shown me before, the same devilish grin. 

“your turn now,” i kiss him, make sure he tastes me on my tongue. “tell me what you want. beg for it.”

and in the alley behind the bar, i get on my knees. 

a/n: idk why i feel the need to explain myself but i do — this was so much harder to write dear god, lets all collectively agree to ignore this if this is bad. anyway back to sappy fluff from now on (for a while at least)(unless inspiration strikes idfk)

[reidsbabyhoney]

me having 15 wips and yet i still decide to start a new one

[love-toxin]

hyrule spice <3 (rauru, byrne, tauro, link)

(general cws: graphic smut, fem/afab pronouns, breeding, knotting, hylian/zonai relations, pet names/name calling, dirty talk, degradation, squirting, fingering, overstim, bondage, unprotected sex, rough sex)

rauru of hyrule

Rauru never falters, never hesitates. He wants you and you're his. There's no fighting it--there simply can't be any doubt that you have his love.

But as the king of Hyrule, he has a duty to fulfill. Marriage, family, continuance of the royal bloodline...you understand, don't you? Even as a Hylian, you must. As a man and a Zonai, he has needs.

One of those needs, especially when faced with a pretty Hylian like yourself, is to breed.

"Ah, ah, ah--ahnnnngh-!" Is it you now, is it him? Who even cares at this point, you're basically the same being by now; bodies intertwined and moving in unison, every shuffle dictated by Rauru's massive Zonaite body towering over yours. Both his furry, clawed hands rest over yours, palms dwarfing your tiny Hylian fingers as he plants his body firmly into every thrust. The thin, fuzzy layer of hair that protects his cock is now coated in your arousal, sticky and slick from the pounding you've taken so all that rings in your ears is a hefty plap plap plap from behind as you take his thrusts.

Rauru once apologized to you, when you met, about his "off-putting" appearance. His ears, his claws, his snout that makes it difficult to kiss, his fur and his tail...he doesn't apologize for it anymore. He knows now that he doesn't have to, not when he gives you treatment like this.

"Forward," He snarls into your ear, gone mad with the weight of his lust and the frenzy of his mid-month heat. His teeth could rip the flesh from your bones, yet even in this state he uses them only to pierce the sweetest of claiming bites into your throat and down your spine. "Bend...until you break."

He can't be satiated by thought alone. Nor even the touch of his own hands, or a concubine if he owned one. It can only be you. Only your soft, squishy flesh rubbing up against his fur, your hands pinned beneath his claws, and your womb pierced on the tip of his thick, knot-heavy cock that's just begging to lock itself within your cunt and never let go.

Those claws dig painfully into your back, yet it doesn't dissuade you, and he loves that. He loves that at the end of the day, you'll submit to your king as he forces you to the sheets and pins your hips under his, his knot swelling and swelling until he finally breaches that soft place and all becomes right with the world. Through the pain you still adore him, and through the pleasure even more so.

Now, it's just a matter of soothing your bruised, marked-up body with his voice and his doting touch, with kisses and whispers of love and promises of all the gorgeous gifts he's going to present to you, as a token of gratitude for allowing the first of the Zonai to mate with the first Hylian--and person--he's ever truly loved.

byrne the dueling spirit

One hundred years. One hundred years of hard labour, training, and agony. Loneliness and isolation and anger, fury building itself up and up and up until it boils, begging to be let out on anyone close enough to make a decent punching bag.

Byrne doesn't know love. Never has, never feels like he ever will--he only knows pain and weakness, the desire to grow stronger clawing at him like a ravenous dog. Maybe that's why he finally lets loose on you. You were within reach. Never said no, never gave him anything but a smile.

And you're regretting it now, he bets. Because you have a muscled, weighty beast of a man on top of you, and you can feel the way he's learning this kind of touch for the first time as well as you can see clouds in the sky.

Or could, if you didn't have your face forced into your pillow, back arched so deeply the sweat pools like a puddle in the dip of your back. And it shakes and spills with the creaking of your bedframe, your down mattress squealing for mercy as Byrne forces you down and bullies your pussy into submission.

"Shut up." He groans, as if his bandana hasn't been balled up and stuffed into your mouth to quiet your incessant noises. If he didn't like you, he wouldn't say anything. But he can't help but tease you...can't help but make you wish you'd never invited him back to your house in the first place. "....Useless bitch." He grumbles, the smirk on his face going unnoticed as your lust-numbed brain leaks out your ears. Your pussy's cute, but it won't let him go--and even when he tries, your body just sucks him back in like you can't go a minute without being fucked.

But it just gives him the chance to put that metal arm to good use. It isn't rubbing or pinching he uses to his advantage, but a cold, hard, wet slap against your clit that finally shocks you enough to let him go--just barely enough to slide out before you clench down on the tip, though, and your muscles won't loosen as if you've been made to have a vice grip most inconveniently. He's gotta go. "Can't stick around fucking you all day. Let go."

Pop. With a deep, clingy squelch, he's finally pulled free from your soaking wet, tight as hell abyss, contrary to your whines and squirmy wiggling that beg him sweetly for more. To stay.

You're pretty and all. He likes you, and he doesn't like anyone. But he can't stay....and you can't get too attached to him, or else you're just gonna end up heartbroken.

But, maybe...maybe he can spare you a little dignity and make you finish. He thinks as he slides his cockhead through your folds again, unaware of just how hard he's falling in love as he sinks back in.

tauro the scholar

Your scholar is a nightmare because he won't let anything just lie. He needs answers. Evidence. Scientific proof. He needs logic and deciphered clues to figure out life's greatest mysteries.

Hence why he's doing today's case study on your soft, cute, and sensitive little pussy.

"Subject-responds-to-stimuli-even-under-duress," He speaks softly as his free hand scribbles out his notes on the pad between his feet, his fingers on the other hand buried deep within your twitching, stretched pussy lips. The 'stimuli' being him, and 'duress'....well, emotional duress counts. Especially when you've orgasmed 8 times today. "I believe in you, baby." Tauro replies cheerfully to your fucked-out groans, a smile permanently etched on his lips as he curls his fingers deep into your cervix. "I can make you ejaculate today! We're almost there!"

Somehow the sterile language he likes to use--which would normally be a bit of a mood killer in bed--just doesn't faze you anymore with Tauro. He's a bit of a kook, a cute airhead with the kind of knowledge the Sheikah themselves would kill for. A sweet, silly man who likes to tease.

A man who isn't intimidated by the pulses of your pussy nor the jerk of your hips as the pressure pushes down on your bladder, who positions his face right up close between your legs despite you gasping out that you feel like you're gonna pee. Embarrassment is nothing to him.

"That's what it's supposed to feel like."

He growls with an eager grin, fucking your cunt even faster with those thick fingers that's toe-curling but not yet cusping on painful. The bristly hairs on his freshly-shaved chin rub your soaked skin as he leans in, laving his huge, hot tongue over your tortured clit that's been messed with like a hot button all day today.

It's only when your shaking hips and arched back come to a standstill that he's finally satisfied--drenched in your juices, his face glistening as he talks you through and urges you to "let it all out baby, give everything to me" until you're squirting just like he told you he'd make you do for him.

Rarely have you seen such satisfaction on his face upon finding the answer he was looking for. Each tremor comes as he eases more out of you, every gasp and spurt of fluid getting him more excited about the results. You drench him from head to lap and he couldn't be more ecstatic, licking every bit he can get off his fingers and his palm as he looks up at you through hooded eyes.

"Now..." He pants, hair slicked down and tongue lolling out of his mouth as he laps up the droplets sticking to your folds as you tremble. "...Let's see if you can do that again, hm?"

link the hero

Link needs very few, simple things in life to coexist with reality. Those are primarily food, warmth, sunshine...and sex.

Poor hero. All he needs is an orgasm or two to get him back into the fight when he's exhausted from his toils. That's not so much to ask for, right?

That's where you come in. Such a pretty thing--and such a nice girl to help him out when he's in need. Link can show up on your doorstep night or day, rain or shine, healthy or half-dead, and to see you let him in and give him a place to put his feet up makes him feel like he's in love.

And whatever ails him is sure to clear up with a dose of your sweet, slick pussy that he swears was moulded just for him.

"Ha...ha...hah, ah-!" Link huffs out as he comes to a close again, hips bucking violently from below as he lets those animal instincts run wild with you. He can't be stopped, hence why you have to use those handy Lynel-silver shackles to cuff him to your bed, all so he won't break free in the heat of the moment and start fucking you rabidly on the floor of your cottage. Not like that's ever happened before, and he accidentally traumatized your milkman when he came knocking on the door....

"D-Don't strain, Link..." You gasp, his cum flooding down your thighs from hours upon hours of rabid coming-home-from-battle sex. "You'll hurt yourself."

Link doesn't talk much as it is, but the wobbly grin and the rolling back of his eyes in his head serves well enough to say what he thinks about that sentiment. Don't care. Need to blow my load. That's what's written all over his expression, and you can't say you're much surprised...or disappointed.

"Fine," You sigh, swirling your hips in deep circles to slow his thrusts--and to remind him of how much he's at your mercy now, no matter how strong of a warrior he is out on the field of battle. Your chuckle causes his back to arch up off the bed, his wrists pulling hard at the cuffs while his heart nearly beats out of his chest. "Then be a good boy and cum already. I've got a mess to clean up."

Link growls, that feral growl that only comes out when he's really, desperately in need of release. He starts thrusting more violently, his hips barely meeting the mattress anymore as he chases that pleasure against your womb--against that blasted little wall that feels like heaven but constantly stops him from shooting ropes right into the source of that ecstasy he loves. Maybe one day.

For now, it only stops once you've had your cervix appropriately bruised, and he's made you slump over him in a panting, gasping mess as his seed flows out of you and into his sweaty lap. Maybe he doesn't need Hyrule, Hylia's blessing, or the Master Sword, or anything anymore.

Maybe all he needs in this world is you.

[beat-the-morning]

🖤 Fumigation Journal || Hozier x Reader🖤

BOTH PARTS

READ ON TUMBLR UNDER CUT || READ ON AO3

Rating: 18+ || smut

Tags: oral sex, multiple orgasms, cum eating, cum swallowing, marsturbation interrupted, love confessions, fingering, face fucking, dry humping, marking, creampie (kinda), squirting, breakfast in bed

Summary: Andrew is staying at your apartment while his house gets fumigated, you come back from work one day only to find him with your dream journal in hand. What will happen next?

Word Count: 7k

A/N: This fic was co-written with oomf :) We both wrote both chapters— go give them some love!!

Their Twitter

Their Wattpad

💙FULL FIC UNDER CUT💙

You gazed out your window, sleepy eyes reverently observing the sunrise. Your heart swelled— somehow, the sunrise always felt prettier when you had someone to love. Really, everything in life gets slathered in beauty

And, oh, how close your love was. He was staying in your shitty apartment instead of his big, old house. The one that had no air conditioning, that he needed to get renovated when he moved in to even be able to piss in the bathroom. It also frequently got infested with bugs. Andrew tried everything, but nothing really worked. Not bug traps, nor the exterminator, nor closing the gaps in the house.

So, currently the house was getting fumigated. Maybe these bugs realized how he was made for you. Maybe they were on your side— the ultimate matchmakers. You giggled into your pillow at the mere thought.

You got up and rolled out of bed. Work was in 30 minutes— it was probably best to suck it up and stop staring at the sky, like some sort of romantic. Even if you very well were. You stumbled out of your room, hair frizzy, face bare, eyes blurry.

Your sleepy legs made their way into the kitchen, every step a battle. You weren't paying attention, your mind was way better at thinking about your pretty best friend. In consequence, you bumped into the man himself. Face hitting his chest, you let out a tired groan. You looked up at him with weary eyes— one of his hands ended up on your shoulder, steadying you.

“Clumsy morning, huh?”

You cover your mouth, hiding a yawn. Andrew laughed, a warm, mellow, welcoming sound. Wanting him was your only absolute this early. Everything was blurry, you really didn't care about anything, you were tired, and your head hurt. But you wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“I made french toast.” He said, letting you go, interrupting your thinking.

You happily hummed, sitting down at the table as he set a plate in front of you, “Thank you, Andy”

“No problem. And I'm sorry for this being all so sudden. Thank you for taking me in. It… it really means a lot, you're a sweetheart. Truly.”

Your cheeks flushed, and it took you a few seconds to compose yourself before you dug into your pancakes.

Once you were done stuffing your face, you quickly got ready for your job. You organized books at the local library— and you sure as hell dressed the part. You decided on a patterned button down and black trousers- hell, your elderly neighbor dressed younger than you.

Work was boring as fuck, but at least it was Friday, so no more work for a couple days. You got through the day with one too many cups of coffee and at least one “smoke break”, which was really just a lap around the block to get away from work for a few minutes.

You didn't have the worst job ever—hell, the pay was the best you'd had. But it was tedious, and mind-numbingly boring. Especially when you had a man at home. Not your man, but rather the man you were given the curse of being “just friends” with.

You were utterly thrilled, yet exhausted at the end of the day, when you took the bus home and planned what movie you and Andy were to watch.

Your aching legs made their way up the stairs, your hand holding tightly onto the handrail, trying not to fall down the steps from how drowsy you were. The sweet promise of seeing your best friend filled you, though, and it did almost numb your pain.

You finally reached your floor, opening the door, heart warm and fuzzy, and your eyes befell a beautiful, but shocking sight.

Andrew lay there, on your cozy couch, in sweatpants and a white ribbed tank top. Even that was enough to stun you. His eyes were focused, glazed over, head tilted back. His hair was messy, tangled.

In one hand, he held a small, black journal- with striking similarity to your dream journal. You’d been using it for a few months now and had written every dream you’d had in it, while it had started out with innocent little fairytales, your dreams had become far less appropriate as of late. So the journal mostly was composed of dirty descriptions of intimacy- all with Andrew. This was the book that you mistakenly left open on your coffee table the night before. His other hand was under his sweatpants, gripping tightly, stroking his cock with wild abandon. He knew it was wrong, that he was invading your privacy, but god, was he weak for you.

“So fuckin’ hot…” He groans, the world around him fuzzy and blurred. “Please” he whimpered, bucking into his hand, a bit of drool leaking onto his chest, soaking the hair that peeked out from under that singlet.

You took it all in, and realized that you should not be watching this. You quickly shut the door, followed by a loud curse from Andy. You could feel your heart pounding in your ear. Fuck, were you wet. You were still in your work clothes, very much dressed like a librarian. But you couldn’t deny the wetness underneath it all, you felt your panties soaking more and more as the seconds passed by, you hated and loved what his simple yet perverted act was doing to you.

Behind the door, Andrew quickly put his conscious, ever twitching length away under those unintentionally slutty grey sweatpants. Or intentionally— you knew this man. Despite his very common bouts of disliking everything about himself, he knew how hot others saw him. And he wasn’t an idiot— he'd seen your reverent stares. He'd noticed how you always stayed wrapped in his arms just a second too long after hugs. He knew that you were attracted to him on some level. Maybe not the full extent, but he knew something was up.

How could he ruin this by wanking off to your private journal? Once his dick was put away, still twitching, leaking a bit in his pants, he ran his hand through his hair, hunched over, filled with guilt. Your moleskin-wrapped journal was abandoned on the floor. Man, did he fuck up.

You leaned into the door, your voice shaky— you were embarrassed, turned on, and terrified all at the same time.

“Andy… you decent?” you called out on the other side of the thin door, meek.

He looked up from his hands covering his flushed face, and responded a very pathetic, “Yea… Ehm, yeah, I am.” He shifted awkwardly, before his pretty hazel eyes fixed upon the floor. Shamed, and rightfully cockblocked.

You opened the door, slowly walking back into your apartment, your eyes focused on the floor, too embarrassed to look over at him. His breathing was shaky— he was scared to take even one step closer to you.

“I’m sorry, angel, I didn’t—“ he cut himself off, taking in a deep breath before speaking again. “I have no excuse, I really, really don’t. I just… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. I was.. you were gone, found yer book… and… and I thought you were working, and I'm so fucking sorry, Ang-” He cut himself off with a sob, one finger nervously twisting at a curl.

Angel, huh? The man was always such a sweet talker when he fucked up. Now you weren't even mad at him, how could you be? You wished you could have the image of him pleasuring himself burnt into your eyelids. But you snapped out of these filthy thoughts when he spoke again.

“I’ll just leave, I know you probably need to process this whole thing, but please don’t—“

“No- I mean, it’s…” You took a heavy breath in. Please keep going. You thought, but what slipped out was a little more civil;

“We all do it, yeah? So… so…” You took another heavy breath in, your tone changing to a softer one. “Don’t leave.”

His heart broke with your last words, how could he say no to you?

“No, no, I'm… really sorry, that journal was private. And… and it's not fair to you,” cue the chorus of sniffles, “It's none of my business, even if it's about-”

And when you thought your cheeks couldn't flush more. Your best friend was sobbing, and yet you couldn't help but notice the outline in those sweats. Long, hard, twitching, leaking onto the waistband. Oh, how you wish to swallow it whole.

You took a step closer to him, finally looking into his eyes, they were red and teary, begging for forgiveness. You hugged him, awkwardly, but you knew he didn’t care much about that. He just needed the embrace of another. He felt horrible—disrespectful, dirty, perverted. All he wanted to do was sink into this couch and die from pure sin.

But the closest he could do was sink into you. He was so disappointed in himself that he didn't really notice his face was between your breasts. Fine, he did notice, and it made him even harder. But it was a shameful boner— and he really did derive a lot of comfort from your embrace.

You gently stroked his hair, whispering the occasional ‘you're okay’. Did he notice how hard your nipples were? Did he feel your heart beating? Oh, you felt him. Obviously he was hunched over, in a way that you couldn't feel his cock, but you could feel his shaky hands holding onto you. You could feel the way he nuzzled his nose into your breast— and fuck, did it turn you on.

You moved to the couch, sitting down next to each other, you gently pulled his face from your chest, holding it tenderly in your hands. He looked so ashamed, yet aroused. He closed his eyes for a second, relishing in your touch and caresses, surprised that you even wanted him near you.

He sighed softly, eyes still closed, you placed a tender kiss on his forehead, your thumbs softly rubbing his cheeks in an attempt at comforting him.

When you pulled away slightly, he let out a little whine. He didn't mean to– he was ever so flustered. His cheeks under your fingers were hot, very hot. Like he'd never been kissed on the forehead by someone as pretty as you. You were sure he had, but it was cute to see him fumbling around like he hadn't.

“I really am sorry, I don't deserve this.. you being so damn sweet, when you should really just be yelling at me.. and in your own house, I'm such a-”

“For God's sake, could you shut up?” You blurted, your hand stilling in his hair.

He looked at you with big, wet eyes, almost like a kicked puppy, he looked like he was on the brink of tears. “But I-”

You saw those pretty shining eyes, and that blabbering soft mouth. And all you could think about was shutting him up yourself. You leaned in, the bow of your lips drawn against him in a slow, but nevertheless desperate affair. Andrew sobbed a little into the kiss, but held you close. He needed this, he needed you.

You were the first to slip your tongue into it, tasting his spit. He tasted like coffee and tears. Poor man, an insomniac and depressed. What he needs now is pussy. Plenty of it, to drown his sorrows in.

You kept devouring him, feeling his hands shaking throughout, yet incredibly needy. One hand landed on your thigh, and you fell into him, groaning needily.

God, he could feel the heat radiating from you. He pulled off your kiss-swollen lips and got at your neck, quickly finding the spot that drew you in. He spoke quietly, under your ear

“This good?” He whispered, eyes half lidded. He didn't even try to hide his boner, and you could feel his precum leaking out.

“Mhm..” you whispered reverently, moving his hand up your waist.

He fumbled while unbuttoning your shirt, quickly followed by your bra before he latched onto one of your breasts, needily sucking at your nipple while his hand played with the other one. You whimpered quietly, your hand immediately moving to his hair, fingers tangling in his brown curls. His lips moved to your other nipple, sucking it passionately while his hands travelled lower on your form, undoing your work pants after a bit of a struggle.

You tugged at his hair, leading him to where he was so obviously so very giddy to lap at. He looked up at you, heart eyes so pretty in the golden hour, but ever so feral. You met his gaze with a smile. He kissed a trail down to your clit as he inched both your panties and trousers down at the same time, moving down, licking a firm stripe up your warm pussy, then digging in, and eating you like a man starved.

And god, did he eat you out. Like he was made to. Eager and adoring, he worshipped you between your legs without even pulling away to breathe. His long tongue, soft lips, and nice big fingers— what else would he use them for? Yes, guitar playing, but he'd much prefer to play you instead.

His tongue worked at the lips of your pussy, nose dug into your clit, his stubble drawing giggles from you. It quickly became his safe space. He loved it. He'd always loved it, and he loved it even more now that it was you. His sweet muse.

And his favorite melody, out of all the love songs that he's heard, were your moans. A sweet crescendo, starting soft and shy, but loud enough for all your neighbors to hear by the time his fingers were inside you. You were his, all his. And everyone had to know that. They had to know that he was devouring your decadent body as it deserved to be.

His fingers curled into you, tickling the very spots that made you squirm and squeeze his face with your thighs. You returned his heart eyes before they rolled back.

You moaned so loudly, lewdly. A noise that you didn’t even know you could make. You felt a familiar knot in your belly, the feeling of it tightening only to suddenly snap overwhelming you.

“Fuck, you- Andrew, fucking- God!” You said, frustratingly riding the waves of pleasure running through you.

He looked up, eyes shining, still so very big and needy, but drowning in your orgasm, just as you were. He curled up next to you, catching your lips in a hungry kiss. When he pulled away for air, you smiled, in a way that you hoped he adored.

“You taste like pussy, Andy” You teased with a little giggle.

“Mm… Wonder who’s fault that is, angel.”

You giggled, kissing him again. His hands grabbed your waist and moved you so you were straddling his thigh, you ground against it, unknowingly rubbing his cock while doing so. One of your hands travelled lower towards his sweatpants, slipping under the waistband and wrapping your fingers around his cock. Slowly, you stroked it, the tip of it red and glistening with precum, poking out under his clothes. Your other hand pulled his top off, consumed with the need to feel his skin against yours.

He moaned softly into the kiss, pulling your hips firmly onto his thigh and making you hump it, you moaned in return, and he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t long until you felt him twitching in your hand, his hips buckling towards you ever so slightly, you were going to stop, you wanted him in your mouth before he could finish, but you were too late. He came on your hand and on his abdomen not long after, a thick pearly coating on his slight pudge. You broke the kiss, looking down at his lap and pulling your hand up to your mouth.

He looked into your eyes, and you returned it, almost asking for permission, to which he gave you a small nod and a smile. Your eyes focused back on your hand, still covered with his seed, and you licked it off, quiet, soft moans escaping you as you swallowed his delicious sin.

“Baby, look at me,” he commanded softly, his grip in your thighs tightening. You looked at him, his eyes full of love and lust. “Good girl, now look here,” he pointed at the mess of cum on his abdomen. “Look at what you did.”

“Sorry.” You said with feigned innocence, looking at him with puppy eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, my sweet angel.” He cooed in a patronizing tone, knowing you were putting on an act. “Just clean it up for me, yeah? Be good and clean up your mess.”

You nodded, sliding off his lap and onto your knees on the floor. You leaned in close to his tummy, his dick still hard even after his climax. He grabbed you by your hair, pulling you even closer, then, you started licking him clean, his happy trail tickling your tongue in the best way possible. You swallowed him, over and over again while he moaned softly. You slowly started to run your tongue over his cock, looking up at him with your sweet bedroom eyes. He gasped. He adored having someone suck him off after he's already come. It made him see stars, truly.

“Mmmm… you like this, sweetness? You enjoy cleaning me up after you made such a mess of me?” He cooed again, hands brushing through your hair.

You nodded the best you could while his dick was stuffing your mouth up. God, his sweet whimpers and words of encouragement. They really could kill you.

You swallowed him deeper, closing your eyes, trying your best not to gag. You ended up getting a little carried away, your nose pressed hard into his pubic bone, like a puzzle piece. There was a bulge in your throat. You decided to try something out and stroked it from the outside, looking to see if it did anything for him.

And God, did it do something. He let out a noise you thought was impossible. He was there, on the couch, legs spread, back arched as you were on your knees, sucking from the tap. He pulled your hair tighter- probably not intentionally so hard, but it's not like it didn't turn you on.

You kept at it, closing your eyes, drowning in those growls and whimpers. You'd think he was some sort of slut.

He gasped, and starting fucking into your throat, pretty eyes rolling back, legs shaking. After another few languid strokes, he came down your throat, basking in the way you enjoyed this, just as much as he did.

“Good girl, fuck.. your throat, fuck,. Jesus fucking Christ, angel… so tight, Mmm—!” He babbled mindlessly as you pleasured him. God, he adored you.

Adored you so much that he came down your throat. You choked on it a little, pulling back and clearing your throat. You smiled sweetly up at him, cum dripping down your chin, then kissed the tip of his cock, warranting another little burst of cum to shoot at your face.

“Such a messy eater…” He teased lovingly.

You were in the middle of a reply when he stuffed his cock into your mouth again, holding you there.

“Shhh, princess. Nobody's ever taught you to not speak with your mouth full?” There was a smile on his face. God, was he a vision… Cheeks flushed, hair the messiest you've seen it, hands shaking, stray drops of cum on his pale skin. You started to bob your head, but he stopped you.

“Two rounds of sucking me off in a row? I'm sure you get tired. So tired. How about I just do it for you… keep your mouth around me, and I'll take care of the rest. Is that okay with you, angel?”

You gave him those puppy eyes, humming happily as a way to say “yes”.

“Mmmhm? Okay, then..”

He started to fuck into you, a little bit sloppily, his hips bucking. He was feral, truly. He moved quickly, hyperventilating, a third orgasm threatening to happen at any time. He moved faster, fucking your mouth with a surprising amount of strength for a man that had already come twice.

But it became too much, and you had to pull away to take a breath, warranting a surprisingly bratty whimper for a man acting so dominant.

“Wha- Wha- FUCK,” He belted, shooting cum onto the floor, right onto your moleskin notebook, it wasn’t much, just what was left inside of him after the last two orgasms. Your hand was still wiping your chin, and your mouth fell open.

“Jesus, sorry, I didn't know-”

“I didn't either,” he said, irrationally upset. It took him a bit to calm down. He caught his breath as he leaned back on the couch. You got up and sat next to him, gazing up into his brimmed eyes.

“Andy, you know I wanted to swallow, I really did. I want it…”

He looked back down at you, gaze softening. He leaned to your level, grabbing your chin and opening your mouth, then, moved his head on top of yours and slowly let his spit flow from his lips and onto your tongue. You smiled, a little naughtily, and swallowed. God, that was hot.

“Mmmh.” You hummed.

“That's something to swallow, isn't it?”

He leaned in and kissed your tired lips tenderly, as you tangled into him, ending up a cuddling, naked mess on your—now, filthy couch.

He moved you to lay on his chest while he played idly with your hair, his nose buried in it as well, taking in your scent in the quiet evening. His other hand traced patterns on your back, his fingers dancing carefully over your skin, almost fearing you’d shatter like a porcelain doll just from his touch.

His lips pressed onto your forehead, giving you a soft, affectionate kiss that took your breath away for a second. You looked up at him from his chest, your eyes wide and adoring. “Hi,” he murmured softly, not really thinking about what he was saying.

“Hi,” you responded, making the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“This doesn’t feel real.” He whispered softly, still caressing you with all the love in the world.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“I never thought I’d actually get to hold you like this, to have been with you like we have.” He elaborated. “This was always more of a fantasy, I didn’t think it’d be real.”

“What, you thought I didn’t like you like that?” You asked, a bit incredulous.

“I knew you thought I was hot, I’m not stupid, I see how you look at me.” He sighed again, his arms tightening around you, his gaze avoiding yours. “But the… ehm, the extent of just how much you liked me was more than I thought it’d be.”

You smiled softly, your hand playing with his chest hair as you listened to him. His voice was like a melody in and of itself, every word he said a note in the symphony of your dreams.

“It’s just…” He continued, his tone even softer. “It’s like there’s steps to all this, you know? There’s finding someone attractive, then there’s wanting to- ehm, have sex with them, and then there’s just wanting to be with them, in every way possible…” He trailed off.

“Andy. What are you trying to say?” You asked, his eyes immediately focusing on yours the moment you finished your sentence.

“That I love you, angel, I have for a long time.” He finally confessed. You felt his heart speed up in his chest, he was so incredibly nervous.

“I love you, too.” You timidly whispered, then placed a quick, loving kiss on his chest. “You can calm down now, your heart is beating way too fast.” You added teasingly.

“Maybe a proper kiss will calm me down.” He teased back.

You moved carefully, crawling up to his eye level and kissing him deeply. He kissed back almost immediately, your mouths moving in tandem to make the perfect kiss. Andrew pulled back after a few seconds, his mind too crowded with thoughts to fully lose himself in you no matter how much he wanted to do just that.

“Let me take you out on a date, somewhere nice,” he caressed your cheek with his thumb. His voice little more than a lovesick whisper. “If not, at least let me call you mine.”

“Yes, to both.” You smiled, nuzzling your face into his hand.

“Good,” he kissed your forehead. “Sorry to change the topic like this, but I’m exhausted, wanna go to bed?”

You chuckled softly at the change of subject. “We haven’t even had dinner yet.” You argued lovingly.

“I had my fill with you already.”

“Then I guess we can go to bed, but I have to shower first.” You stood up from your cuddling position on the couch, watching Andrew follow suit not long after. “Maybe put a movie on my laptop and we can watch it afterwards?”

You looked up at him with begging eyes while holding his hand in yours, he smiled, he couldn’t say no to you, especially now.

“As you wish, princess.” He took your hand to his lips and kissed it playfully, a small giggle escaping you both. “Any movie in particular you desire to watch, your majesty?”

“Okay, cut it out,” you continued to giggle, “just choose one you like, yeah? I’m gonna shower.”

With that, you went to your bathroom to clean yourself up while Andrew went to your room and set everything up, including cleaning himself as best he could and fixing his messy, post-orgasmic appearance.

You came back from the shower after almost an hour, hair still wet, in comfy sweatpants and a tank top. You made your way to your room, waiting to see your angel. He sat there, in bed, scrolling on his phone, hair up in a messy bun. He looked nothing short of adorable— cleaned up nicely too.

Your laptop was next to him. It seems he'd already chosen a movie, Legally Blonde, for some reason. You sank next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“You like chick flicks?” You asked, with a giggled cadence.

“Nothing short of modern masterpieces, they are.” He replied, starting the movie and letting your body adjust against him. You clicked, your arms the perfect length around his waist, your lips the perfect curve against his, your nose perfectly nesting into his pulse.

You fell asleep first. Fast asleep- not stirring in the slightest. He thought your slight snores and weird murmurs were adorable. He'd much rather fall asleep to those than any movie. He closed the laptop and set it on your bedside table, his long arms holding you tight into the late hours.

He ended up having the best sleep in a while— no thoughts of upcoming concerts or snobby dinners to torment him. You somehow made it all stop. In his busy world, you were his only constant. Something he wanted to hold close to and never let go.

——

Andrew adored your face. He saw it everywhere- the pure beauty of it. He saw your beauty in the Irish hillsides. He heard your voice in every old timey love song. Everywhere, everything, it was always you.

In the early morning, he found himself gazing at you again, a long finger tracing your cheek. He sighed contentedly, completely enamored with you. His limbs tangled further into yours. This went on for about half an hour— his sweet touches and comforting, soft kisses.

Your eyes fluttered open. Your first view of the day was Andrew cupping your cheeks, his head tilted. You smiled dorkily at him, your view still unfocused.

“Morning, sleepin’ beauty” He greeted in that soothing Irish lilt of his. You responded with a groan— giving him the opportunity to scoop you up in his arms, holding you to his chest. You giggled into the firm, warm body.

“Hey!” You grogged. He pulled you even further up, paving a path of smooches along your face, whispering sweet nothings.

“So pretty when you wake up, you know that? Sweet, sweet angel… and you're all mine…” he was getting lost in you, reciting all his best praise while you were barely away from the sandman.

It took a while for you to properly wake up. When the consciousness came, you returned his kisses sloppily, hand coming up to tangle in that messy brown hair.

The kisses got more desperate and messy as you went, desperate to taste each other, to catch up on everything you've missed. You grew a little dominant— even a little frustrated. You rolled him over, warranting a whimper, then pulled away, laying on your side next to him.

“You're so needy in the mornings.”

“Huh?” He whispered hoarsely, looking up at you with half lidded eyes.

“I said you're needy in the mornings. All kisses and sweet words…”

You got onto him, warranting a little ‘oomph’ to squeeze out. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding you steadily, groaning as your thigh brushed against him.

You put your thumb in his mouth, slowly grinding and watching as he sucked it at the same pace. The little pacifier kept him quiet, even when you were ruthlessly rutting into his growing hardness.

He looked up at you with shiny eyes before his head tilted to the side, giving you a full view of his beautiful, biteable neck.

You stop grinding for a second. You ached to keep staring into those lovely breaking eyes, “Andy, look up.”

He obediently gazed up at you through thick lashes, mouth biting your thumb a little. You kept going, watching as he tried not to lose his locked stare. His hand moved to your wrist, trying to pull to take your thumb out of his mouth, you shushed him in return, pushing it in a little deeper.

“Keep it in,” you ordered softly, starting to grind on his crotch once more. He listened, lightly biting your thumb to suppress his moans. “That’s it, good boy.” You added in a sultry whisper.

Andrew’s eyes shot open, you felt his dick harden almost immediately, the size poking at you through the layers of clothing. He pulled your thumb out of his mouth, his eyes dark with lust. His hands moved to your waist and threw you onto the bed, making you whimper.

You looked up at him as he moved on top of you, caging you into the mattress with his long arms. He grabbed your wrists and held them above your head with just one hand, then pushed his knee between your legs, smiling devilishly at you.

“Grind.” He ordered, his voice stern yet undeniably full of love for you. His thumb found your clit, tracing obnoxiously slow circles over it.

You obediently rubbed against his knee, the dual stimulation of his finger and your actions making your back mold into an arch. You struggled playfully against his grip, moaning softly as your hips moved.

You kept grinding, eventually losing yourself and collapsing onto him. “Awww, that's not all you have in you, is it, baby?” He teased, his grin widening.

“C’mere, let me treat you.” He spoke in a lowered octave, gently nudging you over, as if asking for permission to take you.

You let him guide you over, your eyes hungry, legs wrapping around his waist. He firmly kissed down the side of your face, sinking down to your clavicle, and getting to work, sucking at it for a good few minutes- summoning giggles that quickly turned to moans of pure desperation. When he finally pulled away, what was left of all the sucking and biting was a reddish purple mark that he blew on, the air sending a shiver down your spine.

“Was that okay, darling? I’m sure you have some turtlenecks you can wear for a couple days if you need them.” He continued to kiss down your body, his voice even more rough. “Though I’d rather you didn’t, the idea of you going out with my mark on display is so fucking hot.”

“I work at a library, I can’t just have hickeys on displa— FUCK!” Andrew sucked on your chest, intending to leave another mark while his hand had traveled down to your core again, only to insert two fingers inside you this time, thrusting away any words left in you.

He smiled as he pulled away again, blowing softly on the second mark he’d left, his eyes already scanning your body in search of a spot for the third and fourth ones, all while never stopping his fingers inside you.

His mouth found your tummy just as his thumb found your clit, you moaned loudly, trying to thrust into his fingers but getting stopped by the rest of him on his quest to mark you fully. Not like you’d complain though, you’d be lying if you said the thought of being marked by him all over didn’t turn you on.

The pattern repeated as he went lower, marking your abdomen a few more times while his fingers worked on you, getting you closer to your climax. He sucked on your inner thigh, leaving his last mark on you before replacing his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking on it while he fingered you still. You screamed from pleasure, your hands gripping the bed sheets as you felt your orgasm washing down on you in intense waves of ecstasy. He didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and your moans turned into whines, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, almost making out with your clit before sitting back on his heels.

He put his soaked fingers up to your mouth, you welcomed them, sucking off your essence and making Andrew smile. He took one of your legs and put your ankle over his shoulder, straddling your other one in a way that made his cock perfectly align with your entrance. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, trailing them down in a path that connected all your hickeys and continued down your belly, pressing down on the weak spot right under your belly button.

You giggled, batting your lashes up at him. Truly, you wanted him to fuck you until your guts split, and the best way to get that would be to put on the innocent act— one that you had quickly learned was his favourite. Even if he knew it was little more than that.

He rubbed the tip of his cock over your soaked folds, watching as you tried to keep the little act up. And it was hard, when he was there, with his chest hair and stupid smirking pretty face. When his hair was in a side part, tossing every time he made a sudden move.

He pinned you down with his lean arms. He squeezed into you, feeling your pussy envelope him, squeezing around his cock in just the right way. He didn’t take the time to ease you in, quickly building the pace up, gritting his teeth. He fucked the woman he loved the most in the most feral way possible.

You loved this side of him, your body instinctively moving your legs to where he perfectly hit your g-spot with each needy thrust. You abruptly came after a few of these- making that your second orgasm.

But he kept going, and you kept laying there and looking so utterly fuckable. Legs spread, tits bouncing, eyes rolling back every time he hit your sweet spot.

“God, you're such a pretty thing. Wish I could just stay inside you all day, keeping me warm…”

He kept going. At this point, your eyes couldn't even keep open. Your nails dug into his back as he leaned closer to you, little half-crescents engraving into his pale skin. He was close to you now, chest sweat dripping onto your face. You could feel his hot breath and hear his beautiful moans, and feel the spit dripping out of his growling mouth.

You yelped as a strange sensation took you, snapping him out of it. You whined and wrapped your leg, that had now fallen off his shoulder, around his hips, practically begging for him to continue his thrusts. You didn't even notice at first— it was him who pulled out. He felt your squirt soak his dick, biting his lip, slapping his dick lightly to try and drain you as you squirted all over him.

“Jesus… You just do that, love?” He whispered lowly, dripping in shock— still incredibly turned on.

“No! I… I didn’t know I could…” You said softly, still trying to catch your breath.

He laughed and leaned in, kissing your cheek, “Well, I'm glad to be the one to help you find out, Mmm?”

He was silent for a few beats, then placed his hand tenderly on your cheek, “Are you okay? Can I keep going?”

“Please put it back in…” You begged.

He smiled. “As you wish, my love.”

He did exactly that, pushing back into you, getting lost in your body once more. Sweet moans escaping him as he chased his own release.

He felt his balls growing tighter, moaning in almost your key, his hot seed bursting into you. He gave you a big dorky smile, still slowly fucking in and out as his cock started to soften.

Andrew leaned in and kissed your face all over, still buried inside you, feeling your warmth around him, and, slowly, coming back to earth from the heaven that you’d taken him to. Your arms enveloped him lovingly, he melted in your gentle touch, his heart swelling with love for you. His eyes widened in a split second, realisation setting in.

“Shit, baby, I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t- christ.” He mumbled apologetically, caressing your face, “I’ll make it up to you, I swear, I didn’t mean to, angel.”

You looked at him, slightly confused as to why he was apologising so much.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, slowly getting your strength back.

“I didn’t put a condom on, I’m sorry, I completely forgot, I’ll go to the store and get you the pill.” He apologised again, his voice threatening to break from the nerves.

“Andy, hey, calm down,” you smiled, caressing his face with one of your hands. “It’s fine, I’m on birth control, stop worrying.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at you with loving eyes. “Thank God,” he chuckled, kissing your lips for a split second, “still, I’m sorry, I should’ve put one on anyway when I didn’t know if you were on birth control or not.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, taking the moment to finally pull out of you, swallowing your soft whines as he did. His cum flowed out of you, the sight of it making Andrew smile darkly. He went to your bathroom and came back with a washcloth, gently cleaning you up.

“The bed’s wet, love, want me to carry you to mine?” He asked, caressing your cheek with all the tenderness in the world.

You nodded in response, then felt his arms wrap around you and carry you to the guest bedroom he’d been staying in. He laid you on the mattress, you yawned, your legs exhausted. You had to admit, you always got so sleepy after sex. Your exes hated it— but Andrew found it so endearing. He gently tucked you in, kissing your sweat-slick forehead.

“You’re so beautiful, angel. Be a good girl and get some good rest for me. You deserve it.” You reached for him with grabby hands as he threw boxers and a big knit sweater on. He smiled at the sight. “I’ll be back, okay? I just have… something to do. Go to sleep for me. Please, angel.”

So, you— being the sweet, obedient angel that you were, fell asleep after just a few seconds. He got up and washed his messy hands, then got to work on your breakfast. He decided on pancakes. Which he was able to make into somewhat perfect hearts.

He put the pancakes, along with fresh berries, on a platter and brought them in after an hour and a half or so.

He placed them on the bedside table, then gently shook you awake.

“Wake up, love, I made breakfast.” He greeted, like he wasn't deep inside you two hours ago.

You looked up at him with a hazy stare, “You can cook?” You mumbled, looking at the plate.

“Of course I can cook. What other way could I have charmed girls?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, sitting up and placing the heated platter on your lap, “No idea.”

He sat next to you, snacking on some of your berries, watching as you ate. He was possibly the biggest loverboy in the world, obsessed with everything you did.

“What?” You ask, noticing his constant puppylike stare

“I don't want to go back to my house. I want to be like this. For as long as you'll have me.”

God, was he an angel. He really thought you'd grow tired of him?

“Then I think you'll be living in this shitty apartment forever, Andrew.”

“Forever?”

“Or until it finally falls apart and the building collapses on our heads, whatever happens first.” You giggled.

“In that case we could move to mine, then.” He suggested, smiling lovingly. “After the bug problem gets fixed, that is.”

“Be nice to the bugs, technically they’re the ones that brought us together.” You teased, kissing him gently.

“I’ll tell the exterminator to be gentle when killing them.” He teased back, returning the kiss passionately.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Profound Pleasure of Little Things

Hozier x reader

Author's note: Basically the thought was, "ohh, what if there was a real moment that inspired Wasteland!baby."

Summary: Andrew and Y/n spend an afternoon at the beach.

Warnings - poorly written fluff, I guess.

"I think if the world ended right now, I'd be alright with that.”

After spending the past fifteen minutes or so bearing witness to her magnificence. Ireland's solem grey sky meeting the frigid, green water and acting as a cool toned backdrop to the brightness of her beauty. The way those deep, blue jeans hug her curves, the woolen burgundy coat, draped over a band tee, that follows the contour of her frame and her hair tumbling over her shoulders as she stands a few feet off the edge, gaze cast out towards the horizon; as if the world below them had been thought up just for her.

As Y/n turns to face him, the wind whips her hair forward, and he smiles when she hastily brushes away from her eyes. “What?” She chortles, but there's an air of disbelief in the word and she tilts her head a little to the side, “why?”

Licking his lips, Andrew pushes off the boulder he's been perched on, one converse-clad foot planted on the ground while the other stayed propped on a smaller rock jutting from the lush grass. “Because,” he stuffs his hands into the side pockets of the denim jacket he's thrown over his red flannel, “I've seen you, standing here and that's gotta be the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

Y/n rolls her eyes; he's awfully romantic when he doesn't mean to be – and mind-bogglingly terrible at it when he actively tries. Just that morning he'd clumsily danced them into the kitchen table after daring more than their usual sway. But now, after a long afternoon drive and an impromptu hike up a hill that overlooks the sea, he's stringing together the sort of lines that make her cheeks go warm and stirs a flutter in her chest. “You're being dramatic,” she teases, relinquishing her hand when he reaches for it. Their fingers lace with ease; it's something they're so used to doing that Y/n rarely thinks much of it anymore. It's such a small, mundane thing and his hands have become so familiar to her that they almost feel like her own – and like she'd miss her own hand if it were gone forever, she'd miss his too.

He is a part of her; as vital as a limb, or the thing beating in her chest.

“Hardly,” his thumb ghosts the soft skin over her knuckles, and his eyes soften when they meet hers. It still startles him that she's his, and standing there with the smell of salt, autumn and her perfume flooding his senses, Andrew fears he might be dreaming, “you look…..” Like a painting, something that one could only wish to be privileged enough to see, let alone touch, “exquisite.”

Y/n giggles before glancing down at herself. She knows she must look plain at best, and a wind-tousled mess at worst. Even if she isn't the self-deprecating type, it's tough to believe that she looks like anything special without makeup, her hair free-styled by the breeze and her face nipped by the chill. The coat that she's owned for nearly a decade and a faded t-shirt probably isn't helping her case either. “Are you trying to get laid on this hilltop?” She asks conspiringly.

Snaking his free arm around her waist, Andrew simultaneously pulls Y/n closer and throws his head back in laughter. Lifting her gaze to drink him in, Y/n’s smile softens; she loves the way he looks when he laughs like that. Entirely carefree, as if he mightn’t have anything in the world to worry about, its a laugh she sees most off when he’s been home for a while and he isn’t concerned about deadlines and appearances, or when they have friends over and he’s had a bit too much to drink. Or when she says something that is a little absurd, but not quite funny, and he somehow finds the world of humor in it.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed,” his fingers curl into her waist. Then, when the shaking of his shoulders settle, he lowers his eyes to meet hers. It always baffles him how she could not know – not completely – what she does to him. Because if she did, Y/n wouldn’t doubt his credibility for a second when he says that she’s beautiful – and utterly in awe of everything that she is. “But I really do think that you look lovely darling,” he adds softly, freeing his hand from hers to gently cup her face, “if you saw what I did, you’d understand. If you could see yourself through my eyes…….thought of yourself with my mind, you would get to know the most breathtaking person I've ever met.”

Licking her lips, Y/n lays her hands on his chest, thumb grazing the sliver of skin left exposed by the undone top button of his shirt. “How do you do that?” She muses quietly, gazing up at him.

Andrew's thumb roves the apple of her cheek and she leans into his touch, “Do what?” He lowers his head a little, so their foreheads are that much closer to touching.

“Come up with…..stuff,” she hates the word in the context, “like that.”

“Well, it would just so happen, that I have the best muse,” because every beautiful thing he can think of is tangled up with the thought of her. He can’t see flowers without wondering how they’d look if they were laced in her hair, or held in her hands, he sees art and wonders if she’d like it too and when he’s faced with a day like this one – where everything seems to be in perfect measure – all Andrew wants to do is share it with her.

“I am just so in love with you,” he rasps, the sudden drop in his voice sending a shiver up her spine, “that it touches every part me, everything I do has a bit of you in it,” as if all the old parts of himself have been shed, giving way to something new, improved in a way that only be because of her presence.

The more Andrew thinks about the clearer one certainty becomes; in a way, the world has already ended. It happened the second he fell in love with her. Everything as he knew it was changed forever – reduced to a wasteland, and out from the ashes she came.

Lifting one of her hands, Y/n caresses his temple with the pad of her thumb. “What a beautiful mind you have,” she muses, gaze matching his. Y/n always faults him for having a way with his words, usually when he doesn't even mean to, but Andrew doesn't think she ever pays enough mind to what she's saying. “Who needs the rest of the world when they have this?”

His thumb continues stroking her cheek in that languid, gentle fashion and Andrew’s gaze softens so much that he thinks he must be melting under her touch. He must be putty in her hands – so easy to mold however she pleases, because the only thing he wants more than being with her is being exactly what Y/n needs.

May he always be a necessity, may her life be just a touch emptier without him, so she’ll keep him around.

“Who needs it, darling?” Who needs it when the best of it smiles when she looks at me? He’s just about to press his lips to hers in a kiss he’s been aching to steal since the moment she turned to look at him, when a wave – way down below – breaks so violently that a few droplets hit their faces, causing Y/n to shift her gaze towards the expanse of glacial teal.

“We should walk down to the beach,” she suggests suddenly, eyes alight with the wonder of someone yearning for the thrill of adventure. In an instant, Y/n is backing out of his embrace – like a dream just past his immediate reach. She takes his hand though, lacing her smaller, finer fingers with his and practically tugs him along, urging him towards the mouth of the stoney, sloped pathway that leads to the beach.

“Yeah, sure-” Andrew doesn’t even get to reply before he’s stumbling along, blindly following her. He isn’t even sure if she actually knows the way – he’s never taken her there, but Y/n is quick-witted enough to figure things out without anyone’s help. As he watches her trot ahead with purpose, feet clad in Chuck Taylor's stomping on the feathery grass as she moves ahead, Andrew keeps his gaze fixed on her. The way she holds her head up, as if she doesn’t need a map – or even him – to show her the way. The way the wind blows her hair and her delicate fingers work to keep them away from her eyes. She’s moving so quickly that its hard to take it all in, and Andrew finds himself wanting to ask her to slow down, so he can soak up the way she looks against the blur of the trees.

Sometimes, he wants to tell her – beg her – to just be a bit more still. Because while he adores watching her move, drinking in every miniscule action that is so specific to her, Andrew breathes for the moments where there isn’t the slightest quiver in her form. When his view of her is entirely unhampered by the demands of life; she doesn’t have to get up to answer her phone, or check on the laundry downstairs – when she’s just lounging in bed with her glasses propped on the bridge of her nose and a book held up in front of her face, when she’s sitting on the back patio while nursing an afternoon tea, watching the birds entertain each other.

When Y/n is standing before him, surrounded by a tapestry of greens and blues and other specks of colour that pale in her wake, like something he should never be so privileged to bare witness to.

His thoughts are interrupted when she stumbles on a rock and instinctively deserts her hand in favor of reaching for her hips. “Slow down,” he chuckles, reeling her close to his chest, one arm wrapping around her middle as they continue downward.

“But I wanna see the beach,” she protests with a giggle as his lips find her cheek. Reaching past herself, she lays her hand on his neck, holding his face close to hers for a few seconds longer.

“And you will,” Andrew mumbles, mouth still pressed up to her face, “but lets……enjoy the getting there too.”

“I think you’re enjoying it a little too much,” Y/n admonishes humorously when Andrew squeezes her to him.

“Impossible,” he bends his head to nuzzle the side of her face, “I actually think you’re not enjoying this enough.”

“Yeah?” She leans into his embrace, hand falling onto his forearm as she finally relents to stopping for a moment. She can hear the sounds of the sea a bit more clearly now, and the air is saltier than it had been when they were up on the hill. Through the foliage, Y/n spots bits of jewel toned ripples, a tell-tale sign that they aren’t too far off, and she’s actively holding herself back from urging him ahead. She does have a habit of rushing things, sometimes the need to just keep moving is almost overwhelming; she’s so focused on getting somewhere that she forgets the journey is half the experience.

Andrew, she often finds, is entirely the opposite. It's a quality she admires in him; his ability to revel in simple joys, the way he’s able to steady himself enough to thoroughly take everything in. While she’s eager to brush past everything in her way to get to her finish line, he’s perfectly fine with strolling through the trees, stopping ever so often to take pictures of things that interest him, or rattle off a random fact that he learned in a nature documentary.

“Yes,” Andrew hisses, kissing the corner of her lips, “just relax a little.”

“I’m very relaxed,” Y/n scoffed defensively, “we just have different definitions of that word.”

Andrew laughs loudly, finally letting her go and allowing her to take his hand again, “I’m not even sure that word is in your dictionary,” he chortles as she tows him along. Y/n doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even know if she hears him, because as the words leave his mouth, they reach the edge of the woods which opens up to the small beach. The sand is soft under his shoes, and the sting of salty air is sharp. “Happy now?” He teases when she lets his hand go in favor of going a few paces ahead.

“I was always happy,” Y/n corrects, “but now I'm…..satisfied.”

“If satisfaction is what you were looking for, I could've helped with that up there,” he nudges his head towards the top of the hill they’d been standing on about fifteen minutes earlier.

Y/n rolls her eyes as she turns to look at him, “oh shut up,” she giggles.

“Just sayin’,” he hums, moving to stand beside her, arm going around her shoulders. Immediately, Y/n tilts her head so its touching his side.

As she keeps her eyes trained forward, Y/n hums, “its so beautiful.”

Andrew returns the sound, albeit just a bit softer as he turns his head to look down at her, nestled against him. Its hard to describe just how much he enjoys the feeling of her tucked against him, its one of those simple pleasures that he never fails to appreciate; the way her form fits perfectly with his, like they were made to just click together. It's such a small thing; the comfort that comes with holding someone who wouldn’t trade the feeling of your arms around them for anything else in the world, and he can never seem to get enough of it. He lives for the way throwing his arm around her shoulder has become as natural to him as breathing, and how instinctive it is when she leans against him.

“Don’t you think so?” Y/n glances up at him, a smile dusting her cheeks when their eyes meet. There's always a little tingle that prods at her heart when she finds him looking at her, like the beat of butterfly wings against the petal of a flower.

Licking his lips, he glances forward at the ocean stretched out before then, and the near vacant beach that spreads out for at least a mile on either side.

He must’ve seen this beach near a hundred times by now. Andrew is well aquainted with the way the waves break against the collection of jagged rocks piled against once side of the shore, foam washing the salt-worn gray and seeping into the crevices. The crunch of pebbles and broken seashells under his boot isn’t foreign to him, and he knows all too well how frigid those waters can be around this time of the year. He’s seen the beauty of the place, he swears he’s done his best to appreciate it too, but there’s something different about holding her as the water pulls the sand seaward and salty sprinkles dust their lips. It feels like he’s seeing for the first time all over again.

And he loves it – all of it. The way it feels like a film has been peeled off his eyes, the thrill of enjoying the simplest things so much more than he ever has because he's sharing the moment with her.

“Yeah,” he looks at her again, lowering his head to touch the tips of their noses, “its beautiful, baby.”

[padfootagain]

Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating his best friend's engagement changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader

Friends with Benefits AU, angst and fluff

Warning: there is no explicit smut, but there are sexual themes in this fic, so 18+ only!

Series complete:

-Chapter 1 : For the Best

-Chapter 2 : The Dangers of a Night Out

-Chapter 3 : By the Rules

-Chapter 4 : First Time

-Chapter 5 : Doubting

-Chapter 6 : Hiding

-Chapter 7 : Tender Bitterness

-Chapter 8 : Hopes and Disappointments

-Chapter 9 : Testing Feelings

-Chapter 10 : Too Sweet

-Chapter 11 : If We Break

-Chapter 12 : First Light

-Chapter 13: Decisions

-Chapter 14: Heartbreak

-Chapter 15: Aftermath

-Chapter 16: Fare Well

-Chapter 17: Looking for Help

-Chapter 18: Work Song

-Chapter 19: Ascent

-Chapter 20: Toothaches

[daddyhausen]

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「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 MUSICIAN/ BANDS MASTERLIST 」 | 「 HOZIER MASTERLIST 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

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「 SUMMARY 」 — blowjobs in the backseat of andrew’s car in the church car park

「 WARNINGS 」 — 18+, [ MINORS DNI ], mentions of religious procecussion, catholic!reader x catholic!hozier, oral sex [ male recieving ], facials, cumshot male orgasm

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 987

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x hozier

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @bayleymania @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @ripleyswife @selena-tyler-564 @alyyaanna @nightmare-viper

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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the night had always brought peace in your life. it was the one time where you felt you could be your most authentic self, free from the pressures of the church, fromm the llering eyes of parishioners, of their judgemental stares and gossip. not that you were one to even stir any trouble or anything that would warrant their stares. why you, the church girl, the innocent doe with rosery in one and and veil shielding your eyes from any scrutiny.

yet, they still stare, still shun you for your love. despite your devotion to christ, your devotion to andrew outweighed it in thousands. he was the first to not judge, to not stare with glaring hate in your direction, but affection, the muddy green of his irises bore nothing but adoration. his hands gentle in their caresses of your skin, even in passing in the pews, always respectful, always gentle.

even now, positioned on your knees as you were so commonly used to in the church pews, however your lord was not looking down on you with praise, for in his place was andrew,. mouth agape with shallow breaths, as your lips worked magic around him. he knew the church would shame him, you moreso. for without the sanctity of marriage the two of you were engaging in nothing but common sin, the two of you knew that, however, the feeling would not stop, nor did you want it to.

with your lips wrapped around andrew, taking him inch by inch as he delved deeper into sin, fingers tightening in the soft strands of your hair, entangling him like a wicked serpent.

“oh darlin’” he hummed, head thrown back in a fit of pleasure. he adored it. he adored you. the mossy green irises flickered down at you every so often, watching as you swallowed his length with a soft mumble and a moan, avoiding his gaze with a heated tint rising on your cheeks

his hand would fall from your hair, smoothing down your cheek, trailing down your jawline until gingerly resting under your chin, tilting up your head ever so slightly to meet his eyes. He bore adoration and love for you, for this pleasure he was so happy and grateful to receive from you. in this moment you did not care what the church was to think, in this moment your lord held no power over you. andrew;s completely overshadows any presence your lord ever had.

the moonlight, hidden through cracks in the treeline caressed his skin so wonderfully, a glossy sheen of sweat and rain reflected off his skin and through the windows, he looked ethereal bathed in the moonlight, the harsh shadows of night obscuring his features aside from his lips and the tip of his nose whenever he’d let out a pleasured moan.

how he’d throw his head back, lips parting with a moan as you could see the bob of his adam’s apple ripple with his throat as the euphoric sound pared his lips. you’d sink your lips lower around him, feeling him nestle comfortably in the back of your throat, his cock throbbing against the flat of your tongue on the verge of release

“darlin’ please i…i’m so close”

his teeth gritted, grinding together as pleasure courses through him. as your cheeks hollowed, drawing him in deeper, taking all he had to offer.

“oh fuck-” he pulled out with a soft grunt.

his cum adored your face and neck, pearlescent under the moonlight. the sight only accentuated your beauty even in such a state of undress, you looked like an angel, sent down from heaven just for him. he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit guilty for corrupting such a beautiful, innocent creature such as yourself. he couldn’t bare to think of the scrutiny you’d face if the church were to ever find out. Even if they were, andrew would not allow them to shame you, for he would bare the brunt of it to save you from ridicule, save you from the jeers and jusdgement.

“c’mere, love…” he pulled you from the floor, gingerly placinging you into his lap, his softening cock prodding the back of your thigh with dull pulses. the familiar irish twang of his voice echoed in your ears, accompanied by a subtle, content groan that rumbled in his chest.

his chin resting upon yours, silence befell the both of your as your breathing started to shallow, content in listening to the rhythmic beating of eachothers hearts. his thumb, docile in it’s movements, prodded at your bottom lip, swiping away the pearlescent streak of his cum from your skin, doing so until your flesh was “pure” to the untrained eye.

“what if they find out about us?” your voice barely above a whisper, a mere squeak like that of a field mouse.

“hmm?” andrew hummed. not so much that he wasn’t listening, moreso his voice was hoarse from pleasured moans. his hand wrapped around your thigh with a protective grip, thumb smoothing across the skin in gentle circles.

“the church? what if they find out about us?” you reiterated, repeating you question as if he hadn’t heard you the first time, with more desperation and worry to your voice.

“they won’t” he replied simply. almost nonchallontally

“you don’t know that-”

“and how do you know that they will?” his question rhetorical, cutting your sentence off in the process.

it sounded rude although that was defintely not his intention. andrew’s jaw tightened for a moment, the protective grip on your thigh still evident. he was contemplating his next words, carefully, evidently. you could see the cogs turning in his head as his eyebrows furrowed, chewing the inside of his cheek in though.

“i will not let them shame us for giving in to our basic instincts.” he responded cautiously, mind still in thought.

“i will not let them shame us for being human”

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