#couldn't find any images of him i felt comfortable using here

[storges-oranges]

In white:

1-By Richard Siken, from the collection "War of the Foxes", in the poem "the-worm-king-s-lullaby"

2-By Marina Tsvetaeva from the poem "No one has taken anything away" , golden eye is from canva.

In yellow: this post about kuras from redspring studio.

In pink : "I want you" by Fiona Apple.

ID added to each image. Pls tell if there are issues.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (15/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, humiliation, sexual tension, abuse of power ]

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

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He thought that the pain he felt in his eye socket as a child was a torture, however, the inability to take the woman who aroused his lust when she was at his fingertips proved just as unbearable.

At one moment he was furious with her for refusing him – as he pressed her against the stone walls of the Red Keep he could clearly feel under his fingers that her womanhood was leaking all over with desire – only to find later that he admired her self-denial and strength of will.

He thought that if her desire to remain his faithful and devoted wife was as strong, he would be satisfied.

The time of his greatest trial came to him in the evenings, when he lay alone in the cold, empty bed – he could feel the tension in his loins pulsing through his veins, his lower abdomen and erection, swollen and impatient, knowing that his relief was asleep a few steps from his chamber, across the hall.

He closed his eyes then, fighting with himself, not wanting her to look at him the way his mother would.

With sadness and regret.

So he waited, dying each day at the thought of her bare body, at the thought that she longed for him – he could see it in her gaze, hear it in her hitched, heavy breath as his lips brushed her neck, as he grasped her sweet breasts in his hands, wanting to feel her even for a moment.

He knew she was his, but he couldn't have her.

So that's what madness is, he mused.

He was relieved to hear that his grandsire, to his surprise, had no objections regarding his chosen one.

"She is a wise girl, bound to you with her heart and mind. Both she and her dragon will be of great use to us. With her help, we might be able to pull at least some of the Lords of the Vale over to our side – they are more likely to listen to someone of their blood, someone who knows and understands their concerns, who will not threaten them with dragonfire like Daemon." Said Otto, sitting beside him at the table in his chamber – he nodded, looking to the side with an expression devoid of emotion, not wanting his grandfather to see any sign that he felt satisfaction at his words.

She is bound to you with her heart and mind.

He felt shame and contentment that Otto thought he was not indifferent to her – he believed his grandsire was capable of seeing more than he did.

The truth was that he feared to hear something from him that would destroy her image in his eyes, deprive him of the object of trust and affection that he so desperately needed.

"The King is awake, but he is in great pain, so we have given him large amounts of poppy milk to ease his suffering." Said the Maester.

He hummed, towering over his brother's bed with his head cocked to one side.

"Mmm. See to it that he can spend the next few days in the comfort of blissful sleep." He said, glancing at the Maester, who swallowed hard and nodded, understanding what he meant.

He couldn't regain the sobriety of his mind until the nuptials officially took place.

After that, their marriage, performed in front of crowds of witnesses, united by the gods themselves, would not be able to be dissolved by anyone.

He also decided to make minor changes in the Small Council, wanting to surround himself only with people who actually wished their family victory.

His mother, though he deluded himself into thinking it would be different, was not one of them, trying to use the weakness he had for her against him, as did Larys Strong, who, true to his betrothed's words, poured poison into his ears.

Stripping Larys of his function was easy and gave him great satisfaction, with his Hand, meaning his grandfather, taking over his role.

He knew, however, that the conversation with his mother would be difficult for him and he prepared for it for a long time.

"You have served the Kingdom faithfully for many years. It is time for you to rest." He said after ordering her to stay, once the Small Council meeting was over, looking ahead with a blank stare, knowing that if he looked at her face he would feel something he didn't want to.

He swallowed hard as her figure leaned over him, as her familiar, smooth hand touched his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin.

Why couldn't she bestow such a touch on him when he needed it?

Why did he only deserve it when she wanted to soften and manipulate him, exactly like Sylvi?

"Has your loss not yet been sufficiently avenged?" She asked him in a way from which he felt a squeeze in his throat – he looked at her, into her warm brown eyes, in which he so longed to see recognition.

However, all he saw was pain.

She suffered looking at him, at her own son, at what he had become.

Was he really such a bad person?

He lowered his gaze and placed his hand on hers, stroking her skin with his thumb, wanting to remember this moment, his mother showing him something he could call tenderness, something he would be able to cling to for years to come, deprived again of her closeness and warm words.

"This is my final decision."

His mother swallowed hard and took her hand from his cheek – he seemed to feel an almost physical pain when she did so, when an unpleasant chill surrounded his skin where her familiar fingers had been only moments ago, as if someone had forcibly torn him from her safe, warm womb.

After all, it wasn't his fault that he had been born.

"Who will take my place? Another man pushing for war at any cost?" She asked with a disappointment and bitterness from which his lower lip trembled, his stomach clenched so tightly that he found it difficult to take a deep breath.

"My betrothed."

The sight of her serene, calm expression at his grandfather's side was refreshing – her gaze, unlike that of his mother, was filled with warmth and trust.

He thought with shame that he had given her a seat in his council just to look at her.

However, as he found out moments later, he had judged himself too harshly.

"Everything is ready for the nuptials and a small wedding, which will of course take place in the Throne Room. The ceremony itself will not be grand and lavish, but I think everyone sitting around this table understands that in a situation of war we cannot afford to wantonly empty our treasury." Otto said, and he shifted his gaze from his grandfather to her – she smiled lightly when their gazes met, giving him a look full of reassurance that pomp was the last thing she wanted.

He felt a pleasant warmth in his chest at the thought, the realisation that she shared his values, his love of simplicity and, of course, unabashed modesty.

His grandfather, hearing no objection, continued.

"On that day, all the guards and sentries will be on duty – such occasions are always a good opportunity for the enemy to attack, because they take advantage of the chaos that then prevails. That's why we can't afford to deviate from the day's schedule and changes – I've also appointed my few trusted men to keep an eye on the cooks and how the food and drink is prepared."

"Nevertheless, I think it will be appropriate for me to try both the wine and anything else the Prince will want to taste." He heard her voice and looked at her, shocked.

The thought that she cared for him, that she was so concerned that someone would try to take his life by trickery and poison him, touched him.

Otto smiled under his breath and nodded.

"I appreciate your concern for my grandson, my Lady, however, I will assign a person to try the dishes for the two of you. We do not wish for anyone's death during this joyous occasion." He said softly, clearly pleased as he was with her faithfulness and devotion.

"No." She said, looking at his grandfather, then at him. "My father, and for sure all of Dragonstone and their allies, think this wedding is a further part of my abduction, independent of my free will. They will continue to spread rumours and stories that I am imprisoned by the Prince and that he, in his cruelty, forced me to become his wife. Many Lords will be present during the ceremony, and word will spread through the Kingdom like the wind. Let them, as well as others present, see the two of us forming a united front that evening, let them see me try my husband's wine."

His grandfather raised an eyebrow and readjusted himself in his chair, as surprised as he was by her words and how thoughtful they were.

"It is an intriguing approach to the matter, I admit – indeed, a demonstration of unity and solidarity can only strengthen support for our cause among the Lords. I will leave the final decision to you, my Prince." Said Otto, and he mused, looking at her with a piercing gaze, playing with the gold coin between his fingers.

"I appreciate my betrothed's devotion, however, I will not allow her to endanger herself – instead, as a symbol of unity and union, I propose that we fly over King's Landing together the next day, showing our might and strength at the same time." He said calmly – his cousin merely sighed and nodded, throwing him a gentle look indicating that his rejection of her idea did not cause her any pain.

He swallowed hard, feeling his manhood pulsate aggressively in his breeches, screaming with longing, having her at his fingertips.

After speaking to his mother, he felt disheartened, and she was not by his side.

His desperation caused him to do something he was sure he would never do in his life, considering it to be behaviour beneath his dignity.

"Accompany me on my stroll through the royal gardens. I want to breathe some fresh air and take advantage of the good weather." He hummed, passing her as he, like the others, moved towards the door after the Small Council meeting was over.

He knew she was surprised, but she moved after him immediately, having trouble keeping up with him now that she was wearing a gown, making it difficult for her to move freely.

He wanted to hide between the trees as quickly as possible, so that no servants or guards would notice them, not wishing to be the cause of mockery and gossip later.

Again.

He slowed down as they finally stepped out into the part of the Keep surrounded by shrubbery that formed a plethora of alleys – he took the only one he knew, which was the main one, hearing behind him that she followed him with the quiet rattle of stones beneath her feet.

He put his hands behind his back and looked at her over his shoulder – she smiled at him, walking a few steps behind him.

He stopped and she did the same, her head cocked in happy curiosity.

"Don't I even deserve to have you walking by my side? That kind of closeness is unkind to the gods too?" He asked dryly, frustrated and dying of longing, needing her like never before, feeling rejected and alone.

He swallowed hard, feeling remorseful when he saw that her expression changed, as if he had slapped her in the face, her eyebrows arched in pain, her eyes big and sad, her lips parted slightly in surprise full of terror.

"– n-no –" She muttered, playing with her fingers on her womb, coming closer to him with a quiet rustling of her gown. "– usually outside of our quarters you prefer it when I give you space – if you desire me to be close to you, I will –"

He felt the sudden wave of rage and grief that had surged through his body weaken, leaving him with a sense of sadness and emptiness.

He didn't want to ask or beg for such things, on the other hand, in fact, when he knew someone might see them, he preferred not to give anyone reason to comment on their behaviour.

He himself didn't know what he felt and needed, and he required her to understand him and his needs more than he did, he thought with shame.

Seeing how tense he was and hearing his silence she took a few steps towards him, standing so close that he felt her wonderful scent tease his nostrils, her delicate hand touched his chest and then was joined by another, his heart beating hard under her fingers.

He dared to look at her, and it was a mistake – her gaze was filled with a heat that both terrified him and brought him to the state where he felt like throwing himself at her, pulling her skirt up and taking her like a whore, wanting nothing more than to fill her with his seed.

"– may I kiss you, my Prince? –" She asked in a trembling voice, being formal at the same time, afraid to frustrate him, not knowing what behaviour he expected of her.

He couldn't answer anything – his hands simply caught her suddenly at the waist and pulled her closer so that her body slammed against his, her sweet moan echoing in his throat as he sank into her fleshy, luscious lips with a sigh of relief.

He murmured as her fingers stroked his jaw and neck, and her lips responded tentatively to his caress, showering him with lazy, deep, loud kisses. He felt her whole body tremble as the tip of his tongue ran invitingly over her upper lip, her hands clenched on his shoulders as if she were struggling with herself.

Something between a groan and a murmur escaped his lips when he felt her slick tongue come out to meet his in a slow, wet lick.

He clasped his hands in her hair and on the material of her gown, pressing his completely hard erection against her stomach, ready to take her here, in this place, on the grass, under the sun.

However, as soon as he grabbed the ribbon tying her dress at the back, she pulled away from him and shook her head, breathing loudly, her cheeks pink with emotion, her lips puffy and glistening from his caresses, her gaze filled with nothing but desire and lust.

"– no – please, lēkia – it's only three more days –" She muttered pleadingly, and he pressed his lips together, feeling rejected.

"– don't I even deserve the embrace of your arms? – to be able to snuggle against your breasts, to experience solace now that sleep does not find me at night? –" He almost wailed, filled with grief and frustration, thinking with shame that he had acted like a small child.

He saw her swallow hard, surprised, all red with shame at his words.

"– I'll let you – I'll let you touch and cuddle against my breasts – if you promise not to take me –" She mumbled, and he nodded, desperate.

She held out her hand to him, and he grasped it, moving behind her through the grass between the trees – he blinked, surprised, when she lay down under one of them in such a place that they were covered by shrubbery on all sides, and even if someone had passed that way, he would not have noticed their lying silhouettes.

"– come –" She whispered, reaching her hands into the back of her gown, loosening its entire structure so that it slid off her shoulders.

He knelt down in front of her, feeling the aggressive pounding of his heart and the painful pulsing of his manhood as his fingers slid the material even lower, finally exposing what he so desperately craved.

She moaned far too loudly when he leaned in suddenly and his lips clamped greedily around her hard nipple, beginning to suck, his other hand closing on her other breast, so wonderfully warm and soft under his fingers.

He sighed with delight and murmured as her familiar, safe arms cuddled him into her chest and he settled comfortably between her thighs.

"– I miss you –" He muttered like a little boy, releasing her nipple from his mouth with a quiet plop, feeling ashamed that he was letting her see his vulnerability – he nuzzled his cheek against her firm bosom, watching enthralled as his fingers squeezed and played with her other plump, lovely breast.

He closed his eyes as she leaned in and placed a tender, long kiss on the top of his head, stroking his hair and back with her hands.

"– I miss you too – try to sleep and rest, brother –" She whispered, and he snorted, shaking his head.

"– with this in my hands – I'd sooner die of tension than fall asleep –" He grunted, on the other hand pleased and fulfilled to feel her so intimately again, to be able to breathe for a moment and find the peace he so desperately needed.

Despite how confidently he said it, in the end the slow, gentle rhythm in which she stroked his body made his eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and when he finally closed them, he fell into a peaceful, deep slumber amidst the rustling of trees and grass, enveloped by her wonderful scent.

They spent every afternoon like this until their wedding day.

On the day of their nuptials, he was tense – he feared an attack from Dragonstone just as much as that his brother would want to call it all off at the last moment.

Some part of him didn't believe that it could work out for them – that there was a future in which he could get what he wanted without making a sacrifice for it for once.

He had to pay for everything with blood.

He shuddered, startled, when, while his servants were helping him put on his emerald tunic, the door to his chamber opened and his mother stepped in.

"Leave us." He said coldly, and the boys bowed and left them alone.

The Dowager Queen approached him with an uncertain step, looking down at her hands, his heart pounded harder in hope, begging for her blessing and at least one tender look.

Her eyes finally lifted to his, and her hand touched his arm, stroking it in a gesture of comfort.

"I wish you, my son, to find with your future wife only the peace and understanding as I experienced at your late father's side." She said softly, and he swallowed hard, feeling discomfort in his stomach.

"You didn't love him. And I don't want my marriage to look like yours. Quite the opposite." He said coolly, pulling away from her, disappointed and dismayed that she was telling him what she thought she needed to say, rather than being honest with him.

Alicent sighed, as if his words and reaction caused her pain.

"We did not always agree, it is true. But our King was a good man, just as my son is." She said finally, and he grinned under his breath as he stood with his back to her, running his fingertips over the top of his table.

"If I remember correctly, he cut open the womb of his beloved wife while she was still alive. While I lost my eye, he cared more for the good name of his first-born daughter than for my suffering or your humiliation. I also know that he did not arouse your desire, for after Daeron's birth you spent each night in separate chambers." He said lightly as he walked over to the window, looking at the servants busying themselves, hanging ornaments and fresh flowers in the courtyard of the keep.

He wondered if his bride regretted her decision.

The thought that he would finally spend that evening sunk deep into her body filled him with fervent desire, and his mind drifted away from his mother and her attempts to salvage the image of his father in his mind.

"No one is perfect. Your father wasn't either. But I respected him and held deep affection for him." She replied finally, and he only hummed, losing the urge for her to give him anything.

Her tenderness, her warm word, her motherly gaze.

He was sick of begging on his knees for her to give him something that was real.

He had to create something like that himself with the woman he had snatched from the gods and made his own.

The tension in his muscles intensified as he stepped into the Great Sept and climbed up the stone steps to the top, standing next to the Septon – the sight of the crowd that had gathered in the temple and the knowledge that everyone's eyes were on him made him feel small and vulnerable.

What if he misspoke the words of his oath?

What if the cloak he had thrown over her shoulders slipped off?

What if she humiliated him in front of everyone, shouting in his face that she despised him?

He swallowed hard and looked to the side, feeling his heart pounding hard as cheers and loud conversations sounded outside the gates – he knew this meant her carriage had arrived and indeed, he saw his grandfather come out to meet her.

He felt his lips part involuntarily in disbelief as she and Otto walked into the temple – holding her hand in that of his grandfather's she walked with her head held high in a beautiful gown composed of blues and browns, from a distance he could see the sparkle of sapphire stones in her necklace and in her hair.

A sigh and pain squeezed his throat at the thought that, contrary to what he had thought, she had not taken on green, the colour of his faction, but his colour, blue, something only he could understand, her personal expression of affection and devotion, a wordless assurance of her fidelity and of what she desired.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself, feeling himself tremble all over with nerves and excitement as she slowly climbed the steps to the top, standing at last before him, looking more beautiful than ever, all flushed with emotion.

He longed to touch her hand or her face, longed to feel the softness of her body, to speak the words of his vows with his nose nestled in her warm cheek.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." Said the Septon loudly – he blinked and looked at him, snapped out of his reverie by the realisation that this was it.

He grunted, trying to remain calm, and turned away, nodding at his uncle, extending his hand to him.

It was only when he threw the cloak bearing his family crest over her shoulders that he understood why this tradition had been upheld for centuries – there was something about this protective gesture, of a husband surrounding his wife with a cloth to protect her from the cold and danger, while also being a symbol of the fact that now what would be would overshadow what was, and his house would become her home.

He swallowed hard, thinking with tenderness that they would now truly become a family.

Their shared lie before the eyes of the gods had become truth.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." The Septon said, and he held out his hand, doing his best not to show how much it was quivering.

He felt relief when she looked at him, when her fingers touched his skin, in her gaze at once terror and warmth, the certainty of a feeling he feared was merely a figment of his imagination, her way of subduing him.

And yet, he could see it exactly in the depths of her beautiful dark eyes.

He pressed his lips together as the priest wrapped their hands several times with a long, wide, bright ribbon, symbolically entwining their fates with each other for eternity.

Are they about to hear the dragon's roar, to learn that Daemon and Rhaenyra have seized the opportunity, their nuptials to burn King's Landing?

This, her by his side, her body and her gaze meant only for him for the rest of his days could not become true.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words." The Septon said, and he swallowed with difficulty, feeling his lips dry with emotion.

They looked at each other before opening their mouths, the words leaving his throat seeming to come out of him without the participation of his will.

"Father,

Smith,

Warrior,

Mother,

Maiden,

Crone,

Stranger

I am hers | I am his

and she is mine | and he is mine

from this day, until the end of my days."

He stared at her dully, waiting for the ground to part, for him to hear screams or someone's defiance, for some guard to run into the Sept, shouting that they had been attacked.

But only silence answered him.

She was his wife.

This thought, the fact that in front of witnesses they had spoken aloud the words of this vow, that the whole Kingdom had heard and seen it with their own eyes, that neither his brother nor anyone else could undo what had happened anymore, made him cup her rosy cheek in his hand, leaning over her.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." He whispered only to sink a moment later into the sweet wetness of her full lips, her innocent sigh of delight making his manhood throb softly in his breeches.

He broke the kiss and pulled away, looking closely at her beautiful, bright face – she blinked and smiled, so tenderly and sweetly that he felt the corners of his mouth lift upwards too, in something that was not a grimace but an expression of his genuine happiness.

They were married.

They returned to the Red Keep on horseback, upright and proud, surrounded by hundreds of guards – no one, however, thought to curse or attack them – his grandfather's trick had worked, and the food he had distributed to the smallfolk before their nuptials had made them shower them with flowers.

They did not look at each other during their journey, however, he felt her presence beside him and that was enough for him.

When they reached the courtyard of the Red Keep he jumped off his mount and approached her mare, dismissing the guard, extending his hands to her, wanting to help her get down on the ground. She welcomed his hands reaching out towards her with a sweet smile, leaning on his shoulders, jumping directly into his arms.

He managed to place a quick little kiss on her warm cheek from which she blushed, looking up at him happily, placing her hand on his.

They stepped into the Throne Room first, followed by all the guests. He remembered little of his grandfather's toast and the words of the Lords who, one by one, stood before their table, wishing them happiness and prosperity.

He merely nodded, stunned and tired, dreaming only of escaping with her to his chamber and sinking between her warm thighs.

He looked at her as he felt the fingers of her hand, extended towards him on the armrest, brush his in the air – he hummed under his breath and his knuckles ran over her soft skin in a gesture of reciprocation.

In keeping with his grandfather's desire, the servants tasted everything before it was served on their plates – still, when the wine was finally poured for him and his wife, he surprised her by taking her cup from her hand, taking the first sip from it.

It was sweet and tasted as usual, so he handed the goblet back to her – her look of affection and gratitude told him what she thought of what he had done and how she intended to reward him later.

He swallowed hard and took another sip of wine, this time from his own goblet, feeling that his erection was all swollen, throbbing with lust in his breeches.

He craved her so badly.

They all raised their gazes upwards when a guard stood in the doorway, a drop of cold sweat ran down his back at the thought that they had been attacked after all.

"King Aegon Targaryen, the Second of His Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." He called out, and he and everyone around him froze.

Aegon stepped with difficulty, with one hand supporting himself on his staff, the other having thrown over the neck of Larys Strong, who was careful not to let his brother fall.

That fucking viper, he thought.

The burnt part of his brother's face was covered by the golden mask his father had worn towards the end of his life – their resemblance, their raked silhouette struck him so much that he simply sat and looked.

"– stand up – stand up, you fool –" Otto hissed and jerked him – he rose immediately from his seat, and with him his wife and all the others gathered.

His mother ran up to his brother, asking loudly how he could get out of bed while he was in such a state, whose idea it was to strain his weak body, but Aegon did not even look at her, his gaze fixed on him.

"Put a chair for His Grace right next to mine. My brother wishes to dine with us." He ordered loudly, feeling like he was a small child again, his heart pounding like mad with terror.

Aegon was brought to his seat by the guards – he himself held him down as he nearly fell over, panting heavily, pale and shivering all over from exertion. His brother exhaled loudly as he finally collapsed into his chair, and he and the rest of the room also took their seats.

"I have come to personally congratulate my brother and my cousin." Aegon said loudly, breathing hard, his words echoing through the chamber. "Though I must admit that their marriage comes as a surprise to me."

He stared dully at his plate, wanting to disappear, to melt into the ground, to not exist, feeling that his heart was about to leap out of his chest.

"However, the Kingdom cannot be left without an heir – I, because of my condition, will beget neither son nor daughter, so we must rely on my brother and his strong seed. I hope that on this night, I, as well as the rest of the court, will witness how the future Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms will be begotten." He said, lifting his wine cup – no one responded to his toast, but Aegon did not seem to mind – he drank the entire contents of it in a strangle.

That night, I, as well as the rest of the court, will witness how the future King of the Seven Kingdoms will be begotten.

"No." He hissed, their mother, trying to change his mind, took Aegon's hand in hers.

"My son, that's not appropriate, that's…"

"It is the King's command." His brother replied, not even looking at them – Otto leaned towards him from the other side, trying to intervene.

"Your Grace, I am not a supporter of this tradition myself – it is not conducive to neither marital intimacy nor the said begetting of offspring." He said, and Aegon laughed out loud.

"I don't care, you old fool."

Standing in his chamber in the company of his grandfather, Aegon, his friends, the would-be members of the Kingsguard, and the few Lords his brother had forced to watch this pathetic spectacle, he felt tears under his eyelids, even though his face was stony.

He had the impression that everything inside him froze while he looked towards the three-door screen, behind which Lysa was helping his wife undo her gown.

He thanked the gods that his mother left the chamber, unable to look at it.

He wondered whether, if he fell to his knees before his brother and begged him for forgiveness, he would take pity on them.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie, panicked and terrified when her beautiful, girlish figure clad only in a thin, snow-white nightgown came out from behind the screen, her long hair loose, her gaze fixed on him gentle and warm.

He swallowed hard as she reached her hand out to him, walking over to his bed – the sight of her not being as terrified as he was, of her not crying gave him strength – he moved towards her, and when he finally stood in front of her, she sidestepped him and walked over to the pillars of the bed, untying the curtains, pulling them all the way open so that they covered what was to happen behind them.

She wanted to give them a bit of privacy, he thought with gratitude.

"No. We must see that Prince Aemond has done his duty." Said Aegon, their grandfather, however, immediately protested.

"Looking at the bare bodies of someone other than one's spouse is a sin, Your Grace, and we will not be sanctioning such practices in this keep." He said in a voice cold and final, and his brother fell silent.

He felt some kind of relief when at last the silhouettes around them disappeared behind the cream curtains, indistinct and distant, seeming to him to be only a bad dream.

His wife, his hāedar approached him with an expression on her face as if she was ready for battle, and as soon as her hand brushed his jaw, his nose sunk into her warm, soft cheek, his arms embraced her at the waist, seeking refuge.

"Don't give him the satisfaction. Make it so you peak as soon as possible and don't worry about me. I've been wet for you for days and I'll take you inside me with ease." She whispered tenderly, and he felt his manhood pulsate hard, a pleasant shiver running along his spine, giving him hope.

She was on his side.

She had strength and courage when he lacked it.

His wife.

"Come." She whispered further, undoing his belt and the fastenings of his tunic with quiet clicks, while he pulled at the ties of her nightgown in one gentle motion, loosening the whole material, which slipped from her shoulders.

In some natural, affectionate reflex, they began to kiss – her puffy lips were wonderfully sweet and familiar, warm and moist, her saliva melting on his tongue.

He felt a pleasant warmth in his heart and the fact that his erection grew hard at the sight of her naked body, reminding himself of the tension he had felt for days.

He thought that by the fact that it had been so long since he had experienced fulfilment, a few sure thrusts deep into her warm flesh should allow him to do his duty and end it.

He was comforted by this and by the tenderness of her hands, by the way her fingers stroked his hair and neck, pulling off his tunic, his shirt and his breeches, allowing them both to finally remain completely bare.

As she lay on the bed on her back and gave him one, comforting, sweet smile, reaching out her hand to him, he just lay on top of her, looking at her face for a moment, their hands stroking their cheeks tenderly.

"– forgive me –" He whispered in trembling voice, wanting her to know that he was furious that they'd been forced into this, that like her he'd imagined it completely different, that as much as he'd wanted this, he hadn't been able to protect them.

He was afraid that if he resisted his brother, he would take revenge on him, or worse, on her.

"– shhh – put it inside me – make me whole again –" She gasped softly and they both sighed as she spread her thighs in front of him, her hand gently grasping his throbbing erection, directing it to her small slit.

They kissed tenderly, their naked bodies pressed against each other as he slid between her dripping walls with a soft, slow push of his hips – her cunt, true to her word was wonderfully wet and warm, offering him no resistance.

The thought that even if he didn't give her fulfilment, he wouldn't cause her pain either was comforting to him.

He thought he would make it all up to her later.

She moaned softly as he nestled his face against her cheek and began to thrust into her fleshy, throbbing core, the quiet slapping of their naked bodies against each other, her familiar arms, her wonderful scent, her sweet sounds made a pleasant wave of heat surge through his loins, making him completely hard.

He breathed a sigh of relief, thinking only of how long he had waited for this, imagining that he had taken her in the royal gardens on the grass, that she had been unable to resist him despite her determination.

"– hāedar –" He gasped as he felt her fingers clench tighter on his back, sliding down to his buttocks, her hips rolling in response to his increasingly aggressive stabs, her whimpers vulnerable and filled with pleasure as he hit her sweet spot again and again.

"– yes – yes, lēkia, right here –" She mumbled softly into his ear, and he restrained himself with difficulty not to moan, chasing his peak with the loud clicks of her little cunt.

He was so, so close, he thought with relief.

"– woof, woof – what's that supposed to mean? – I was hoping you'd demonstrate to us how the hound fucks –" He heard his brother's amused voice and froze, feeling his whole body tense up, the pleasant warmth in his lower abdomen turned into a cool wave of humiliation that ran along his back.

"– Your Grace – it's not dignified –" He heard the frustrated voice of their grandfather on the other side.

He felt himself begin to quiver, his lips parted in horror as he felt his erection become half-hard again, unsure what to do, hot tears of despair and shame gathered under his eyelids.

He sighed as he felt her hands simply press his face into the crook of her neck, giving him shelter, her lips placing warm, gentle kisses on his head, her fingers combing through his hair.

He just wanted to fall asleep in her embrace and never wake up again.

"– I'm just worried about my cousin and whether she'll experience pleasure – both she and I know how selfish my brother is – what he's capable of doing to get what he wants –" Aegon said, making heavy, burning tears run down his cheeks one by one, his eyebrows arching in pain as her arms hugged him tighter to her body, wanting to protect him from what was happening.

"– do you trust me? –" She asked so quietly that only he was able to hear her.

He swallowed hard, choking on his own tears, trying not to make a sound.

Did he trust her?

He wished he did.

He nodded and felt her arms push him away, as if she was trying to force him to change position, finally turning him onto his back, sitting on top of him with his soft manhood inside her – she leaned over him, pressing her palms to the sides of his face as if she just wanted to cup his cheeks, while doing it so hard that he stopped hearing anything.

His heart pounded harder when he heard his brother's voice again, but as if from afar, unable to understand the words he had spoken – his wife kissed his forehead and then brushed her lips gently against his, lazily rolling her hips back and forth, teasing him.

His hands rose to her body, to her back, her waist and her hair, stroking her bare skin as if it were something delicate and precious, her sweet breasts pressed against his torso.

Her insides were wonderfully warm, her lips moist and full, her gaze tenderly fixed on his – her thumbs stroked his cheeks, but her hands stayed in the same position, keeping him from listening to what was happening around them.

A pleasant shiver ran down his spine again as the tip of her slick tongue slid invitingly between his lips, licking him in a way from which his cock pulsed aggressively inside her.

She moaned, feeling it, rocking her hips with quiet clicks of her moisture – he bent his legs at the knees, responding to her movements with tentative thrusts, feeling her walls growing tighter again, a quiet sigh escaped his throat as his hands clamped down on her firm breasts.

"– yes – yes, just like that, my sweet husband –" He heard her voice, her face pressed against his neck as her spine curved into the letter s, allowing him to admire the shape of her plump buttocks.

He clamped his hands on them, imposing a fast, rough pace on her, panting hard, trying not to think or be, only to take what was familiar and desired, what he had waited so long for.

He pulled himself up and sat down, wanting to feel her from a different angle, and she put her arms around his head, again covering his ears – he heard them both moan loudly as he began to thrust into her anew, his face snuggled between her beloved, soft breasts, making him feel at home.

"– Aemond – ah, g-gods, yes, yes, yes –" He heard her whimper, her thirsty, leaking cunt soaking him completely every time he slammed into her again and again, opening her violently on the fattest part of his cock, all throbbing with pain.

He was wonderfully close, he knew that – he looked at her, at her beautiful, sweet face, and she kissed him so tenderly and softly that tears ran down his cheeks – he felt the familiar tightness in his stones and breathed a sigh of relief as, with his groan of pleasure, his seed finally spilled inside her, her fleshy walls giving him a few more squeezes, sucking his spend deep inside her.

He heard her breathe a sigh of relief as she placed small, soft kisses on his hair, as if to tell him wordlessly that she was proud of him.

As her hands stroked his head and back, he heard someone's slow footsteps and hisses of pain – he exhaled loudly as the door to his chamber opened and those gathered began to leave.

And then there was silence.

"– are we alone? –" He muttered at last and felt her kiss the top of his head, cuddling him into her body.

"– yes, my love –" She whispered and wanted to say something else, but she didn't, because he burst out in a loud, childish sob.

He snuggled into her, choking on his own tears, feeling them flow and flow and flow, unable to stop it – he heard her hush him tenderly, pressing his face between her breasts, hearing how much he was suffering, how humiliated and weak he felt.

"– shhh – I know – you were so brave –" She whispered, and he wept loudly, thinking that he wasn't a man, that surely she herself would now look at him with pity.

"– forgive me –" He mumbled wearily, and in response her lips kissed his forehead, sweaty from exertion and stress.

"– I have nothing to forgive you for – the King put us in an impossible position, we couldn't behave any other way – your task was much more difficult – a woman can just lie down and wait it out, but it is the man who must desire her despite what is happening around him – Aegon wanted to humiliate you but he failed – calm down, brother, breathe – there is nothing more he can do to us –" She said and he just listened to her, panting hard, needing her words, her reassurances like air.

"– he did it again – mocked me again –" He blurted out with difficulty.

"– he heard that what you were doing to me gave me pleasure, and that's why he said all those awful things – he is jealous, brother, because he knows that no woman will ever desire him again – that it is your children who will sit on the Iron Throne –" She said tenderly and he swallowed hard.

"– ours –" He corrected her and heard her smile, stroking his head tenderly.

"– ours –" She hummed and he nestled closer to her, brushing her bare back with his fingers, his soft erection still deep inside her.

He didn't want to slid it out of her yet, because he felt safe in her warm, fleshy body.

"– I ruined our wedding night – I didn't give you fulfillment –" He whispered, and she shook her head.

"– we both know that our wedding night was the night before you flew out to Rook's Rest – that's when I lost my maidenhood and became yours – my fulfillment can wait, just as you patiently waited for me for many days –" She said softly, and for some reason he felt relief.

He sniffed with his nose and let her go when he felt her wanting to get up from his lap, gently sliding his warm, soft manhood out of her – he immediately turned away from her and lay on his side, curling up so that he lifted his knees almost under his chin, embracing his legs with his arms.

He was not a man or a lover, he was nobody, he thought, whooping with tears again, unable to calm down.

Woof, woof.

He pressed his lips together when he felt her soft body lay behind him, her breasts pressed against his back, her arms embracing his waist, stroking his musclar stomach – he closed his eyes as her mouth placed a moist, loud kiss on the back of his head.

"– iksan kesīr, valzȳrys (I'm here, husband) – aōha ābrazȳrys iksis ondoso aōha paktot (your wife is by your side) –" She whispered, and he exaled, gently taking her hands in his, entwining their fingers together.

He swallowed hard when he heard her open her mouth, her fingertips stroking his skin soothingly.

Sleep my baby on my bosom

Warm and cozy will it prove

Round thee mother’s arms are folding

In her heart a mother’s love

There shall no one come to harm thee

Naught shall ever break thy rest

Sleep my darling babe in quiet

Sleep on mother’s gentle breast.

He felt that this time it was a tears of emotion that ran down his hot cheeks – his chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths, hearing how warm and melodious her voice was.

He wasn't sure if his mother had ever sung lullabies to him, but the fact that she did it now to soothe and comfort him, made a wonderful, warm feeling spread through his heart.

He swallowed hard as silence fell around them – his thumb brushed the soft skin of her hand, only three pleading words leaving his mouth.

"Sing some more."

[prodbyton]

one of my many sick deranged ideas that i discussed with my dearest @tsandoll <3

cw. smut +18 mdni, fem!reader, not really any dom/sub dynamics neither of them are really dominant? yn a little bossy tho, oral (f. recieving)

wc. 1.6k (ki writing something under 2k? crazy...)

the last thing on earth that jaehyun would ever want is for you to be uncomfortable, especially because of him. throughout your relationship with him he's been super respectful, never letting his hands linger on you for too long, he tries to stop his eyes from wandering along your body, and he always stops your makeout sessions before they lead to anything more, just to make sure that you two weren't rushing into anything and that you didn't think he was pressuring you.

but one thing he couldn't stop were the thoughts he had about you in the night when he was in bed, all alone with his hand and the thought of you. he was ashamed of it, he was scared that one day you'd somehow find out that he jerked off to the thought of you almost every night and you would call him a sick freak and you'd break up with him. it all started with a wet dream, you were so beautiful taking every inch of his cock while he rutted into you eagerly, squeezing his hand the same way you do in real life that always tugs on his heart strings. he woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and an ache between his thighs.

ever since then he'd been using his thoughts of you to get himself off at night. it was like torture keeping it from you, he felt like a pervert. smiling in your face as if he didn't cum all over his hands hours before at the mental image of the same face. there was no reason why he couldn't just tell you that he was ready to go all the way with you once you felt like you were ready as well, but he was embarrassed about how he felt.

he knew he couldn't keep in his dirty little secret from you any longer, it was eating him inside and he knew that the conversation could go two ways -- you think he's gross and you never want to see him again, or you think its cute and you comfort him before giving him the fuck of his life. so here he was, on his knees at the edge of your bed while you look down at him. he has tears in his eyes as he explains himself and apologizes, trying his best to gauge your reaction through his teary eyes.

"jaehyun, you're literally my boyfriend. did you think i'd really be mad that you're attracted to me? i'm more upset that you didn't tell me sooner, i could have helped you out." you lean forward and cup his cheeks, making him make eye contact with you while you assure him that everything was fine. he's not sure if you're able to tell, but your words go straight to his dick. he has to bite his lip to make sure this isn't another one of his dreams.

"y-you're not mad?" he whispers and you want to laugh at his sensitive state. but you hold it in and you smile at him, shaking your head so he knows that you really aren't mad at him.

"i'm flattered, actually. can you... can you show me what you do when you think about me?" you try your best to sound confident in your words but your voice shakes a little bit, a little too excited over jaehyuns little emotional moment. something about him on his knees in front of you on the edge of crying had you thinking about all the other things you could possibly make him cry for.

he's quick to nod at your words and take his clothes off. he takes off his shirt and jeans, he stays on his knees on the ground while he starts palming himself through his boxers. his eyes start to flutter shut and you watch in amusement as he gets himself worked up.

you can see the precum that leaks out of his cock and stains his boxers, you want to tell jaehyun to just take his cock out so you can see but you remember you told him to show you what he usually does. almost like he could read your mind, he pushes his boxers just enough for his cock to slip out, his hands instantly making contact with it and he bites back a moan. its so pretty, the perfect length and its thick, tip a pretty deep red with his precum making it glossy in his hand. you want to tell him to get on the bed so you can just suck him off but you hold out.

"tell me what you think about, baby" you were so hot to him like this, and he's whining and squeezing his cock tight trying to gather his thoughts as much as possible.

 he looks in your eyes and feels like he could cum right now.you just smile at him, face unreadable of any real emotions. you bring a hand back to his cheek, grazing the skin with your thumb as you watch him struggle to speak.

“i- fuck– i think about you…” you hum as encouragement for him to go on. with the eye contact you force him to make with you, it was hard for him to think. even if you were telling him to continue he felt embarrassed telling you about his fantasies. “think about your face, your body– love your body so much baby, i think about touching you, how good you’d feel squeezing me, i think about how you smell good, you always smell sso good” he leans forward and dips his head to rest on your leg, face still resting in your hand as he takes in a breath of the skin of your bare legs. you almost think he whimpers after sniffing you, and you want to laugh at him for his desperation, but he’s already felt vulnerable enough today. 

you shift so you can spread your legs open for jaehyun, your thighs sticking together from the heat of your room before you. his head falls between your legs when you do this and he’s face to face with the cloth barrier that hides your pussy from him. he can feel the heat that radiates from you in this spot, and he takes another deep breath to get that scent he’s so badly craved to take in. something about you having a long day and sitting in your worn in panties that were probably now soaked through turned jaehyun on to no end. and you were wearing shorts, they were probably so tight against you and got to rub against you all day. he had to admit he was a bit jealous that your clothes get to be on you at all times. he was definitely going to ask you for a pair of your panties when you two were finished.

“can i eat you out? wanna taste you so bad, please let me taste you baby” 

“go ahead”

jaehyuns orgasm was long forgotten the moment you gave him the green light. he quickly rid you of your top and your bottoms, leaving you in just your bra and panties as he trailed wet kisses up your thighs. he was so pretty like this, drunk on you without having a taste yet.you whine whenever he nibbles on the soft skin of your thighs, pushing your hips up a bit to urge him to hurry up. he got the memo quickly, looking up at you for approval as he got closer to wear you needed him the most. he pushed you further on the bed, that way you could lay down comfortably and jaehyun could ease the burn in his knees from being on the ground for too long. 

pushing your panties to the side, he dove straight into kissing and licking at your clit. you were embarrassingly wet, but you were too turned on to care. it was hard to focus when jaehyun ate you out like it was his last meal. your hands were in his hair as you tried to keep your moans down. you could see the way he was grinding onto your mattress, it made you clench around nothing thinking about how he was making you feel so good while chasing his own pleasure. you grind your hips into his face and he moans into your cunt, you feel it everywhere.

his fingers that were wrapped around your legs move to press against your entrance, he easily slips two fingers inside while he keeps his lips wrapped around your sensitive clit. the way his fingers press against your walls so nicely, and they’re so long, you know you won't be able to hold out much longer before your orgasm comes. 

“j-jaehyun, m’gonna cum-'' you weren't sure that your words were even coherent, but jaehyun heard you loud and clear. he moved his fingers faster inside of you, desperate to feel you cum around him. 

“yes, cum for me, wanna make you feel good”

soon after that you feel that wave of pleasure crash through you and you bite back a scream. the way the orgasm took over all of your senses was overwhelming, jaehyun having you nearly black out just from giving you head. the way your hips eagerly rode out your high on his face triggered his own orgasm, hips pressing deep onto your mattress as his cum pools on your sheets. when he feels your hand push at his head to get him off you he pulls his lips from your dripping cunt, resting his head on your thigh as you two catch your breaths. 

after some hours of cuddling, you two were back at it, trying out every little fantasy jaehyun had thought about in all of his wet dreams.

a/n: first bnd fic!! hope you guys enjoyed it ^_^

[whiskeyskin]

Goddesses and Mortals

Premise: After the events of Love and Longing, Gale finds out that his feelings are reciprocated.. and that's not all.. 😳🍑🫵

Accidental sequel to a previous fic cause I can't get this lonely Wizard out of my head without the promise of a potentially happy ending 🥹 in more ways than one 😏🍆

Gale x gn!tav • 18+ • E/M rating • MDNI

Gale POV, reader referred to as 'you', no specific mention of gentials or gender, porn with plot?, Mystra can fuck right off, fantasies becoming reality, longing, love, tenderness, mutual masturbation, anal fingering (M receiving), unabashed consent, mild cum swapping, minor sub/dom energy, marking if you squint

5.3k words

Special thanks to @senualothbrok for nestling this tadpole in my brain for Gale to get the real deal one day.. 💜

And at it again @spellbooking with another beautiful gif of our Rizzard ☺️ Thank you! 💜

•°•°•

Gale was close, very close.

He had to hurry, the party would all be rising from camp soon. Though there was no sunlight in this desolate place, a full rest was almost upon him.

Safely secluded in the abandoned house on the far reaches of camp; sweat damp on his brow, his hand slick with salvia, Gale feverishly pumped his length in quick bursts.

Your illusion image looked up at him through lidded eyes licking your bottom lip hungrily and growling a hedonistic moan.

"Gale.." you whimpered, the voice distorted.

"Yes, love.. I'm going to come for you.. only for you.. come with me." He bit out, on the precipice of orgasm.

Suddenly, a faint lilting of rosewater assailed his nose and stopped him dead.

A cold dread filled his body, incapacitating his lungs.

Mystra.

It couldn't be.

Surely not.

Not here.

Not now.

Why right now for hell's sake?

He'd not felt her presence since she'd tried to wedge herself between you both when you'd shared a moment of magic in camp.

Despite their separation, she still checked in on her disgraced former chosen and lover at the most inopportune moments.

Fumbling, he quickly tucked himself away in his waistband and spun on his heel.

Nothing.. but the scent remained.

Had she finally gotten sick of his abusing himself constantly to the fictitious likeness of you, using her magical essence to do so?

Had she been sensing him masturbating at least twice a day since her intervention charm through Elminster?

Was she making herself known to quell his incessant self-gratification, or to participate in it?

Even a tenday ago, that would have been a comforting thought. One he would have relished in, taken solace and pride in.. but this felt wrong.

His sweet nothings he had whispered in the dead of night to "you" weren't for Mystra's perverse enjoyment, or sick amusement, weren't for her for to cast judgement on.

"I don't know why you're here," he called brazenly, "but I assure you, this is nothing that concerns you any longer. Now, if you'd be so kind, leave me in peace." He requested, firmly.

Silence.

He wasn't convinced.

"And I don't appreciate the timing of you little assertion here. Now that I'm finally on a path of some kind of healing, you make yourself known?" He snapped, pointing a finger at nothing.

"You have no reason to be here. You have already spoken your will and want with my life and until such a time that that moment arrives, I will do what I want, with whomever I want. Be they real, or fantasy is no concern of yours. Now, leave." He frowned and gestured finally.

The warmth in the air he didn't realise had been present disparated. He was left cold.

Just like always with her.

"Gale?" Called your voice, your vision now by the doorway.

He looked up to see you leaning on the doorframe, slightly bleary.

"Sorry, my love. I got distracted. Less said about that, the better. Now," he beckoned a crooked finger towards himself, "let's get back to where we were before everyone wakes up."

You frowned and looked him up and down, "Did you just call me, 'my love'?" You asked.

For the second time that early morning, Gale's blood ran cold.

"And what exactly were we doing before?" You irked a brow, looking amused.

Gale struggled for words as the blood that had been swiftly journeying to the south was urgently redirected north.

"I-uh-I did? Must've been a mistake. What are you doing up so early?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

You squinted, "Who were you talking to?"

"No one." Gale answered, feigning innocence.

"Wow, that was convincing." You teased with mockingly wide eyes. You narrowed your eyes at him and he felt a gentle brush against his mind. You were seeking permission. He allowed it.

"Mystra?" You asked with a tense lilt. Gale nodded.

"Thought so, I heard you calling that you were trying to move on and someone was suddenly trying to get your attention again. Is everything alright?" You asked, your tone worried and sincere.

Gale's heart bloomed.

"Yes, since her missive from Elminster, she's reached out. I don't have time for it."

"That's a massive step for you, Gale. You said something about moving on, is that true?"

"Somewhat." He answered in a half truth.

You smiled, "Is she still here?" There was a pause, Gale could see the cogs turning, "Did you want to make her jealous? Is that why you called me 'my love'?"

Gale blinked twice.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe you snuck up here to be with me. Maybe I'm the one you're moving on with."

Again, Gale blinked twice.

How unintentionally right you were.

He swallowed.

"Would that be something you're interested in helping me with?"

"To fuck with the gods? Anything." You purred the last word down the connection at him and it made the hairs on his neck raise like you'd whispered it directly against his skin.

"Then by all means, take the lead."

You irked a seductive brow and turned down your head to gaze through lidded eyes.

He swallowed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You're just so gods damned handsome. I'm glad we could sneak away again." You walked towards him confidently, a slight prowl in your gait.

Gale's blood supply had ignored previous instruction and fully marched back south. The sight of you - truly you - saying these things to him had him dizzy from the rush of blood.

"Not to worry, I quite enjoying being gawped at."

"Well, it's certainly no hardship." You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in for a sensual hug, while he desperately tried to keep his erection from your notice.

"Mm, we have to be quick. We don't have much time until the others wake up." You crooned, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Did the minor illusion keep you warm enough while I was gone?"

And for the third time that morning, Gale's body shot full of ice.

His blood entirely confused, threw it's hands up in defeat for direction.

You knew?

How could you know?

He was careful.. wasn't he?

Your hands never stopped roaming; his arms, his shoulders, his neck.. his hair.. oh gods, up into his hair.

Gale's breath hitched and shuddered.

Oh gods, you felt like heaven. Even if he felt like he was in hell.

"I know you like me to watch you but I've been so neglectful lately with everything that's been going on. Can you forgive me?" You pulled back from him, your face pulled into a beautifully twisted smile, sin pulled at the edges.

"I th-think you can make it up to me." He gasped.

Your eyebrows flexed in amusement up your forehead, "Do you want me to watch you right now? With everyone waiting in camp, drinking tea and preparing breakfast?"

You smoothed your hands from his shoulders to the top of his chest, "Do you like the anticipation of being caught, Gale? The rush of being found?"

Oh gods, you were so close. You smelled so good, like lemongrass and lavender.. and underneath the balms, your musk, your scent. You.

"I would do anything, as long as it was with you, my love." He breathed, unable to contain the emotion in his voice.

Your eyes unfocused for a brief moment, then came back, blinking as though seeing through an unfogged mirror.

A soft gasp caught in the back of your throat; that noise could state him for a thousand nights.

Then you stepped away.

You averted your gaze, and backed away from his arms completely. You shut your eyes tightly.

"Gale, I-"

You opened them, a wealth of feelings swirling but he couldn't decipher any of them.

"I need to get back to camp. We need to get to Moonrise Towers today, with Isobel's blessing we can cross the Shadows. We need to be ready." You nodded curtly and disappeared.

Gale stared after you, the cold air of the Shadowlands around him a cruel but poetic pathetic fallacy.

He groaned and closed his eyes against balled fists, as he pressed them against his eyes. Tears brimmed behind them, hot frustrated tears.

"Gods fucking dammit."

***

Gale had attempted to maintain distance today, which had been difficult considering you'd partied up together with Karlach and Shadowheart.

Karlach had tried to question his glum mood, but he'd simply recused it as nerves of their close proximity to the potential Heart of the Absolute.

"Ah, Gale. If there's anyone who knows how shit it is to have a ticking time bomb in their chest, it's me. Come and speak to me sometime mate, yeah? We can talk about it."

"Karlach, you're truly a soul that steels my own. I may just take you up on that."

A firm nod and a beaming smile from Karlach ended the conversation as they entered this Balthazar's chamber, after which none of them really had the stomach for food that night.

Wyll had stepped up and made a hearty bowl of vegetable and meat stew. It was nothing on his own cooking, of course but it was a valiant attempt.

Needed a little more pepper.

You sat nursing your bowl, generally making conversation around the fire. Halsin had joined you back from Last Light with no new news of the catatonic lost soul, apart from that he kept singing. A lute of significance to him had been added to your list of items to retrieve; an ever growing list.

Gale swallowed a mouthful and risked a glance towards you, your eyes met for a brief moment before you looked away, uncomfortable. His heart sank.

He'd truly ruined any chance of friendship after his desperate behaviour this morning. You'd barely spoken two words together all day, and now you wouldn't look him in the eye.

He excused himself for an early night and retreated to his tent. He lit his candles and pulled out one of the many books he'd picked up along today's excursions around Moonrise, hoping that one of them would point them towards the heart.

***

The noise around the campfire grew weary as he poured over his readings. Various 'goodnights' alerted him to the potentially late hour.

Gale sighed and rubbed his eyes, he conjured a bookmark, closed it and drained his glass of wine.

Now that he'd been pulled from his focus, he realised how tired he was. Physically drained from a gruelling day of emotional turbulence.

Rosewater gently lilted under his nose, he snorted it back out.

"Oh for the love of-! Bugger off!" He spat through a whisper.

"I'm sorry." Came your voice from behind him.

He spun around on his knees to see you hastily trying to leave his tent.

"No!" Called a little too loudly, reaching out across the space, "Not you. I didn't mean you."

You stopped, looking back at him for the first time since the morning. The soft glow of the candles illuminating your wonderful face, his heart squeezed uncomfortably.

"I assume she's back again, then?" You asked through terse lips, glancing around the low lit interior of his tent.

"Where rosewater is, Mystra's sure to follow. What can I do for you?" Gale asked, shaking off the lingering of his former lover.

"I-," you started, wringing your hands, "I wanted to apologise for this morning."

Gale blinked.

You wanted to apologise?

"What for?" He questioned his tone incredulous.

"For it all. I embarrassed you, I embarrassed myself.. I acted poorly. I thought it would be a good way to show that I knew what you'd been doing-with the minor illusions." Gale's eyes widened. He'd been attempting to solve that one today.

"H-How did you find out?"

"I'd cast Detect Thoughts on Jaheria when we met her at the Inn, and it lasts all day. I heard you when I was laying down to rest. All the things you wanted to do." You swallowed thickly, and a jolt of excitement shot it's way through his cock to his brain.

That was two nights ago.

He'd fantasized about gourging on your sex as you mounted his face, fucking yourself with his mouth as you leaned back with one hand to stroke him. He'd made a mess of his walls, as well as himself.

"You've got a pretty interesting imagination, Gale. Especially since we seem to be ethereal galaxy people in your head." You smiled, folding your arms across yourself, "The one from last night was pretty hot too." You bit your bottom lip to contain more, and swallowed.

He remembered that vividly.

He'd fantasised about spooning you, fucking into you and playing with you from behind. The mirror image had gasped and moaned for him, breathed his name over and over again, as he came to the thought of pleasing you enough to milk his cum inside your clenching walls.

"I thought it was just sex, that maybe we could get rid of some nervous energy together but then this morning.. the way you-you looked at me.." you trailed off, Gale's heart hammered against his chest.

You rest your splayed hands across your heart, "I was foolish. You're not the kind to just sleep around. To have casual sex and not think of it again."

"Like Astarion?" He quipped before vetting the venomous comment.

You tightened your lip, "Kind of." You answered, with a tone that felt loaded with more secretive information but he didn't want to pry.

Well, he did.

But not right now.

"I could be." He postured, looking up at you.

You let out a short laugh, "That face this morning is not the face of someone who can just have sex and not want more."

He hardened his face, "It could be.. if you wanted to be.." Gale irked a brow, feigning a casual air.

"Oh, yeah?" You goaded, leaning on one hip and folding your arms again.

"Absolutely. We could have sex right now and I wouldn't bat an eyelid." He lied, pushing his lips down into a grimace, while his cheeks flushed and his heart pounded against his sternum.

"Really?" You questioned, looking dubious.

"Unquestionably." Gale punctuated with a flick of his fingers, relaxing into his position on the floor, widening his knees to sit back on his heels in an attempt at nonchalance.

"So, you fantasising about kissing my neck, my chest, stomach and hips and calling me "my love" means nothing." You stated, using air quotations.

"Certainly not. Mere sweet talk." Gale shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, while sweat gathered on his forehead.

You kicked off your hip and confidently strolled towards the short distance to him. His mouth instantly dried to dangerous levels of dehydration, as he tried to keep composure.

"And imagining your cock in my mouth, telling me how much you adore me, that isn't telling at all?" You sneered a lip through a smirk and shrugged one shoulder.

"Demonstrably." He tried to remain calm but every cell in his body was panicking, "Do you see me reacting?" He willed himself through words not to show a care.

Your tongue broke through your smirk to rub against your top teeth and his felt it between his legs, he jerked unconsciously.

"You're glowing." You drawled, dipping your eyes to his chest, "Do you even realise the orb lights up when you're horny?"

Gale's painfully stony face dropped as he quickly darted his vision to his chest.

You were indeed correct.

Through his camp clothes, a faint purple hue eminated through the fabric. Gale shot his had to cover his blatant display of arousal. He gave a sharp exhale through his nose and closed his eyes in utter embarrassment.

"This tent has been a purple colour show since Crèche Y'llek." You teased, the sound of your voice curved around a grin.

Gale's chest hollowed.

Gods dammit.

Mystra dammit.

"Oh and also this.." Suddenly he felt something graze along the length of his concealed erection - what he thought was a his concealed erection.

He let out a whining gasp, his hand slapping against worn leather, and he opened his eyes.

You'd rubbed the top of your boot under and against him in his kneeled position, gliding his sensitive member with the leather of your shoe. You continued the rhythm, the gentle friction was delicious, he gasped open mouthed.

Oh gods, it was real.

You were real.

It wasn't a cruel trick, or a fantasy.

It was you.

Gale reached up to grasp the crook of your knee, you held your gaze steadfast against his own. He began to pull off your boot, your eyes never faultered from his as it was flung to the back of the tent.

Your foot resting on his thigh, his hand still holding the meat of your strong calf.

You took his prickly chin within your fingers, eyes unsure.

"If this going to happen, it's just sex. Nothing more." You stated, in a low tone.

Gale nodded, trembling from anticipation.

"I mean it. If you're on a path to self-destruction in the name of a Goddess, I'm not wasting my time with feelings." Your voice caught and anger flashed across your features but tears hinted in your eyes.

You slid your foot off his thigh and slowly descended to crouch in front of him, taking his face fully in your hands. Their warmth slid into the deepest recesses of his lonely soul.

"I care about you, Gale. You're worth far more than what she's asked you to do. Far more."

He poured over your face, so close to him. Emotions that he had denied himself bubbling to the surface; the longing, the loneliness.. the fear.

You ran a thumb to dry a tear he hadn't realise had fallen.

"Say something." You whispered, your gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips.

Oh gods.

This was to truly happen?

He'd kiss your beautiful, soft lips?

His breathing was unsteady, the anticipation coiled dangerously around every facet of his musculature.

Gale opened his mouth to speak, to utter sweet poetry regaling your beauty, your passion, your wit and wisdom but the words would not form, they were stunted on his paralysed tongue.

You were so close.

He could feel the heat from your body, he could see the wisps of your hair moving with his unsteady breath.

You came closer and pressed your lips between his brows, electric tingling his skin in your wake. His eyes lolled shut as he finally brought his hands to hold you to him, press you to him, to feel you finally.

He slid his hands below the seam of your shirt, to feel your smooth and scarred skin, fire grazing his fingertips at the contact.

"I-.. I care for you deeply. I cannot deny this." He began breathlesly, your forehead's connected, your bodies melting together. You sank further into the embrace, widening your legs to fully welcome him between your thighs.

The image of that first night he touched himself to thoughts of you, bloomed across his mind and he bit his lip.

"Neither can I." You agreed, the sound of your voice low and raspy, "It scares me, Gale. It scares the shit into me," you leaned back, holding on to the back of his neck, slowly leading you both down to the carpeted rugs below his bedroll, "Show me. Show me I'm not wrong to feel this way. Show me I'm not alone in this."

Gale shook in head, almost trance-like, "You're not alone-not alone.. I'm with you." He followed you down, desperate not to lose a second's touch with you.

"And I'm with you, I'm not letting you go." You spoke the words against his mouth, it made his mind numb.

"No, never. Never leave me." He mumbled, as you both situated yourselves on the floor. Words bubbled and frothed out of his mouth before he could stop them, "I've been so utterly alone for so long, cut off from everyone I knew and cared for.. and I'm terrified, I'm filled with dread each day. I don't want to die-I want to stay.. stay here." He mewled through the overwhelming emotion in his throat. You increased the intensity of your touch against your brows.

"Shh, none of that matters now. It doesn't exist. For now.. it's just us.. you and me.." you whispered against his skin, he felt it shiver down every vertebrae.

"You and me." He repeated, comforted by the softness in your voice.

Suddenly, your hand grasped his naked cock. He yelped in pleasure, but was hushed by the passionate meeting of your mouth. You captured his cries, claiming them as your own.

His fingers bunched your shirt, his knuckles white, as your tongue swept in to merge with his.

Oh gods.

You tasted like wine, and oranges, and sex.

He'd imagined your taste, your scent.. but this.. the full force of you was so much more intense that he could have expected.

You fingered his leaking slit and he jerked at the sensation, causing you both to make involuntary, open-mouthed moans.

You increased in fervour at his reaction, a desperate whine eeking from his body.

It was too much but not enough. He wanted more, more of you, more of this. He wanted the world to fall away and to be consumed by only you.

Like you said; "Just you and me."

Even though it would be grammatically correct to say 'You and I'.

Your hand wrapped around the length of him, pumping the head of his penis in short, lanquid bursts.. and suddenly the correctness on ones grammar seemed worlds away.

Gale shuddered and knelt over your body, settling himself between your gorgeous thighs, pressing down against your sex, enough to make you gasp.

You shared a wicked grin together before he cradled you to him, desperately kissing and mating your tongues. His hips unconsciously twitching against the friction of your hand.

"Gods, Gale. I want you." You keened against his lips, puffs of air escaping aggressively from your lungs, as his hips drove against you.

"Yesyesyesyesyes.." he chorused, messily thrusting against your palm, "Want this. Want you. For a long while.. even before.."

"Did you fantasize about all the positions we could fuck in?"

A sharp feeling settled low in his gut and he squeezed his eyes shut to close out a threatening, pre-emptive climax.

"Yes, wanted you.. badly." He added, barely able to speak.

"I know, I saw. Sweating and willing underneath you?"

"Yess.." he hissed.

"Slipping a finger inside me, then another, preparing me to take you?"

Another deliciously painful pang shuddered inside him.

"Stretching my tight hole for you, till I'm begging you to fuck me hard and unrelenting?" You growled against his lips.

Gale tensed his jaw to mute a groan from his chest, as your words gripped the back of his head.

Oh dear fucking gods.

You were very, very good at this.

"I especially liked where I got to play with you. Those moans at the back of your throat when you'd think of me on top, or taking charge.. I had trouble concentrating yesterday because I couldn't stop replaying those sounds."

He heard you whisper an incantation, that his lust-filled brain slowly realised was Mage hand, the moment before he felt the cold sensation working his undergarments completely free, pushing them down passed his knees.

"There was one particular part you seemed to be interested in exploring together." You purred against his temple, as you twisted your grip around his plump, weeping member.

The Mage hand palmed at the cleft of his ass and lazily dragged it's fingers up his perennium, sliding towards his..

He gasped, throwing his head back and loosening his tight hips to tilt them upwards in wanton display.

"Oh gods." Gale whimpered, biting down on his lip hard, "Mm-Mhm." He panted in abandon.

He'd experimented with himself in this matter in his youth and in his newfound sexual freedom after his year of self imposed celibacy but never with another.

The magical fingers languidly drawled across his sensitive skin. He bucked and jerked against the feeling of you pleasuring him, needing more of both.

You groaned and rutted your hips against him.

"You look so beautiful like this, I can see you in the mirror behind you. You look spectacular, spreading yourself for me." You crooned, praising him and licking your bottom lip. You looked beyond him to what he assumed was his mirror.

Oh gods.

You were going to watch him like this.

Like he'd imagined.

Exposed.

Hedonistic.

Depraved.

The thought waved over his brain and made him dizzy, the desire swelled low in his belly.

"You're so willing and receptive, Gale. Do you want me to slide these fingers inside you? To pleasure you completely until you can't comprehend your own name?" You asked salaciously, assuring consent before blindly continuing. He raised his hips higher for better access as wordless agreement.

The mage hand ran a soaked finger across his puckering hole but ventured no further without express permission.

His whole body trembled, desire coarsing through his veins, soaking into every orifice.

"Yes.. yes.. fuck. I need it. Please.. please.." he wailed through staggered breath.

"Look at me." You instructed softly, halting your motions of abject pleasure.

With great difficulty, Gale did as he was told. He about exploded with joy with the sight of you.

He'd imagined you, summoned your likeness but nothing could ever compare to this.

The aura of his orb bathed you in a magical amethyst glow; the adoration shining in your eyes, the seductive curve of your lip, the sweat flattening your hair to your temples.

"So handsome.. so beautiful. Look at you, look at how you light up for me.." you smiled, guilding him with compliments as you raise a hand to touch the angry purple mark on his chest, now emblazoned with Mystra's star. "This does not define you. You are not the orb. You are not Mystra's chosen. You are Gale and you chose your own path. You are, and will always be, enough.. just as you are.."

Soft tears fell from his eyes from the intensity of his emotional response to your words and the physical stimuli of the hand gently testing his entrance.

You gently kissed the apples of his wet cheeks, then looked up at him with a darkened expression.

"Arch your back for me, sweetheart."

Gale instantly buried his face against your neck, lifting his exposed self for you.

"Good.." you cooed, beginning a slow pace to pump his cock again.

"Ohh, gods." His whined against your skin, his limit already close.

"Relax.." you whispered, kissing his temple, "Relax for me, darling. Take a deep breath, and let it out. Keep breathing."

Gale did as he was told. With each expell of air he loosened the muscles surrounding his asshole. The need growing to dizzying heights.

Pressure pushed against his rim as the finger glided halfway, he gasped and clenched unconsciously.

"Breathe, Gale." You soothed, pressing soft kisses to his face, "You're handling this so well."

Further and further you pushed inside him, delicious sensation flooding his body. His body tense and limp simultaneously, as the pleasure radiated through him from his pulsating walls.

"Fuck." He barely managed.

He kissed your neck and sucked down on the bite marks left by Astarion. He would make his own mark on you. One that everyone would see.

You gasped, your breath catching as you rolled your hips against him, teeth lightly nipping at his ear lobe.

Gale felt the friction of your other hand reaching down between you to stimulate your own release. His urge re-doubled in it's efforts to push him higher, intoxicated by your arousal.

He could feel your desperate movements between you, lightly grazing his testicles with the back of your hand.

You surprised him by gently pinching the head of him and thumbing the slit before initiating an unyielding, rapid rhythm wrapped around his cock. Synchronizing with curling the Mage hand towards his stomach, rubbing over the knot of his prostate.

A ragged, strained noise escaped from his throat as the sensations joined, assailing him from both sides.

He pushed back against the Mage hand, taking it's digit to the hilt.

"Oh yes, that's it. Enjoy it. It's for you.. all for you." You chorused his words to you, the words he used every night to pray to your false altar.

But now he had you, truly had you.. and you were spectacular.. you could not be formed into words.. you transcendend this mortal plane.. you were.. more than Godly.. you were-

A second finger penetrated him without refute and stretched his hole, doubling the pleasure against his sweet spot inside his ass, and he cried out in sheer bliss. Your hand wrapped around his cock, pumping in jubilant rhythm combined with the thrusting of the spell deep inside him.

The precipice of orgasm gripped him like a vice and choked him of all other need, apart from that to cum.

In that moment of blessed eternity, the world was narrowed down to nothing more than you and him. A vaccum in existence bathed in magical light.

Rapture split through every atom of his existence, building and climbing in a torrent of unstable energy.

"Yes, Gale-yes-come. Come with me."

His mouth open, panting like a rabid dog, he lost himself entirely.

He roared and strained and gasped, as he shot thick ropes all over your torso. His asshole squeezed and clenched tightly on the digits deliciously stuffed inside him working his orgasm longer. Your skilled hand milking every last drop from him.

He gulped for breath as you cried out underneath him, jerking against your own hand, breathless and exhilarated.

He watched you come undone underneath him, eyes screwed, mouth gaping, then biting down to quieten your moans.

Dear gods, you looked exquisite.

He reached a hand between you both to feel the after effects of your rhapsody, you twitched and laughed through a smile, as he stroked your sensitive sex in the wake of orgasm, riding you longer like you were to him.

"Stopstopstop-too much." You barely gasped against his sweat laden forehead.

There you lay, for what seemed like an easy age, together.

Aftershocks struck you both as you lay together in your joined euphoria.

The Mage hand had disappeared and left him feeling pleasantly sore from the hectic pace.

Gale pushed himself up onto his forearm, extracating his hand from between you. It was covered in your release, it glistened on his hand.

It was one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen. Something he hadn't fantasied.

He glanced back to you, you also held up your hand drenched in him.

You opened your mouth, clearing indicating to feast on yourself from his fingers. His tender cock twitched with desire.

He reciprocated his mouth and you swept your digits in his mouth. He tasted himself, licking his semen clean, as you suckled your own essence from his fingers, then pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Gale moaned at the melding of you both on mating tongues. It was pure sex and exhilaration. The desire and need. The fullfilment and warmth.

The kiss broke and you smiled at him, letting out a large breath.

"That was.." He started.

"Incredible." You finished.

"That's one of many words." He mused, laughing breathlessly.

Gale pushed himself up higher, "Oh, gods." He snorted, looking down at the scene of debauchery before him and kneeled onto his heels.

You and he were both covered in cum. It was obscene how licentiously delicious you looked painted with each other.

He remembered the first time he'd cum to your image, how hollow and alone he'd felt.

But not this time.

This time he felt complete.

Like a piece of him had hurried it's way back to him after so long apart.

"Well, that's one way to let off some steam." He chuckled darkly.

"I think it's hot." You smirked, biting down on your lower lip.

Gale swallowed with difficulty, "Careful you, that's dangerous."

Gale heaved out a breath and came to grips with what had just transpired between you both. How little his imagination had been able to conceive of you. What paltry figments had been the stars of his fantasies.

He glanced down upon you; hair mussed, sweat drying on your skin, clothes rumpled and he couldn't have loved you more.

"What?" You asked in a quiet voice.

Gale shook his head, "Nothing." He feigned.

He waved his hand with a simple somantic and the evidence was gone.

"Then come down here, I'm getting cold." You stroked your hands up his arms and enveloped him into an embrace that warmed all the lost parts of his soul.

"I meant it, Gale. I won't let you destory yourself for this. We'll find another way." You nestled yourself deeper into the hug.

Gale smiled contentedly from ear to ear, "I know we will.. because now I have something to live for."

•°•°•

Part 1

Psst.. Ive got a Masterlist too 👀

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓����𝒖𝒔

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, yearning, kissing, make up sex, soft sex that turns rough quite quickly, dom!caleb, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names "baby" "pipsqueak", lmk if i missed any tags !!

wc : 4.1k

Perhaps, yearning had a time and a place for everyone. But for the two of you, maybe it had gone on for longer than you could take, the slightest shift in the atmosphere ready to break that fragile little bubble of boundaries.

"If it were that easy to get a license, I wouldn't be here in your bed complaining, you know!" You scoffed, falling upon the soft mattress and dangling your feet off the edge. As Caleb laughed, easing into a spot beside you, you softened.

It had barely been a few days.

You'd get back from your exam, wrestling uncertainty with your results, and he was there—ready to listen, willing to offer a crying shouder if need be. You didn't cry, of course, only complained. But the mere presence of him by your side was enough to lull you out of your negativity, turning your talks into lighthearted moments for you to look back on and smile.

It happened often, with Caleb.

It was so easy to be with him, so easy to relax and just... be yourself, no questions asked, no image to uphold.

Ever since you were children.

It was just the kind of friendship you shared; the mutual trust, the mutual comfort. And you wouldn't have it any other way, except that...

Discreetly, you glanced at the figure beside you, Caleb also having gone silent, the both of you taking to stare outside the window of his room. He looked sentimental like this, almost, and pretty. The steadiness of his broad back... and the way you thought it would be nice, for once, to ruffle his hair instead of the other way around.

All familiar to you, all... cherished, by you.

"So... You'll be leaving again, huh?"

Your voice was casual, or at least—as casual as you could make it be. Yet, a certain apprehension settled into the pit of your stomach, and when he turned his head to face you, violet eyes glowing under the drifting moonlight, you felt yourself swallow thickly.

"Ah, well. You know the drill," he shrugged, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Yet despite the playfulness in his tone, there was a gentleness in his eyes that made your heart churn. "My vacation ends, and I gotta be on my way first thing in the morning... Y'know. The usual."

You wished he wouldn't say it out loud, but you supposed you brought this upon yourself. You were the one that had asked, after all—yet you looked into his eyes, finding that you couldn't even bring yourself to look away, and there was nothing to stop the pout that slowly formed on your face. It was your turn to look away, almost as if refusing to look at him when you were like this.

"When will you be back again?"

He stayed quiet, for a while. If you looked at him, you would have noticed the little tilt of his head, the little smile on his face. But you could feel his eyes on you, and you wouldn't dare turn your head.

Caleb, after all, never missed an opportunity to poke fun at you.

"Aww, pipsqueak, are you that upset?"

You couldn't believe he would even question it.

Huffing, you glanced to the side, already noting the glint of mischief hidden in his eyes. "What, and you're not?" Your voice was sharp, but your retort lacking. Even Caleb knew that you were often more creative with your responses, and he had the audacity to laugh at your expense, almost delighting in the way you would puff your cheeks, indignance written all over you.

"D'you want me to be?" He grinned, leaning down to your height, searching your eyes. Always, you would think that his irrational penchant for being perceptive would be your downfall, and you knew this was no exception.

"...You're always so telling with your gaze."

Caleb shook his head, straightening himself only to reach out and ruffle your hair. It was just as he'd always done since you were children, and the gentle familiarity of it made you bow your head in resignation. "'Course I'm upset, pipsqueak," he sighed. "It's always hard to leave home, isn't it?"

His voice slowed to a pause, almost as if he could have continued, could have added to his words—but he didn't.

This time, it was your turn to be curious. If Caleb knew your reactions and your habits by heart, then you, too, could say the same about him. And sure enough, the more you studied him, even as he chuckled and turned his head away, the more you took note of something in his eyes that you couldn't quite find a name for.

Still, more than your curiosity, was your growing indignance at his words.

"...Is that it?" You mumbled, hands gripping at the fabric of your nightgown. "It's hard to leave... home. So it's not hard to—"

"Leave you? No, it is, pipsqueak. You are home."

His words caught you off-guard.

He wasn't looking at you when he said it—there was no trace of a blush on his cheeks, on his ears, anywhere—It almost made you doubt the seriousness of it, or why he would say something so... direct. Caleb wasn't usually expressive with you in this way; compliments, yes, but he'd never called you... home, before.

The word lingered weighty in the air.

But in the silence between you, and the more you thought of it, you couldn't help but dwell on the unfairness of it all. "Then—then—!" A frown formed on your face, watching as his eyes turned back to you when you spoke. "Then stay..."

It almost hurt you the way his eyes softened, teasing mirth replaced by a knowing gentleness. His hand edged closer to yours, body leaning ever-so-slightly towards you. "C'mon, pipsqueak... Y'know I can't do that..." he mumbled.

In slow, careful movements, his other hand reached to rest gently on your head, making you suddenly hyperaware of the way his fingernails would graze against the skin of your scalp, running through your hair in a sweet, tender stroke. He'd repeat the same motion, another silence weaving between the two of you, before his hand settled on the side of your face—the ghost of a touch, only barely feeling his palm press against your skin.

You held your breath.

"If I could," he said, "If I could. I'd be back here every week, spend every day with you like back when we were kids."

Feeling yourself slowly melt underneath the tenderness in his gaze, your shoulders relaxed, your grip on your clothing easing slightly. But still, your own eyes drifted to the ground.

Despite all your indignance, despite the terrible, terrible thought of having him go away from you again, you knew what he said was true. Caleb had always cared for you as much as you cared for him—it shouldn't come as a surprise to you that his absence hurt him equally as much, and that he would only put up a front for you, if only to be the solid foundation that he had always been for you, all these years up to this very moment.

Tears brimmed at your eyes, Caleb immediately shifting closer to place both of his hands by the side of your face, wiping them away with little swipes.

"Hey, now. Don't cry on me. You know I'll still be back on my next holidays!"

"But when?" You put in every effort to steady your voice, unwilling for it to waver in front of him, unwilling to let any more tears fall in the most obvious display of desperation for him that you've ever had. "How long will you be gone? Only to stay again for another week or so... Sometimes, you stay even less than a week. I've barely managed to have a proper conversation with you this time, and yet— yet—!"

You sniffled as your bleary eyes settled on his features, leaning into the comforting warmth of his hold. "Ugh," you scolded yourself, though there was no weight in the way that you did. "You... you make me feel like a little kid, Caleb. I'm not even supposed to be this selfish with you."

"Hmm. Aren't you? You've always been a little selfish with me, and if I'm honest, this isn't really too surprising." He chuckled again, and the playfulness in his eyes made a temporary return before he dared to step closer, inching towards your face. "But I don't mind, pipsqueak. 'Cause I miss you just as much, everytime I can't see you."

His words were warm. As warm as the way he looked at you, as warm as the way he held you.

As warm as...

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you, too, dared to step another line into something the two of you had never set foot in—almost closing the distance, almost giving in to the thoughts that probed your mind, almost—

You pressed your forehead against his, the both of you taking a moment to peek into new territory that had been brought out in the open. Your lips, now, were close enough to barely touch. You could see deeply into his eyes like this, too—the way golden flecks of light mixed with saturated, purple hues, and for the first time, you thought, you noticed... Caleb was a lot like the sunsets you would see on your way home.

"What's on your mind, pipsqueak?" He murmured softly, the rasp in his voice revealing to you just how much your actions had caught him off-guard, just how much he was straining not to step a toe out of line from whatever you wanted; whatever this was.

The tension in the air was unmistakable.

You could think; imagine, perhaps, his heartbeat was racing in his chest just as fast as yours was. Perhaps, you would be able to feel it for yourself, if his body was pressed up against yours...

You watched as his gaze drifted down towards your lips, and you flushed at the subtlest indication that he might have the same thoughts as you did.

"Caleb..." you whispered, placing your hand over his, tilting your head slightly to the side and holding him closer against your cheek. "When you're away, do you... Think of me?"

Silence; his eyes never strayed from yours, waiting, observing, attentive and careful to note how you would approach this situation.

"The way that you miss me... What is it like?"

A slow inhale, one hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ears.

"Hmm, well... Maybe it's exactly in the way you're thinking of, right now."

"And... What would that be?"

"...Dunno, pipsqueak. What would it be?"

You smiled, seeing the flicker of a challenge in his eyes, but recognizing there to be equal parts of caution, still watching, waiting, waiting for you to make your move.

"Would you stop me?" You said finally, slowly draping your arm over his shoulder. "If I moved a little closer now, and then we'd..."

It was your turn to glance at his lips, so close to you, yet so far, almost blurry and out of focus with your proximity. You could feel his steady breaths against your face, and he didn't answer you. Instead, he took your words as his own confirmation, breaking the boundary, tilting his head as he captured your lips into a soft, gentle kiss.

He moved his lips slowly against yours, hands trailing down your face, down your back, settling on your waist—and then he pulled away, half-lidded eyes examining you closely. One beat, two—Caleb pushed you gently against the sheets, pressing close and flush against your body, his heartbeat racing in time with yours just as you had hoped it to.

"You... mean this, pipsqueak?" He breathed.

"...Do I lie that often to you? The reason I miss you so much, the reason I so badly want you to stay... Did you think it was because of whatever childish attachment I've had to you from the start?"

He nearly scoffed.

"Oh, what. And you're gonna call me oblivious? Like I don't see the way you look at me? Like I don't see the way you melt?"

This time you gasped, and a smirk played at his lips—his lips, ones that had kissed you just seconds prior. "You—! That's—!"

"I've known aaallll along, pipsqueak. But you've never had plans on acting on your feelings, right? So I'm just asking, 'cause... I don't want you to regret what we're doing."

Though feeling the weight of embarrassment begin to swirl in your stomach, your eyes softened.

Ah, you thought, he's always so considerate.

"What..." You searched his eyes, "What are we doing? What is this, then?"

"...You could think of it as me making it up to you..." Caleb spoke slowly. "Well, whatever this is, I could kiss you here for hours—easy."

You felt the heat rise back up to your cheeks—

"—Oorr..." He smiled, tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. "If you want a more detailed memory to keep you company while I'm gone, I could do even more than that. But your call, of course."

Immediately you understood what he was implying, and the mere thought of it turned you completely red in the face, pushing him away with a gasp.

"Caleb!" You cried out, and beside you, he laughed.

"Guess that's a no, then? Ah, well. No biggie, I could wait another few months or so. C'mere, and I'll—"

"N-no! I... I didn't mean it like that."

You cut him off quickly, chewing on the inside of your lip, and he raised an eyebrow.

"No? So what'd you mean, then?" Caleb reached out his hand for you to take, gently tracing his fingers over the skin of your palm.

"I... I'm up for it," you said, after a moment. "I mean... I don't mind. If you... If you wanna—do—what you were—"

You couldn't complete your sentence, and he squeezed your hand, another chuckle escaping his lips. "You would, huh? Have sex with me?"

His blatant admission had you burning, immediately pulling away once more to cover your face. "God, Caleb! Don't just say it like that!"

"Hey! I gotta be sure, don't I? Who knows if we were thinking different things?"

"But—! If you say it out loud, it sounds...! Embarrassing!"

"What, that I want to have sex with you?"

You could hear the infuriating melody of amusement in his voice, clearly pleased at your flustered reaction, clearly enjoying this mental torture on you like he always did.

"Caleb..." You whined at the sound of his laughter, peeking through your fingers just enough to let him see your pout.

"Alright, alright! I'll stop!" He grinned. "...But seriously, though. It doesn't matter too much that I've been waiting, I can wait a little longer if you're not ready yet. 'Cause honestly? I'm just happy enough like this already."

Like... This?

Your mind drifted to his kiss, his soft, plush lips mingling with your own. It had lasted barely a few seconds, but even the mere thought of it made you weak. The mere thought of holding him—doing more—having him love you, tender as always, in ways that he had never before. You'd fantasized about it, sure. Undeniably. Sometimes you would sit in one of his hoodies, flushing at his scent and the way that you could easily reach down to touch yourself in it—

You never did, out of the mere fear that you would never be able to look him in the eyes if you did.

But now, his own feelings, his own desires, lay just within your reach. No matter how scary it was to dive into such a foreign, indiscernible place of your relationship... You've never had him closer to you, and you didn't want to let go of that feeling.

So with a shy gaze, you closed the gap between the both of you once more, kissing at his neck and feeling each shudder of his body zap straight down to your core. "It's okay," you mumbled, "I think... I'd rather not wait, either."

In a flurry of movements, you were back against his pillows, his body above you and arms and legs tangled in a passionate embrace. Unlike earlier, each kiss upon your lips had you gasping your air—almost starved as he mouthed at you, almost desperate to explore every curve of your skin in a way you didn't know he ever could be.

"Unbelievable," he breathed, panting as he pulled away, fingers slowly gliding beneath your nightgown, tracing circles over your stomach. "I'm actually, actually touching you like this."

"Unbelievable?" You scoffed, turning your head to the side. "I should be the one saying that. Having you touch me like this..."

He smiled. And then slowly, his hands traveled up your skin, bunching the silken fabric of your nightwear up and above your breasts. You saw him draw in a shaky breath, a tremble in the way he stroked your skin—"Oh, fuck," he whispered, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Seriously, it's like a miracle, shit..."

"...Caleb, are you going to just tease?" You frowned, feeling vulnerable in the way he stared. Your body remained mostly exposed, revealed to him in a way that had him frozen with having never seen you so naked before.

But Caleb licked his lips, feeling them dry at the mere sight of you.

"Oh, baby, I wish."

There was a raspiness in his voice as he moved to yank down his sweatpants, chest heaving in the way he tried so hard to control his breaths.

Baby, he called you, and you could have sworn you let out a whine, the new nickname striking a chord inside of you more than you ever expected it to.

"I— shit. I really wanna take my time with you... Give you a whole experience you can think of 'til I get back, but you—"

A sense of urgency overtook him, and his hands were back on you, tracing your thighs, trailing up to press at your panties and nearly groaning at the patch of wetness he could feel.

You drew in a sharp breath.

"...Damn. It looks like I won't be able to keep my composure, not when I've thought about this moment for as long as I can remember."

His hand was pulling your underwear down within seconds, leaving your lower halves bare and exposed. The tip of his cock was wet with pre-cum, the sheer length of it having you momentarily speechless.

"W-wait, you're not—?!" A hint of panic rose in your voice as you sat up against the headboard, but he gently pushed you back down, towering over you.

"It'll fit," he spoke, matter-of-factly, reaching down to swipe at your cunt before bringing his hand up to your face. That smirk was there again, the tease in his eyes ever-present despite his promise not to leave you feeling unfair for too long. "You're crazy wet, pipsqueak. I think I'll slide in just fine."

His words brought a dangerous sting to your cheeks, feeling yourself clench around nothing, eyeing the slick that coated his fingers from a single swipe.

If, you thought, if he had those fingers inside of me, I wonder how deeply he would reach...

He leaned down to kiss you, almost as if reading your thoughts. "Not now," he murmured. "Maybe later. Maybe next time, when I get back."

You frowned. "Don't... don't talk about leaving when we're like this..."

"Baby—"

"No, Caleb. If I'm going to remember this moment, I am not going to think of it as the night before you go away again!"

Amusement flashed through his eyes, and the tip of his cock brushed lightly against your entrance, coating your clit with your wetness.

"Alright, I digress," he grinned. "But it's not an if, right? You will remember—and then you can busy yourself with the feeling of it whenever you need to. It's the whole point."

"...Busy myself?! What do you think you're—"

Your words were lost into a gaping moan, feeling his cock stretch at your walls, heat and pleasure coarsing through your veins in sharp, quick bursts.

"Fuuuuckkkk." He groaned from the throat, your hazy eyes making out the way he grit his teeth, his own eyes shut tightly as he pushed into you, all the way up to your hilt, gripping the headboard in ragged pants. "So..." he breathed, "So damn tight."

"Y-you're just—ngh—so big—"

It was almost as if he were intent on rendering you utterly speechless, barely giving you time to time to adjust before he was snapping his hips into yours. Every movement had him filling you up, thrusting into you balls deep, hips moving quickly, rhythmically, splitting you open with ease.

"W-Wai—iit— a-aahh—" Your back arched in raw pleasure, submitting to every ounce of desire that poured out of him. "Shit!" You cursed, head thrown back into his pillow. "So fast—Y-you're so fast—"

He only let out a hum of a moan in response, eyes finally opening, hands shifting to grab onto yours and pin them right up above your head.

"Oh, fuck— Caleb—!"

"Good," he rasped. "So wet, so tight, so—haah—so good—"

You clamp down tightly around him, greedily sucking his length in with the steady pulse of your cunt, moans breaking, body squirming under his grasp and the lustful heat of his gaze.

"Oh, god—sorry, baby, I can't—" Caleb's pace seemed to stutter with the way you clenched around him, pounding into you more erratically, cockhead hitting the spot that had you jolting. "You're too perfect, you're exactly how i've imagined—"

Whimpers began to fall from your lips as you struggled to wring your hands free from his grasp, desperate to touch him, desperate to feel him closer. And Caleb remained attentive despite his obvious euphoria, releasing your hands and leaning down close to you, grunts with every pump of his cock, almost needy for your heat.

The feeling was too much.

He was fucking you, and you couldn't think straight—you'd opened your mouth, and before you could stop yourself, you were spilling his name in ways you wouldn't have done otherwise.

"I love you, Caleb, I love you, I love you, I love y—nnh—leb— haah— I love you, Caleb—!"

It didn't take long after that for him to twitch in your cunt, and your walls fluttered around him, locking him in place as he stilled, spilling inside of you enough to have you leaking. It was enough to edge out a release of your own, and you trembled in his embrace, bodies locked in perpetual ecstasy.

And he was right, you would remember it.

Every slide of his cock against your walls, you'd remember it—and, with a pang, you realized... you'd long for it.

"...You're so cruel," you whispered as he leaned down to kiss at your jawline, slowly pulling out of you and collapsing beside you with a sigh.

"Hmm, wow. First, an I love you without warning, and now I'm the cruel one?" He laughed softly beside you. "Was I too hard? Sorry, pipsqueak, you're much too—"

"I love you, Caleb." Your mind much clearer after your high, you repeated your words, albeit shy enough to still turn over and snuggle into his chest. "Just... how am I supposed to miss you like this?"

He reached over to put his arm around you, stroking your hair lovingly. "...Miss me...?" he spoke slowly, almost as if choosing his words with care. "It won't be for too long, pipsqueak, swear."

"But you don't even—"

He clicked his tongue, cutting you off. "I mean, that's partly why we fucked, right? It should keep you busy enough while we wait. Now you have something more accurate to touch yourself to, and, hey—I wouldn't stop you!"

You had indeed come to a similar conclusion, but hearing him say it out loud like that had you looking up with a halfhearted glare.

"...Caleb, you're filthy!" You huffed.

But you both knew well that your words didn't amount to much, and he chuckled, poking your temple.

"Okay, okay. How about... Just to make sure you won't be too sad, we can have another round in the morning?"

"Caleb!"

He smiled. "...I love you, too, pipsqueak."

The warmth of his words, blending in with his familiar, most precious nickname for you, had you easily forgetting whatever trepidations you had in your heart. Maybe, you thought, whatever came with this new door in your relationship was worth it—especially if you could be in his arms the way you were now, listening closely to the lull of his heartbeat.

『 I can't decide if it's a choice getting swept away; I hear the sound of my own voice asking you to stay. 』

⁺₊ / an: ouh this req prompt couldve gone soooooo many ways and it was so hard to decide!! the word count proves i love him almost as much as xavier, but i also owe it to caleb x mc being so "treacherous" by taylor swift coded, and i will die on this hill!!!!!!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[lizzy019]

Nikto x Chubby Reader! I don’t really see enough of those 😢 on Tumbler or anywhere else. (And yours truly is a chubby lady here)

Ahh, I've written one already somewhere! I'll write this here as smut because... (as a chubby girl as well) WE NEED RECOGNITION!!! this is HEAVY on insecurities jsyk but ENJOY <3

~~~~~~~~~~ 18+ ~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~ 18+ ~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, you were practically curling in on yourself as Nikto tenderly peeled the fabric of your clothes off. You had agreed to this only for the sake of his happiness, even if you weren't entirely comfortable with it.

Fucking gravity, making your breasts fall out to the sides in the ugliest manner. Like they had no interest in what Nikto was willing to give you. You wish they were perkier sometimes, that they were able to stand proud whenever given some freedom.

Nikto was careful with you, you were his doll anyway. Precious skin that glowed in the dim lighting of the room, hair tossed in wild swirls on the pillows. How could he not adore you when you were so effortlessly pretty? A man like him felt such shame for taking you for himself, even when you assured him of his worth.

The callouses on his hands were rough, yes, but they felt oddly soft when they traced your hips. The motion held no malice, only an undying appreciation in its wake. Despite you wanting to hide away, cover yourself up and escape his apartment for the sake of your modesty, you just couldn't sum up the courage when the sharpness of Nikto's eyes pulled you just a bit closer.

"Моя любовь, stop scrunching up your face. You're not old enough for wrinkles." He tried to joke, truly. Nikto didn't like seeing you stressed or nervous about something as lovely as these intimate moments.

And it worked, to his surprise. Your expression went from furrowed brows and an anxious look in your eyes, to a warm smile and puffy cheeks. Under his mask, he could feel his own lips quirking up to match yours, you were infectious in your mannerisms.

Your hands gently came to smooth over his biceps, and your once happy smile soon fell to one of lament and confusion. Why had such a handsome man, muscular and built come into your life? You felt slobbish beside him, like he could have gotten someone who didn't feel ashamed of their own flesh.

Nikto was persistent though. Sure, he wasn't very connected to his emotions, but he was to yours. You could be stubborn at times, especially with your self image. But you being fully nude in front of him, seeing the little plush of your tummy, the little lines along your hips and under your lower belly, how fucking massive your tits were...

He was a starved man, after all.

But he waited, he waited until you gave any signal that you were even remotely close to comfortable so he could lavish you in all the love he could possibly give you. He wasn't very affectionate, but you were different than him. He'd adapt to better fit you any day.

Once you finally seemed to relax knowing Nikto wasn't judging you, he acted quickly. His hands scooped up the round globes at your chest, squeezing them like his personal pair of stress balls. Your own hands were quick to latch onto his mask, hastily finding the clips and undoing them. If you could suffer being insecure, so could he.

And he didn't argue. He stilled so you could undo his mask more easily, letting the metal and fabric mask fall from his face as you aimlessly tossed it to the floor.

Yes, you recognized that face. Misshapen, misaligned, a bit battered and unframed, but pretty. Handsome, per se. The bags under his eyes were nothing new, you could see them even with his mask on. But his pretty pink lips, buzzed hair, uneven stubbly beard, burnt face... you just admired it in silence.

"Нет, I see you looking at me like that. None of that. You cannot love me and not love yourself." He huffed, the soft rumble in his speaking just making you swoon.

But you giggled and used the leverage you had to your advantage. You pulled his head down just enough until you could press your lips perfectly against his. The taste of faint nicotine and vodka was all consuming, and the way he pressed his hips against yours had you muffling the softest crooning noise.

It wasn't long until Nikto separated his lips from yours, moving them to make a trail down your neck, to your chest, your sternum and abdomen until he met right in between your thighs. Those big, squishy thighs that he swore he could live between. Using the strength he had to lift them over his shoulders while his thumb lazily spread open your labia.

Pretty coloured cunt just happily clenching around nothing, but you were simply just a bit uneasy with the way he was staring at it so hard. His thumb just shallowly plunged into the sweet hole of yours. You weren't wet enough, he knew this well. Maybe you were still too nervous to really get wet.

So both his hands went to loop around your thighs, his hands squeezing them in a swift pattern to keep you relaxed before he dove in.

A soft cry was torn from you while he licked and sucked at your pretty cunny. Warm tongue lapping up any juice you let go for him, and your legs were seizing up as your hips tried to buck up into him. The noises tumbling from your mouth left Nikto working twice as hard, pushing himself closer so his nose tapped and rubbed lightly against your clit.

You were practically seeing stars, back arching and curving to the point where you were sure you'd need a chiropractor after this. The bubbling in your lower abdomen was harsh, and you knew you were getting dangerously close.

Your hands pressed his head closer to your aching center, the sounds of your moans heightening the closer you got to sweet release. Nikto didn't stop his assault, no, not when you were practically humping your pussy against his face.

It didn't take long for you to crumble, a loud sobbish whimper escaping you as you came undone from simply his mouth. Nikto just enjoyed his meal like the hungry man he was, licking whatever leftover juice there was and even making sure his lips were clean before he continued.

You really didn't see how pretty you were to him, did you?

He gave you a few seconds of cooldown, watching your expression melt from high off of pleasure to calm in the afterglow. Your eyes fluttered open, and you giggled once you managed to see him. He had a bit of your mess on his nose.

"Nikto, your nose." You smiled, holding in the giggles as he tried to wipe it off.

Moments like these made you realize how lucky you were to be dating someone like Nikto. Sure, he wasn't perfect, no one was. But... he sure could be cute at times regardless of his looks.

The afterglow left you a smiling mess as Nikto cleaned you up and offered you pyjamas. Giddy from how happy you were because Nikto just truly adored you; you never knew the full extent of it.

So once you both were settled in bed, smiles faded to soft curled smirks, you could only pepper kisses to his scarred lips that gave you so much pleasure. Nikto could only let his expression grow fond as you did so.

The blankets were pulled over your shoulders, and your body was pressed up against his. He was warm, scaring off the chill of the room. And with a few kisses and a few soft "Я люблю тебя (i love you)"s, you fell asleep comfortably within his grasp.

Oh, he just adored every part of you.

[agxxb]

I’m Trying .𖥔 ݁ ˖

tony stark x daughter!reader

summary: tony’s daughter voices her worries about his life as iron man.

warnings: terms of endearment (kiddo, sweetheart). soft!tony. slight angst. fluff. [1k]

Tony's heart softened as he looked over at you. You were sat beside him on the couch, a movie playing in front of you both that neither paid attention to. He could still sense something was off.

"You okay, Kiddo?” You hummed in agreement, giving a slight nod. He didn't buy it. You were good at hiding things from him these days. He used to know every thought running through your head, every secret you had. Now everything was locked behind a door he couldn't seem to open no matter how hard he tried.

"Hey," he said gently. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

You let out a quiet sigh, finally looking away from the large screen of the television. “I just miss you.”

Tony paused, taken aback by your confession. It was something he'd felt for awhile now; the distance between the two of you had grown over the months and it hurt more than he thought. Hearing you say it, though? That made it hurt even more.

"I'm right here.”

“Physically, sure… but you’re not here.”

Tony's heart sank a little lower. He'd always been aware that his Iron Man duties had gotten in the way of his time with you. Hearing you say it out loud just made it more real, more like his fault. “I'm trying," he whispered, his voice laced with regret. “Sweetheart, you gotta know I'm trying.”

You sighed once again, this time in defeat. You hated that you had made your dad feel guilty, but you couldn’t help how you felt. “I know… I know, it’s just… recently, it feels like you care more about being Iron Man than anything else.”

Your words were like a hit to the gut. Tony wanted to argue, wanted to defend himself, but he knew you were right. Being Iron Man, being a hero, became more important to him than anything else, including you.

He looked up at you, the guilt and pain evident on his face. "I'm just– trying to make the world safer," he said weakly, knowing it was a poor excuse. "For you," he added, like that made it better.

“But what happens if you don’t come home one day? You can’t predict surprises. You don’t know what’s gonna happen, and I’m gonna have to find out that my dad was killed on the news.”

That thought, of leaving you at the hands of some villain, had kept him up more nights than he cared to admit. It was a constant fear that gnawed at his consciousness every time he suited up. Hearing you verbalise it, though, made it feel even more real. More possible. More likely that it could happen.

"I'll come home." It wasa promise he made to himself a million times, and he tried to make it sound like a promise to you too. "I always come home.”

“I need you, dad. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” Tears began to form in your eyes, the image of your father lying dead, cold, filling your mind.

The look on your face, the tears in your eyes, hit Tony harder than any punch he'd ever taken as Iron Man. He couldn’t bear to see you hurt, especially not over something he was responsible for.

Without hesitation, he moved closer to you, gathering you in his arms and pulling you into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, trying to offer the comfort and security you desperately needed.

"Nothing's gonna happen to me," he whispered, though it felt more like a prayer than a promise.

“But you don’t know that.” You sniffled, pushing your face into his chest as an act of comfort, just like you used to do when you were little. “Anything could happen.”

Tony's heart broke as he felt your tears soaking into his shirt. The fear in your voice, the truth in your words — it all hit him hard. He knew the risks, better than anyone.

He buried his face in your hair, holding onto you as tightly as he could. "I'm trying to be careful," he murmured, the words both a promise to you and a plea to the universe. "I'm being careful."

“I know.”

He pulled back a bit so he could look at you, his heart aching at the sight of your tear-streaked face. He gently brushed your hair back from your face, his thumb wiping away a stray tear. "I'm sorry.” The apology was for more than just the fear he put you through. It was an apology for all the times he had lost with you. For all the times he'd chosen Iron Man over you.

“Y’don’t have to apologise.”

Tony's heart swelled with love and guilt at the same time. He cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. The weight of his apology and his love was heavy in his gaze. "I promise I'll be more careful," he said, the words filled with a resolve he'd never felt before. "I'll prioritise you more, okay? You're more important."

“I just want you to be safe. That’s all I care about.”

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he felt the overwhelming mixture of love, fear, and guilt. Hearing you say that all you cared about was his safety was both touching and heartbreaking.

He pulled you back into a hug, holding you tightly. "I'll be as safe as possible," he promised, his voice a little hoarse. "I'll never leave you, okay? That's a promise."

“I love you, Pops,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “So much.”

He held you even tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I love you too, Kiddo. More than anything in this world."

[givemefevrr]

Drabble.01

Pairing: Niki x reader

Warnings: mentions of self harm/scars, crying, guilt, angst, fluff, self blame, overall sad shit tbh...

wc: 1.1k

The bedroom was painted with a soft, honeyed light as the afternoon sun filtered through the blinds. You lay napping on top of your bed covers, sprawled across the mattress, unable to bear the summer heat under the blankets. Your tousled hair fell in disarray, partially obscuring your face. Dressed in baggy black shorts and a comfortable white t-shirt–which you likely "borrowed"– you lay there, your chest rising and falling with each breath.

Niki was nestled beside you, lying atop the covers as well. He had always been a natural cuddler, climbing into bed with others, seeking comfort and closeness, especially regarding you. But you didn't mind sacrificing a bit of personal space, always happily providing him with the comfort and security he sought.

Although he had been awake for some time, he remained just lying there, admiring the serene and innocent expression on your slumbering face, feeling lucky to have you as his girlfriend.

As he lay there with his head resting gently on your pillow, Niki couldn't help but let out a soft, gentle giggle, trying not to disturb you. With your faces close and your bodies even closer, the warmth between you two was unmistakably unbearable. Yet, Niki didn't mind the heat, especially when he could hold you close like this. He also knew that the heat would probably wake you up. So, it was a win-win situation for him.

As he snuggled in even closer to you, adjusting his position slightly, he couldn't help but let his gaze drift downward. Your shorts had inched up a little, exposing a glimpse of your upper thighs. He admired them for a moment–he always took any chance to look at your skin. It was always soft, and he loved how it pinked up whenever he squeezed it. But then he saw it.

The scars.

Niki's eyes widened in utter shock, and he couldn't help but sit up, his heart sinking with concern. Without a second thought, he delicately traced his fingers over the faint, almost imperceptible scars, feeling the slightly raised skin beneath his touch.

He rubbed his thumb over the marks as if trying to erase the pain and heal the now-healed wounds. How had he never noticed these before? With each scar, he felt a pang of regret for not seeing them earlier.

You began to stir, slowly waking. "Niki?" You looked up at him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. But then you felt his hand on your scars, and your smile vanished. You quickly tugged the legs of your shorts down, shrinking away from your boyfriend. "Niki…" your voice was barely a whisper, filled with guilt and shame, the scars holding memories you wished could be erased.

As you prepared for the inevitable question, a flood of memories from years ago when your mother had tearfully asked the same thing replayed in your mind. Dread washed over you as you sensed those words about to come out of Niki's throat.

Niki couldn't help but stare at the hidden scars, his eyes filled with concern. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with desperation. "Did you… do that?" His quivering lips revealed the depth of his worry as he struggled to find the right words.

You felt the weight of his question pressing down on your shoulders, causing them to slump. Releasing a heavy sigh, you confessed, "It's an old habit," avoiding his gaze as you spoke. "I used to do it when I was going through a really tough time… I don't do it anymore, I promise."

Niki shook his head, his expression transitioning from worry to sadness, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "That's not okay, y/n. You… you can't do things like that," he said, his voice trembling, almost frantic with disbelief and concern. "You can't hurt yourself like that…"

He couldn't reconcile the image of you in front of him–his girlfriend, who was always so happy and positive, sitting here with these scars. Niki's lip quivered, and he could no longer hold back the tears. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. Taken aback, you hugged him back, rubbing his back to comfort him.

You remained like that for a few moments, with Niki's head nestled in the crook of your shoulder and your chin resting on his head. You could feel his rapid breaths against your skin, and it was evident that something was wrong. As you attempted to pull away gently to try and help, Niki let out a soft whine and clung to you even more tightly.

"Please, don't let go," Niki pleaded, his voice sounding almost childlike in its desperation. He held onto you for dear life, terrified of the idea of losing you.

His words tugged at your heart, and you felt the dampness of his tears seeping into your shirt. You understood the depth of Niki's love for you – you were the light of his life – and realizing that your past self-harm had caused him such distress was genuinely heartbreaking.

Niki's quiet sobs echoed against your shoulder, a rare and unsettling sight. It was jarring to witness him in such a vulnerable state, with raw and desperate tears streaming down his face, especially after only ever seeing him shedding small, happy tears during their concerts.

As time passed, his tears gradually subsided, and he finally pulled away, his eyes red and swollen from crying.

The room was filled with a heavy silence as you sat on the edge of the bed, both lost in your thoughts, trying to make sense of the emotional situation that had unfolded. Finally, you reached out to gently brush away Niki's tears, feeling the warmth of his cheeks as you did so before placing a tender, reassuring kiss on his quivering lips. Niki released a shaky breath, trying to steady his emotions. "I just… I don't want you to hurt yourself again," he said, his voice crackling with raw sorrow.

You wrapped your arms around Niki once more, feeling the warmth of his body as he rested his head back on your shoulder. His quiet sniffles resonated in the room, and you held him close, comforting him as best as possible. After a few minutes, Niki pulled away, wiping his tears with shaky hands. "I'm sorry," he murmured, shaking his head, his voice strained. "I'm sorry for crying. I shouldn't have. I'm probably making you feel worse."

You couldn't bear to see him like this, so hurt and worried. You gently took his quivering hand in yours, offering him a reassuring smile. "Niki, you're not making me feel worse," you said softly, meeting his gaze with love. "I appreciate your concern for me. But please don't blame yourself for showing your feelings. I haven't done that in a long time. I'm truly okay now. I promise."

Hope this satisfies the Niki fic requests for now :)

[jmliebert]

i shed at least thirty tears, or maybe even sobbed reaidng ur tom riddle works. when ur not busy, any more to spare?

♡TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE IN LOVE♡

it seemed almost impossible to happen, because he didn't believe in love, not truly

he could be fascinated with someone, desiring to possess them, to use them for his own ends... but love?

in his cold, collected world, ruled by ambition and utter control, it was a foreign concept

so when Tom began to feel something more for one of his playthings, it got ugly

love, the very concept he denied, started to claw at the high walls he built throughout the empty years of his childhood

he saw it as a weakness, a vulnerability

something that must stay hidden like a dirty secret

the mere thought of him being like this made him angry, for it meant losing control

in an attempt to regain that control, he tries to sever the ties, harshly

"You disgust me", he said coldly, his voice cutting through the air like a sharpened blade

his angelic face emotionless, eyes distant

it felt like a slap on your cheek though he didn't even touched you

your heart felt heavy, you didn't understand...

and when Tom saw the pain in your eyes, the realisation of control he has over you made him feel both glorious and... miserable

he could hurt you so easily, you were in palm of his hand... but by hurting you he hurt himself

double-edge knife

the overwhelming guilt was an emotion he never felt before because he didn't care for anyone, never

but with you, oh it was different

he longed to comfort you, to touch you, but he knew he couldn't

so he chooses to let you suffer

and his little dark heart suffered too

haunted by the image of your glassy eyes, he became sleepless

almost obsessed, he replayed the scene of his harsh words over and over, his fists clenching painfully each time

avoiding you shattered him, his days changed entirely when you weren't around

he was not as productive or sharp as usual

his mind was often wandering away... to you

to all those moments you shared

the conflict within him raged, tearing him apart piece by piece

his once impenetrable facade, his stoic mask, began to crack whenever you were near him

so lonely and broken, with eyes tired

all of that because of him

"you're delicate", he thought, "too delicate"

he wanted to reach out for you, yet also didn't

months passed until he realised he couldn't take it anymore

he couldn't think, focus, sleep, eat and he knew it was like it for you too

something selfish in him whispered that he needed to return to you, even though he knew he was no good

Tom realised he wanted to protect you

from the world, yet not from him

but he loved you, truly, even if it was a wicked love

he knew you loved him too, long before he dared to acknowledge his own feelings

so in the dark night, in the desolate corridors, he found you

and finally saw you

kneeling before you, a posture that seemed alien on his proud form, he clung to your legs, as if begging for forgiveness

desperation marked his every move, and his eyes once cold and indifferent, now reflected something else

adoration

love

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 you can find more of my works about tom ♡here♡

[mn-light]

Fear

Orter Madl x Reader (Y/N)

Happy ending.

･ﾟﾟ･｡

Orter Madl sighed as he strolled through the bustling streets of the city, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. The sun was shining brightly overhead, casting a warm glow over the colorful buildings and lively crowds. It was a typical day in the magical realm, filled with laughter, chatter, and the occasional burst of magic.

As a Divine Visionary tasked with keeping the peace in the realm, Orter was used to the chaos of city life. He navigated through the crowded streets with ease, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. Despite his serious demeanor, Orter couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment as he observed the hustle and bustle of the city.

However, beneath his composed exterior, Orter harbored a deep-seated fear. It was a fear that gnawed at him relentlessly, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. It was the fear of not being able to protect those he cared about, especially someone as dear to him as Y/N.

Y/N was a fellow Visionary, a bright and spirited individual who had captured Orter's heart from the moment they met. They shared a deep bond forged through countless adventures and battles fought side by side. Y/N's unwavering courage and determination had earned Orter's respect and admiration, but they had also awakened a sense of protectiveness within him that he couldn't ignore.

Despite his best efforts to shield Y/N from harm, Orter couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gripped him whenever they embarked on a mission together. He was haunted by the thought of failing to keep Y/N safe, of being unable to fulfill his duty as a Visionary and a friend.

As Orter wandered through the streets, lost in his thoughts, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of unease that gnawed at him. He knew that danger lurked around every corner in the magical realm, and he couldn't afford to let his guard down, especially when it came to protecting Y/N.

Little did he know, their next adventure would put his fears to the ultimate test, forcing him to confront his deepest insecurities and fight for the one he held closest to his heart.

･ﾟﾟ･｡

Orter's heart races as he holds you in his arms, feeling a mix of relief and fear washing over him. He couldn't shake off the image of you falling, of the helplessness he felt as he watched you crumble to the ground. The thought of losing you, even for a moment, sends shivers down his spine.

"You scared the hell out of me," Orter whispers, his voice trembling with emotion as he holds you tighter, as if afraid you might slip away again.

You feel his arms around you, offering both comfort and protection, and you bury your face in his chest, taking solace in his presence. Despite his stoic demeanor, you can sense the worry etched into every line of his body.

"I'm sorry," you mumble against his robes, your voice muffled by the fabric. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Orter pulls back slightly, his hands framing your face as he looks into your eyes with intensity. "I don't care about that," he says firmly. "I care about you. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

You swallow hard, overwhelmed by his sincerity. "I'm okay," you assure him, mustering a small smile. "Thanks to you."

Orter's expression softens, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I'll always be here for you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "No matter what."

For a moment, the weight of his words hangs between you, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, seeking comfort in the warmth of his embrace. In that moment, surrounded by darkness and uncertainty, you find solace in each other's presence, knowing that together, you can face whatever challenges lie ahead.

And as the night stretches on, you find yourselves lost in each other's company, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten as you cling to the hope and light that shines between you.

[sweptawayghost]

In Dreams Pt.2

PAIRING: Joel Miller X Reader

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Joel is plagued by images of you when he closes his eyes. The dreams aren't stopping and his feelings for you only grow stronger with everyday. As Winter closes in you go on one last unofficial patrol, close proximity makes Joels brain go all stupid.

Hello!!! 

Thank you so much for the support on my first part, it really means the world to me. I’ve got ideas of where I want the story to go but it's gonna be mostly Joel lusting after us for a while. I love when big strong men need to be held and told what a good boy they've been...

If you'd like me to tag you in my next part just let me know. Let me know if I missed any warnings. Thank you so much :) Anything Written like this {Italic} indicated Joel's inner thoughts. Word count 4.1K

CHAPTER WARNING: Mention of male masturbation, mentions of alcohol, Age gap, Mentions of creampie, sharing the same bed, Pet name (we call Joel baby), some fluff, some smut

It wasn't just once. Of course it wouldn't be. It wasn't the only night he dreamt about you either. Too many nights he woke up in full body sweats, which was not new to him but the reason was new. 

The reason being you. 

He would think about all the times your fingertips would brush his skin, he would think about the way you would grab his arm when walking down the street with him, he would think about the way you grabbed a fist full of his hair when it had started growing out of control “you need a haircut Miller” the act of your touch was innocent but it lit a fire in Joel’s gut. 

Every little touch stuck with him and followed him around for the rest of the day like a drop of blood on a white shirt, almost haunting him. It would follow him to bed at night as well. When he settled into the comforting silence of his bedroom he could tune everything out like a radio and focus on your voice in his head. 

Some nights he would find himself rutting against the bed for relief, his eyes sealed shut, softly whimpering, wishing you were beneath him, Talking him through it, telling him how good he’s making you feel. He wanted to watch your eyes roll back, mouth agape gasping for air, moaning into his ear. God get a grip of yourself Miller. But he couldn't help himself. Images of you overriding every other thought in his brain almost like he was a puppet and someone else was pulling the strings. 

He was afraid of how much he wanted you. He would be consumed by his orgasm, his body stuttering as he held a death grip on the bathroom sink or the sheets benether him, always with the image of you flooding his mind, smiling at him, proud of yourself for how crazy you were making him, how desperate he was to cum and how you would let him do it inside of you because he was being so good for you. Ropes of his spent painting the soft skin of his stomach and the rough skin of his hand. A flash of heat rushed through him as he stifled his moans and let his body vibrate against the bed as he came down from his high.

The lonely empty feeling would chase him around all night. Some nights it would be easy to scare it off and find sleep. Can you call this sleep? Other nights he wasn't as lucky.  

He thinks about the time the two of you stumbled home from the Bison, your arm linked around his elbow as you walked side by side down the silent streets of Jackson. You had told him that the silence was sometimes deafening, how it sometimes felt worse than being outside the walls. He agreed. He confessed that he didn't sleep the first week of being here and how much worse he felt now that he had genuine safety. He wanted to let you into his head. 

If I hadn't just met you I would tell you everything. I would tell you about Sarah, I'd tell you the truth about Ellie. I would tell you about the ache in my chest when I wake up and I'd tell you how much it’s eased since I’ve met you. I'd tell you about how much I like you being around. You'd probably think I’m insane if you knew how much I think about you.

She trusts you Joel. Dont fuck this up by letting your dick do your thinking for you. 

The guilt would start to eat him alive. God she's your friend, she trusts you and you're laying in bed thinking about how good it would be to creampie her. You’re fucked up.

If he couldn't sleep he would find himself sitting up with a book or fiddling with one of his wood carvings.  

On nights where that didn't help he would take a walk...

///

“Is your girlfriend coming over as well?” Ellie called out to him from the dining room as she placed cutlery out on the table. 

She had invited a friend over for dinner. Something Joel hasn’t expected, especially so soon and especially after the way she spoke about some of the other kids in town. Really he knew it wasn't just a friend. Ellie had been acting differently, humming to herself and smiling all the time, not nearly as quick witted and all day dreamy. She’s in love. 

“Ellie” He called out to her from the kitchen averting his gaze from the stove “She aint my girlfriend… and yes she's coming over” He felt the tips of his ears burn, he could blame the tint of red that covered his face on the heat from the stove but he wouldn't have an excuse for the smile that followed. 

It had only been a few weeks since your first meeting but you had somehow integrated yourself into Joel's life. On the days that you didn't patrol together he would come visit you at the stables or the greenhouse when he was finished at work. He would come past your house to split wood or mow your yard. He fixed your front door weeks ago, he cleaned out your guttering and was able to fix that window in your bedroom that you were never able to open. 

Ellie took to you right away. She would look for any excuse to invite you over, Joel never put up a fight. He wanted you around as much as Ellie did. Many nights he would come home to a basket of fresh produce on his bench or a plate of brownies on the bench. In the long list of gifts you gave him, the friendship you shared with Ellie was the most valuable and irreplaceable. She looked up to you. 

When Sarah was alive, Joel worried that she would have questions he couldn't answer. Girly questions. Questions that would be as uncomfortable to ask as they would be the answer. Of course Ellie wasn't like most kids her age but some things never really change. Some things you just don't talk to your dad about. 

Sometimes he would just sit there and watch the two of you talking on the porch. He liked watching the way the pair of you would throw your heads back in laughter, slapping each other's arms and shoulders, he could watch it all day. Or the two of you sitting on his couch scribbling into notepads and books occasionally showing each other things you had written down or drawn. The hushed whispers at the dinner table when he wasn't paying attention. Ellie taking full advantage of his deafness. Or some nights you would be walking her back home with an arm linked in hers or thrown over her shoulder. Something Ellie would continue to say she hated but secretly loved. In a lot of ways you treated her like she was your sister. If you and Ellie are sisters that would make me… Yuck.

Ellie jumped when she heard the knock on the door. She was off all afternoon, fidgety and jittery. Ringing her fingers and cracking her knuckles when her hands were idle before wiping her palms on her jeans. Small things you think I don't notice. Dropping the remaining utensils. 

“I'll get it!” she shouted as she turned to run towards the sound, joel could hear the soft thump of her socked feet on the worn hardwood of the floor. He heard the door open and felt the cold air sweep through followed by an “oh, it's just you” He let his lips curl into a smile. 

You slid into the kitchen like you usually do, your shoes and jacket forgotten in the lounge room. Joel loved it when you wore your hair down. He loved seeing the way your jeans hung around your waist and he fucking loved when you didnt wear a bra. Like tonight. He tried not to notice and he tried not to look but sometimes he thinks you did it on purpose. Stop it Miller.

“Nothing sexier than a man in the kitchen” you blurted out at him from the doorway, he looked over at you, he didn't miss the way your eyes lingered on his form.

“Shut up” He shook his head and averted his attention back to the pot on the stove. He couldn't stop the smile that formed on his lips but he didn't mind that you saw it. He lowered the heat on the stove before turning to lean on the counter. 

You placed a bottle on the kitchen island before jumping up to sit on it. A recurring gift of Seth's finest home brewed whisky. The bottle in similar shape to the one you gave him weeks ago. 

There have been many nights since then that the two of you would drown in the amber liquid. Each time only strengthened his affection for you. 

One night he made a confession to you about the pit in his stomach and the hole in his heart, he told you about the nightmares he had almost every time he closed his eyes and the suffocating feeling he had once he woke from them. He couldn't look at you although he felt you searching for his eyes. 

He heard the shuffled movement from where you sat beside him on the couch. He closed his eyes when he felt your hand on the back of his neck, fingertips cold despite the heat coming from the fire, he surrendered when you pulled him into your chest and he let his arms wrap around your middle. 

He didn't mind letting you see this part of him. The soft and broken part. He never felt as though he needed to hide from you. 

“You're okay, baby” you whispered into his hair. That was all it took for him to crumble into you. 

Baby

Did you mean to say that? 

Baby

Had it slipped out by accident? 

Baby

Did you call everyone that? He searched his brain for the answer to the questions, coming up empty.

Baby

He tried to think about the last time he let himself fall apart. When was the last time you let yourself feel? When was the last time someone just held you? 

You would never know what it meant to him. But he would never know what it meant to you. 

While the safety inside the walls of Jackson made his stomach churn, the safety he felt being in your arms was inviting and warm.

Joel Miller, for the first time in a long time, was safe. Wow   

When the morning came he found himself still in your embrace, slotted between your thighs, his head resting against your stomach with his hands pressed into your back, your hand tangled in his hair as the other rested on his shoulder.

The fire no more than dying embers in the hearth leaving a chill in the air. He would have noticed if it wasn't for the blanket that was draped around him and the heat coming off of your body, particularly right between your legs. He ignored the ache in his back and the cramping in his slumped hip as looked over your sleeping form. You looked so peaceful, almost angelic with the soft light of the morning flooding in through the windows, the peaks of your breasts pushing through your shirt, nipples hardened from the cold air in the room, Your hair falling so lazily over the couch cushion. 

You didn't try to ask Joel questions about his confession the next day, for that he was grateful. He already felt bad enough having said it at all. She thinks you're weak Miller. She feels bad for you that's why she's here, not because she cares, do you really think she’d like someone like you? Despite the insecure voice in his head giving him a beating, he wouldn't forget the way you held him, he wouldn't forget the way you looked down at him once you woke up, he wouldn't forget the slow rise and fall of your chest as you slept and he wouldn't forget the heat that seeped into him from between your legs.  

Baby

“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Joel didn't realise you had been talking to him, wrapped up in the memory or your embrace. 

“I just missed the last bit” Good lie Miller. You rolled your eyes at him knowing he didn't hear a word. You jumped down from the counter and closed the gap between the two of you before reaching out to grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger. 

“If you weren't so handsome i would slap the shit out of you” 

Joel tried to pay attention to what you said next which was hard given you didn't let go of his chin and the smell of your soap was intoxicating and the fact that you had called him handsome. The heat from your body and your constant eye contact making it hard for him to focus on anything else besides the pressure building in his jeans. What did she say? Six days? Something about patrol and the snow. Let's go before the snow or something like that? Does it really matter? Just say yes to whatever she asks. 

Another knock on the door followed by a shout from Ellie breaking the moment. 

///

Joel liked that you never really got small talk. You would ask him strange things like, what colour his first bike was or how old he was when he shaved for the first time. Why would you wanna know? His favourite was when you asked him to tell you about his first girlfriend.

"Hmm, I think her name was Stacy?" He said it like a question "Lacie?" He clicked his finger and pointed at you "no! Macie" He looked over the top of the flames to find your face staring back at him.

 Normally a fire is a huge no no for Joel but the cold night air coupled with the pelting rain left him with no choice. The two of you had been out for two days now, taking shelter in whatever somewhat secure structure you came across at nightfall and the rain was welcome, covering any sounds the pair of you would make as well as washing away the build up of sweat and dirt that covered his skin. Soon snow would blanket the ground of jackson, the sightings of infected would lessen and the town would slow for a while. 

You had dragged him out for one last trip before it got too cold and too dangerous to be out for an extended period of time. 

“Do you think that you loved her?” you asked as you laid down on your side with an elbow propping your head up. He mirrored your posture and paused to think about it.

Joel could count on one hand how many people he actually loved and Lacie. Wait no, Macie definitely wasn't one of them. 

“ No” He relaxed into your gaze from across the fire, the cold air pricking the back of his neck. “ I was young and love really wasn't the first thing on my mind. Even if I told her I loved her I probably didn't mean it.” it might have sounded cruel but it was the truth. 

He would tell you about the movies they would see together and about the music they would listen to. He would describe the creek they would swim in during summer and how they would ride their bikes around town before Joel finally saved enough money to buy a car. 

"What kind of car did you drive?" 

He found it cute that you cared, that you would even know what he was talking about if he told you. 

"It was a red pickup truck, hunk of shit really but it was mine" He felt his cheeks heat up as you continued your relentless eye contact. He felt like a doddering old man reliving stories of his glory days when you asked him these kinds of questions. But you would watch him with close intent. Hanging on to his every word, mouth slightly agape as you listened to him as if he was the most interesting person telling you the most interesting story. 

You turned onto your stomach bringing your elbows up and placing a hand on either side of your face to support the weight of your head, eyes sparkling over at him. I wish she would stop looking at me like that. If she only knew what she did to me. 

"I wish I was lucky enough to have a car" 

You said this sincerely but Joel remembers the car very well. Ripped up fabric seating, no plastic cover on the dashboard, absolutely no air conditioning and only the driver's side window went down. Not to mention the fuel gauge would stick so he was caught out more than once on the side of the road with an empty tank. 

"wasn't a prize" he'd said, looking deeper into the flames, you were still looking at him, studying his expression as he got lost in the memory. You seemed closer than you did before.

"Did you fuck her in the back or what?" You had asked him so bluntly without emotion as if you had asked him how his day was. He stifled a laugh before letting his eyes drift over to you. He could see you weren't really joking although you did have a hint of a grin on your lips and a glint in your eyes that screamed ‘I'm trying to make you uncomfortable.’ 

He could feel his own grin creeping over his face, you were trying to make him uncomfortable and it was working. Joel would tell you anything you wanted to hear as long as he could keep looking at you like this, head tilted a little bit as if he was telling you the most interesting story you ever heard, eyes blown wide, lazy smile on your lips just slightly showing your teeth. God why do you have to look at me that way. 

"Wow" you started "Such a romantic, Miller" Your smile no longer a lazy grin but a real one, the one he loved to see you wear. He blamed the heat of the fire for the flush of his checks when you asked if he was blushing. He blamed the day's hike for his urgency to sleep and his sudden silence. But he blamed you for the swell of his cock. It's just the way she's looking at me, I can't help that. He had his eyes closed but he could hear the rustling of your sleeping bag getting closer and closer to where he was laying. 

“Let me sleep next to you, I'm freezing my ass off” It wasn't a question, you were already doing it and you probably wouldn't have stopped even if he had said no. you started to unzip your bag and he followed suit, clipping the zips together before you crawled inside it. It was still a fairly snug fit, not that he was complaining, he would take any opportunity to be this close to you. Just don't get a full blown hard on and you’ll be fine. When you said ‘sleep next to you’ he didn't think this is what you meant. 

You settled in beside him, pressing your back to his chest, the swell of your ass pressed up against him and the smell of your hair mixed with your sweat filled his nose. You grabbed his arm and slung it over your hip, silently giving him permission to touch you so he slid his other arm under your neck and pulled you in closer. Joel could be wrong, but you didn't feel particularly cold. 

“Can you tell me more” you asked him, turning your head slightly over your shoulder in his direction. “About your life before” 

He started talking, he talked about his childhood, he talked about his mama, he talked about his favourite meals and he told you about his ambitions and his dreams. Periodically pulling a giggle from you as you swatted his hand. At some point you had rolled over to face him, draping a leg over his waist, giving him that same look from before, listening like your life depended on it, looking at him like he was the only person on earth, like he was the one who hung the moon in the sky.

He described the neighbourhood he lived in, He mentioned sarahs name in passing a few times, never once did you press for more than what he gave you. One day he would tell you about her, but not tonight. Maybe when I'm drunk. That’ll make it easier. 

You brought a hand up to cup his check, gently rubbing the stubbled hair that lived there with your thumb, catching the corner of his lip as you passed back and forth. 

“I love when you talk about her.” you told him. He was putty in your hands. 

Your soft whispers would stay with him. He knew in the morning you wouldn't say anything and you knew he wouldn't say anything. He didn't know when he fell asleep but he only hopes it was after you did. You would follow him into his dreams that night, as you did so many nights nowadays. Your laugh, your smile, your hand on the apple of his cheek, Sweaty skin sticking to his, how you would look on top of him, tits bouncing in his face as you moaned out his name over and over like a prey, all exposed skin and desperate kisses. He was clinging to every moan, every breath, every whimper he could.  Wake up.

The smell of coffee was the first thing that hit him, next was the absence of you next to him, then it was the ache of his swollen member against the zip on his jeans. He turned to look for you, the smell of fire was next, followed by sound of rain against the rotting bored of the shed you had called camp that night. He saw you sitting at the foot of the sleeping bag's knee propped up as you scribbled in your notebook, a sight he’d seen a million times. It was a dark brown leather covered book, not thick enough to weigh you down enough to make itself known. It had clippings, photographs of people you never knew and would never know, stamps and postcards, elastic bands, paper clips and torn weathered notes jammed throughout it, he had even seen you pull flowers and leaves out of it ‘flower pressing’ you had told him. 

What he wouldn't give to get his hands on it, to see what made you tick, to rip open your head and dig around. You had given him a lot over the few weeks that you had known him but it still somehow wasn't enough. You had confided in him about mistakes you had made, about the things you had gone through to get here, uncalled for fights and your old patrol partner. Your old patrol partner. You had only ever brought them up once, no descriptor, no he or she, nothing. He had come up blank trying to get information out of Tommy. You had only said it once but that was all he needed. 

You had told him about your relationships, the good, the bad and he ugly. The serious ones and the not so serious ones and even the experimental ones ‘ I was drunk okay?’ you had told him ‘but even if i wasn't I still would have done it’. But he always felt like a part of you was hidden away. 

The soft slap of pages closing broke him from his thoughts.

“Good morning” your voice came out as a whisper, close and thick with sleep. You extended your hand out to him, holding the metal lid from the thermos, still half full with the coffee you just brewed. 

When you packed up to leave that morning you didn't unzip the sleeping bags. You still didn’t unzip it when you set up camp that night. 

Whispers. Dreams. Fire. Rain. Coffee. You.

Secrets. Hard on. Fire. Rain. Coffee. Notebook. You. 

Mumble. Slumber. Fire. Notebook. Throbbing. You.

“Joel” Your voice broke through the silence of the morning waking him from filthy dreams of you.

“you moan a lot in your sleep” 

@orcasoul

@vodkasicecream

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Search for love in the void

John Allerdyce (Pyro) x fem!leser

warning : comfort, kissing, emotional

Summary : He was meant to follow Magneto back when he was a teenager, the timestream had it that way and the TVA wouldn't allow it any other way. But then one day he disappeared and left her behind with uncertainties she remained alone for years until she herself acted against the will of the time organization and found herself in the void where she did nothing but continue to search because she had not given up on him.

info : So finally the first promised work for John. From the use of his power to the outfit it was perfect and the short performance was just good. Well have fun reading and have a nice day ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been two decades two decades since the fight with the X-Men and the Brotherhood of Mutants with its leader Magneto. It was a battle that had saved the lives of billions and also wiped out the lives of hundreds and thousands who stood up for a cause and the victims who rode in between.

But the X-Men had won and the world seemed saved but no one could have known at the time that all of this had to happen in such a way that every death, every battle and every life could not have been changed because that was how the timestream and the TVA intended it to be…what was not intended was that the couple that was snatched away would be reunited.

The mismatched pair of fire and water two mutants in a relationship as fragile as their elements when they met but they had to let go what wasn't supposed to happen was John changing his mind after the battle when he read her letters and messages she sent him, not abandoning him because the years together couldn't have been for nothing.

He had wandered the world, running away from the police and the X-Men, but in his heart he had always carried her with him and knew he would return to her one day.

They had spent hours in each other's arms in the training room, testing her limits, ,,That's my flame,” he praised her when she managed to stay in her water form longer than usual. She saw his cheeks blush when she gave him a kiss as he made the fire bigger and hotter. She had given John a true home that he never had and he had helped her not to hide, he had lit her fire and they were hopeful that all could be well.

But then after the battle, after everything, after the last message she got from him with his lighter, he disappeared. Wiped off the face of the earth, even Charles couldn't find him and her tears over the next few days and weeks had not given up hope that no one would disappear from the earth and even if it took decades she swore to herself that she would find him.

His cigarette lighter was always in her pocket, always by her side when she felt the days getting heavier and longer, the images in her room becoming overwhelming, she turned on his lighter and at least it felt like he was here, ,,I promise I'll find you John” she told herself over and over again. The tears she had shed, the memories and the videos they had made together, these carefree teenagers loving each other in a world that was painful but beautiful.

She missed him every day, missed his warmth, his voice, she just wanted to see him again. Even when, twenty years later, the world had changed and was no longer quite the same, she herself became a teacher to the young mutants and her friends continued to empty and protect lives, she found that cases were mounting.

Humans and mutants continued to disappear from the world and her own investigations opened up more and more questions and answers, ,,If it's not a mutant and it's not a human who is it?” she had asked over and over but none of her friends or some of the students had an answer until she came across a recording.

A recording of a man disappearing into some kind of portal but it didn't seem to be a mutant and there was no known technology that could do it, she had found her first start in a network of questions and uncertainties.

Until it led to this day, that very day twenty years ago, she came back to her room and stood in front of the board with information in her hand turning the lighter she knew she only needed a few more clues when she heard a kind of glitch behind her.

,,Don't resist, we don't have to eliminate you, miss,” demanded one of the men in dark armor, staff in hand, and the scales seemed to fall from her eyes, ,,You! You made him disappear” she said and took on her water form not knowing what powers they had or who she was dealing with but it seemed that none of the other mutants seemed to sense the unknown which made her even more uneasy.

But even though she was able to defeat a few of the unknowns, this staff was something she could not protect herself from and with pure fear of death she watched her body disappear as if she had never existed.

And so she found herself here in the void or the desert or the forest or the sea. It was a place full of places without a soul or anyone she knew but it was a place that had a color this something ma sky she had only seen it hide a few times when she saw this something just devour everything it came across and she hoped it hadn't devoured John.

But that was how she had ended up here, she had probably been wandering for days, finding a few berries and fruits here and there in the forest but that was it and again it seemed to be a matter of time before she couldn't make it anymore.

But every second she clutched the lighter, lit the flame and extinguished it again, using her ability to create John from her water as she remembered him, she had no idea what he would look like now, certainly like she did in her thirties, but had he changed much?

She laughed tearfully as she felt like she was going crazy, she didn't even know if she was here at all, if she would ever get out or if she should just give up. The further she walked, the more desert-like it seemed to become and until she came to a few broken metal cones, she could see what looked like an old water tower in the distance.

Maybe there was a better view from there. It took her an eternity to get there, sweaty and tired, the heated metal offered little comfort but she couldn't feel any water in it either, ,,What do I do now?” she muttered, looking around and finally settling down on the ground, leaning her head against the base of the tower and closing her eyes.

Trying to gather strength under the heat to rest her aching feet and not lose her persistent crumbling hope as she continued to turn the fire train in her hand until she heard engines in the distance.

Opening her eyes and straightening up, she looked into the horizon and could actually see vehicles in the distance, seemingly moving towards her - there was someone here, but her initial confidence was clouded with foresight. Who could guarantee that they weren't enemies?

But she quickly realized that it was probably not the friendly kind when she saw the machine parts and unpleasant shapes under leathered dirty clothes, ,,Who are you!” she shouted as the cars gathered around her, clutching the lighter tighter hoping that John had not encountered these shapes.

She heard a few mumbled words being completely ignored instead a mutant hopped off one of the vehicles and those goggles looked familiar, the greenish skin she recognized from somewhere. ,,Toad get her!” ordered one of the men a voice so familiar and yet so long unheard she looked at the man staring in a disheveled appearance with an amused smile on her lips, so familiar and yet unfamiliar but she didn't have much longer as she was grabbed by something slimy moving around her and thrown into the air with a yelp.

It hit her like a hard thud on the ground Toad! Of course the Brotherhood it flashed through her mind remembering the fight, the images flashing as she struggled to her feet but immediately felt the long frog-like tongue on her leg if he was here John just had to be here and with a hard jet of water threw the mutant off her. He crashed hard against the tower and didn't try again, and the others seemed to be waiting for a command.

She saw the amusement disappear in the man's smile as he let out a ,,Wait!” and stepped down from the car towards her, advising any moment to get him off her if he had to twist his insides, she felt the lighter in her hand suddenly turn on and his eyes fixate on the object, ,,Flame?” he dared to ask, glancing at her as she finally let her guard down and looked at him closer.

Tousled brown hair, a tired worn look, blue eyes she had last looked into twenty years ago and a warmth she finally felt again as he took her in his arms and she smelled the familiar fire…it was John after more than two decades she had him again.

She could feel his quick heartbeat as her hand rested on his chest, his hand on her cheek wiping away the tears that ran down her cheeks and she saw his own teary eyes, ,,I-I thought I would never see you again,” she stammered, sniffling as he hugged her tightly, holding her while everything around her seemed not to matter.

She felt his nod and his voice filled with tears, ,,Me too…those fuckers put me here after I wanted to see you…I searched and searched for you but it's been twenty fucking years and I'm sorry,” he sniffled and wiped away his tears before taking her face in his hands and finally kissing her again.

A kiss in which she felt his warmth on her again, felt the fire burning again, and the conscience stopped hurting her that she hadn't done everything, finally she had him again herself here at the end of the world.

When he detached himself from her, took her hands and held them and just looked at her for a moment, there seemed to be worlds between them, she was a teacher at the school that had brought them together, he was a sinner under the control of a psychopath and yet, despite everything, they were together again.

The water had its fire again and the fire had its water again even here in the void. ,,I won't leave you again, I promise,” he said as the other mutants joined them, memories mingling with powers, a group of mutants remembering past times and battles, coming together as a family of sorts, full of shapes and little hope in a world that would kill them any time.

But it was all the same, at least she was in a world where she had John back and she wouldn't lose him again, finally their two different hearts had found each other again because even in the void there was love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@thefandomqueen2882 , @especiallythewomenandthechildren , @threestarsinline , @xsugarbeet

[sourbinnie]

☆ silent ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst ; hurt/comfort ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!ateez x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> malicious comments weren't gonna go unnoticed by your boyfriend even if he couldn't do anything about it. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> swearing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

-> the request | maknae line

a/n: i hope i understood this request correctly ajkshf hope you enjoy it and maknae line will be out whenever i'm free since you asked for ot8.

-> the scenario

you didn't wanna attend at first but something about seeing your old friends made you give in. being there with your boyfriend also brought comfort to you and eased your nerves. anxiety couldn't help but kick in when you thought about seeing some of your old classmates and how they were doing right now. you've seen pictures all over instagram of them living their best lives and you were stuck in your job and trying your best to handle money wisely. your boyfriend didn't mind and your family was happy that you were where you were, so why did you have to doubt yourself?

well it was easy when you were surrounded with rich folks who didn't know anything but money and luxury. even after experiencing some of the stuff your boyfriend was used to, you couldn't get used to it but right now? yeah it was definitely too much and too show off for your liking. speaking of your boyfriend, he was there surrounded by people wanting to take photos with him, asking for autographs and wondering why he was here but nobody would kick him out because idols were sacred to them. you were thankful he would be supporting and cheering you on from a distance. 

well if you knew what was coming, you would've never brought him along.

"didn't know this was a reunion for the lowest of low." one of your old classmates said laughing and looked at you up & down. he was scanning you with his stare and it made you feel so small but you tried to think nothing of it yet you knew exactly what was happening.

"yeah same man, i thought this was gonna be an exclusive thing. good to see you though (y/n)!" another one exclaimed as she laughed. what did they expect from a high school reunion? to invite only the privileged old students? well maybe it would've been a better idea. 

"yeah good to see you." you said in a small voice, wanting nothing more than to leave with how you were being perceived. there was no doubt that your boyfriend was looking at you right at this moment. you wanted to leave, you were going to leave at any moment.

"hope you get a better job soon sweetie. since that dress/suit ain't looking too good." one added and you excused yourself as you left the scene. the tears threatening to spill at any moment as you tried to make sense of a direction to go to, far away from them.

seonghwa ✉

as he watched the scene unfold, seonghwa felt helpless. he wanted nothing more than to shut these assholes up with a comment but he had to keep his image as professional and civilized as possible. for a moment he just wanted to be your boyfriend, a regular attendee that participated in this event and was able to defend his significant other. 

but right now he was an idol who, as discreetly as possible, looked for you everywhere. he couldn't find a single trace of you so he decided to head out for a second, hoping no one would notice him and to take a breath. looks like you were doing the same as you tried covering yourself up with your coat so no one could see what you were wearing. broke his heart to a million pieces with that simple action.

"don't do that." he simply said and you sighed. he didn't know what he was gonna say to make things better but he knew that you knew he was gonna try his hardest. "please don't listen to them. it's not a competition to see who has the best job."

"well even if it was, i would be the loser. it's fine hwa i just need some time and you know we can't be seen together." you said but he just shook his head as he looked at you. he wasn't a good boyfriend for just standing there but he would damn prove your worth.

"we can leave if you want to. it's so unfair that this happened when you were excited to see your friends but i hope you can see them another time." you nodded at his words and took his hand. leaving the place to never look back and hoping you never cross paths with these people again. "they're such idiots for saying that to you but you're better than they will ever be." he muttered and his grip on your hand tightened 'cause he truly did mean it.

hongjoong ✉

he was frozen as he heard the words being said. he sighed to himself as he wanted to see you and be there for you so much but he knew as the leader, he had to keep an image and it hurt him. in another world he would be telling these idiots to back off and to look at themselves before they judge someone else. especially if that someone was the most respectful and attentive person he's ever met because oh god, you did not deserve that at all.

he found you when the whole event ended and took you home. the silence was deafening as you tried your best to act like you were okay but the mask was falling off when you arrived to your shared apartment. he knew he couldn't leave you alone tonight.

"(y/n) talk to me babe. i know i should've said something and i'm regretting everything right now." he said as he looked at you with pleading eyes. you could never lie to hongjoong even if you tried to and right now you felt like breaking down completely so you let go.

"i just wish i was enough sometimes. not only my job but my appearance and just how i am, why couldn't i just defend myself?" you asked and hongjoong couldn't help but feel the worst he's ever felt. just the way you were putting yourself down because of them, it's enough to drive him insanely mad.

"no. you are enough, more than enough and i'm sorry i didn't say anything. if i could go back and change what happened, i would do it in a heartbeat." he said as he hugged you and held you in his arms. "no matter what job you have or what you wear, you'll always be the person with the biggest heart that i know and that's what matters." he muttered and that was enough to bring tears from your eyes.

yunho ✉

he would feel so bad, like it would shatter him to see you fighting back the tears and the humiliation you went through. he would want to stand up for you, not even as a boyfriend but as a human being. yet his feet remained glued to the ground because he couldn't risk putting the boys into trouble and as much as he loved his brothers, he felt so weird putting his significant other last.

a few minutes later, he got out of the shock and walked away from the reunion. he needed to find you and he didn't care about anything else, even if it caused him to be a little careless about it. when he did indeed set your eyes on you as you were outside, he looked around but then decided to stop being a coward and approached you.

"love, are you okay?" he whispered and he almost facepalmed himself for still trying to be undercover. like he was your boyfriend, he hated himself for caring so much about his image and not enough about you. "i'm sorry. i just fucked up didn't i?"

"yunho no, you didn't do anything. i understand that you couldn't really say anything but then again there was nothing to be said." you shrugged as you tried to enter again but he grabbed your wrist before you could walk away.

"i won't fail you again. please don't listen to them okay? none of it is true." he said and you nodded as much as you wanna believe him, it was hard. it just hit you really hard that you were judged that way but you knew your boyfriend was there and that brought some relief. "by the way, you look gorgeous tonight." 

yeosang ✉

oh boy he would be so mad. he encouraged you to go but at the same time he was scared because he knew what kind of people your classmates were and looked at what happened. the fact that they felt above you because they wore designer clothes or got to travel the world made him sick. as he stood there, now looking at the people who surrounded him in another way, he tried to look for you. 

it pained him that he had to pretend like he didn't know you at all but he put on the image for a little bit longer until you sent him a text. his eyes softened when you said you wanted to leave and he was glad but so fucking disappointed in himself at the same time. 

"darling. let's go home yeah?" he said when he saw you and you nodded as you both went separate ways but ended up in the same car later on. "i hope you know that i would've done something if i could." 

"i know but it's okay sangie, they weren't exactly wrong." you said and he instantly grabbed your hand as he looked at you. 

"they were so wrong and i'll prove it to you. i wasn't the best boyfriend you deserve tonight." he said and you nodded as you got closer to him and he kissed your cheek. sighing to yourself as he drove home, one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours. "i'll prove to you that you're much more than they will ever be." he said and you smiled.

[letters-from-cutie]

THE STARS WILL ALWAYS GUIDE ME (BACK) TO YOU

In which the most unexpected person in the world becomes a poet

Or were you always find your soulmate when he needs you the most

synopsis: levi's skepticism over the soulmate concept didn't stop him from meeting you at three different times - as his soul would always find a way to meet you, his star. -> 5.0k words <-

warning: gn!reader, wrote at 3 am; cringe attempt at poetry; slightly angst; reverse comfort; not intended longfic; childhood crushes; death of major character; levi is bad at feelings; cursing (it's levi c'mon); shallow use of soulmates!au; english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes! author's note: hello dear reader, marie here <3 this is my first fanfic on our captain, so he may sound ooc; i'm trying out past and present on english, SO i tried something different here, hehe; like always images are not mine; also this is more of a prologue for my future works if you wonder. and i wish you have a great time reading ^-^

800's - Titan's Era - The Past

After so many years, Captain Levi barely remembers the first time he saw you, but he knows it was special.

In his childhood, a man named Kenny taught him some survival skills. They went beyond common self-defense; he learned to steal from small stores, run from the military cops, and beat someone, in case he needed to fight. After all, knowing more than just basic skills was required to survive there. Plus, his Ackerman genes helped him endure that filthy environment.

The other kids in the underground found him extremely intimidating. They began avoiding him after hearing rumors that he could beat up grown-ups twice his size and never face any consequences. Some saw him as a legend, while others viewed him as a scary and awful little boy.

With Kenny's departure, Levi was left alone. He had to rely on himself as a young child, without any family or friends to give him support.

Until the day he met you, that is.

Being raised inside your parents' small store, you lacked the street smarts. There was only so much you could do against the older kids who would bully you. And the alley next to your home was the perfect place for them to get you.

Levi found you there, scared for your life. The bigger kids were dragging your face down in the muddy floor and making threats. You knew who they were: robbers, who left your parents' store not satisfied with just some pennies.

Just like these children, Levi was also a thief. However, he was only trying to secure his daily meal, struggling to survive on his own, while the others committed theft for their own pleasure.

Maybe that's why he saved you that day, getting himself into trouble with the other kids. Or it was because he felt like he owned your dad, as he once caught him stealing some bread and let him off the hook. No matter the reasoning he was sure that he could handle the kids

The next day, it was your turn to help him. You found Levi injured near your house. You hurried to him and treated him following your mother's instructions. Since he couldn't afford medicine, he allowed you to treat him.

Levi was impressed by you, who seemed unfazed by the red flow of blood gushing from his knee. (You were repulsed but insisted on helping him back, so you kept it to yourself.) In return, you were also impressed to learn that he was the least hurt in the fight he had with your bullies, handling all of them alone.

It quickly became a routine. Every time you met, it was for a different reason. However, there was this shared, strange proximity whenever you saw each other. A friendship was formed, but you would never use such a word; it didn't seem to fit with the connection you had.

Suddenly, Levi thought he was getting sick. His heart would take leaps whenever you took care of him, with so much dedication written on your face. He would stutter when seeing you after a long time apart, but your caring tone and look would give him the confidence to speak for himself afterward.

One day, your mother teased him and got away with it. He came rushing into the store when another child who resembled you went missing. Not seeing you there made him panic; only your mom was there as you left with your dad for a walk. To lighten the mood at the small store, she made a joke about him liking a certain kid.

He did like you. It was an innocent and pure first love. Yet, kids like him didn't get crushes, so he never put such a label on his feelings. He believed that he would not live long. And since you had a (slightly) better condition, one day you were to be married and carry on your family name. He saw no use in having a crush.

When you saw him later that day, he said your mother was sweet, like his. You asked about her whereabouts, and after knowing of her death, you told him that she must have become a star in the sky. He wished to see it for himself.

So the stars caught both of your interests. Well, you already talked nonstop about nature and the sky — it was your dream to leave the underground.

You'd talk about the birds that sometimes get trapped in the underground. Daydreams about living outside would fuel your imagination. You would imagine feeling the sun's warmth on your skin. How cold was the snow? — you asked yourself. And in some days you'd dream of kissing your love in the rain one day; you longed for a romance like in your stories.

Levi never got your name; he never asked. When he was older, he would call you "poet". Truth be told, you were just a little child, seeking solace in fiction as a form of comfort from the terrible circumstances you lived in.

Even as a child, Levi was skeptical of others' beliefs, religions, and legends. Interestingly enough, his main memory of you was a discussion over a love story. Something about two people meant to find each other, connected through a red string of fate.

"You're such a baby for falling for this soulmate thing. I think you're being stupid!"

He was ignorant and rude as a kid; he knew it.

"Do you really, think that about me, Levi?" No.

You were brilliant — an entire constellation; he noted.

Actually, he was amazed by your appreciation for nature, something you had never encountered before. Levi never said it, but he liked your drawings in the dirt. They illustrated your stories. Since you didn't know the format of the stars, each time you would draw them in a unique pattern.

He was so bad with words, he could never say beautiful things like you did. He wanted to, tell you how much he enjoyed your company. But he wasn't able to.

Soon enough, you started to cough and sneeze a lot, and out of nowhere, you became a star too. A little star, beaming in the sky, hidden from Levi's sight underneath the capital.

Your death was invisible in the underground. Diseases were everywhere, and people died easily there. They did not live long. If they got sick, they would probably die very soon; just like you did when a cold got your family.

In Levi's opinion, you managed to escape from that hell.

His heart ached again; he wanted to cry, he wanted you, then he wanted his mom, but neither could be found. And his thoughts would revolve around the fact that he would never love meet you again. Gone forever, he thought.

A frigid and everlasting winter started inside of him, building up icy walls around his heart.

The images of his first love faded over time, just like the clouds in the sky. In his heart, it was always winter. The sky turned gray, and the air he breathed was freezing cold. The ice kept him closed off from the world around him. 

Levi got so used to the cold that he was afraid of his warmer days. The sun would bless him again; not as the large sphere that shone during the day, but more shaped like his friends. Those who brought comfort to his broken heart were like sun rays.

His line of work would bring even more disaster to his life. And these were the coldest days. But there were always some sun rays peeking through the windows of his heart. It was their persistence that encouraged the man to continue moving forward, with no regrets.

When asked what he desired to do if he ever got a life after the military, Levi would scowl - as if that could ever happen - he would respond. In the end, everyone agreed he'd excel at whatever he chose to do.

Just no poetry - his friends commented - not with his awful attitude and scary face. Levi brushed them off. The comments made his friends laugh, and that lightness was needed there. After all the deaths and injuries, the captain couldn't find himself mad at their silly banter after an unsuccessful expedition.

Yet, just as the sun always sets at night, death would soon follow Levi's path. He always got shocked by them, but never surprised, as to him disaster seemed to be as natural as the daily sunset.

Mom, his first love poet kid, Isabel, Furlan, all those fallen soldiers, his squad, Erwin... They all faded in the sky which was Levi's life, leaving him in the darkness of the night. During those evenings, he would gaze at the stars that were once his companions; then he would cry, grieving and trembling with the coldness of his solitude.

One of the few memories Levi had of his childhood was that poet kid, always talking about the overworld. On his first explorations, he was able to see everything that the kid always dreamed about. Although that child would never expect him to lose his family the first time he saw the poetic and romantic rain.

Levi hated rainy days because they reminded him of himself.

Years later, Levi almost lost himself, as the raindrops fell on his severe injuries. He was rescued by a friend, whom he didn't have enough time to thank, as their death followed soon after. With Hanji's death and the war's end, he could finally rest, assured that his days would be calmer. At the same time, he feared he would never find love again.

But he was wrong because he met you (again).

Years younger than him, but old enough to have your own career, you were a witty traveler. Born into a wealthy but absent family, you traveled all over the world, writing about what you saw, getting inspired by the diversion of the world. At least until the rumbling vanished almost everything you cherished.

After surviving the war, you decided to help to record your historical period. You joined a group of writers and journalists, leaving your poetry and romances aside for a while. You were able to interview the allies, as your popularity granted you the prestige enough to do so.

At the right time, your kind heart earned the trust of the allies. They allowed you to write down their stories, and they recounted their side of the story to the rest of the world. One name was common in all of people's stories — Captain Levi. He seemed to be an icon, but you didn't meet him right away; he was injured and opted to stay out of the spotlight.

The first time Levi heard about you, he dismissed it. Thinking that it was a one-time meeting with his friends fellow soldiers, he didn't dwell much on it. Not long after, some comments caught his interest. Jean and Armin kept discussing a topic he hadn't heard of in nearly three decades, much to the captain's surprise.

Apparently, a fictional romance you made was inspired by the 'soulmate' concept. So many survivors were occupying themselves with your flowery words and books.

What even was a soulmate? He couldn't remember the explanation he heard from that poet kid.

Most survivors were now hoping to meet their other halves. It was rather a welcome relief after going through so much. But Levi felt it was ridiculous.

So he decided to confront you. Levi asked to meet with you. He thought about what he would say to this fraud of a cultist. Oh, how he would speak his mind on the fact that you were giving his friends family soldiers, empty hopes.

To his surprise, when the man first met you (again?), he was unable to speak at all.

No, he had never met you before, but at first glance, he thought he had (he did).

His soul knew yours. And yours knew his.

For the first time in years, he struggled to speak, enchanted by your starry eyes, in a trance of your voice. Instead of debating you, he let you ramble by yourself on the matter, as long as you desired.

It made no sense to him. After all the death and suffering he endured, he couldn't accept such a simple, perfect idea. Seeing you as such a firm believer, made him curious as to why you trusted so hard such ideas.

"I may be a writer, but my words on love are nothing but the reality I've seen." You had met so many adorable couples, so it had to be true. Plus, you also wanted to believe that someone was waiting for you in this and other lifetimes. Especially after so much disaster, there has to be something good in the end.

"Not everyone gets to meet love during their life, and many people died. But it doesn't mean that we cannot dream of a better life." You spoke your mind to him, unfazed by his strong presence.

Captain Levi was a legend. First, you were so determined to write and tell his story and to melt down his icy heart too. As you came to interact with him, you realized that he deserved to be loved, and by himself first. You wanted to show him that he deserved his own love and others as well. He deserved happiness.

You couldn't bring back his beloved ones, nor could you take the burden of their deaths off his shoulders. But you could offer him your care, patience, and attention, the things that were once taken from him, and you were happy to oblige in his needs. top of all, you would not go away; He would say that it was annoying how persistent you were. Yet his biggest fear was that you would leave him, like the others.

As a result, working to retell humanity's strongest soldier's story was your biggest act. It took a long time, but you, being the stubborn person you were, managed to get through his clouded heart. And your soul was able to speak to his own, to comfort him, and reassure him.

Not only as a storyteller but also as his lover.

Your care and attention were so comforting. Your company was like a spring breeze, and he became fascinated by you; the feeling was mutual. Each small glance and accidental touch sent shivers down his spine. The sensations he felt with you were as strong as thunder in the summer rain. Watching you work, he imagined autumn leaves falling from a tree. But it was simply you scribing words on paper, slowly but steadily.

Before, he felt that there was only winter in his life, but you showed him that there were other seasons as well.

During a rainy day, when you both had to stay inside, he took you in his arms for the first time. He told you he remembered a friend from his childhood, the poet who first told him about soulmates. He used to make fun of them and never really believed in what they said until he met you. You proved him wrong in his concepts of life.

He didn't look as disgusted when looking in the mirror. His scars were now his trophies, and he took care of himself so he would not get hurt again. Because he knew he didn't deserve to feel pain anymore.

The Titan war ended, and he was finally free to live and to love — you helped him realize that.

So he kissed you for the first time as the raindrops fell on the window, the storm was outside. You were his home, protecting him from the rain and any other type of disaster. He finally had a place where his heart belonged.

That night, while looking at the stars, he vowed to always find you again.

And thus, he became a poet.

2020's - Global Era - The Present

The man's long fingers dance across the books, checking off the level of the dust. He found it bothersome. How could someone keep these valuable gems in such a filthy condition?

"So, what do you think, Professor?" "Is this collection any good?" The owner of the items sounds anxious, and the man detects the desire in their eyes. All for money.

"The eyes are a gateway to someone's true self; poetic words, but a true reality."

The tales presented on the pages told a story from another time. It belonged to the historical record rather than the literary one, so he would not have any use for it. Maybe his friend should have them, he imagines.

The professor didn't see himself as a money seeker. So he wouldn't mind lending the books to someone else. Rather than a money-driven individual, he's someone who attempted to live his best life. Especially now, in the middle of such turbulent times.

"I'll evaluate them later with a colleague; you're dismissed." He didn't even look at the person in his office. His mind was far away, among the empty pages on his desk.

His focus sat on the big windows of his office, where the sky looked way too dark for the middle of the day. A storm was on its way. Shit

He cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella. He should've just listened to his mother's suggestion. That a witchy woman, always knowing when it's going to rain.

"I'm sure you have some expectations for how much we'll get from these relics. Right, Mr. Ackerman?"

In response, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. Taking one of the books in his hand, he double-checks the signature engraved on the leather. The old calligraphy looks to be very legitimate, even having the original author's name signed on the front page.

[Reader] was a big poet from the Titan Era. This means that these could be some original editions of the books they'd written about the war, while they were experiencing with nonfiction. Their most prized book was 'Humanity's Strongest Soldier', which now stands in a museum for ancient eldian relics.

The professor was named after him, it was his duty to know at least a bit of it. His mom liked how the soldier's name sounded, and it's pretty common for modern Eldians to have names of these old personalities. Ackerman's friends are examples of that, most being named after fallen scouts.

Now he definitely would call his history enthusiast friend later, and he would have the time of his life.

Maybe he could do like that poet and try out new writing styles? But for now, he needs to rush home first. But it's going to rain, and his visit is still there, keeping him in his office. The professor just wishes to not get trapped in a storm.

He stands up, going straight to the old wooden door of his office. As he opens it, the visitor starts to get mad at him. What a wrong decision.

"Oi! I said I would speak to Mr. Erwin later, but if you're so urgent for that money, his office is just across campus." Stop pestering me; I have to go before the storm comes.

Professor Ackerman isn't in a position to judge history books with such detail. After all, he's on the creative side of writing.

Plus it's a good excuse to expel him from my office.

"I'm sure you'll earn enough to stop you from coming here again."

The person urges themselves, gathering their stuff and mumbling their goodbyes. Finally, it was just the professor, the cold tea on its holder, and piles of papers on the desk. At first glance, the papers seemed to be organized but were actually a confusion of syllables, in which he was drowning. The confused papers match the ones in his own home and in the garbage.

I need to work on this book myself; Erwin cannot help me this time, he's too busy.

He hopes that this found collection does not bother Erwin much. He already has a lot on his hands. He always does. His friend researches nonstop about the Titan era. It's weird. Maybe Erwin should see a therapist. It would be more useful than rambling to him about a connection to a time when they weren't even alive.

Who in their right mind would feel connected to the years of man-eating beasts? Right, our mutual friend.

Ackerman curses them, remembering he needs to call them soon.

They would go insane when they found out about his last visitor: a minister's son who asked for the university to clean his appointments just to see him. And to make matters worse, they didn't even inform him, until two hours ago, when they saw him trotting to his office.

He picks up his phone and checks the time. It's been an hour since the appointment he arranged with the writer. He felt a bit bad for them, and the copy of their work resting on his desk.

The professor remembers how other young writers he met had to kiss the asses of seniors to get a chance. He was more than happy for his friendship with Erwin; his dad, also a professor and author, made things much easier.

Rushing out of his office, he gets his phone and calls "Four-Eyes." Ackerman only stops for a moment to speak with his assistant. Petra would have to manage the rearranging for another day.

He senses someone nearby in the reception, but his focus is fully on his phone's screen. Come on, pick it up! You owe me this!

As he leaves the old building, phone on hand, his thoughts travel away to that writer's project again... Maybe he should give them a bit more time to try to convince him to help with their project, if he was on a good day, that is.

Plus, he read the draft; their writing was really good. He wondered, did they really share a name with that poet from centuries ago or were they just a poser who took that as their fake name. Whatever reason, the professor would kill to have someone with such skills on his writing team, like this [Reader].

But the concept... soulmates? No one even remembers about that! Why did they choose it?

He almost tossed it in the trash when he first saw the synopsis. That's also why he scheduled them in the final office hour after leaving them as the last ones he would review during the semester.

Could you blame him? They did submit a romance, after all, Professor Ackerman was anything but a lover, being known for his dark stories, complex characters, and drama. He wasn't the best at flowery and sugary stories. Then why did they submit it to him in the first place?

Yet, the concept of the red string sounded so... Poetic?

His line of thought gets stopped by a water drop on his forehead, falling through his face. As he feels more drops of water getting into his meticulously arranged hair, his call is finally answered.

"SHORTY! I was talking to Mike about inviting you to the..."

"I'm not going to this sky-dropping shit. If you guys want to die, fine, but leave me out of it." He sounded harsher than he intended.

Knowing his friends, he would eventually find himself in the air some days later. It was just to help Mike's girlfriend with her project of losing the fear of heights. The problem is that Ackerman doesn't commit to things he may regret, so he needs more time to digest it before confirming.

"Oh well, but then at least try to get through your fears too, like dance in the rain like that old movies!" The friend laughed.

What a coincidence! He is trapped in an incoming storm, while his friend makes fun of his phobia. Is this how therapy works?

"Have you not checked a fucking window? Get my car here, it's raining!" Please.

With that, their friend starts to apologize over and over again, he accepted the apology the first time they muttered "I'm so sorry", but he was to leave them repeating it by themselves, as a punishment. Looking forward, there stood the bus stop, so beat up that its coverage would fail to protect him from the rain.

"Forgive meeee I'm getting into your car right now."

He sits down on the bench and starts thinking to himself... Maybe he can ask the ministry for more funds! They'll eventually come back to him with more ancient relics that he totally cares about. He'll put on his best act again.

Who is he kidding? He prefers to die than interact with a politician again.

"Tch, I have work to do, Four Eyes. I can't go skydiving with so much shit on hold."

"For fucks sake, you're having a creative block! Stop forcing it! Go get some fresh air or look for the help of another writer!" From the phone, he could hear the engine of his car, which made him relax a bit.

"That is my job, Hanji. And you don't get to tell me what to do!" But thanks for caring.

He's the professor, the one meant to be an example for new writers. He cannot let his walls down; he cannot let himself be in a junior's position. And as the raindrops get harder, he feels his suit soak.

"Besides, I'm tired of ass-kissers. Now leave your phone away and fucking drive." And be safe, please.

So he hangs up, making a note to not let Hanji drink so much the next time they go out. They can't hold themselves on alcohol, and he has to babysit them and the rest, but they are always the worst among all the drunks he delivers to home.

This time his car paid the price, and since Professor Ackerman was too much of an elegant man to step into the filthy car, he made Hanji stay clean it for the entire day. He could handle the rain if it meant that a certain someone got to clean up their mess.

A bus passes through swiftly, and someone curses out loud from behind him. Idiot student. His mind goes back to his unfinished work. The sky was now so dark. He would expect a big storm to arrive and drown the earth. Yet the rain that was pouring looked rather ordinary, not as strong as it was supposed to be.

Perhaps it wasn't meant to be.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you wish to share?"

A forest-green umbrella appears in his sight. He quickly turns his head in the direction of the voice and sees a star, a real one. His tired eyes meet your serene ones, which leave him speechless.

Just like every single lifetime.

"Sir? You don't want to catch a cold, do you?" Who are you? Do I know you?

You sit by the men's side. The position is awkward. Half of the large umbrella keeps your left side dry. The other part protects the man's right shoulder from the rain. When he looks at you, he can see your left arm getting wetter. It's a choice you've made by lending your space underneath the umbrella. Your arm stands high on top of the already not-too-tall man.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why not?" You answer quickly, and an awkward silence followed.

Are they insane?

"Tch. Getting sick is not the worst thing that can happen to me, stop bothering." After all, it's not the Titan era. Why is this getting in his head again? The water may be getting to his brain.

"It's just another shitty day."

"Fair." You followed. "Well, I just missed an important appointment and lost my bus; I'll probably cry myself to sleep if I even get home...." You paused, taking a big breath, that changes your energy completely."But I'll come back later. It's just another bad day."

Why is this person venting to me?

"Don't get into problems with higher-ups," Like I did. "They'll step on you."

"Ah, it wasn't my fault." You told him (and yourself). "It's said around this campus that the guy's awful and scary anyway."

Professor Ackerman found himself awfully empathizing with you. He knew that this part of the capital was full of self-absorbed rich guys. He recognizes the glow in your eyes, innocent but determined. But your voice speaks of bad things and problems, like a supernova, a star that died but still shines.

"So... yeah, not the worst thing that can happen to me, too!"

It's good that you keep smiling yourself determined in this place because no one else can do it for you.

Funny. He struggled so hard with his own writing for the past few days. And suddenly the professor finds himself getting inspired by a stranger. Someone with whom he will never cross paths again.

"Are you a student here?"

Talking about Paradis' main university, the chances are high. But you quickly assure him that you have already graduated. And in another nation's college, which means you're probably not even an eldian.

He is curious now; what more can he get from this stranger's crazy talk?

"Then what is worse? Shitting yourself in public?" He jokes, not expecting a laugh back. And surely you don't laugh. And a familiar car comes down the street.

Waiting for your answer, he looks at you again. And his breath gets caught in his throat for a moment. Your eyes, so beautiful, suddenly matched the stars stamped on your cute bag. And your smile, big and shiny, made him feel butterflies, that soared freely inside his chest.

"Not meeting my soulmate in this life. That is the most cruel fate I could ever be given."

Levi stops in time; that concept was such an old-fashioned saying, that not many young people knew about it. What were the changes of you... No, it can't be.

Seeing his lack of reaction, started mumbling again, seemingly nervous.

"I understand. People can believe in large man-eating creatures destroying this world... But not in true love, right? Leave that for poets, haha."

No, it was not that, I...

"And how will you know that you've found them?" He has so many questions, so many thoughts so many ideas...

You laugh.

"Maybe the stars will tell me, they always know."

So it is you.

"LEVI!" Hanji calls from the street, and you jump in your seat.

As soon as the rider saw Levi with some company, they sensed something rather interesting. So, as the Cupid they are, they decide to act and point out to you, waving to the car next. They were calling you.

"Cutie! You don't want to get a cold, do ya?"

Levi just sighs, annoyed at his friend's behavior. If it wasn't his car, he would go around and leave, thinking Hanji sounded like a perverted.

Getting up from his seat, he pats your head, amused by your cute wide eyes looking at him. You then look at his badge resting on his brown suit. The name 'Professor L. Ackerman' shined in gold and was visible now thanks to the car lights.

He knows he is a stranger, and this offer would sound strange, but it's to thank you for the umbrella and to talk to you more. He may even work together with you soon.

Levi feels like he's not a stranger to you; you feel like he's not a stranger too.

He knows your soul, and you know his.

"Seems like you got yourself lucky, [Reader]; you've got yourself a ride." He points to his car. Levi walks toward it without looking back, letting you decide for yourself.

It's time for Levi to tell a different story; he's aware of that now. But then, would you be the one to help him write it down, reader? Do you accept the ride?

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Bed rest was incredibly difficult, even though Maera knew the Maester had recommended it for the sake of her health. She couldn't remember a time when she had actually kept still for this long. The days stretched into weeks, each hour feeling like an eternity as she lay confined within the four walls of her chambers.

She recalled how, even as a child, she had defied the orders of the Maester at Rain House. No matter how ill she felt, she would quickly sneak out of bed to play with her toys or climb atop her bookshelf to reach her favorite fairytale. Her septa would scold her, but Maera never cared. The thrill of independence and the joy of losing herself in stories had always outweighed any reprimands.

Yet now, despite feeling like a caged dragon, Maera adhered to the Maester's orders for three long weeks, for the sake of her unborn child. Each day, she reminded herself of the precious life growing inside her, finding strength in the small kicks and movements that signaled her baby's vitality.

Maester Cain visited the Princess daily, diligently re-dressing her wounds, checking her stitches, and monitoring the progress of her healing. He applied various ointments and prescribed medicines to aid her recovery, though his options were limited by her pregnancy.

Lord Unwin also made regular visits, keeping Maera up to date with the happenings within the castle and the council meetings. His updates were a lifeline to the outside world, yet each visit brought a pang of shame. She felt weak and pathetic, dependent on others for information and care, a stark contrast to her usual self-reliance.

The usual young maid attended to the Princess as well, quick and efficient in her duties. She changed the sheets regularly, careful not to disturb Maera’s injuries as she dressed her in fresh clothes. The maid also brought Maera her meals, ensuring she was fed and comfortable. But that was the extent of their interaction. Unlike Thena in King's Landing, who had always chatted with Maera and made her feel less isolated, this maid performed her tasks in silence, leaving as soon as her duties were complete.

The combination of these visits—necessary though they were—only served to deepen Maera's feelings of helplessness. She longed for the days when she could move freely, engage with those around her on her own terms, and reclaim her strength and independence.

Another thing that didn’t help was hearing Ēbrion’s calls from outside her window. Maera had not seen her dragon in weeks and she desperately wished to be near him. The great beast was her oldest friend here, and she yearned to feel his presence, to fly and escape these prison-like walls.

One day, Maera managed to get out of bed and walk around a little. The wounds on her arm and thigh were incredibly sore, but Maester Cain had assured her they would be fully closed in a few more weeks. Each step sent a jolt of pain through her body, the few paces leaving her breathless, unused to the exertion after weeks of bed rest.

Determined to regain her strength, Maera set small goals each day to walk a little further. At first, it was just a few steps from the bed to the chair. Then, a few more steps to the door. After several days of this slow progress, she finally managed to make it to the window and sit on the ledge, a welcome change from the confines of her bed. The fresh air and the view of the outside world were invigorating, even though her body still ached from the effort.

As she sat on the window ledge, Maera looked out and saw the distant figure of Ēbrion. His calls seemed to echo her own longing for freedom. She knew it would still be some time before she could fly with him again, but the sight of her dragon gave her hope. Looking out past Harrenhall’s broken walls, Maera saw her mount in the same place she last saw him in person: the burnt lavender field.

The sight brought back a flood of memories, haunting her with the vividness of her encounter with Alys. She could almost feel the blade piercing her skin again, the sharp, excruciating pain that still echoed in her body on the worst days. The smell of burning flesh and lavender wafted into her mind, a stark reminder of the moment she had ordered Ebrion to incinerate Alys.

The guilt about what she had done, particularly concerning Alys's unborn child, had begun to fade. The relentless waves of remorse were now replaced with a cold, clear anger. As the fog of guilt lifted, Maera's rage toward her husband grew and grew.

Aemond had still not returned, and there was no news from the ongoing battle near Rook's Rest. Despite Maera's growing anger toward him, she couldn't help but be concerned for her husband's wellbeing.

A thousand questions raced through her mind. Surely no news was good news? But what if it wasn’t? What if something had happened to the Lord Commander? Or to Aemond? What position would that leave her and their child in? If the Blacks won at Rook's Rest, would she find herself at Rhaenyra’s mercy? Would Rhaenyra even grant them mercy?

The thoughts made Maera shudder. Her mind spun with the uncertainty of their future. The possibilities loomed over her like a dark cloud, each one more terrifying than the last. She tried to push them away, but they clung to her, dragging her down into a well of anxiety and fear. Desperate for a distraction, the next time the maid had returned, Maera pleaded with her to provide her with something, anything, that would provide solace and a brief escape from the prison of her mind.

The maid had brought Maera a large fresh bouquet from the gardens, along with some charcoal and parchment. Maera was extremely thankful for the thoughtful gesture. However, due to her low spirits, she found herself unsure of what to draw. Her dragon Ēbrion, visible from her window, only made her miss the freedom of the skies. The outside world reminded her of the confining walls of Harrenhal, and she had never excelled at drawing portraits of people.

With a sigh, Maera hobbled to her desk where the lovely bouquet had been placed. The vibrant flowers were a glimpse of the beauty that lay beyond the castle’s walls, a fragment of the life she yearned to return to. Deciding to capture this piece of the outside world, she picked up her charcoal and began to sketch the delicate petals and intricate leaves.

She started with the red geraniums, their rounded petals forming clusters of vibrant blooms. The delicate veins in each petal were carefully rendered with gentle strokes, the charcoal capturing the depth and texture of the flowers. Next, she moved to the black snapdragons, their tall, spiky stems and intricate blossoms creating a striking contrast. The dark blooms seemed to absorb the light, and Maera took care to highlight their shadowy allure.

The deep orange marigolds came next, their ruffled petals and dense heads a challenge to capture with charcoal. She meticulously shaded the layers, bringing out their fiery intensity. The red petunias, with their trumpet-shaped flowers, added a splash of brilliance to the bouquet. She sketched their soft, velvety petals, capturing the delicate folds and curves.

The black poppies were a somber addition, their wide, papery petals dark and mysterious. Maera rendered them with a mix of light and heavy strokes, emphasizing their dramatic presence in the bouquet. Finally, she turned her attention to the white rose that had begun to wilt. The edges of the petals were tinged with brown, the delicate flower showing signs of its fleeting beauty. She carefully sketched its drooping form, capturing the fragility and grace of its decline.

As she worked, a pang of sadness washed over her. In King's Landing, she would have painted these flowers, bringing out their true colors with vibrant pigments. Here, she only had charcoal, and while it allowed her to capture the forms and shadows, it lacked the ability to convey the vivid hues that made each flower special. The monochrome sketches were a pale imitation of the bouquet's true beauty, and Maera longed for the days when she had a full palette at her disposal.

Gazing at the blooms, Maera could not help but be reminded her of her dear friend Helaena. Just a year ago, they were strolling through the gardens of the Red Keep, hand in hand, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves and the hum of insects. Helaena, with her boundless enthusiasm, would gleefully point out the bugs wandering amongst the blooms, her violet eyes lighting up with childlike wonder.

The joy she shared with Helaena felt like a distant dream, yet it was a dream she clung to, a beacon of light in her darkened world. Maera's heart ached for the simplicity and innocence of those times, and she longed to walk through the gardens with Helaena again, free from the burdens that now weighed her down.

The Princess felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Helaena behind to follow Aemond to Harrenhall. She wondered if things would have been different if she had stayed in King's Landing, remaining by her oldest and dearest friend's side. Perhaps, she thought, none of this would have happened.

She silently prayed for Thena, hoping that when the time was right, the maid would be able to get Helaena out of the Capital to a place of safety. Maera wished with all her heart that Helaena would find happiness once more, allowed to walk freely amongst blooming gardens and enjoying the simple company of the insects.

On the day Maera felt strongest, she finally left her chambers. The maid had dressed her in a soft, black silken gown that felt light and airy against her large stomach and the healing wounds on her arm and thigh. The fabric flowed gently around her, offering a semblance of comfort and grace she had longed for during her bedridden weeks. Maester Cain assisted her down the corridor, his cautious presence a constant reminder of her recent ordeal. He helped her into the carriage, ensuring she was settled comfortably before taking his place beside her, his eyes filled with both concern and encouragement.

As the carriage pulled away from Harrenhall, Maera opened the window, letting the fresh air fill the space. She gazed out at the mountains and valleys, their majesty a balm to her weary soul. The sun's warmth on her skin and the gentle breeze in her hair made her feel alive in a way she hadn't for weeks. The rustling of leaves, the distant calls of birds, and the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels on the path all combined into a symphony of life that she had missed so dearly. Inside her, the baby seemed to share her delight, kicking with great strength as if to express its own joy at being outside.

Maera stepped out of the carriage, her movements slow and deliberate. Maester Cain offered his arm, supporting her as she limped forward. Together, they walked towards the great expanse of the Gods Eye, the lake shimmering under the midday sun. The sunlight glinted off the water, creating a mosaic of dazzling reflections that danced across the surface. Just as Maera took in the serene beauty, the sun was momentarily blocked by a large shadow, followed by a distant, resounding thud. A grin spread across her face as she recognized the sound.

With the Maester's help, Maera settled onto the grass, her eyes scanning the sky. Moments later, Ēbrion, her giant dragon, came striding towards her, his deep roars echoing across the mountain range. His massive wings flapped once, sending a gust of wind that rustled the nearby trees.

Upon seeing the dragon, Maester Cain quickly retreated back to the carriage, his face pale with trepidation. "I will remain in the wheelhouse until you need me, Princess," he called, his voice trembling slightly. "To give you some privacy."

Maera couldn't help but giggle at his hasty retreat. She outstretched her arms and watched as Ēbrion approached, his blue and black scales shimmering in the sunlight. The dragon lowered his massive head, nuzzling against her ever-so softly. She ran her fingers over his warm, scaled skin, feeling a profound sense of relief and joy at being reunited with her mount.

After their initial greeting, Ēbrion curled up around Maera like a cat, his enormous body forming a protective circle. The contrast between their sizes was striking, akin to an elephant and a mouse, yet Maera felt the safest with her dragon. Their bond was unbreakable, and she knew without a doubt that he would never harm her.

Leaning back against his warm, scaled body, Maera sighed deeply. Her fingers danced along her belly, feeling the rhythmic kicks of her child. The gentle pressure of the baby’s movements brought a small smile to her lips. She missed soaring through the sky on Ēbrion’s back, the exhilarating freedom it brought. It felt almost as if she had wings of her own, cutting through the clouds and leaving her troubles far below. But for now, sitting together by the lake's edge, wrapped in the comfort of her dragon’s presence, would have to suffice.

As she sat there, the sun's rays filtering through the trees, Maera's thoughts wandered. Although she loved Ēbrion deeply, her visit to the Gods Eye wasn’t solely for their reunion. She had arranged to meet a small number of Harrenhall's residents outside the castle walls to discuss an urgent matter.

A simple horse and cart pulled up alongside the carriage Maera had ridden in, its wheels creaking as it came to a halt. Atop the cart, the Princess could see four guards, their expressions grim and apprehensive. Beside them sat Lord Unwin, his face stern, none of them looking particularly pleased.

While Maera had trusted Lord Unwin to handle the guards who had neglected their duty on the day she was attacked, she felt an overwhelming need to assert her own authority as Princess. It was not enough for a Lord to enact justice on her behalf; she needed to demonstrate her strength and resolve personally.

As the men approached with Lord Unwin leading the way, Ēbrion growled lowly, a deep rumble that resonated through the air. The dragon bared his teeth menacingly, his orange eyes narrowing with protective intent. The men’s footsteps faltered, their faces paling as they stared up in horror at the massive beast.

"Lykirī, Ēbrion," Be calm, Maera murmured, patting her dragon reassuringly. The growling subsided slightly, though the dragon's gaze remained fixed on the approaching group. Maera then turned her attention to the men, her voice firm and commanding. "You may approach," she beckoned, her green eyes unwavering.

With visible reluctance, the guards and Lord Unwin continued their approach, their movements cautious. Maera's presence, coupled with the looming figure of her dragon, left no room for doubt about who held authority here. The men stood before her, clearly intimidated but now fully aware of the gravity of their previous actions, or lack thereof.

Maera noticed the men varied in age and stature, all of them male relatives of the members of the war council at Harrenhall. Two were lower-ranking guards, evident by their basic armor and weapons. They were young in age, similar to Maera’s brothers Faran and Luthor, just a few years older than herself. Their eyes betrayed a mix of nervousness and guilt, fully aware of their transgressions.

One appeared to be an archer, with a large, noticeable bow and a bag of arrows attached to his back. He bore the orange and black sigil of House Peake on his chest, so Maera surmised that he must be the nephew of Lord Unwin. His stance was slightly more confident, yet there was an undercurrent of unease in his demeanor, his eyes flicking nervously to the towering form of Ēbrion.

The remaining guard appeared higher ranking, his armor meticulously polished, bearing the green and black sigil of House Vance. He was about the same age as Maera’s eldest brother, Guston. His face was stern, and his posture rigid, suggesting that he would not take kindly to being ordered around by a girl. His brown eyes were hard, revealing a man used to command and control.

Maera knew she would have to approach this assertively, yet diplomatically. The situation required a delicate balance of authority and tact to ensure her position was respected and her commands followed.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” the Princess began, her tone gentle yet firm. “I must apologize for the unusual location. I have not been outside for some time, nor have I been away from my mount for so long since I claimed him.”

Ēbrion trilled softly behind her, his presence a silent reminder of loyalty and protection. Maera affectionately patted his scales. “He is a loyal beast, my Ēbrion. I owe him so much, and just a few weeks ago, he saved my life. This is what I wish to discuss with you today.”

Turning her gaze to the guards, Maera noted their discomfort under the watchful eye of her dragon. “In your own words, pray tell me why you were not at your assigned postings when an attempt on my life was made by Alys Rivers,” Maera declared, her voice steady but commanding.

The men shifted uneasily, exchanging hesitant glances. Lord Unwin, growing impatient, interjected sharply, “Your Princess has just asked you a question, you fools.”

The archer, Lord Unwin's nephew, pushed the highest-ranking guard, a knight of House Vance, forward. He glared back at the others before stepping forward and nodding respectfully to Maera.

"State your name, Ser," Maera commanded.

"Ser Willard of House Vance, Princess," the knight replied.

"Do you speak for the men you command?" Maera asked, tilting her head slightly.

"I do," Ser Willard confirmed.

Maera leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. "Then please answer the question I asked."

The knight hesitated, glancing back at his comrades before turning his attention back to Maera. “I had known the witch for a long time. I knew what she was capable of… what she had done to your family in Morne.”

Maera winced at the memory, letting out a shaky exhale. No doubt Alys had boasted of her alleged power to anyone in the castle who would listen, and unfortunately, it looked like it had achieved its desired goal; that Alys would be known as a force to be reckoned with.

The Princess pictured her poor Aunt Viserra, Maera’s last link to her mother, who had been slain consumption, as well as her family. All at the order of Aemond, which caused Maera’s blood to boil. Her fingers clenched into fists, the sharp pain of her healing wounds a reminder of her recent ordeal.

“We did not know what she would do, Princess, I swear,” Ser Willard assured her.

But Maera found no comfort in his words. “I thought you said you knew what she was capable of?” Maera retorted sarcastically.

“She threatened us. She knew things about us that she should not have known. My wife, my daughters…” the knight trailed off, and Maera felt a pang of sympathy for the man in that moment.

The knight's voice trembled slightly when he spoke, his fear for his loved ones mirroring Maera's own fear for the child in her belly. Yet it was because of their fear that Maera and her child were at risk in the first place. The complexity of the situation settled heavily on her, a reminder of the constant balancing act she had to perform.

Clearing his throat, Ser Willard continued, “All she asked was that we leave our postings for an hour, so she could labor in peace in the lavender. So she could give birth to her son.”

Maera tensed her jaw. Mayhaps Alys had spouted lies about her supposed prophecy as well. That her son and Maera’s daughter would bring forth the Prince that was promised, this so-called ‘King of Kings.’ It was absolutely ludicrous how the men in Harrenhall, including her own stupid husband, had fallen prey to the witch’s words, without thinking about what Alys’s own personal gain from this would be.

The scenery at the Gods Eye provided a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. The water lapped gently against the stoney shore, creating a soothing, rhythmic sound. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees, and the sunlight shimmered on the lake's surface, casting a golden glow, a similar colour to the flames at had been launched out of Ēbrion’s mouth upon Maera’s orders.

The Princess fixed her forest green eyes on the knight with determination, as she declared, “And yet the witch is gone, Ser.”

Ēbrion craned his neck, bringing his snout close to Maera’s body. She petted the beast lovingly before ominously warning the knight, “For you see, the threat to life does not lie within foresight or words of prophecy. It is here,” she declared, gesturing to her dragon, who growled lowly, his gigantic teeth showcasing a potential fate to those who crossed his rider.

The knight seemed taken aback, stepping backward slightly as he gazed up at the Princess’s dragon, fear in his eyes. “We were fools, Princess. Men led by fear, and we are ashamed to have been so reckless,” he said shakily, his eyes still fixated on Ēbrion. “Please, we ask for your forgiveness.”

In the past, Maera would have walked a different path. She would have forgiven the guards for their lack of action, trusting them to fulfill their duties and keep her safe. But time and time again, the allies around her had not prioritized her needs, much like her husband. Now, she needed to prove she was not to be crossed.

The Princess glanced sideways at Lord Unwin, his orange and black attire standing out against the mountain range backdrop. He had been mostly silent during the meeting but had watched her every move, following her lead as she chastised the men. She grinned at him before addressing the guards.

“A friend told me recently that not only do I have the Mother’s mercy, but I also have her strength,” Maera declared, before looking down at her huge stomach lovingly. “I admit, carrying my child has induced a ruthlessness within me that I did not know I possessed.” For Maera, a mother's love for her child was like nothing else in the world. It knew no law, no pity, no forgiveness. It defied all logic and crushed down remorselessly all that stood in its path.

Her gaze flicked up to the men, and her expression hardened as she looked each of them in the eye. “You may count yourselves lucky that my husband is not here. I daresay you all would be in Vhagar’s stomach by now.”

As idiotic as the one-eyed Prince had been, Maera knew one thing about her husband: he was merciless. Such a lapse in security and disregard for their duties would have resulted in death for all those who had deserted their post, and he would not have lost a wink of sleep over it. Aemond's cold pragmatism and ruthless nature had always been his way of ensuring loyalty through fear, and he wielded that fear with a deft hand.

Despite this, Maera did not feel such an act of brutality was necessary... yet. Putting the guards to death meant fewer bodies on the war front, weakening their defenses. Moreover, such an act would send a clear message to those who supported the Greens, potentially driving them to flock to the Blacks in retaliation. The realm was already teetering on the brink, and she did not wish to push it over the edge with reckless cruelty.

The Princess shifted with a groan in her seated position on the grass, uncomfortable from sitting still for long. Ēbrion raised his head, his mouth opening slightly as he let out a puff of smoke, causing Maera to stroke his scaled hide reassuringly.

“Therefore, I will give you all a choice, rooted in honor and allowing you to keep your integrity as knights and guards.”

The men exchanged confused glances at Maera’s words before watching her grab onto one of her dragon’s scales and pulling herself up from the grass slowly. Ser Willard and Lord Unwin stepped forward, offering their hands of assistance, but she refused. Determination flashed in her eyes as she braced herself against the dragon's warm, sturdy scales.

Pain surged through her body. The freshly healed wounds on her arm and thigh burned as she pushed herself up, and the weight of the babe in her stomach felt like a leaden anchor pulling her down. Her muscles trembled with the effort, and she gritted her teeth, willing herself to stand.

Eventually, with sheer determination, Maera stood, holding onto Ebrion for balance. She was breathing heavily, her face slick with sweat, and every nerve in her body seemed to scream in protest. Yet, she did it. She stood tall, a silent testament to her resolve and strength, despite the pain coursing through her.

After taking a steadying few breaths, she looked at each of the guards, one by one, before pressing on. “Swear your oath anew to House Targaryen and your King Aegon, second of his name, to protect and serve his kin, the Princes and Princesses of the blood.”

Ebrion leaned forward sharply with a growl, causing the men to jump, their eyes wide with horror, their breathing becoming rapid. The dragon's immense presence, combined with Maera's stern demeanor, created a palpable tension in the air. The knights could feel the ground tremble slightly beneath Ebrion's massive weight, and the sheer power emanating from the beast was enough to make their knees weak.

“Or,” Maera continued, “if you feel cowardice and fear will rule your ability to fulfill your duties, declare it now. And you will have a quick and honorable death.”

The beast opened his mouth, a fireball forming slowly in the back of his throat. The sight was terrifying, the heat radiating off the forming inferno making the air around them shimmer. It was as if the dragon's thoughts were synced with those of his rider, reflecting Maera's anger and determination. The glowing embers within the dragon's maw cast an eerie light on the faces of the men, highlighting their fear and desperation.

“However, if you choose deceit, declaring yourselves loyal now only to crumble and submit to the pressures of your duties, putting myself or my family in danger,” Maera paused, looking up at her dragon, then back at the men. “Know you will die. Screaming.”

The guards' faces paled as they realized the gravity of their choices. They could feel the weight of their mistakes bearing down on them, the threat of imminent death a very real possibility. One by one, they knelt before Maera and Ebrion, heads bowed in submission. Their bodies shook slightly, and the stony ground beneath them felt cold and unforgiving.

The silence was heavy, the only sound being the low, menacing growl of Ebrion and the crackling of the fireball in his throat. Maera looked down at them, her expression stern and unyielding. She had their attention, their fear, and their submission.

The Princess sighed, her expression softening slightly as she knew she had won the men’s respect. “Rise now and remember your oaths.”

She looked at the men before her as they stood, their faces a mix of fear and hope. They had families, loved ones, and a cause they believed in. Their mistake had put her and her child at risk, but they were still assets in the war they were fighting. Maera knew she had to find a balance between asserting her authority and maintaining their loyalty.

“Let this be a new beginning, and may you never forget the consequences of breaking your word.”

Each of the men bowed respectfully, their movements hurried and jittery as they made their way back to the horse and cart that had brought them there. They were eager to leave the presence of the fearsome dragon and the Princess who had so sternly chastised them. The sound of their hurried steps and the clatter of armor filled the air as they mounted the cart and quickly urged the horse away.

As the men departed, Maera exhaled deeply and leaned back against Ebrion, the strength to hold herself up any longer waning. The adrenaline that had sustained her was ebbing away, replaced by a wave of exhaustion. After steadying her breathing, she turned and looked up at Lord Unwin, who was staring her with concern.

“Do you think I was too harsh on them?” She asked earnestly, taking a few more deep breaths.

“Not at all, Princess,” the Peake lord reassured her. “It is about time that those idiots learned that abandoning your duties have consequences.” Lord Unwin then chuckled to himself. “I think it is wise that you were the one to deliver the warning, Princess.”

Maera raised her brow. “How so, my Lord?”

“Well,” he began. “As terrifying as I can be, I am nowhere near as terrifying as someone with a dragon at their disposal.”

The Princess giggled, not noticing how the Maester had departed from their carriage and was striding towards them, the chains on his body clinking as he walked.

“May I suggest we return to Harrenhall, Princess?” The older man asked. “We do not want you overexerting yourself.”

Maera had no more energy to argue and nodded in defeat. Maester Cain and Lord Unwin each offered an arm to Maera, supporting her limping form as they guided her back to the carriage. Her legs felt heavy, her wounds aching with each step. She was grateful for their support, though she resented the weakness that necessitated it.

As she walked away, she turned to see Ebrion preparing for flight. The dragon flapped his gigantic blue and black wings, the powerful beats stirring up dust and leaves around him. With a final, majestic leap, Ebrion soared into the sky, his roars echoing across the valley as he disappeared into the horizon.

Maera watched him until he was a distant speck in the sky, a pang of longing in her heart. She missed the freedom of flying with him, the feeling of leaving all her troubles behind. But for now, she had to return to the confines of Harrenhal, her mind already grappling with the many more battles that had yet to be fought.

Notes: Floriography girlies I’m looking at you 👀 also is it just me or did Maera fucking EAT this chapter? She is literally fed up of everyone’s shit at this point 🤣

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐔 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝑴𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅

╰┈➤ ❝ shirabu kenjirou x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 6

tags : pwp (without plot), post-timeskip, kissing, cockwarming, teasing, praise, slight dirty talk, vaginal sex (unprotected), tbh nothing much to tag bc this is very much soft and cute, use of pet names “baby” “angel”, lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1k

an : in which everyone sees the entirety of my second lead syndrome because i really truly love shirabu to death and i wish more people wrote for him too 😭

taglist : @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @thoupenguinman @chemiru (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS 

After a long day of studying, if there is any reward worth waiting for, it's you.

You did this to yourself.

He'd been in another one of those spells of his where he would lock himself in his room and study, and you felt bad…

You were the one who had offered.

And yet here you were, face buried into his chest, voice muffled by his sweatshirt—

You could feel it.

His cock pulsed steadily inside of you, your eyes fluttering at the mere sensation of being so full. Whines fell from your lips, and you would try to move—to shift on his lap, to try to get even the slightest bit of stimulation, doing your very best to hold keep yourself from rocking against him—but it was so difficult.

It was nearly unfair.

How could he act so casual about all of this?

You could hear the familiar sound of his pen scratching against the paper of his notebook, and while you would normally find it comforting, now it was anything but.

“‘Jirooo…” 

Again you nuzzled into his chest, feeling his free hand dig its nails into the exposed skin on your waist in warning. A little hum was all else that you got in reply; he kept writing, attention focused on his notes with that same aura of concentration that had always had you so completely and utterly enthralled by him. Just the thought of it made you clench around his cock, and he pressed into your skin once more.

Pen placed gently back on the table, you heard the faint flip of a page—his textbook, you assumed. And you knew that there was nothing you could do in this moment to get him to fuck you.

He had his arm draped over you to keep you in place. Mostly it stayed still, occasionally it would rub up and down your back, a silent and wordless encouragement. You had to be good. You knew that. If there was anything you knew about him—and, arguably, you knew quite a lot—it was that there was always a price to pay for going against his wishes. And Shirabu told you not to move.

So despite the buzzing ache for you to chase your pleasure, despite the heat pooling between your legs and leaking down onto his lap, you waited.

You waited.

Until you could feel him let out a slow breath, his cock twitching in a way that had you gasping, and his hand reached up to cradle you in his arms.

His head, too, rest on your shoulder. His breath fanned over your skin, and much to your delight, he moved.

Just the slightest buck of his hips, his cock pressing even further into you.

“Mmh… You've been so good waiting for me, baby…”

He murnured against your skin, leaning over to place hot, open-mouthed kisses, licking and breathing into you as if the last vestiges of his self control had finally begun to dissipate.

His hands trailed down the side of your body, savoring your whimpers, moving to rest on either side of your hips.

“Are you needy, baby?” he whispered.

The nod of your head wasn't enough for him.

“Hmm… But you're so quiet. Maybe you're not so needy after all, huh?”

You could hear the smirk on his face—you couldn't see it, but you could hear it. The image in your head was clear.

“N-no, ‘Jiro, please…” you whined. “M'needy! Want you so bad…���

“Mhm. And you have me. Right, angel? You're so warm around me, I could stay like this forever…”

He almost laughed; you could tell he wanted to.

But instead of doing so, his hand reached up to play with your hair, a delicate silence permeating the atmosphere before he coaxed your head up to look at him.

And, ah, he was beautiful.

Anytime he would do this, you couldn't help but get lost in his eyes, a brown so beautifully alluring that you could, truly, look at him all day and never quite get tired of it.

“Pretty baby,” he smiled at you. Soft, and gentle, and you could see all the stress in the back of his mind slowly begin to fade. “I love you. You know that, right? Thank you for keeping me company…”

A lock of your hair was pushed aside, as if to get a better look at your face, and then his hands were back at your hips—slowly moving them to rock against him, slow, puffy breaths leaving his lips at the friction the two of you were finally feeling.

“My reward,” he whispered. 

He leaned in, and you gladly fell into him, sighing delightfully as your lips met his.

It was a slow, tender kiss. Your hips easily found a ruythm, little jolts of pleasure shooting through your body with every roll of your hips. With gasps and moans swallowed into kisses, he fucked you gently, carefully, equally granting you your reward as much as he was claiming his own.

“Mmnn… mnh—! ‘Ji—’Jiro—”

You fell forward into his embrace once more, frinding down on him, feeling the fat tip of his cock nudge at your sweet spot to make you shudder. Your arms wrapped around him desperately, wanting to feel him as close as possible… and he smiled.

There was a kiss placed on the top of your head before he began to lift you up off his lap ever so slightly, before bringing you down.

Your eyes widened, and you choked back a moan—

“K-Ken—ji—!” 

Again.

Never too much, not quite being rough with you, but not quite being gentle. Just enough to push his cock in and out of you the way that you liked, rubbing deliciously against your gummy walls, fully claiming your heat as his own.

“Yeah, baby? You like that?” he murmured.

You could barely answer. He felt too good.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you whimpered against him, and you fisted his sweatshirt—a mix of yes's and broken moans of his name were all that he could hear, along with the muted sound of skin against skin, the all-too-familiar smell of sex filling the air around you.

“All gone already, angel? I've barely started, you know?” he grunted, picking up the pace, the smile in his voice never leaving.

A smile of satisfaction—a smile of pride.

And when all you could do was nod, he gripped your hips tighter, and easily began to slam you down on his cock, any sense of self-control completely gone.

“That's my girl. You take me so well, baby. Gonna fuck you so good.”

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