#green whereabouts

[gw-360]

REAL LEATHER VS SYNTHETIC LEATHER: WHICH IS THE MORE SUSTAINABLE CHOICE?

Real leather vs synthetic leather: what you need to know about the sustainability of production processes and life cycles to really help the environment

@gw-360

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

it’s downright pouring outside.

suguru rests on the living room couch, cooped up in a bundle of soft blankets, watching droplets ricochet against the windows. heavy, sharp, like the rain is trying to break into your apartment — a steady pitter patter that makes him feel at ease.

it’s cozy, he thinks. being indoors, safe and warm and dry, while the outside world is blanketed by gray. wearing baggy clothes, a pair of reading glasses, his hair tied up into a loose bun; slender fingers turning the pages of the new novel you gave him.

he thinks of you, and finds himself frowning.

suguru got home just before storm clouds gathered in the sky — but as far as he knows, you’re still outside. he’s memorized your comings and goings, what time you usually return home, the paths you tend to favour. as any attentive roommate should.

so he’s a little worried. usually, you’d be home by now. and you still haven’t replied to his messages.

tentatively, he reaches for the warm cup of tea on the coffee table, bringing the ceramic to his lips. sipping from the green, honeyed brew, letting the scent soothe his growing nerves. he shouldn’t be too high-maintenance; you’re a perfectly capable adult. if he nags at you all the time, you’ll just be weirded out. and the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

so it’s fine. you’re fine, he’s sure. there’s no need for him to freak out over your whereabouts. he needs to maintain his cool, calm exterior.

— suddenly, the click of a lock being turned.

suguru’s head whips towards the front door. a moment passes, and then he’s stumbling to his feet, untangling himself from the heap of blankets he’s burrowed into — gently setting the cup back on the table, fixing his hair, making sure he’s presentable — before making his way towards the hall.

and there you are. clumsily dragging the door open, stumbling inside, keys jingling as you step over the threshold; absolutely soaked. just as he feared.

”hey…”

you meet his gaze. panting softly, cheeks a little flushed, wet locks of hair sticking to your forehead and neck. disheveled, letting out a sheepish little laugh — gosh, why do you have to be so cute? — leaning down to pull your shoes off. you’re wearing a thin, white shirt. entirely drenched. 

suguru looks away, a heat sticking to his cheeks.

”hey,” you greet, a little out of breath. tossing your shoes away, tugging absently at your collar. ”god. i feel like a drowned rat.”

at that, he lets a little chuckle slip. shaking his head, taking a step back — careful not to let his gaze stray towards the soaked fabric of your clothing. ”why didn’t you call me? i would have picked you up.”

”well, i thought about it,” you hum, walking right past him, ”but i figured you’d still be at work.”

suguru frowns, ever so slightly, discontentment in his eyes. ”… they let me go early today. but you should have texted me, either way. what if you get sick?”

”i’ll be fineeee,” you slip on a grin, turning back to face him. ”just need a quick shower. don’t worry, okay?”

he narrows his eyes, playfully, enjoying the way your eyes crinkle in response. then he exhales, hands on his hips. feigning exasperation. 

”… fine, fine. need me to go get you a clean shirt?”

”ah. well...” you let out a wince, earning a tilt of his head. ”i haven’t done my laundry, in like… a week.”

a moment passes. suguru’s lips curl up, an exasperated exhale slipping from his lips. he gazes at you, ever so fondly, raising a brow. ”i asked you if you needed me to wash anything for you.”

”i know, but…” you scratch at the back of your neck, letting out a breathy sigh. ”i don’t want you to pull all my weight. we both live here.” now there’s a pretty little pout on your lips. it makes suguru want to run his thumb over the sensitive skin, soothe it away.

but he only clears his throat. 

”i don’t mind,” he answers, truthfully. ”i like doing laundry. you know that.”

”… still.”

his smile only grows, at your quiet mumble, something soft blooming in his eyes. he takes a step forward. ”we’ll see about laundry later. in the meantime… want to wear one of my shirts?”

the words have left his lips before he can think them through — maybe a little too eager. silently, he curses himself for being so forward. but you raise your head, meeting his amber eyes, blinking so sheepishly that he thinks he’d give you just about anything you could ask for.

”… is that okay?” 

”more than okay,” he reassures you, a smile on his face. ”i’ll get you something comfy.”

you quiet down, for a moment. still pulling at the collar of your shirt, making sure the thin fabric doesn’t stick to your soaked skin. ”… alright,” you exhale. ”that’d be great, then.”

a hum buzzes in his throat. suguru walks past you, towards the hallway leading up to his room, ruffling your wet hair in passing. his heavy palm on your head, a perfect fit. smiling to himself.

”got it. one second, okay?” 

behind him, you nod — but he can’t see it. walking into his room, rummaging through his closet, trying not to lose his mind at the idea of you wearing one of his oversized shirts. maybe a pair of sweatpants, maybe a tank top… he gulps at the thought. heartbeat accelerating, a jittery feeling in his throat.

he settles on a big, comfortable hoodie. bundling it up in his arms, before making his way back to where you’re still standing, still soaked, shivering a little. 

”here,” he hums, passing the bundle of soft fabric into your awaiting arms. you nuzzle into the pile, already looking comforted; warming his heart down to the marrow. he hopes you like the cologne he picked out, earthy and deep. a hint of cinnamon. ”now go take your shower, hm?”

”mm. thank you.” you give him a smile, cheeks still damp, a little flushed. ”you’re too nice to me.”

suguru resists the urge to frown. resists the urge to tell you that there’s no such thing, that you deserve every last drop of kindness he can wring out of his cramped-up heart. he knows he shouldn’t be too forward, but you’re making it difficult. you always make it so difficult.

(or maybe he’s just a weak, weak man.)

”oh, please,” he gives you a playful little roll of his eyes, sighing gravely. ”this is the bare minimum. we don’t want you catching a cold, do we?”

”we don’t,” you grin. ”i have a feeling you’d just end up feeding me soup all day.”

a chuckle flows from out his lips. he hopes it doesn’t come out as shaky as his heart feels, just at the thought — the idea of taking care of you like that. being allowed to tend to you, being trusted by you in that way. ”well, i am a chef. need to make sure i don’t get rusty, yeah?”

there it is, again. the crinkle of your eyes, that upturn of your lips, all things he finds himself constantly seeking — suguru exhales, somewhat in bliss. he might need to quit cigarettes for good, soon. it wouldn’t do for him to have more than one vice.

while you take your shower, your roommate lounges on the couch. or at least, he tries to — though his feet inevitably take him to your tiny kitchen, to the water cooker, to the cabinet with all his expensive tea bags. he picks out a nice, strong ginger brew. something to help boost your immune system. silently, drowsily, he pours water into a ceramic cup, stirs the slowly brewing tea with a honey-clad teaspoon. raindrops cascade against the window, and the faraway sound of thunder reaches his ears.

it’s cold outside, but warm and cozy in here. in the home you’ve made for yourselves. he’s really, really glad that he followed satoru’s advice — that he put out that advert, that the first person who reached out ended up being you. he’s happy to share a living space with you, these cozy leftover afternoons. he’s happy to have someone to brew tea for.

(what more could a man like him ask for?)

”um, suguru?”

he stiffens. ears perking up at the sound of your voice, that mellow little lilt — broken out of his syrupy stupor. after a moment, he turns around.

and his breath hitches in the back of his throat.

you’re standing there, right at the threshold separating the kitchen from the living room, hair a little damp from the shower — and you’re wearing his hoodie. it cascades down your frame, the hem of it ending right above your knees, sleeves rolled up to reveal your hands. that hoodie is baggy even on him, but you’re just drowning in the fabric. his heart feels like it’s about to burst, pupils wide as saucers.

suguru lets out a shaky sigh.

”jesus…”

a series of blinks. you tilt your head, like a confused puppy, glancing up at him with a doe-eyed look. fuck, he wants to bundle you up in his arms. he wants you to fall asleep on his chest, wants to keep you there forever. god, who thinks stuff like that?

(he needs to get a grip, and fast. he can already feel his ears growing hotter.)

”it looks… kind of ridiculous, doesn’t it?” you mumble, sheepishly, clouded with what he thinks must be shyness. cute. ”this isn’t really my size…”

suguru lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head, raven locks swaying with the movement. ”i can see that. looks good on you, though.”

”… does it?” you let your arms fall slack, at your sides, the softened fabric swallowing your hands entirely. he can’t even see the tips of your fingers. oh, how his heart aches — it’s squeezing so tightly he fears his chest might cave in, but all he can do is nod.

he turns around, again, absently clearing his throat. clinking the teaspoon against the rim of your cup, stirring idly. ”is it comfortable?”

”mhm!”

a warm smile. ”good.”

silently, you scoot closer, taking your rightful place beside him. resting your elbows on the counter, watching his movements, the flick of his long fingers. one of his rings catches on the ceramic, a quiet clang.

”here,” he hums, pushing the cup towards you. when you look up, his eyes are crinkled at the edges, warm and sweet, a melting pair of honeycombs. ”drink up.”

a moment passes. ”… you really are too sweet for your own good, you know that?” 

suguru grins. his heart blossoms a little more; petals sticking between the ridges of his ribs. it manifests as a delighted little chuckle, flowing out his throat.

”don’t thank me yet — there’s sushi for you in the fridge. they let us bring leftovers home again.”

”really? i can have some?”

suguru raises a brow. smiling, all the while. ”would i be offering otherwise?”

(you can have anything, he wants to say. i doubt i could say no. i’m a little weak, when it comes to you.

such embarrassing words.)

a heavy sigh escapes you, laced with relief. taking hold of the cup, raising it to your lips, sipping slowly. ”god, you’re the best. i’m starving.”

”haha… better eat, then, yeah?”

nod, nod. you give him another one of those giddy grins, putting your cup down, taking a step back. suguru can’t help but turn his head, to catch a glimpse of you — how cozy you look, waddling around in that big hoodie, hair a little tousled. humming softly to yourself, tapping the tips of your fingers against the handle of the fridge. it mashes well with the endless pitter patter against the windowpane. a purr of thunder echoes in the distance, and suguru feels at peace. hyacinths line the windowsill, the crinkle of a plastic container being rustled rings out across the room. he watches, listens, observes. wallowing in the feeling. 

domesticity. 

with a breathy, blissed-out exhale, his eyes fall shut. smile dripping with sweetness, barely contained. wishing on every single droplet that you’ll stick around a little longer than your lease allows.

”here,” you grin, stepping into his line of vision. handing him a plate full of sushi, all his favorite pieces. ”you eat up, too.”

suguru smiles.

”what would i do without you?”

(that’s a bridge he’ll worry about crossing another day.

for now, this is more than enough.)

[tpwrtrmnky]

visibility

[ID: A three-panel "Pills that make you green" comic. People represented by crudely drawn stick figures.

Panel 1: A crimson person with a triangular body, a cyan person with a round body and a magenta person with a rectangular body are standing out in the street. A small creature is chasing another creature, orange, which has a tail and cat ears. In the background there is a lime green person wearing a magenta tail and ears, as well as a couple holding hands, one of them wearing a sage green shirt. There is a wanted poster with an image of a moss green person wearing a bandana.

Crimson: "yeah I'm glad we're seeing more chromatically diverse stories get the spotlight" Cyan: "it's cool I mean a lot of people don't even know about any chromatic-variant people other than green" Magenta: "yeah it's about time that green people stopped hogging the spotlight. They're so privileged."

Panel 2: Zoom in on crimson, cyan and magenta's faces Crimson: "Uh, I don't know about saying it's a privilege to be visible like that" Cyan: "I mean have you seen how vicious people are being towards green people, especially lately?" Magenta: "oh right"

Panel 3: Cut to the three standing in front of the wanted poster, showing Moss Green Person wearing a black bandana. It reads: "Wanted. If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of the terrorist known only as "moss green", contact corporate authorities immediately. They are to be considered extremely dangerous." Crimson: "Like I don't think this person's getting much from visibility right now" Cyan: "Yeah after the pride incident they've been everywhere" Crimson: "They're making up so much weird shit about them, like saying they killed someone and turned them into a couch" Cyan: "Oh yeah I heard they fought five guys on top of a jet in flight" Magenta: "What are they hoping to get out of lying to make them sound cool"

End ID.]

Start - Previous - Next

[gingersp1ce547]

WAIT FUCK. I THINK I FUCKING CRACKED THIS SHIT

WHAT IF Q!ROIER TRIED TO GO BACK TO EGG ISLAND TO FIND Q!CELLBIT AND EITHER GOT LOST ALONG THE WAY THERE OF ON THE ISAND ITSELF AND GOT RADIATION POISONING BC OF BEING CLOSE TO THE BLAST ZONE

Or fuck, i just re-checked the messages from yesterday and maybe he tried/succeeded to get to egg island but was drugged and kidnapped by the eye/ the eye’s workers?

Hey gang, since q!bad just said that the green on him is radiation poisoning, do we maybe wanna talking about how on his new skins q!roier is seemingly puking green shit?

[kissitbttr]

you slam your purse down on the kitchen counter, heels clicking towards the fridge.

behind you, toji rolls his eyes and throws his head back with a loud sigh. he shrugs off his coat before hanging it on the rack. “here we go” he mutters tiredly,

you throw a glance over your shoulder and shoot a glare at him. “what?”

“nothing” toji strides towards you with hands on his hips. “just think that maybe you should act your fucking age for once, sweetheart”

and it makes you let out the loudest yet sarcastic cackle in the middle of the kitchen, unaware of toji’s clenching jaw as he stares at you.

“funny you should say that because it was definitely me who’s acting like my own age while my fiancée was out whoring himself out with a skinny blonde skank in green dress during the gala”

oh fucking—

“jesus” he sighs, rubbing his face up and down with both palms. staring at how your body turns away from him, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and closing it with your heel. “this is what is all about?!”

“yeah, what else?” you sass, looking at him while twisting the cap off. “got another bitch you’re flirting with i do not know about?”

thread carefully fushiguro he thinks, don’t forget how mean she can be

“baby..” he tries to talk softly with you, calming himself so he wouldn’t lash out. “she was an investor… it is my job to find a high quality investor so i would be able to extend my business overseas.. why would i be flirting with another woman when i got you there with me tonight, hm?”

you raise an eyebrow, hand on hip. “so are you saying you’d flirt with more if I wasn’t coming with you?”

he gapes. “what the fuck— that’s not what i meant! you’re my woman! why should i even look at other girls?!”

“you just did tonight!” an argument leaves your mouth. “right in front of me!”

“i fucking wasn’t!” he raises his voice. “why would you even think that?!”

“you were staring at her far too long” you point out, eye brows scrunching together, a sign that tells him that you’re not wrong,

toji shakes his head, “we were having a conversation!”

“so you had to look at her like that?!”

“where the fuck my eyes should be looking then?!”

your tongue clicks against your teeth, watching how your man becoming frustrated. “my tits”

and there it is. the smart comeback that toji loves and hate at the same time. fucking christ, he sometimes wonders how on earth could he put up with you for so long.

the answer? ask God.

“you’re being a smarty pants right now with me, mami”

“nope” you pop out the word, putting the bottle down on the counter it creates a sound. “dead serious.” you turn on your heel and move to the other side of the room,

“oh we are not finished” in quick seconds, toji is able to pull you by your hips and draw you to him. causing you to let out a gasp. “hey, hey—how long have we been together, hm?”

no answer. instead, you look away. arms crossed over your chest. but toji isn’t having any of that, his one hand moves under your chin to get you to look at him.

“come on—how long?”

“…three years” you mumble

he nods, locking his eyes with you. “exactly… and when you kept rejecting me because you weren’t saying yes each time i ask you out… what did i do?”

you sigh, eyes closing for a moment. “waited a whole six months for me. sent me details about your whereabouts and what you were doing because you wanted me to know that you’re serious about having a relationship with me”

again, toji nods. the grip he has on your hip loosen, palm squeezing the soft flesh over the fabric of the dress. “now… would i even be willing to throw away our three years spent together for a woman that I don’t even know about nor find attractive? do you not trust me, baby?”

the tone of his voice becomes softer, eyes pleading to let you know that he’s here for you. and it’s always going to be you. he sees a future together even far before the two of you hit your first anniversary. you’re it for him.

“i do, ji-ji” a pout forming on your lips, eyes looking down as you hold onto his arms. “never doubted you one second”

“then why did you do what you did, hm?” he pulls you in closer, arms snaking around your waist. “you know that I wouldn’t leave you—never in a million years—the thought of finding another woman has not even crossed my mind, gorgeous…”

your shoulders come up in a weak shrug, “just don’t like it when girls are attracted to you… it’s pissing me off that they know you’re hot”

he laughs at that, pecking your forehead. “while that might be true, you then know how it feels to be me when i see men gawking over my fiancée. it’s crazy.”

toji earns a small smile from you, blushing a bit. “i guess…”

“you know what goes through my mind when i was talking to the woman tonight?” he asks, watching you shake your head. “i kept thinking about wanting to fuck you in this dress.. so bad.. you were such a distraction I couldn’t think straight” he groans,

with a giggle, you ask “really?” hands moving up around his broad neck and shoulders. he nods with a half smirk. “do you still want to?”

he raises both of his eyebrows, before moving his hands down to your thighs and catching you off guard by throwing your body over the shoulder with one arm. toji picks up the cold bottle of water off the counter and easily make his way upstairs with a giggling soon to be wife.

“you’ll find out soon enough, doll”

[shrimpybbq]

green thumb

synopsis: high school gf loves her veggie garden and so does charlie. rafe is clueless and lacks a green thumb, but does his best to be supportive.

The warm sun shone through the windows of the Cameron house, it’s rays casting a golden hue across the spacious living room that currently housed half of the aforementioned Cameron family. The tall frame of Rafe Cameron lay horizontal on the plush couch, his arms wrapped protectively around the small baby atop chest. His sweet little girl had only been born a few months ago, but she was already growing too fast for his liking. Each day was so precious to Rafe, knowing Emmy would never be this small again, so he cherished the mundane moments like this one, letting her use his chest as a mattress for as long as she wished. He basked in the rise and fall of her chest, the little grunts she let out as her dreams took place.

Rafe had been on the couch for an hour or so, letting his wife spend time with Charlie. The young boy loved his sister, but becoming a big brother was challenging. He was no longer the main focus of his parents and growing used to sharing the attention had been troubling for the boy. He would pout when his mother left his side to feed his sister, clinging tearily to her sleeve. It broke both Rafe and his wife's heart, and the pair knew they needed to do something to make Charlie know he was still just as important as before. That was when they noticed how much the little boy loved his mother's veggie garden. He was always trying to follow his mother outside, eager to play in the soil and spend time with his favourite person.

Each morning, the young mother would climb out of bed silently, her footsteps softly padding across the carpet in an attempt to not disturb the sleeping baby in the room. A soft kiss to her daughter's forehead before she disappeared outside to her veggie garden. At Tannyhill, the girl had grown a few herbs - chives, rosemary, thyme - that sort of thing. Rafe had never really noticed until one day he caught her sneaking out, and thinking the worst he followed her. He had frozen when instead of seeing her leaving the property or meeting another man, she had crouched down in front of the old neglected herb garden. Rose had tried to grow some herbs at one point before giving up on her faux housewife act, and Rafe had never really paid attention to what remained. His curiosity peaked as he watched his girlfriend gently water the soil and pat it in place, humming quietly to herself. Content with knowing her whereabouts, Rafe quietly stalked back indoors, tucking the knowledge away in his mind.

When the family moved to their new home, he decided to surprise his now-wife with a special section in the backyard just for her. He'd spent a few hours one morning while she was in town building planter boxes, filling them with soil and setting up a hose nearby. Rafe was so excited to surprise her once she returned home, covering her eyes with his hands as he led her out to the yard. Little Charlie sat on her hip despite her pregnant belly, his hands clinging to his mother.

"Hey-hey! No peeking! Don't you dare," Rafe muttered as she tried to move her head away.

"Just tell me, please?" She begged, growing impatient. It didn't help that Rafe's guiding skills left a lot to be desired.

"Just know that you're gonna like it, 'kay?"

When his hands dropped away from her eyes, she gasped softly. The perfect little garden set-up stood in front of her, all ready to go. Eyes wide, she turned to Rafe.

"Wha- how, I- how did you know?" She questioned incredulously. No-one had ever done anything like this for her. Rafe grinned down at her as his arm wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her into his frame.

"I have my ways," he drawled cheekily, "I did good, huh?"

He watched as she nodded, turning to Charlie, "Should we go have a look?" The little boy nodded and Rafe stood on proudly as his wife and son went to investigate the new garden.

Rafe noticed Emmy stirring, the girl beginning to grumble as her hunger grew. He knew she needed to be fed or soon, the whole neighbourhood would hear the girl's screams. As he slowly pandered out to the yard, his eyes fell upon his wife and the small blond boy crouched at her side. With a watering can in one hand, Charlie gently delivered water to the small carrot and tomato plots. He squealed in excitement as his mother praised him for his effort, gently patting the soil around the growing vegetables as she did the same. Rafe looked at the two proudly, wishing he didn’t need to interrupt them, but alas, little Emmy began to whine loudly, catching the attention of her mother. She turned around quickly to see the small girl baby tucked securely in her father’s arms, and stood up.

“Hungry?”

“Don’t you know it,” Rafe grunted. He handed Emmy over to his wife’s outstretched arms.

“She’s just like you, never full,” she sighed, exasperated, before undoing the oversized button up of Rafe’s she wore.

The pair settled into a moment of comfortable silence as their daughter latched, her little hands reaching to cling to the shirt lapels. Calm spread but only for a moment.

“Daddy! Look! Strawberry!” Charlie shouted. Rafe stalked over to his son and crouched down to match his height. It was almost comical to see such a tall man make himself so small, especially when he couldn’t control the expression of slight discomfort covering his face.

“Wow bud, look at that… did you and your mama do that?” Rafe grinned as Charlie nodded, pleased with himself. Rafe had never fully been able to get into the groove of gardening, finding the waiting too painful to ever properly enjoy the art. But for his son, he would do anything - and so he played along. He would ask questions, get his son to show his new plants, praise his little sprouting vegetables and make sure his son knew he was proud of him. He wasn’t above forgetting which seed plot was which, but he tried. For a few moments, silence blanketed the family as an engrossed Charlie continued to tend to him plants.

“Mama and I have carrots too!” The boy exclaimed.

“Oh yeah? When are we gonna eat them, little man? How much longer until they’re ready?” Rafe asked, reaching his hand out to steady Charlie as he began to lean over the garden. Charlie looked up at his mother questioningly, the woman now seated on the bench nearby. She hummed softly as she thought for a moment,

“Maybe another month or two? We only planted them last week, C.”

The boy returned his gaze to Rafe, smiling at his father. Rafe looked down at his mini-me, sighing as he picked the boy up in his arms, standing and walking over to his wife. She had finished feeding Emmy now, and had the sweet little girl resting against her chest.

“Good thing we still have a grocery store nearby, huh?” Rafe chuckled, “Not gon’ starve.”

He grimaced at the sudden pinching sensation against his bicep, High School Gf sending a glare to him as she pulled her hand away. Shit.

“But hey - once those carrots are ready, we should make a big salad. You know that one you like, bud? We can make it for dinner one night. How’s that sound?” The momentary anxiety was evident in the way Rafe quickly spoke, desperately hoping to avoid a meltdown from the toddler. He was at an age where his sensitivity was high.

“Promise, daddy? And we have ice cream after?”

Both Rafe and High School Gf exhaled with relief. Crisis averted. Rafe nodded down at his son and when the boy extended out his pinky finger to affirm their promise, he grinned.

“Pinky promise, C.”

the pure domesticity of this would be sickening to the old rafe lol

[rafey-baby]

hidden 4

c/w: hostage/stockholm syndrome situation, outlaw!rafe being his usual self towards pogue!reader, mentions of murder & violence, a surprise in the grocery store, smut: dub-con (!), fingering, p-in-v, unprotected sex, size kink, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.7k

it’s here! (one more part left!!) hope u enjoy xx

part 1 part 2 part 3 & part 5

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“A picture provided by a passer-by has led us to believe that Rafe Cameron, the suspect for the murder of a police officer is still on the island and has possibly been in contact with the witness who now wants to withdraw his statement, not wanting to testify in court due to personal reasons. However, the investigation is still ongoing and Cameron remains the main suspect, which means that if you have any information about his whereabouts, please do not hesitate—” 

Rafe twists the car radio off with a scoff.  

“The fuck they're gonna do with a blurry photo? Unless they find another witness or some actual proof, they don’t have shit on me,” he mutters more to himself than her as he yanks open the door and lets it slam closed; leaving her to scramble after his exasperated steps through the grocery store parking lot.  

She doesn’t know how Rafe managed to discover the name of the witness or why a few days ago she sat in his truck parked outside the poor guy’s home keeping watch, but at this point she’s decided that the universe simply must have something against her peace of mind.  

When she asked about his visit, he simply shrugged it off with a ’Don’t worry about it, s’all good. Just had a little talk with him’ which honestly made unease settle into the bottom of her stomach because it was most definitely not the entire truth.  

For the following days, she tried her very best to avoid his intimidating presence as to not give him a reason to get mad at her while he made several phone calls and took care of business. However, acting as if he wasn’t there wasn’t the easiest task since her house, despite the cozy atmosphere, isn’t very grand.  

Whenever she'd try to find sleep in her soft sheets, his heavy presence in the next room would send a shiver up her spine and erase any prospects of getting rest. And when she’d try to cook dinner, he’d be looming way too close for comfort and make her accidentally drop a pan on her kitchen floor. Therefore, she's not exactly feeling her best. 

As they step through the sliding doors, Rafe is hiding under black sunglasses and an old baseball cap he borrowed (stole) from her; trying to keep a low profile and appear as ordinary as any casual customer shopping for essentials since he’s practically emptied her fridge at this point. 

“Do you want red or green grapes?” She inquires as she peers down at the fruit. 

“Don't really give a shit. Just get both,” he grumbles out, seemingly all too aware of his surroundings; antsy to just get out of the store already. 

“That’s not very helpful,” she complains quietly as she decides on the green ones and pushes the shopping cart forward with Rafe close behind.  

And she’s all too preoccupied by picking out what she wants for breakfast when all of a sudden, he grabs her face in his big palms and presses his lips against hers.  

She lets out a surprised noise that gets swallowed up by him as he slots their mouths together while her entire body tenses up in response to him pushing her against the shelves that display different types of bagels. 

She’s momentarily disconcerted, doesn’t remember the last time she’s been kissed like this; all rough and inconsiderate. And maybe that’s why she’s beginning to feel light-headed; every coherent thought wiped away because him kissing her makes absolutely no sense. Therefore, she doesn’t even realize she’s reciprocating the kiss before her distracted mind stirs awake and soon enough, she’s pulling away with creased brows. 

“Rafe, what the—”  

However, she’s interrupted by the hollow of his hand plastering over her mouth.  

“Shut up,” he hisses lowly, eyes alarmed and shoulders tense.  

She’s about to protest before he nods towards a couple of officers a few feet away from them; apparently having just passed them. They’re strolling through the aisle leisurely, chatting freely and not paying them any mind because why would they do anything except roll their eyes at a lovey-dovey couple making out next to the organic whole wheat toast?  

Oh.  

She can’t believe she didn’t notice them; figuring that if she was the one running from the cops, she wouldn’t last a day. Before her brain has the chance to catch up and command her to scream for help though, she feels the barrel of his gun poking at her chest, forcing the desperate pleads to die out on her tongue.  

She stares into threatening larimar and blinks; too frightened to even inhale too loud. Neither of them move until the policemen have rounded the corner and leaving them the only people standing in the bread aisle.  

And he doesn’t think too much of the kiss, simply a means for him to stay under the radar but unfortunately her head turns into a blank piece of paper, not able to say a word until they’re walking the grass-covered steps to her threshold.  

“Why would you do that?” She’s fuming as he locks the front door. 

“Was just tryin’ not to blow my cover, calm down,” he grumbles out and sets down the grocery bags.  

“By kissing me?” She snaps in exasperation.  

“Yeah, well there wasn’t exactly time to think about anything else,” he seems so nonchalant about all this, as if he doesn’t care one bit. She figures he doesn’t because it seems that for him it’s the most tedious thing in the world to consider other people’s feelings for one second.  

Maybe she didn’t want him to kiss her, of all things. Didn’t want him to make the muddy thoughts brewing beneath the surface of her sanity any louder than they already were. Because despite how hard she’s trying to convince herself that him shoving her around and walking around her house as if he owns it doesn’t affect her, it wouldn’t change the fact that something about his dominating presence is slowly but surely making her grow curious.  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She drops her keys to the ceramic bowl in her hallway, walking towards the living room; wanting to put as much distance between them as possible in order to have some space to think.  

“I mean, it’s not like you seemed to mind too much, you did kiss me back,” he points out as heavy footsteps follow her.  

“I was just…in shock, okay?” She turns around and her voice is loud, tone frustrated. 

“Don’t fucking raise your voice at me,” he warns her, low and gravelly; making her shiver.  

“And if you were just in shock, then why are you blushing right now, hm?” He takes a step closer to inspect her, too close. 

“I’m— I’m not blushing,” she tries to deny. However, the cherry tint heating the apples of her cheeks gives her away.  

“You’re a shit liar, you know that?” He chuckles, amused. “Bet you liked me kissing you, hm? Just being too much of a stubborn Pogue to admit that.”  

Her dumbfounded eyes stare at him in silence because she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say to that.  

“Usually not into whiny pups but should just fuck some sense into you so you’d wipe that stupid pout off your face, yeah?” He rasps out, looking at her with something devilish glimmering in the aquamarine of his eyes.  

“You’re a fucking psycho!” The accusation escapes past her lips before she has the chance to think about it.  

And at that, he harshly grabs her jaw between rough fingertips; mushing her cheeks together and making her teeth bite into the gummy walls of her mouth.  

“What did you just call me?”  

She realizes her mistake too late.  

“Didn’t— didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” her frightened eyes are wide.  

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He dryly laughs in her face, finding entertainment in her torment.  

“Yes, I don’t know why I—”  

“You gon’ make it up to me?” He asks as he feigns contemplation.  

“What?” 

“Cause I think this fucking psycho ordering you around like a puppy gets you wet, huh? You don’t think I’ve seen the way you look at me?” He lets go of her jaw, tall frame towering over her. 

“I don’t…what are you—” she’s unable to move, trepidation creeping up her spine along with an odd form of intrigue that makes her respiration grow arduous because he’s not exactly wrong.  

“Should we check?” He raises his brows. 

“What— what are you doing?” She tries to take a hesitant step back, albeit uselessly; her back thumping against the wall when he corners her into it. 

“That’s not a no,” he tilts his head at her, mocking her. And then he’s pushing his hand into her pants, past the waistband of her panties and feeling her out; fingertips finding the stickiness already present.   

She gasps, surprised by the sudden pressure against her attention-starved cunt.  

“Huh, look at that. Should’ve known you were a horny fucking girl when I first saw those stupid fake scared eyes, talking ’bout some ’Rafe I’m sorry please don’t hurt me I’ll do anything’ shit,” he raises his pitch to an overly extreme girlish squeak, meant to patronize her, yet somehow, it’s turning her on even more.  

“Bet you’d like that though, if I’d hurt you? Rough you up a little, hm?” His heady breaths tickling her lips is kindling a blaze deep in her tummy; arousing something novel, strange, unfamiliar. 

“Rafe…” she manages out since her head is spinning.  

“That’s right. Say my fucking name,” he’s chuckling as a digit slips down to prod at her opening and slowly pushing in; causing a faint whimper to leave the gaps of her teeth. 

“So fucking tight. Been a while, huh? Not gon’ lie been a while for me too. With all this shit with the cops haven’t exactly had the time to get my cock wet, you know? At this point s’getting a bit frustrating, if I’m being honest,” he rumbles mindlessly, too lost in examining her reactions to his fingers playing with her cunt to care about what he’s saying.  

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t think she’s physically able to form any kind of words at the moment, let alone coherent sentences. His thumb rubbing lazy circles against her swollen clit leaves her dazed and she knows this is wrong, it’s so wrong yet she can’t deny how good it feels to have him touch her like this.  

“Now that I’m thinking about it, haven’t tried Pogue pussy before, wanna help with that?” His low drawl is nearly hypnotizing; her morals turning more and more hazy by the second and evaporating into the tension-filled air surrounding them.  

“Rafe…I don’t—” 

“You’re soaked. When’s the last time you got fucked good?” He interrupts her.  

“I don’t...remember,” she mumbles out.  

“Don’t remember? Shit, Puppy,” there’s a condescending lilt to his pity and she whines when he drags his finger out and nudges it back in again.  

“The guy I was with wasn’t, um, the best so…didn’t really wanna do it again and stuff,” she timidly admits.  

“You’re letting a guy who can’t make you come between your legs? Such a shame. But not really a surprise those Pogue boys don’t know how to fuck. I mean, no wonder you’re so wound up,” the edges of his mouth curl.  

“I’ll take care of it though, make you feel so good, yeah?” His breathy promises try to coax her to give in. 

“Rafe, I don’t know…”  

“Listen, I’m just saying, probably gon’ be here for some time until everything settles and gotta kill the time somehow, no?”  

“But this is wrong, you— you threatened to kill me,” she reminds him and herself with the remnants of her determination.  

“Yeah, yeah, that wasn’t very…nice, but don’t be acting like you don’t want this. All I’m saying here is, you’re the one dripping down my hand right now and really, I’d be doing you a favor,” his crooked logic goes unnoticed by her as she slowly blinks up at him. 

“We really shouldn’t—” she’s interrupted by another digit squeezing into her achy cunt, making her moan out at the sudden stretch. 

“Don’t worry your little head over what we should and shouldn’t do, alright? If you’re worried what your pathetic Pogue friends might think, I don’t kiss and tell. Can be our little secret, yeah?” He grins down at her. 

“Rafe, I don’t think we should…” she tries again. 

“Shh. What did I just tell you, hm?” He hushes her with the expanse of his palm pressing against her clit making her suppress another whimper.  

“Promise to go slow?” She asks without a clue as to why she’s not trying to prevent this.  

What’s wrong with her? She tries to convince herself that she’s only allowing for this to happen because maybe then she’ll finally get him out of her system. 

“Of course,” his conformation doesn’t sound all too veracious when something hungry glints in his eyes.  

“You gon’ let a Kook show you what you’re missing, hm?” He rumbles before he’s pushing her onto the couch and following soon after; mouth sloppy as it molds over her own and tongue warm when it intrudes her mouth. Quick fingers toy with his belt until he’s tugging the zipper of his pants down and making her eyes flicker down when he takes himself out. 

“You’re so big,” her rounded eyes ogle at his cock, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip when she notices how it twitches in his hand in response to her words.  

“Shit, you think it’ll fit?” He wonders out loud, grabbing her hips and dragging her closer with strong arms. 

“I don’t know…” she trails off when he pulls down her shorts by the belt loops before the drippy tip is nudging at her entrance. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” he murmurs and then he’s tucking himself right into her weepy cunt.  

She cries out at the overwhelming stretch as she tries to accommodate to his size; thankful he’s not pushing all the way in yet because she already feels so full she’s not sure how she’s supposed to take any more of him.  

“Fuck, you really are a tight little thing, huh?” He grunts out.  

“Relax, yeah?” He coaxes before his mouth meets her neck; pasting wet kisses and letting the flat of his tongue lave over the sensitive skin there.  

He moves lower as his fingers pluck at the straps of her flimsy top before letting her tits out and taking a puffy nipple between his lips. They moan in tandem when his left hand reaches for the other, trying to loosen her up by pinching it between a thumb and an index finger. 

“Rafe…” 

“What? You want more? I’ll give you more, alright?” There’s almost a primal urge in the way he pushes in deeper; forcing a loud noise to tumble from the back of her throat when he begins to fill her up to the hilt. 

“There you go, taking it like a good fucking puppy, yeah?” He groans against her neck when her nails sink into his back muscles, scratching downwards and surely leaving marks.  

Then he’s flipping her over onto her stomach with one swift movement, pushing all the way in once more; fitting snugly inside as her walls flutter around him. 

She cries out at the new angle his cock is now poking at her insides as he shoves her face into the couch cushions with each jostle of his hips against her. And he’s not gentle, she’s not even sure he knows what the word means as he keeps stuffing her full over and over again; making her see stars when she can almost feel her orgasm on the tips of her fingers.  

“Such a filthy slut, aren’t ya? Letting a complete stranger fuck you like this in your own house?” A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he keeps nudging at the spongy spot inside her; her loud moans echoing around the room and she feels so good she thinks she’s gonna pass out. 

“Should stay here for longer, yeah? Just fuck this tight little cunt whenever I get bored, hm?” He pants, mouthing at her neck as his thrusts begin to grow lazy. 

And she has half the mind to agree. 

[thecharacterchronicler]

Snakebite || (Peacekeeper) Coriolanus Snow x Reader ||

Outline: Coriolanus has his eye on the new nurse of the caserne and he’d do anything to have her.

Word count: 5’593

Warnings: Peacekeeper Coryo is a warning in itself, blood, virgin/first time sex (and it’s not gentle), breeding/marking, pain, possessive behavior, rough sex, explicit smut.

Author’s note: If you’ve read my other stories, you know my way of writing peacekeeper Coryo is pretty wild. If not, please take the warnings seriously before reading this one. This is prompt # 4. (sorry I didn’t feel like writing another arranged marriage one for now but I hope this will be good enough.)

“Good to see you back on your feet !” Smiley said, as a greeting when Beanpole entered the cafeteria and joined them at their table.

“We were worried, you hit your head pretty badly on the ground when you fainted today.” Bug added.

Coriolanus watched as his comrade took place in front of him, his tray overly filled with an array of different foods. He was still pale and had a bruise on his forehead from where he had hit the ground but despite all that, he seemed happy. So happy in fact, that Coriolanus wondered if they had drugged him at the infirmary to put him in such a state.

“I’m honestly starting to wonder if you don’t do that on purpose each time we train outside, just so the new nurse gets to take care of you.”

“There’s a new nurse ?” Coriolanus inquired, his curiosity piqued by something finally remotely interesting.

“I think she’s an apprentice.” Beanpole corrected.

“Didn’t you notice the amount of guys lining up in front of the infirmary door these days ? I heard everyone talk about how beautiful that girl is.” Smiley added.

Coriolanus thought about it for a moment but couldn’t really recall noticing anything out of the ordinary. Not that he paid much attention to life in the barracks anyway. Or in District 12 in general. He missed the Capitol and his thoughts often drifted back to his old life rather than focusing on his current situation.

“She really is beautiful.” Beanpole commented, to answer Smiley, with a stupid smile on his face. He may as well have heart shaped eyes from how obvious his crush on the girl in question was.

The other soldiers at the table laughed of their friend’s amorous daze and everyone soon focused their attention back on their meal, knowing that they needed to gain some strength for what the commander had planned for them on the next day.

Smiley and Bug stood up as soon as their trays were empty, but Coriolanus lingered a moment at the table, watching Beanpole stuff his face with green beans and spinach leaves. He wondered how someone who lacked basic knowledge of table etiquette could be from the Capitol too. People there, even poor, were more refined and elegant usually. Was District 12 slowly turning him into some kind of feral animal ? What if it was happening to Coriolanus too ? What if he didn’t remember how to behave properly once he’ll be back in the Capitol ? The thought terrified him, the one thing he had promised himself was that he refused to let District 12 change him.

“Crap, I forgot to ask for painkillers.” Beanpole managed to say, despite his still full mouth.

“Didn’t you have a whole tablet of those in your trunk from the last time you hit your head against a tree ?” Coriolanus asked him, unable to conceal his sucpicious tone. He was wondering if, indeed, the young soldier was faking being of such fragile composure and in weak condition just to be granted extra trips to the nurse’s office. Not that he cared about his friend’s whereabouts, he just cared to know if Beanpole was this good of an actor, able to hurt himself just to get something he wanted.

“I used a few after I burned my fingers when I was on cooking duty and sold the rest on the black market.” He answered, totally and foolishly honest with Coriolanus. He attempted to stand up, his tray still half full but almost lost balance, barely able to catch himself.

“Are you alright ?” Coriolanus asked him, standing up to help steady him, even though he really didn’t want to.

“Yeah, it’s just the concussion.” Beanpole assured him. “I need to go back for some pills and then I’ll go to bed.”

“I’ll walk you there.” He offered, not out of the goodness of his heart but by sheer curiosity for the apparently very pleasant new nurse. He wanted to judge for himself, even though he didn’t expect her to be anything special, his comrades were so sex deprived that their standard barely reached the floor.

With a hand gripping his arm to help him walk steadily, the two peacekeepers made their way to the infirmary, Coriolanus almost dragging Beanpole behind him from how impatient he was to see what was really going on there.

At first glance, it seemed that Smiley told the truth, there were a line of more or less injured soldiers waiting for their turn behind the door, even skipping supper in hopes to be cared for here.

“It might take a while.” Beanpole sighed, ready to join the back of the line.

The door opened and a peacekeeper walked out with his arm in a cast, his face visibly upset but not because of the pain he had endured but because he was escorted out by Flavia, the old nurse instead of the new one. She gestured to the next man in line to enter her office and he shamelessly sighed in disappointment.

Beanpole and Coriolanus barely had time to take a step in direction of the end of the line when the door in front of them opened again, revealing you, wearing a white blouse and your hair tied up in a messy updo.

“Next please !” You called, and a soldier excitedly sauntered in your direction. But your gaze landed on Coriolanus for an instant, before noticing Beanpole leaning onto him for support. “Oh, is the concussion getting worse ?”

Coriolanus had to admit that you were very pretty indeed. Even with the worry that suddenly appeared on your face, you reminded him of the expensive dolls Tigris used to play dress up and hold tea parties for.

“I just need something for the pain.” Beanpole told you, trying to sound self assured but the sight of you made him smile stupidly again.

“He’s barely able to stand.” Coriolanus said because, as time went by, he kept leaning his weight more and more on him and at this point, he was starting to worry that he might have to carry him back to their dorm.

“Come in.” You said, standing aside to let them in the infirmary. There were a few whispers of indignation and protest as they passed by the line of eager soldiers, the one who almost got in taking his place back at the front while glaring daggers at them.

Coriolanus helped Beanpole to the bed placed in the middle of a small room, of which you closed the door and searched a shelf for a file, before stepping to the counter to retrieve some medical tools. He watched you as you carefully shone a light into Beanpole’s eyes, observing his pupils with attention before turning the small flashlight off and on in his face. You scribbled something in the file you had placed on the bed next to him, and exchanged the light for a stethoscope.

As you leaned forward slightly to reach his heart, your blouse hunched up, revealing some of the curves of your body to Coriolanus, who had a very privileged view of it all as he leaned against the wall behind you, his arms crossed over his chest.

He observed you carefully, starting to understand why all the young soldiers in the building were interested in you. There was something about you that was particularly enticing, maybe it was the alluring curves of your body, or maybe it was your pretty face and the way you made sure to be gentle as you examined your patients ? Whatever it was, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to forget it. And, as you turned around to take one more tool from the counter, you glanced at him in a way that made his whole body buzz with electricity, he could tell that you were disturbed by him, by his presence and by his appearance, the same hint of curiosity in your eyes than the one he felt for you.

————-

The sun was shining bright in the sky, yet it still did very little to ease the humidity that saturated the air. Coriolanus was assigned to patrol the borders of the District in the heat, while forced to wear his peacekeeper uniform and helmet, hand on his gun, always prepared. However, for once, it didn’t seem so bad. He knew that if he had a heatstroke and fainted, he might have the chance to see you again and the idea oddly excited him.

Actually, he had been thinking about you for most of the night, reminiscing of the perfection of your body underneath your white blouse and how you had looked at him, even smiled at him once when you had cleared Beanpole to go back to his dorm. He had seen with his own eyes the impressive amount of soldiers lining up by the door with the hope to spend a few minutes in your company and, this morning during breakfast, he had heard a group of them talking about how each of them was planning to attempt to ask you out before the weekend. You truly were the talk of the caserne.

He didn’t like that you had so many admirers, but what claim did he have on you ? He hadn’t even spoke more than a few words to you… And yet, he felt extremely possessive of you. Like you were some kind of precious treasure that should only belong to him. And maybe he had good chances to make everyone else jealous if he convinced you to give yourself to him, judging by the way you had looked at him, all he had to do was ask…

And, just for the sake of not waking up with a very painful and frustrating erection again - after dreaming of you, naked on your exam table for him - he was determined to shoot his shot at you. He knew it only was a matter of time until you’d agree to go out with one of the idiots who probably pestered you about it on a daily basis, so he had to act quickly.

He wasn’t sure of how he could fake a convincing heatstroke. And if he pretended to have fainted, he might stay there on his own all day until someone eventually found him and helped him. So he needed a better idea, something that wouldn’t require him too much theatrics to be convincing. In fact, being in real pain would probably help to coerce you into taking care of him before everyone else.

His fingers danced on the handle of his gun as he tried to imagine how bad the pain could get if he shot himself in the foot or in the knee. It would make him a pretty useless peacekeeper which might grant him a few weeks of forced vacation to recover but he was worried of where he might be sent to next if he wasn’t fit to be a soldier anymore…

He looked around him, seeing nothing but tall grass swaying in the wind and a rocky dirt road leading to a row of delabrated shacks that people from this District called homes. Not much to help with his plan.

Suddenly, something slowly undulating further down the road, moving the peebles on its way caught his attention. He approached carefully, realizing that it was a green snake trying to go back to the tall grass that it could use as shelter.

Coriolanus didn’t know much about snakes. Actually, his knowledge in the matter was so limited that he never would be able to tell the difference between a venomous snake and an inoffensive one. However, it seemed to him that this one was very similar to the one that had bit another peacekeeper’s ankle when they were running laps around the barracks. As far as he knew, the guy was still alive so it might be his best chance to get to see you again.

He kneeled down on the road and tugged the sleeve of his shirt up, offering his entire arm for the nervous snake to bite into. But it wasn’t aggressive enough to gratuitously attack a human being it seemed so Coriolanus picked the reptile up, feeling the cold scales under his fingertips before letting it fall on his bare arm. Nothing happened, except that the animal was now terrified and tried to slither away in the grass, at a surprisingly fast speed.

He barely managed to catch it before it vanished in the grass the same color as it was. He pulled it back to him and the reptile’s head snapped back to dig its sharp fangs inside the soldier’s exposed wrist.

Coriolanus grimaced, immediately pulling on the snake until he was able to pull his fangs out of his skin. He sent it flying across the road, not seeing where it landed as he focused his attention on his now aching wrist and the two dots of blood rapidly bubbling at the surface of his skin.

“Shit.” He breathed, the pain in his arm sharply stinging. It was almost as if he could feel the venom, slowly invading the blood in his veins.

He stood up, applying pressure to the bite so that he wouldn’t bleed too much despite the pain it provoked, and took off in direction of the casern. He was hoping that his plan would work and that he wouldn’t end up being treated by Flavia instead of you but, above all things, he hoped that he wouldn’t die from such a stupid action. You may be absolutely gorgeous but he wasn’t ready to die for that. Not yet.

When he knocked on the infirmary door, blatantly ignoring the queue in front of it, his main concern became reality as Flavia opened. The old nurse’s gaze was strict and unwelcoming, the polar opposite of your warmth and beauty.

“Another heatstroke ? Go wait in line for your turn.” She said, authoritatively.

“No, I was bitten.” He told her, showing her the mark on his now inflamed skin. Even if he was hoping to see you, his bite still needed urgent medical attention and he wasn’t sure he would survive if he had to wait in line before treating it.

Thankfully, as if on cue, your face appeared behind Flavia, eyes wide in surprise.

“I can take care of that, I just finished treating Armstrong’s heat rash.” You suggested and he could tell that you were hoping to see him as badly as he was hoping to see you.

“Alright. I was planning on taking a coffee break after this one, anyway.” Flavia nodded, before disappearing in her own office where a distressed soldier waited for her.

Coriolanus followed into the room where you had taken care of Beanpole the day before, but this time it was his turn to sit on the examination table. You repeated the same gestures as he had observed last time, fetching his file from the overflowing shelf before approaching to examinate his bite.

“Did you see what the snake that bit you looked like ?” You asked, as you ran your gloved fingers over the two deep holes in his skin. He noticed the worry that instantly showed on your face, making him wonder if you truly cared this much about your patients.

“It was green, and pretty small.” He recalled, momentarily forgetting about the pain in his arm because of how close you were to him. He could smell your perfume and see the subtle variations of the specks of color in your eyes from here.

“Mmh, I don’t think it’s a venomous one but it’s probably going to hurt for a few days.” You announced, going back to the counter to take a small glass jar in your hands. Then, you carefully applied an herbal salve to his wound, instantly giving him some relief from the stinging pain that lingered there. “But I only have one jar of this salve so you’ll have to come here so I can apply some to the wound and change the bandages every day.”

“Alright.” He answered, struggling to contain his excitement at your words.

You gently wrapped his wrist up in an immaculately white bandage, soothing the last bit of pain he still felt from the bite. He saw it as the perfect opportunity to ask you what every soldier in this building was dying to.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get a drink with me sometime ?” He suggested, trying to sound as confident as he usually was but his heart was racing in his chest.

You lifted your eyes up to meet his, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“That sounds nice but unfortunately I’m not allowed to do that. The only time I can be seen with peacekeepers without risking my job is here, in the infirmary.” You replied and he silently stared at you for a moment, trying to determine if it was an excuse or if you really would have accepted if your position allowed you to. “But maybe you could spend more time here ? With me ?”

Your voice was hesitant and a lovely blush creeped to your cheeks as you said that, a risk you seemingly were ready to take for him.

“I could.” He smiled, charming as ever. “But how would we pass the time ?”

“Maybe we could get to know each other ?”

His smile grew wider as the vivid images of last night’s dream filled his mind again, visions of you naked for him, begging for his dick, that he was determined to make come true right now. He stood up, stepping closer to you, his hands already tugging at your blouse to get it to slide down your arms.

“I’d love to get to know you more… Intimately.” He whispered, his lips brushing over yours. And, since you didn’t step back or push him away, he finally pressed his mouth to yours, in a chaste kiss that still managed to get his whole body buzzing with adrenaline.

Your professional blouse dropped to the floor and his arms closed around your waist, pulling you into him, where you could very obviously feel the hard bulge that had formed in his pants pressing against your stomach.

His lips moved to your neck, peppering it with wet kisses as he eagerly tried to find the hem of your shirt so that he could pull it off of you and see what was hidden underneath. You let him, even though your heart was about to implode inside of your chest.

He only stopped kissing you to be able to take a good look at your now bare chest in front of him, the sight worth a thousand snake bites.

“Oh gosh.” You whimpered, as he roughly squeezed your boob in his hand, taking a bite at your lower lip to shut you up because you could say anything else.

He probably should have taken his time to enjoy every inch of you as he uncovered them one by one, giving attention to your very appetizing breast before attempting to remove your pants but he was never one to be patient, nor could he possibly renounce to something that he so ardently desired.

“Wait, wait.” You pleaded against his mouth, your hands on his chest to gently push him away but even like this, he had trouble to let go of you.

“What’s wrong ?”

“It’s just that… I wasn’t expecting this. I… I never did this before.” You stuttered, your eyes fixed to his with a bit of panic on your face.

“Well, it’s not that uncomfortable in here.” He remarked, briefly looking around before focusing his attention back to you. You were shorter than him and almost naked, chest bare and pants tugged down to your thighs. All he had to do was reach between your legs and he’d be able to catch a feel of your panties, see if you were already wet for him or if he’d have to work for it. As for him, he was already rock hard, his cock begging to be released out of his pants so that it could be shoved inside you. But he enjoyed being in his uniform in front of you, while you were about to be naked and vulnerable, at his entire mercy…

“No, I mean… I never did it” Your words had the effect of a cold shower over his head, pulling him out of his hungry contemplation of your body and getting his full attention on you. For the second time, he stared at you while trying to decide if he believed you or not, the idea of you still being a virgin making no sense in his mind, how could you be ? You were far too gorgeous to not have had many opportunities to lose your virginity to someone in the past, even here, soldiers lined up at your door every day, desperate for your attention. Surely one of them would have convinced you to do it by now. Or at least, if you were so concerned about the rules, some coal miner from your district or a free spirited muscician would have done it.

“You… How come ?” Was all he managed to say, the question burning his lips since it seemed entirely impossible to him that you’d still be so innocent and unaware of the pleasure you were missing out on.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t interested enough in anyone to go this far…”

Coriolanus couldn’t help but smile at your answer. He felt insanely pleased imagining you refusing all these filthy miners and weak soldiers. You had standards. And you definitely were the only person that he had met in District 12 who was this reasonable.

“I can show you what it’s like if you want me to.” He suggested, trying to sound detached but the idea of being the one to take your virginity, the one to corrupt your innocent body, was making his cock ache in his pants.

You seemed hesitant, looking around at the office. He could understand that it probably wasn’t how you had imagined your first time would happen, not here, not with him. Yet, when your pretty eyes landed on him again, you quietly nodded.

He had to be cool about, appear as if it was a regular thing for him, like he had done it before many times and would be doing it again with other girls, but his blood was boiling with excitement. When he had asked you out for a drink, he was expecting to have to work for it. He would have been proud of being seen with you at The Hob by all the recruits lining up for your attention, and he would have made sure to charm you into taking things further, probably in a dark alley outside where no one would have seen your perfect body except for him, but where surely some people would have heard how good he was making you feel.

Unable to wait any longer, he reached down to open up his pants and free his hard erection from his underwear, stroking it in his hand, enough to get it to develop to its full length but not too much, in case he might cum just from the way you were staring at it, with wide eyes and shock on your face.

“You’re so big, I’m not sure I’ll be able to do this.” You told him, worried.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to take it.” He assured you, with a proud smile on his face. He always liked when women noticed how well endowed he was. Even better when it made them nervous. “Sit down on the table.”

You obeyed, even though you still seemed very uncertain. He pulled your pants and panties down your legs, discarding them on the floor so that you really were completely naked now, beautiful and vulnerable.

“Maybe it’ll work if you enter just the tip.” You suggested, and an amused chuckle left his lips.

“Alright.” He agreed, but only to reassure you. He had no intention of depriving the rest of his length from entering you so you would have to take it fully eventually.

“Okay.” You sighed in relief but your body remained tense as he approached and forced your legs open. He held his cock in his hand and gently stroked your exposed folds with the tip, groaning from the pleasant warmth and wetness that instantly coated his sensitive skin.

He knew he should have been a gentleman about this and made sure that you were ready for him but he simply couldn’t wait. His desire for you was consuming him, he needed to have you and that instantly made him forget how cautious he should be to make sure the experience would be enjoyable for you too. So he lined himself up to your entrance and pushed forward.

“Just the tip.” You reminded him, your entrance stretching out for his wide dick, causing a sharp burn in your lower stomach.

“Right.” He said, with a smile, as he kept increasing the pressure that already felt unbearable inside you, very slowly but surely pressing his hips further against you.

“That’s too much.” You cried out, tears welling in your eyes.

“You can take it.” He said again, because one way or another, he was going to break that dam inside you and then, he’ll fuck you until he’ll be close enough to mark you as his with his cum.

“No, I really can’t.” You replied, your voice breaking. Coriolanus felt a pang of guilt in front of your distress, the grimace of pain on your face and the tears silently rolling down your cheeks weren’t exactly what he had imagined when he had fantasized about taking you on this examination table.

“Just try to relax.” He instructed, momentarily putting his eagerness and need for relief aside to focus on you. He pressed his hand between your legs, his thumb finding your sensitive spot and gently massaging it to ease you into it, mixing the pain of his intrusion inside you with the pleasure of his caresses.

With two fingers, he opened up your folds so that he could see his big cock shoved halfway inside your tight and aching pussy. He could see it sliding further inside inch by inch, his way of teasing your clit seemingly helping your body accept him.

And then, suddenly and without any warning, your pussy engulfed him. You cried out once more, as something inside you was teared apart to allow him to finally be completely buried in your tight warmth. Your arms instantly closing around his neck for support. He almost came from this alone, the force with which you clenched around him from the pain you felt almost making him dizzy.

“What’s going on ?” You asked, panicking. “Why did that hurt so bad ?”

“Your pussy just swallowed my cock on its own accord. Because despite the pain, you want me to fuck you, right ?” You want to feel me inside you, want me to show you what real pleasure is.” He explained, breathless, doing his best to calm down before his ejaculation might end this all too soon. “Say it, tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel you…” You told him, wincing when he started pulling away.

“And ?”

“I want to have an orgasm. I want to be fucked until you have one too.”

“Fuck.” He groaned, realizing that his plan to calm himself down by getting you to talk to him was failing miserably. He almost entirely pulled his cock out of you, only to shove it back inside slowly. As eager as he was for relief, he now wanted you to enjoy it too.

The more he gently slided back and forth inside you, the more your face eased back into a peaceful expression, the pain visibly fading as he tried his best to replace it with pleasure.

“Look how well you’re taking me now.” He told you, and you both looked down to his impressive cock, his length coated in your arousal and faint traces of blood as it went back and forth at a peacefully steady rythym. As tight as your entrance was, he still fitted inside you, managing to hit deep.

“Am I bleeding ?”

“Yes, but that’s normal, that’s how we know you’re no longer a virgin.” He explained, even if you probably knew that already.

“Is it going to be like this every time ?”

“No, now that I broke you in, you’re going to enjoy it when someone fucks you like this. You’ll be able to take it fast and rough with a little bit of practice.”

“Is this how you like it ? Fast and rough ?” You asked him, curious.

“Most people do.”

“Will you help me get used to it then ?”

“I already am, sweetheart.” He replied, his hands gripping your thighs to bring them up against his hips and give him better access to you. His movements amplified as his rocked his hips more rapidly now and you pressed your forehead against his, still fascinated by the way you could see his hard cock disappearing inside your folds and slamming deep inside you.

You closed your eyes, feeling something powerful building inside of you. A loud sound that carried the whole intensity of the pleasure that he was giving you escaped your lips. Your eyes widened and you covered your mouth with your hand, embarassed.

“Don’t, I want to hear you.” He told you, moving your hand away and pinning your wrist to the table. “And I want everyone outside to hear you too. Let them know I’m the one taking your virginity.”

“But… Flavia.” You warned him, breathlessly.

“She said she was going to take a break, she’s probably at the cafeteria.” He replied, trying to reassure you but in reality, he had no idea of what the other nurse was up to. He knew that you were risking your career if you got caught by anyone in such a compromising position but it didn’t really matter to him, not now, because he was pretty sure that if anyone bursted inside the room in hopes to interrupted him, he’d still keep fucking you until you truly belonged to him. Now that he had started, nobody would be able to stop him.

You didn’t object. You couldn’t. He could tell from the way you arched your back and rolled your eyes that there wasn’t a single reasonable thought in your head anymore. You needed relief as badly as he needed it too and that was exactly what he intended to give you.

“Oh… It’s starting to feel really good.” You panted, your nails digging in his shoulder to steady yourself as his thrusts grew a bit more brutal.

“Good.” He groaned, making sure to slam himself as deeply as he could inside you. Damnit you felt too good, he wasn’t going to be able to restrain himself much longer, the tightness of your virgin pussy around him and the knowledge that he was the first one to ever penetrate you so deeply was too much and relief instantly washed over him as warm cum spilled from his cock into you.

Fuck.

“Oh !” You exclaimed in surprise, not because he had climaxed without giving you a warning but because his twitching cock unexpectedly pushed you over the edge too. You were shocked by the strength of the orgasm that hit you, imploding in your core like a firework and washing over your entire body, ensnaring him inside you in reaction.

You moaned again, the pressure around him caused by your own climax felt unbearable. He was trapped in you and the contractions of your body were so intense that he groaned and felt his cock shoot another load of his seed inside you.

A moment went by during which only the sound of your panting breaths filled the room. Then, you relaxed and he was able to pull himself out, both of you watching as his soaked length dropped out of you. He adjusted his uniform, making sure he was presentable again as you did the same, putting your white blouse back on as if nothing had happened.

“I… I’ll need to take care of that bite again tomorrow.” You told him, still a bit breathless as you walked him to the door.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” He promised, with a grin.

Everyone stared at him as he walked out of the office. He smugly smiled at the line of soldiers and stood straighter, feeling extremely proud of himself. Not only had he managed to fuck the new nurse everyone was after but he had also taken your virginity and marked you as his. Of course, the soldiers waiting in line had no way of knowing that your blood was still on his cock and that his cum was probably dripping down in your panties by now but, if they were observant enough, they might notice how you were leaning against the door for support because your body was sore, or the trace of faint lipstick you had left on the collar of his peacekeeper uniform.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

[softieyuume]

"Never Yours."

✿ Sylus x fem!reader (non mc)

✿ He loves you. But you know his heart belongs to another.

✿ angst. no comfort.

"Stop it." Your voice carried no anger, no resentment, nothing - other than complete numbness as you stared up at the crimson eyed man in front of your apartment door. Your eyes were devoid of the love and warmth that once shone for him, it showed only exhaustion and.. sorrow.

Sylus shook his head, opening his mouth to argue once more but you held one finger up, a signal to shut him up. "I said stop, Mr. Qin."

Not love. Not Sylus.

But Mr. Qin.

The eventual realization that you were truly giving up on him and really, how could he blame you?

After taking your love for granted? After purposely neglecting you the past months? After abandoning you despite the years you two have been together?

After she came into their lives?

"I want nothing to do with you.. neither with her." You sighed quietly, trying your best not to breakdown in front of him after weeks of avoiding him like a plague. And like the notorious man he is, he finally tracked down your new whereabouts in Chansia City, miles away from Linkon, away from N109 Zone.

Away from him.

And now that he's found you, Sylus wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms again, even attempting to bring you back to him but stopped at your next words. "You said you loved me, but you still need her. You said you wanted me, but she's your everything- your real true love, your other half and I.. I will never be yours. Never was. Never will be."

Every words you spoke felt a sharp stab to your heart, your fist clenched so tightly that your knuckles turned white from struggling to keep your emotions in check - and Sylus noticed it. He noticed every single bit of it and the regret and guilt only gnawed on him further.

You let out a shaky breath, moved your hand to clutch the door handle as you continued to speak in a defeated tone. "So I'm begging you, please. Please leave me alone. I'm not supposed to be with you."

"I'm not supposed to be a part of the story in your life." 

Sylus swallowed a lump in his throat, heart ached at the sinking reality of losing you forever, desperate for a slither of hope to mend the broken bond between you two despite the undeniable truth that he can't let go of his other beloved either. Unwilling to give up, Sylus slowly reached out to you. "Angel.."

At the endearment, you finally snapped, unable to take it anymore. Tears stung your eyes as you lifted your hand, bright green swirls trailed between your fingertips, using your Evol as a strong gush of wind threw Sylus off balanced, causing his back to slam against the wall outside your apartment door behind him.

"Don't ever show your face here ever again." Your voice solemn and pained, a final glimpse of your cold yet gentle features caught his eyes before you finally slammed the door in front of him.

Your final words haunting him from that day onwards. "I despise you.”

[moriitis]

Don't talk to strangers on the internet.

Toby Rogers x Female Reader. Content/Warnings; phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, threats, graphic themes, sexual themes.

18+ MINORS DNI. NSFW/SMUT.

Word count; 4.7k

So, you met this guy. He was cute, his pictures on his social media were inviting enough and eventually the two of you got around to talking. He was.. charming of sorts, oh, and funny too! But there was one thing that always rubbed you the wrong way, how he always avoided certain questions. You'd had your fair share of friendships over the wonders of the internet, you knew a handful of people and if you were asked, you knew their age, whereabouts they came from and what their dog was called. The usual information you felt any friend was ought to know but this guy.. you weren't sure; a part of you just assuming that maybe he some sort of catfish? - Or just a very private person and hey, who were you to blame? The internet could be a weird, dangerous and pretty scary place. You'd had the phrase 'Stranger danger' drilled into your head more times than you could count. But him -

Toby.

That was all you knew of him. Well, other than he was also in his twenties and owned a crappy pick up truck. He'd met you through -

Toby: a friend of a friend….. thought u seemed cute :)

And well, he was cute to so fuck it; you gave him a chance and opened the DM he sent. His Instagram was plain as anything, with barely any followers and equally barely posts. Some crappy mirror selfie, a photo of his truck and then a picture of a cake. It all felt… well, weird and it gave your gut a weird feeling.

[Y/N]: friend of a friend? umm.. who?

Naturally, you were open to meeting new people and forming friendships, but your Instagram was pretty private and you couldn't think of which friend who would give it out without your consent.

1 Image Attached.

And it was a screenshot of your friends Instagram. It was.. better than nothing but it only opened up a lot more questions than answers. It was bad, you were single, lonely and he was cute; so fuck it you'd let it slide this once. After accepting his follow request, you allowed him further into your private life. The photos and pictures on your feed detailing every part and aspect of your life. The park you would visit, what you ate for breakfast, your Spotify wrapped, photos of your pets, it was endless but your Instagram was your safe space; so you posted a lot on there. Even after accepting him, a part of you expected him to almost immediately ask for nudes or better yet, send some unasked dick picture in your DMs. But that was where Toby surprised you, because for months he kinda just ghosted you or wouldn't message at all. You weren't going to complain, you liked not having someone spam the shit out of you.

Then, as days and weeks ticked by, you'd upload more. Admittedly, you forgot about your little DM encounter with Toby until he liked your photo. It was just a picture of your new nails, a little treat you'd like to get once the blue moon. As soon as you got the notification, your phone buzzed again and it was another DM from Toby.

Toby: hey. sorry i havent messaged in awhile. lol

You blinked, unsure on what to type back but it was too late now because you'd opened the message and he had seen that you had seen it. So you both sat in the chat, lingering, that familiar online green dot beside his profile picture as you thought on what to say. This small talk shit was… a bit boring and you hated it. So, after a moment, you typed a response.

[Y/N]: oh no dont worry its ok!

He read it in an instant.

Toby: im toby btw. srry i never like rlly introduced myself and now u probs think im some creep

A laughing emoji followed behind his sentence and you couldn't help the smile creeping across your face. You swiftly tapped your fingers against the screen as you typed back a reply.

[Y/N]: im [Y/N]. haha its ok

You cringed a little, you felt like you were being so blunt toward him; so for safety measures you sent a little smiling emoji after your own text.

The small talk flickered back and forth for a couple more months until Toby's messages became a little more consistent and as much as you hated to admit it; you were opening up to him more and more. The awkwardness of the first interaction seemed to have disappeared the more you interacted with him, yet that nagging voice in the back of your mind were persistent. Despite the time you had known each other, Toby would dodge each question you asked him.

[Y/N]: so where r u from?

Then suddenly he'd go offline. Then at other times he would respond at insane hours of the morning. Time zones, you thought. Maybe he were just across the country and he'd respond at times when you were asleep? It made sense, it was logical and yet that voice still lingered; that something was weird about this Toby user. His green flags kept you around though, or the random memes or reels he would send you that would make you laugh. Before you knew it, the months rolled into a year already of knowing him and each time he'd send you a message, there'd be a flutter of excitement in the pits of your stomach.

It was late, well, early actually. Your sleep schedule was beyond fucked and you were sleeping until noon and staying up until the early hours of the morning. Toby must've been a night owl too, because almost every time he saw you online in the early hours of the morning, he'd send a message. This time though, there was no message and he was offline, the chat between the two of you unusually quiet. Now, perhaps it was the lack of sleep and the impulsiveness that followed, but you were lingering in the chat; debating whether you should message him or not. You didn't want to bother or disturb him, especially if he were sleeping.. but you were adamant he had to be awake.

4:24 AM.

[Y/N]: r u awake

Silence, no respond and with a sigh you admitted defeat. Maybe you should just try to sleep. Then, that green bubble appeared next to his picture and you quickly tapped back into the chat.

Toby: now i am

[Y/N]: fuck im srry did i wake u up

Toby: lol nah i was joking :p

You rolled your eyes, smiling softly to yourself.

[Y/N]: wat u doin

Toby's speech bubble appeared, disappeared, appeared and then disappeared again in the chat.

1 Image Attached.

Your curiosity peaked and you raised a brow. Admittedly, you were nervous to open it because now you were convinced it was going to be a picture of his dick. This had, sadly, happened too many times and it had become a little predictable now. However, as you clicked opened the image, it was nothing but a picture of him laying on a bed. There was a tv on a dresser, it looked like he were watching some movie but honestly, your attention was elsewhere. The sheets were draped over his legs in an almost half-assed fashion. Your eyes, dare you admit it, trailed higher up the photo. His bare legs on display, one laid out straight while the other propped up with his knee in the air. It looked as if he were only in his boxers but you couldn't really tell, it was dark and the only thing illuminating the photo was the glare from the tv before him. Now, Toby was hot, you were single and you couldn't help but admit that maybe you were a little lonely and that photo opened up a lot more feelings than you anticipated to feel tonight. Swiping off the photo, you saw he was lingering in the chat and decided to message back quickly before it got weird.

[Y/N]: oh lol just watching tv. kinda boring.

You teased and Toby sent a laughing emoji.

Toby: probably better than wat u r doing… wat r u doing? huh?!

You laughed at the tone of message. With a huff, you raised your phone above you before snapping a photo. Your face, thankfully, was out of frame, but the photo allowed him to catch a glimpse of your collarbones; the rest of your chest tucked away under the thicket of your duvet. It was a teasing photo, you could admit that. He could see your jaw and jawline, a soft smile across your face.

It was also dark in your room, so you used the phone's flash to give him better access of what he was looking at. Then you sent, not wanting to give it another thought. Toby reacted to the photo with a gasped emoji but you knew he were just teasing, the motion enough to make you chuckle softly.

Toby: ur legit not even doing anything and me watching tv is boring? lol ok.

You loved how comfortable you now seemed with one another, a huge difference compared to a year ago when he first popped up in your DMs. His message made you laugh again, sending him a gif of someone poking their tongue out.

[Y/N]: u sound like a hater

Toby: me??? a hater???? LOLLLLLL sure.

Then the chat went silent a little, but he were still online; waiting, yearning even. This friendship between you and Toby was something you cherished, it flowed so well that it felt as if you guys had known each other longer than a year. With a sigh, you tapped your fingers against your screen; trying to find words to keep the conversation going. It seemed, however, that Toby thought the same thing and he had already beat you to it.

Toby: u know. ive never heard ur voice.

Those words, nothing but a simple array of pixels, was enough to make you feel another flutter of excitement. You were a little surprised by his message and you also knew that he were right. You hadn't heard his voice either and now a part of you were also equally curious.

[Y/N]: what r u implying? lol

Toby: idk. maybe i should have ur number and call u.

You raised a brow, it was smooth; trying to get your number and all that. You weren't going to hesitate, because admittedly you felt a little more comfortable with Toby than ever before.

[Y/N]: lol but its late and im tired. plus i sound like shit :p

It were true and even though everything in your very being told you that you wanted to call him, you were also a little nervous at the prospect of it.

Toby: u think i care?

He was right, why do you care? Maybe it was because there were feelings that were blossoming. Fuck, and that was bad itself as you had no idea if this guy even had a girlfriend. You didn't want to be some wrecker, or worse, the other woman. But why would you care? Is the only thought you could muster up, it's not like this phone call was going to go anywhere. You were friends, nothing else, no benefits, no strings attached; just two people who enjoy each others company. So, before you knew it you had typed your phone number away in the chat. Nothing followed after a couple minutes, making your hands clammy from sweat. God, you hated phone calls and now you were nothing but a puddle of sweaty anxiety as you waited for him to call.

Then there it was, your phone buzzing from the incoming call. It was an unknown number, naturally and you only assumed it was Toby's. Although you hesitated to answer, feeling yourself chew on the bottom of you lip. Quickly, you answered and pressed your phone to your ear. It was quiet, an awkward silence looming over the two of you.

"Hey," he spoke, his voice a lot more huskier and deeper than you imagined it to be. Immediately, you felt shy and swallowed back the lump in your throat to respond.

"Hey," you replied, your nervousness evident in your tone of voice alone. You could hear a short, brief chuckle emerge from the other end and you sat up a little, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I don't think you sound gross," he started, causing a small fluster of red to emerge on your cheeks. You were thankful this wasn't FaceTime. "I l-ll-.. like your voice." He spoke in nothing but a hushed whisper, which yeah, made sense considering it was nearly 5 AM. Toby had opened up to you about his stutters before, so hearing him struggle with some words were nothing out of the ordinary for you. You were thankful he trusted you enough to open up about it really.

You chuckled, trying your best to remain quiet. "Thanks," you started, your heart beating a million beats per second.

Then that awkward silence again and you cringed, licking your lips wet before speaking again.

"Sorry, I'm so awkward," you let you a short chuckle, running a hand through your hair as you tried to act more casual. Toby chuckled again.

"It's okay, I get it," he reassured, his voice soothing and comforting. You palmed nervously at your duvet, not even too sure what to say. There was always so much to say over text and now he had you pinned, in the spotlight a little and you were choking.

"There's a lot I want to say-" you admitted sheepishly and Toby hummed in interest.

"Then say it."

You exhaled a shaky breath, licking your lips once again. As much as he had you pinned, you also had him. There were so many questions you wanted to ask, so many things you wanted to know and now seemed as good time as any. If he were to hang up, then that would answer a lot of your suspicions. "I just feel like I barely know you."

"Then what do you w-ww-.. wanna know?" he asked, his voice gentle and welcoming and frankly it put you on edge a little. You didn't want to interrogate the man but this was the closest you had been to actually knowing more about him in the whole damned year you knew him!

"Well, I'm assuming your name isn't just Toby."

He chuckled.

"I mean, it's Toby… but I do also have a l-llast name, yeah."

You swallowed, throat becoming unbearably dry.

"Well… what is it?" You asked, your anxiety bubbling at the base of your throat as if you were about to throw up.

"Toby Rogers." You could hear him smiling as he said it and you breathed out a sigh of relief which was loud enough for him to hear. "Why'd you wanna know?" And admittedly, you weren't sure. Maybe because it just felt more.. real? Honestly, you just felt better knowing than unknowing.

"I-I-.." you couldn't explain yourself. "Honestly, I don't know-" you admitted, chuckling dryly.

Toby Rogers. Toby Rogers. That name repeated itself in the back of your mind, each time you found yourself almost recognising it more and more. It was so familiar, like you had heard it before and yet you were unsure as to where. Toby's short scoff brought you back to the conversation at hand. You could hear that same tv in the background on his end. It wasn't loud but loud enough for you to make out screaming.

"Are you watching a horror film?" you asked, snorting out a little laugh at his nerdiness. Although, you received no response, no answer. The screaming just filling the end of the phone, you felt that uneasiness creep back into your very being. Then, after a second long silence, he spoke.

"Oh- hah.. sorry, yeah, I am, didn't think you could hear it."

You forced a smile, scratching absently at the back of your neck.

"So.. what are you wearing?" Your heart fell through to your ass and you froze, wide eyed in horror at his sudden question. It was unexpected and nervously you choked out a laugh.

"Uh-" you started and before you could even muster up any courage to speak, he was laughing; which only calmed you briefly.

"Haha! Oh god, I'm joking, I'm not a weirdo-" he chuckled, laughing a lot harder than he had recently done. You rolled your eyes, shit he wanted to play games? You were up for it, but first you needed to fan yourself for a moment. His laughter faded back into that silence as you glanced down at your body. Admittedly, you just wore some old over sized shirt that had acquired many holes over the years and your underwear. Wasn't particularly lingerie, but shit, it's not like you exactly planned to actually do something with this guy?

You snickered to yourself purely because the idea of.. being so intimate with him excited with you more than you'd ever know.

"I'm wearing just some old shirt, that's-.." you choked out a laugh. "That's really too big for me.. and just-.. just my underwear." Toby was silent on the other end, not expecting you to actually straight up answer his question. He let out a short chuckle and then another, not believing what you had said but by the serious tone in your voice, he dawned on him that you were being honest.

"Oh?" he finally croaked out, feeling something stir within him. It was this flutter of excitement, that began in the lower pits of his stomach and finally travelled to his cock. Now, he knew what dangerous game he were playing and he knew that if he accepted this invitation, it could bring him a great deal of trouble. Your voice was just so.. tempting and it lured him in just to taste more of your sweet words. Toby clenched his jaw a little, he was getting so riled up at just the thought of you alone. "You don't sleep naked?" there was a teasing hint in his tone of voice and you chuckled.

"Would you rather I did?" And it was there he melted. Fuck, he'd do anything. He'd tug on some fucking pants right now just to march over to your house and fuck you relentlessly. Your words resulted in him shuddering, his breath hot and heavy down the phone. Toby knew to choose his words carefully here because ultimately he knew he were playing with fire, it's just the only issue was; he was thinking more with his dick now than with his head. Toby scoffed out chuckle once again, his voice a lot more huskier than before.

"I mean.. I would-" he started, his mind a horny, jumbled mess as he tried to conjure up the right words. "Would make it easier for me to fuck you." Speaking those words made his skin prickle, it was so wrong and in that moment it felt so right. The tension in the air was palpable, his mouth feeling increasingly dry. His cock stirred and twitched beneath the fabric of his boxers, making him shift uncomfortably in bed. God, he wasn't gonna jack off tonight but fuck it, if you were gonna, he wasn't going to let you do it alone.

And you weren't any better than he was on the other end, your own clit aching for a simple touch. It made you shift also, in some sort of desperate attempt to feel some fabric against the sensitive nerves. The touch, however, not enough as you felt yourself slipping back into the softness of your pillow. His words almost made your head spin, your breath hitching in your throat as you tried to control your thoughts; which were riddled with nothing but filth. As much as you tried to deny it, you could feel the dampness seep through the thin layer of fabric between your legs, feeling so ridiculously turned on that a part of you questioned how long it had been since you hooked up with someone.

"God-.." you breathed helplessly down the phone, your words and breathless tone already giving Toby the thumbs up that he was headed in the right direction.

It was there he laughed a little, almost in disbelief. "Wait, are you touching yourself?"

You froze a little in his reply, dumbfounded. Should you be? Your body ached for it, so why not? Quickly, you pushed a hand down between your thighs and got to rolling your index and middle finger against your clit. You gasped at the touch, legs parting a little more as you rolled your head back into pillow beneath you. The touch brought an immediate warmth to the lower of your stomach, earning a soft, delicate whimper to escape from between the plumpness of your lips.

Those noises only stirred Toby into motion himself, palming himself through his boxers with a soft grunt here and there. His eyes closed briefly, imagining all those delicate sounds to be coming from the tip of his cock. Wanting to desperately to feel your lips wrapped around his shaft.

"I like those pretty, little sounds," he spoke softly, his voice just above a whisper as he soaked in each sound that flowed through the speaker of his phone. "What are you thinking about while you touch yourself?" he grunted, biting the bottom of his lips briefly as the mental image of you in bed reaching your orgasm to the thought of his cock alone making him almost tremble and whimper himself.

Your fingers, although with a slight tremble, continued to dance against your clit. Rolling it softly in an attempt to pace yourself, but you were hungry for an orgasm and not only that; you were fucking tired. It wasn't like you wanted this to be over, it's just you weren't sure how long you could hold out for. His words fed your actions more as your whines and whimpers continued to flood helplessly through the phone. "I'm think-.." you interrupted yourself with a moan, "I'm thinking about how good you'd feel."

Those words send a shiver of delight down his spine and Toby was feeling too hungry to withdraw himself any longer. So, his hand wrapped around the length of his shaft and slowly he pumped at it. Each motion of his hand sending soft waves of pleasure to course through his bloodstream, a concealed grunt and groan which passed through his clenched teeth. He wasn't exactly a vocal person - though he had to be for the whole idea of phone sex to really work. "Ffuck-" he breathlessly moaned, his cock an aching mess with pre-cum already coating the tip of it; adding only a fraction of lubrication.

Toby's own mind was equally full of sinful thoughts, the idea of running is tongue up between your slit to suckle softly on your clit, or the idea of cumming all over that pretty face of yours. Admittedly, being a fucking murderer meant he didn't get many blissful nights of burying his cock deep in someone; so the thoughts accompanied with those sounds of yours were enough to nearly already make him cum. Stifling a moan with a lip pressed firmly against his upper teeth, he groaned a deep guttural growl.

"I need to feel you-" and a part of you cringed at how desperate you sounded, like whiny slut. Toby didn't mind, why would he? You sounded like a fucking pornstar and he knew it wouldn't be long until he was seeing stars and coating his knuckles in his warm, white liquids.

"Fuck, keep talking," he grunted as his hips bucked into his hand, almost helplessly fucking the palm of his hand. He could only imagine how fucking good your pussy would feel wrapped around him, how wet he would make you, how good he could make you feel. His command did things to you, the way he spoke through gritted teeth and there was a tightness forming not just in your lower abdomen, but in your thighs as well. For a brief moment, your fingers moved from your clit to your dripping cunt, coating your fingers to coat your clit in your wetness. You were torn, wanting to feel something inside you and wanting to give your clit attention; you'd cum either way regardless.

You began to mumble incoherent whimpers, praising him and uttering his name like sweet nothings; words dripping in poison that would intoxicate Toby more and more. Your grip on the phone began getting looser as you felt the warmth rush to your cheeks, your own hips rolling against your fingers in a desperate attempt to reach your orgasm.

"Toby- please make me cum, please-.." you cringed hearing yourself so squeezed your eyes shut. You could feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into your pillow, a rush of blood creeping across your face and almost making your head spin.

Your words were the tipping point for Toby, and with one final grunt and thrust, stringy ropes shot up and out across his knuckles. "Nng- Ffuck-" he slurred on his own words, the warmth of his own cum sending shockwaves and ripples up his abdomen.

While Toby rolled out the end of his orgasm with some slow thrusts, you hadn't yet reached that phase as you helplessly humped your own fingers, breasts bouncing with each roll out that your hips gave. You were a desperate, panting mess as you tried to quieten and muffle each moan that dared to escape from you. Despite feeling satisfied himself, he knew he couldn't be a dick and leave you hanging on the edge of your orgasm - hell, he could though. Your moans were just good to miss however and quickly his focus returned to you as he came floating back down from his own high.

"The thing's I'd do to-to-… to you-" he choked out, surpassing a tic almost painfully. "I'd love to make you scream," he uttered, his voice lusty with a hint of something else. You hadn't noticed it at the time, but there was a sense of darkness that lingered in the back of his throat. His words having more meaning than a simple mission to get you to orgasm. Your head spun as the muscles in your thighs tightened, your hips bucking violently against your fingers as you reached the height of your own release. There were stars, a soft, long drawn out groan escaping deep within you as your hips continued to buck; a little softly as you rode out the very last of your orgasm. Your fingers rolled your clit until it became nothing but a sensitive bud, sending little jolts as you gasped, feeling sweaty against the mattress of your bed. The sound was music to his hears as he listened, the phone pressed so hard against his ear that for any other person it would've hurt.

"Fuck-" you gasped softly after each pant, allowing your body the time and space to recover.

"I'd love to bash your pretty, little head in with one of my hatchets."

And you felt your once steaming hot body turn into a cold flush, your breath hitching in the back of your throat. Had he really said that? Or was it more background noise from the horror film he was watching? Toby chuckled, it's friendliness vanishing in thin air before you as his demeanour became cold; uninviting. Your brows furrowed, too speechless to form a coherent thought. Was it just.. a kink thing? Was he.. fuck, like roleplaying or something? You were grasping at any explanation before you.

"What." Was all you could muster up, a measly whisper.

"I enjoyed talking to yo-ou. I'll be honest, never done this b-bb-before with most girls, I wooould've let you live… but work is work, you'll understand. Oh," he scoffed. "No, you won't but I'll see ya around, yeah?" And Toby hung up. Leaving you in a state of confusion.

Toby Rogers. Toby Rogers. You repeated it over again, sitting up on your elbow, brows furrowing and staring out into the darkness of your room. Toby Rogers - that name was on the news just the other week, you could've sworn it. The news anchor mentioning something about.. him murdering his Dad.. being a mass criminal.. and how he was still missing after all those years.

And you just had phone sex with him.

sorry if this seems rushed, still trying to find my lingo when it comes to writing smut.

will be a bit mia for the next days, but asks are open (just may take a lil while for me to answer them.) i originally planned for this to be shorter, but i have this weird habit of where once i start writing, i legit cannot stop.

[bumblesimagines]

War Between Kin

Request: Yes or No

Summary: When Rhaenyra Targaryen takes her throne back, she ensures to take care of the remaining Greens in the Keep. Jacaerys attempts to figure out the whereabouts of the Usurper King Aegon by questioning his younger sister.

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers, F!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, AU where what happened in the Gullet does not occur, for plot purposes Jace and Baela are not engaged, potential spoilers for S3/events in the books, mentions of Targcest, brief mention of arranged marriage, bastardphobia,

I'm about to fill up the fucking tag because of this man. Super short but here you go for my fem readers!

~~~

"Where is Aegon Targaryen?"

"I've already told you, I do not know."

Jace had long grown tired of repeating himself, and he knew for certain his aunt had grown tired of the questioning the first time he asked. A rough near twenty minutes had passed since he'd first entered the bedchambers she'd been confined to when his mother returned to her rightful home, and he'd learned nothing new about the whereabouts of his missing uncle nor who could have had a hand in smuggling the usurper out of King's Landing.

Truthfully, Jace's patience always had a tendency to run out. He certainly felt it reaching the end of its line as he bounced his knee and laced his fingers over his stomach, eyes tracking his aunt as she paced the room back and forth clad in that godsforsaken shade of green Dowager Queen Alicent often wore. His legs ached just watching her continuously move, although he suspected if she stopped and sat across from him as he'd asked her to numerous times, she'd likely strike at him until someone tore her off him.

"He is your eldest brother, is he not?" Jace spoke through near-gritted teeth, the bouncing of his leg intensifying with each passing second.

The longer they went without locating Aegon Targaryen, the longer his mother went without rest. He remained a threat to them all, even in his battered and ruined state. Half his body burnt, they'd said, and hardly able to walk by himself without help. Jace hardly understood why anyone would desire someone in his state on the throne.

"I am not my brother's keeper." (Y/N) seethed lowly, voice laced with irritation and legs continuing to move back and forth across the room. Her hands tightly clutched the skirt of her dress, keeping it barely lifted to avoid tripping over it.

Despite the rather eyesore of a color reminding Jace of her traitorous family, he'd be a fool to deny it wasn't a beautiful dress that suited her well. She looked regal, if not incredibly furious with him and the rest of his family. It'd been expected after all the fighting and bloodshed between their families even before the war began.

"Do not lie to me, Aunt." Jace scoffed, bracing his arms against the table before him. "All my life, you've always been the watcher amongst your siblings. I doubt not a single thing happened in this castle, in this city, without you learning of it. You must tell me where your brother has fled before Daemon's patience with your stubbornness runs thin. He will not be as kind as I have been."

(Y/N) scowled at him and finally ceased her mindless pacing, her back turning to him and hands raising to her face. In all the years Jace had known the beautiful woman before him, he'd only ever seen her lose her icy demeanor once when Aemond's eye was taken and she'd bitten the skin around her nails until they were raw. He disliked it. He much preferred her snarky attitude over her anxious habits unbefitting of a lady such as her.

"What of Helaena?" She questioned abruptly, her dress swishing when she spun around to face him and her eyes squinting with an unspoken accusation. "You have kept your dogs at bay, have you not? She is not of sound mind." 

"Helaena is the most innocent out of the lot of you! Her Grace would never bring harm upon Helaena, of all possible people." Utterly absurd! Jace hardly believed his ears, hardly found it within himself not to snap at her and remind her it'd been her brother who'd killed Luke mercilessly. Still, (Y/N) released a dry laugh, her shoes smacking against the ground as she stormed up to the table.

"Do pray tell, Nephew," She spat the word venomously, as if it were full of filth. "What were Rhaenyra's intentions when she hired those animals who forced Helaena to choose between her sons? What were Rhaenyra's intentions when those animals killed my nephew before his siblings, mother, and grandmother? Helaena has lost her mind. She relives that night every waking moment. A son for a son, they claimed, justice on behalf of Rhaenyra the Cruel."

Jace shot up from his seat, nearly knocking the chair back from sheer force, and slammed his palms against the table with his lips pulled back into a snarl. "Her Grace did not order the death of any of Helaena's sons!" 

"Oh, even better, she cannot keep a leash on her own people, then?" (Y/N) laughed again, dry and bitter. "Let us pray Aemond and Daeron arrive quickly with their army, shall we? At least then we will be spared the reign of a queen who cannot control her own allies. It's pathetic, Jacaerys, utterly pathetic. Even if the Realm allows a queen to sit the throne, they will never accept a bastard."

"Mind your tongue, Princess, before I-" 

"Before you what?" (Y/N) rounded the table swiftly, gliding along the floor until she reached his side. He managed to turn sideways to face before their chests pressed together, their faces mere inches apart and noses threatening to brush against each other. Jace stiffened, his hands rolling into tightly clenched fists and eyes struggling to remain focused on the lilac of her irises. "Before you cut my tongue out as your grandfather once threatened? Do it, then. Cut my tongue out, here and now, and show your subjects you will not be a king of words alone."

Jace remained silent, his nostrils flaring with his deep inhale and jaw clenching. A challenge, a rather blatant one from his aunt of all people. His cheeks warmed against his will, the embarrassment trickling in because he'd never dare to lay a threatening finger on a lady, much less a beloved princess of the Realm. Jace stared into her eyes and swallowed, his mind searching for words he could shoot back at her. 

"A bastard and a coward, then? You will be the end of our dynasty with your tainted blood." She hissed lowly, her breath fanning against his face. "The Gullet did not make you a warrior, did it? Not when you had to be dragged out of the waters full of arrows by another bastard."

"You-" 

The sound of a sword unsheathing filled his ears and made his blood bubble with dread, unable to do anything else when she stepped back and pressed the tip of his sword against his throat. Jace's head instinctively tilted up, his heart beginning to drum against his ribcage when his adams apple dragged along the sharp blade threatening to cut his skin. Her lips curled up cruelly and she shook her head slowly, her earrings swaying with her movements.

"The Realm will never a bastard such as yourself to sit the Iron Throne. It'd be an insult to each of the Great Houses. I could end this pathetic display of a boy pretending to be man right here... but your inheritance would fall on the shoulders of young Joffery, and Gods know what Daemon would do to that boy with the line of succession so close to reaching his own sons. I would rather witness Daemon stew in his desperate desire to see his own blood on the throne than offer him up a child on a platter. Unlike your mother, I am not that cruel."

"Daemon knows his place." Nobody would ever believe those words, not even Jace himself. "He is King Consort. He's achieved what he's always desired."

"Has he?" (Y/N) slowly retracted the sword from his throat and tossed it onto the table with a clatter. "Or is he merely lying in wait as he's done time and time again? When he was refused the throne, he waited for the opportunity to arise to bring humiliation on your mother. When he was exiled, he waited for Ser Laenor to be no more so he could take the heir for himself. You are not his son, Jacaerys. You are an obstacle, and Daemon obviously despises obstacles. It will only be a matter of time before he realizes if something were to occur to your mother, he would rule as regent, and as regent, he'd do whatever he desired."

(Y/N) turned away from him once more, her skirt dragging along the stone floor as she walked toward her open window and stopped by it, staring out into the long expense of ocean. Jace took his sword and slid it into his sheath again, internally scolding himself for having grown distracted before he approached his aunt, his steps slow and cautious. 

"Rhaenyra should have never been named heir." (Y/N) murmured, and Jace's eyes fell down to her hands, watching her scrape her nails along the skin of her fingers. Her eyes danced, never focusing on one thing for longer than a second as her mind continued working with thoughts and ideas Jace surprisingly longed to hear. 

"And yet, she is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms... and by late morrow she expects you to bend the knee publicly before the court." 

"Or what? She shall behead me as she did my grandsire? I hear the executions have become a daily occurrence. Rhaenyra the Cruel's bloody reign, they shall call it. You will see in due time that we would have all been better for it if she had accepted the terms for peace. Your brother may have yet lived, and you would not have nearly met the Stranger in the Gullet." 

"We are still at war, Princess, and we'd be fools to keep traitors in our midst," Jace spoke, but he could not stop the tremor in his voice. It'd been satisfying at first when they spilled the blood of Otto Hightower and his son, as well as the Small Council members who'd so openly opposed his mother. But then, blood continued to be spilled, and neither Rhaenyra nor Daemon would stop to hear of it. "It is... for the good of the Realm." 

(Y/N) shook her head but otherwise remained silent, the fury she'd contained in her body dissolving. She continued watching the distant waves in the water, her nails only digging harder and harder into her skin until they threatened to break through to her flesh and blood. Unable to help himself, Jace clasped his hand over hers to stop the constant scratching, his lips pressing together and a quiet sigh escaping him.

"I am here to question you about Aegon Targaryen's whereabouts... but I suppose I should also inform you that your mother has made a proposal in an attempt to stop the bloodshed and put an end to the war. She's offered up a betrothal between you and I so that both sides may come together in marriage. Her Grace agreed to some of the terms that came with the proposal, among them a promise to not bring harm upon Helaena, Jaehaera, or Ser Daeron if he bends the knee. She will have the heads of Aegon and Aemond regardless." 

His aunt stared at him for a good long while, her body eventually tilting to face him fully. Her arms dropped down to her sides, forcing Jace to drop his hand as well. She wet her lips and turned her gaze away, the news finally beginning to settle into her body. She opened her mouth, looking back at him: "I would rather fling myself from this window than marry a bastard and further tie myself to a hopeless cause." 

[gw-360]

WORLD WATER DAY - MARCH 22nd

March 22nd is World Water Day. A day to celebrate the most precious resource on the planet and fight the water crisis

[animehideout]

JJK Men Green And Red Flags Part 4

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

Geto Suguru

Green Flags:

Has a calming voice, even his presence alone brings you peace.

Bestfriend like in a relationship.

He's motivated and got big dreams ( killing monkeys).

Open to try new things sexual and nonsexual.

Treats you like a princess.

Makes you feel safe all the time.

Gives the best hugs ( I mean have you seen his arms?)

Comforts your anxieties/ nightmares.

Has a childish side ( child at heart ) even though he's calm most of the time.

Good at planning dates ( most of them trying new food).

Smells good.

Wants to get a matching tattoo with you.

Knows exactly what to do during intimate / sexual moments.

Red Flags:

Would put his work / goals before you.

Distance himself out of nowhere.

Hides his feelings ( if he's sad / depressed) wouldn't talk about it.

Has no respect for people who can't defend themselves ( he believes he's superior than them).

Very selective it could get toxic.

Gives excuses for his bad deeds.

Could be controlling.

Needs to know your whereabouts 24/7.

Convinced that he always makes the right choices / decisions.

Doesn't realize his mistakes.

Craves power over love.

Can be manipulative to get what he wants.

Nanami Kento

Green Flags:

MATURE AF.

Husband material.

Shares household chores.

Enjoys simple dates as long as you're together ( takes you to the beach ).

Gives you time to heal and helps you in the process of healing.

Supportive.

Wouldn't judge your past.

Spoils you.

Reads you his favorite books.

Respects your privacy and choices.

Admits his mistakes and tries to fix them.

You can rely on him in literally everything.

Dates to marry.

Very committed in relationships.

Asks for consent.

Trust you fully.

Loyal.

Red Flags:

Doesn't get your jokes and gets offended.

Very serious ( daddy chill ).

Gets angry if you prank him or do something stupid / weird.

Overworks himself ( he hates it tho ).

Could be unenthusiastic.

Overly strict in relationships.

Gets angry if you don't do your duties towards him.

Gets overly worried about you (wouldn't let you go out at night alone).

[insufferablelust]

The Prince Regent (Aemond Targaryen x F!Sister!Reader)

{Can be read as the sequel of Gevī}

There are rumors floating around after the march of the greens in Rook’s rest, you were shocked when you learned of what has happened, rushed to confront your brother— you were made to once again quell the madness within with rekindling the fire with him.

This work contains mature acts, Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

Words counted: 10.4k+

Content include: 18+ MDNI! Targcest (canon incest practice of the Targaryen house), Smut, Sex, Oral sex (F receiving), Heavy breeding kink, Slight exhibitionism (Sex at the council chamber), Choking, Rough sex, Dumbification, Manhandling, Slight degradation, Reader has the attributes of the Targaryens (silver hair, purple eyes etc), Mention of violence, Canon injuries and death, Mention of usurping the throne (half-canon), LOTS of pet names, Slightly Dark!Aemond (He is so obsessive and possessive and feral of you.)

Note: Hello! I am back with new fic yay! this is another Aemond fic, which can be read as the follow up of my last fic, Gevī which can be found here, or you can also read it as a standalone, up to you! This work is NOT beta’d (there will be revision) since once more I am still slammed with work so I have yet the time to refer to my beta reader, but hopefully there is nothing much amiss, if there is, I apologize and I hope it will not disturb your reading experience. ALSO AEMOND IS UNHINGED IN THIS ONE YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Remember that english is not my native language so bear with me. My request is always open for HOTD characters. Enjoy and let me know what you think! thank you my loves.

Masterlist

The day has been moving rather slowly today, you mused, the sun looks as though it is shining but overshadowed by gloomy clouds at the same time— horizon darkens as the end of the day is fast approaching. It has been a strange day, oddly quiet even in the hustle and bustle of a dreaded war-coming, you had heard of your brothers whereabouts, both the King and the Prince as your mother was panicking earlier when they both were absent from the small council meeting.

You ignored the ever so loud chattering of the lords and ladies around the hall, as you sat below the Weirwood tree to read your book, the only place where you ought to sought comfort and refuge from the looming darkness that follows ahead, you had always been more receptive— taking in your surroundings and only use your sharp wit when necessary, you are like your brother, Aemond, in that sense, where you do not find pleasure in talking much if it does not have any meaning to it.

Though, you had not been silent since the days following Aegon’s crowning, your expertise in knowing Westerosi territories and politics are often seen be used by the small council as Aemond would come to you in any instance he needed help. You also always tried to interpret Helaena’s cryptic messages— having realized of your older sister’s ancient-like gift since you were little, it was you that had warned them to move the crowning ceremony anywhere but the Dragonpit when she had said “Beware of the beast beneath the boards.” Yet when they do not paid attention to you nor your sister, tis’ true that your family was one second away from being engulfed in Meleys’s fire if not for the Princess Rhaenys’s last minute compassion.

But alas, you had not been of useful as of late, ever since the passing of your nephew, Jaehaerys, you scolded yourself often on why you were not with Helaena that night, or why you did not have the time to interpret what she had said about the rats, though, Aemond had repeatedly assured you that there was no way that one can know such cruel thing would happen, and that there was nothing you could have done— moreover if you had stayed with Helaena that night, all your lives might be even more in danger due to the fact that you’re a young maiden.

You still feel guilty though, for you had been spending your night in the arms of your husband that night— comforting each other in warm embraces inside your chambers.

You and Aemond had always been inseparable since the day you were born, his little sister— someone he had always come to whenever he was faced with a hard time finding solace due to the constant torment and taunts your eldest brother and nephews has caused upon him. You can scarcely remember the times where Aemond is happy in his childhood, but the memories that stood the tallest in your memory are ones akin to when he would read to you about the Aegon’s conquest or Rhaenys’s journey to Sunspear, or Visenya’s tales with Vhagar.

Another one is when he had ventured through Maegor tunnels to get to your room and would ask timidly to sleep in your room because he was plagued by nightmares, or that time when he had come to your defense as Aegon broke one of your crystal jar, one that housed the famed rose from the North, or that time after he claimed Vhagar, eye sewn shut in Driftmark, you had visited him in his chambers despite your mother’s warning to let him rest when you know better that he would feel better accompanied by you. Tis’ unbreakable this bond of yours, strongly linked, and undoubtedly passionate.

Aemond finds all the thing he is not, in you, you are gentle, soft spoken, soothing in nature— even as your hair is as silver pale as he, your jaws are as sharp he, your wit are as bright as he— Aemond adored the part that truly empowers you, your compassionate self, your jaw-dropping smile, your unmasked confidence, your unapologetic self is what makes him honored to have you by his side.

Your presence calms his raging stormy minds and hot tempered self, your sweet saccharine voice, your angel like touches, your supple smooth skin— always seems to be flustered in heat when near him, your soft lilac eyes that gives him assurances, your slightly curlier locks— something you get from your mother, always half braided with half fanned to your side— the necklace you wore, given by him, a Valyrian ruby that always adorned your enthralling being, you are the epitome of a Valyrian goddess, graced with the beauty that people would go to war for, solicited by your intelligence that makes you powerful altogether. The word ‘infatuated’ does not even cover his love for you.

Speaking of your brother, the days following his return from Storms end had caused many distraught upon learning of what befell your nephew, in the flurry of it all, Aemond had taken your maidenhead, which he swore to wed you then— and that he did, asked his mother to betroth him to you once and for all as you had always meant to be— insisting after the death of Jaehaerys that it is crucial to have more heirs so that if the time comes, your bloodline will not perish so easily— Alicent, of course, had been furious at his son for, “How dare you corrupt your little sister!” but when you came to Aemond’s defense, she let her guard down and at last grant you both what you wished.

The deal with the Baratheons has been annulled… for now.

You both were wed in the sept just a few days after the tragedy, and were happily consummating your marriage if not for the news of Ser Cole and Gwayne Hightower’s success of house Darklyn in Duskendale, and is set to march to Rook’s rest once more, where Aemond is to to join him, he had told you once after an intense rounds of fucking.

You were finally pulled out of your reverie when the chatter around you gets louder, feeling irked by it you look up from you book only to have your frown wiped out by the sight in front of you. You saw few of Aegon’s knighted guards bringing a huge wooden box covered with your house’s sigil— Gods be good. You have thought of the worst then, what if it is Aemond? what if they are carrying his de—

“Princess, Her Grace the Queen Dowager has requested your presence in King Aegon’s chamber.”

Aegon?

“Thank you, Ser Harrold.” You replied, clutching the book tightly as you stand up, and walk towards where the other knights and seemingly hurdles of Maesters rushing to, your throat dried at the possibilities of what might await you once you reach Aegon’s chamber.

Is he alright?

Is Aemond alright?

Did they defeat the Blacks? What happened in Rook’s rest?

“Mother.” You muttered as you halt your steps upon reaching the now packed room, your eyes does not yet know where to land it’s sight on, the frantically moving figure of Maester Orwyle tending to a charred body on the bed, or the hisses that came from the servants who brought fresh linens, cloths, and water, or at your mother who stood with panic written all over her face, eyes glassy with tears.

“What has happened?” You asked, still unable to figure out exactly who is it that laid there, due to the hurdling of bodies taking pieces of armors off. The smell of burning and dragon fire is so evident, that the ladies around you scrunched their nose— you thought none of it considering you are no stranger to the smell of dragons— but what caught your line of sight next shocked and silenced you quickly.

There laid the King, your eldest brother, Aegon, with half of his face badly charred, his body littered in wounds from fire— the sight of him like that makes you choke and sob as you lean against Alicent who also watches with terrified eyes, “Is my son going to die, Maester?” Her shaky voice only enhanced the amount of tears you let out, lips trembling in confused emotions.

How did— who did— why did—

“I will do whatever I can to help him, your grace, but now I must get back because this is the most important step.” Came Orwyle’s response. You may despise Aegon for his lack of respect towards anyone— women in particular, but he is still your brother, your king.

“Why isn’t Heleana here?” You asked, turning your head to look at your mother, “and… Aemond?” came the question that have plagued your mind since you were fetched by Ser Harrold earlier in the Godswood, is he alright? did he suffer the same fate? did the blacks charred him too? I can not live without him, he— I cannot—

“Come.” Your mother beckoned you out of the chamber to sit by the bench near the Weirwood tree you sat earlier, your eyes are frantic, trying desperately to understand what is going on, what happened, and most importantly if your brother— Aemond is alright, “I can not call for Helaena… she—“ Alicent’s voice came with a choked sob, it breaks your heart seeing her like this, after seeing what befell Aegon, you understood that this is hard for her regardless the way how anyone feels about him, your brother, her son.

“I can not put more burden on your grieving sister, you must understand that only you can do this.” Her irises stabs right through yours as you ponder her words, digesting on what she could mean by ‘do this’— you understood why Helaena wasn’t called first thing to Aegon’s chamber despite her being his Queen, his wife, the reigning monarch in his absence, due to her still sullen with grief, but then it all clicks for you.

Ah.

This is about Aemond, if Helaena is your mother’s pawn to strengthen Aegon’s claim, then anything linked to you have always been, will, and must be about Aemond.

Only you,

You’re the only one that can soothe Aemond, calm him, hear him, understand him, discipline him when needed, tame him when necessary.

Only you that can release the ever glooming glorious tension that has risen and finally reached its peak between the heirs— one who was born first as a male heir, and the other one who is actually deserving of it by power and knowledge.

It’s you, his soulmate, his other half— it has only been you and everyone knows it, even your sister whom have said you are meant to fill the socket of the eye that Aemond has lost, you’re the missing piece in his tormented soul, the very needle that threads his wound, heal his anger, and cool down his temper.

But before you can open your mouth to respond, the sound of clanking armor once again reached the both of you and a voice boomed through the otherwise serene peace of the Godswood, “Pardon me, Your Grace, Your Highness, but the small council has gathered, and has asked for the presence of the Dowager Queen.” the Knight spoke, causing you to sigh and drown the words you had meant to speak of.

“Very well, I must return but please,” She looked at you feverishly, “My love, you need to talk to him, reason with him, because he will not do so with me.” Your heart once again breaks at that, yes you may have not had the fondest of love for your mother solely because she was too busy preparing Aegon, being queen in your father’s sickness, and feuding with your half-sister to care for you but alas, just like Aegon, she is of your blood, she is your mother— knowing she feels powerless to aid her own children, so much so, she asked for her youngest daughter’s help is a sorrowful thing to witness.

“I will, mother, now go.” You said, pulling your best smile to soothe her, the tresses of your silver locks blowing in the wind as she cup your face to kiss your forehead before fleeing to the small council chamber— leaving you with your thoughts once more, deserting you to quell over your confusion, with no comfort of assurance or security— you need Aemond, and he needs you, but how can you both reason with him when he is not within your reach, you just seek to know his safety and shield him, Helaena, and your niece of all this— but alas,

Did he do it?

Did he burn Aegon?

Is his desire for power so great that it quenches whatever left of affection you all had as siblings?

What will you do?

You love Aemond, you love him more than anything in the realm, your bond with him as strong as the bond you share with your dragon, Valyx, you do not and will never betray him— you had remembered his promise of making you his Queen, that the realm will bow to both of you, that his love for you is so great that it will be more than enough for him to fight and relinquish in victory— but at what cost? You had half the mind to seek Helaena, to ask for her guidance but that thought is quickly diminished by knowing the fragile state of your sister after Jaehaerys’s passing.

No, you will have to speak to Aemond, whatever result it may produce, whatever madness awaits you, whatever turn of story that may arise— you have to be ready for it, willing to face it, conquer it— for you do not wish for harm to ever come to those you love, to Helaena, your niece, your mother— and most importantly Aemond.

You just hope the Gods will grant you their blessings and forgiveness to what you will do or don’t do.

—

You had waited hours outside the small council chamber, pacing in front of the huge grant door, thinking and pondering on what you must say to Aemond, what you will do to reason with him. Your thoughts are plagued with the memories of your last encounter with Aemond, not that you can help it, it practical branded itself to you— He had always branded himself to your memory with everything he said and does.

It was the night after his small council meeting had gone awry, well according to his recollection— Aegon had once again undermined his knowledge and acted foolishly, not trusting his brother’s judgement, Aemond laid down on your lap, as you caresses his hair, his patch is off now that he is alone with you, in your chambers, with you only wearing your lilac shift and he, a tunic pants.

“Zȳhon mition yne amīvindis.” He had said that night as the flame dances through his iris and shappire— there is that unquenchable anger in him, you felt it miles away even before he laid on your bed, you knew that he was furious by the way he stormed to your room at the hour of the wolf, you had been sleeping when he entered, but quickly made way for him beside you. His stupidity infuriates me.

“Aegon?” You asked as your fingers cards through his hair in a soothing manner, you wish you can take away his pain, his worries, his fear— but Aemond is a hot tempered man, who will not be denied of his desires, who will not back down from a fight, who will never cower in silence, “Hm.” He hummed to you, “He is your king.” You humored him, passing a chuckle to the wind.

“Not for long.” Your fingers halted as he looked at you, trying to process what he just said, you knew your brother is hungry for power— for his throne, but it has always been a blur to you just how he was going to win— especially with Rhaenyra’s looming threat of war now, “Aemond…” You whispered, a distraught look is evident on your face, your rosy lips pout like it is begging for him to kiss you feverishly— to claim you once again.

“Do nor fret, sister,” He said, eyes sharp through yours while he bring his thumb up to your lip to press down on your ever so cute and tempting pout, what a tempting little tart, he thinks, “I do not wish to bring upon the ruin of the realm,” He pushes his thumb slightly in, you gladly open your lips to take the tip of his thumb inside and suckle on it as it is your lifeline. Your eyes closed for a second from a comforting gesture it brings you, he knows this calms you, content you— “Unlike Aegon.” He whispered the last part before completed parting your lips with his thumb so you can suck on it with little mewls of contentment.

He cooed at your subdued state, gods, he does not care of anything but to serve you— give you the realm as you fully deserve, his queen. Beautiful, untainted, pure, and the very image of both the Mother and Maiden bestowed upon a figure— you, you and your flustered self, you and your cherry lips, fluttering eyes, smooth silver locks, body of a goddess, a personality of Eve, charm of Rhaenys, dream of Daenys, fierce of Visenya, and soul that is unique to just you. He worships you more than you know, but he will show you— he will always show you.

“There you go, sweet girl.” His voice both soothe and heat up your core, and it catches you by no surprise when the night ended with you both tangling atop of the bed, with you on your hands and knees, his hand against the back of your neck— as he fucked your cunt with a varying pace of both a feral madman, and a devout husband— yours. You had been naught but a whimpering mess, a shaky shivering little girl overwhelmed with pleasure.

He had worshipped you then, kisses you softly on your skin as he brings you to your peak over and over and over again with his fingers, mouth, cock— every inch of him is solely to make you feel heavenly, so much so, that you are sure that your vision had gone blurry and you slumped onto the bed as he took care of you.

Your mind was quickly pulled once more from your thoughts when you heard the door of the small council chamber had finally been opened, you stood diligently to the side, waiting for your husband so that you may speak to him. You watched the lords move outside one by one, bowing to you when they catch you, which you had curtly but politely nod, until Lord Larys Strong came to your line of sight.

“Princess, how nice it is to see you.” Now you have never hold much disdain towards those who does not deserve it, and though Larys had never done anything to you personally, you are but know how much a rat he truly is. Indeed, he is an intelligent cunning man, known for his whisperings and cruel deeds that, even you, do not wish to know—but for the sake of the crown, you begrudgingly smiled, “Likewise, Lord Larys.” The fingers behind your back is picking at your cuticle in stress, Gods where is Aemond.

“The Prince Regent will certainly be delighted with your presence, regency is not an ea—“

“Regent?” Your brow furrowed at the mention, head spinning and running by a thousand miles— “Aemond… regency?” You asked, desperately trying to figure out what in the Seven hells happened and what has been done by it, “Yes, your highness, he—“

“Larys, may I speak with my wife in private now?” His voice came from inside the room, and you can scarcely see his figure emerging from inside, he is wearing his usual black attire, adorned with a green coat as a sign that he had been riding Vhagar prior, your eyes slipped to see the now two dagger on his side, one each, and your lips twitch with shock as you spot Blackfyre on the scabbard, you can not mistaken it, for it is one of the only two mighty Valyrian sword left that belongs to your family. Aemond had watched you gawking at him with an aura of eerie calmness to him, the sight making your spine curled and skin shivering.

This is all for you, sister, all I do is for you, he wants to say.

Your stare fled from his dagger up to his calm form, the way he holds so much power even when he is just standing there, with his arms behind his back, legs parted, head tilted, and lips pressed into a thin line—your violet eyes went up up up until his own gleams into yours, heating what feels like a suffocating heat around you. You continued staring into his eyes as your heart thundered inside your chest, you do not even notice that Larys had said his farewell and had left you both alone, at the entry of the council chamber— or at least you thought you were alone, before your mother’s voice spoke from behind the door— caught your peripheral vision.

“What are you doing here so late, sweet girl? have you had supper yet?” She asked, hands coming up to cupped your cheek in her otherwise cold hand, she’d been furious, you mused, eyes fleeting to the red marks on your mother’s finger, it seems that old habits die hard, “I wish to speak to Aemond, mother.” You bit the inside of your cheek at the way you almost whimpered his name— yes you are confused and possibly angry at him right at this very moment but he is your husband, the love of your life, your other half— you are also drowned by worries and fears of his safety, especially after seeing the state Aegon is in.

“I need to know he is well.” and safe and I just want to run away with him where no one can find us, I wish this madness can stop and be in peace with him— but you do not say that, no, you just smiled softly at your mother upon hearing Aemond hummed at you intriguingly, almost like he is both amused and mocking your sense of worry.

He knows that you know he did what he did.

Good, he thinks, let you see that he would burn the realm down for you, he would sooner die than to give you any less than what his wife, his precious sweet sister deserves.

“Very well then, I shall check on how Helaena is doing.” You do not miss the way Aemond’s lips twitches at the mention of either your sister or your eldest brother, his stoic self is evermore transparent yet foggy all the same for you to read, “Tell her we send our well wishes…” It’s his turn to speak now, eyes never leaving your figure with his voice ever so so alluringly gentle, “and to Aegon’s recovery, of course.”

Your spine curled at that, the invisible hair on your skin risen at the chill and smugness of his voice— Gods, Aemond… what have you done.. that’s all you can think but moreover, what will I do with you.

Your mother left you both at that, yet you can’t find it in you to move or speak to him, the slit on your dress passes the breeze seeping through your skin, the neckline that came above your breasts seems so tight now as you take desperate breaths to calm yourself down— you both just stared at each other, his, with longing, love, affection, you you you.

Yours are filled with the same longing, same love, same subject of desire yet there is a glint of confusion, uncertainty, and doubt swimming in your eyes— not to spite him or put distrust in him, he knows that, he knows you best— He knows you are just confused, a darling little pet you are, even when thrusted with so many responsibilities at the time of war, you still have that innocent childlike self in you that cowers in his gaze, that is desperate to seek good in the midst of destruction, that is curious, always seeking his approval, his assurances. It warmed him, for he knows that, only he, can assuage that building turmoil inside of you, only he can ease your pain, assure your worry.

“Come.” He said, Aemond beckoned you inside the council chamber with two flicks of his fingers, you followed suit, hands cold in front of you— blood of the dragon yet cold hands, he always muses to you often time he warmed you up, ah you do always love his warmth, engulfing you with security and love, comforting you the only way Aemond can, you longed for that, and you know he longs for it too.

“Aemond..” Your lips trailed as the door closes behind you, there Aemond stopped in his tracks, leaning against the table with his hand perched back against it, lips turned in an amused smirk with his head tilted.

Fuck fuck fuck, you need to focus.

“Aemond…” You said once more, walking closer to him but stopping just few feet away, keeping a respectful distance— not that it mattered much, if he wanted to— and he does— he could have you so easily, manhandles you right here right now, bending you over the very table he now commands and pound you to oblivion, releasing his pent up rage and frustration in that sweet sweet cunt of yours, “Hm?” Aemond merely hummed at you even when his mind conjured up the most obscene things, he has to have you, he needs— “Speak, little one, I am listening.” He grinned with mockery, which made you huff and stomp your feet like you used to do when you were a little girl, yet he finds you so sweet as you do it, only making his heart soar with love and desire for you.

What are you doing to him, little girl?

“What has happened?” What he would do to wipe that pout from your face, why are you testing him so far today, his little nymph, “It was a successful operation at Rook’s rest.” He replied calmly, making your blood boil as you scoffed and shake your head disdainfully at his remark, “It was foolish, reckless even—“

“Did we not took out the largest looming threat?” He pressed on, edging you to be angry with him, “It was a worthy effort, a worthy price.” His eyes twinkle when he see your heating face— such an angry little dove, you are, what a temperament that has long been subdued by your years of princesses duties, causing you to retract back to a shell— though he knows better, that you and him share the blood of dragon and fire in you.

Let it burn, sweet sister, let it burn and we shall emerge from the ashes.

“A worthy effort? your king is at the teetering edge of death.” You bit your lip to suppress your anger, let it simmer but do not let it boil to overheat, “What of Helaena, Aemond? she has just lost her son, and now you’ll take away her husband too?” You tried to reason with him, eyes fleeting from his yes to his puffing red lips back to his eyes.

Focus, fuck, why can’t you focus.

“What do you take me for, sister?” His tone is accusatory, eyes sharply glared at you, if he was annoyed before, he is furious now, “You accused me of treason, is that it? deem me a kinslayer?” You tap your feet below you, a sign that you’re either nervous or irritated— maybe both at this point.

“You said it, not me, Aemond.” It was a pitiful attempt at trying to not think of him that way— even in your anger, you still want to find the good in him, but dearest sister, alas your soulmate is one paradox only you can understand, one cursed being you can love, a match to your own fixation, “Tell me you did not do it.” Your eyes held so much hope in them, pleading and begging for his assurances. He truly would do anything to destroy anyone that make you this worrisome, but if it is him, then he shall do what he always did, to declare his love for you, so immense that he can do naught, but serve the realm on a golden plateau for you.

He closes the gap between the two of you, standing tall over you, leaning his head forward to press his forehead against yours— breathing with rage with his warm palm coming up to cup your jaw, a possessive gesture, served only for you, there is so much passion between the two of you that your mind gets hazy and fuzzy with it, “Sweetling,” He breathes, once, twice, three times, “What have I told you over and over, hm? what did I promise to you?” His words thrum against your skin, with your bones stilling itself in the desire to melt into him— become one with him.

I will never leave you, dōnus ñuhys, you are destined to be my queen, for all the Seven, nor the Old Gods can never deny us.

“There will be nothing left for us if this madness do not cease, Aemond…” You whispered his name, eyes prickling with sharp heat beneath your eyelids— forcing you to close them shut even when you do not want to, “I am terrified.” You muttered it out of desperation and pure fear and that troubles Aemond, oh no no, his little girl, how has he been so blind to your cries.

He can feel his heart tugs with pain, his stubborn self is telling him to soothe you, calm you down, relieve you of your misery that is looming fear, oh little dragon— he hadn’t mean to scare you, only to show you his dedication, for who will he show it else to if not for the most important person of his life? he would not have find it in him to even claimed Vhagar, if it were not for you, you’re his source of life.

“Look at me.” That was not a request from him, but a demand, one you so eagerly followed, “You have me, what are you so terrified of when you have me?” He punctuates each of his words with pressing against you harder, your body jolted lightly as your rear hit the edge of the table after being spun by him.

“The war—“

“If we march together, our power will not easily be subdued— tis’ what needs to be done, and I will be ready to do it, risk my life so we will prevail. Would you not have done the same?”

“I would, you know I would.” Your eyes remained close throughout his declaration, eyes trying to frantically stop your tears but alas, it is a useless pursuit, tears flows down your cheeks at a faster rate than you’d like, at this Aemond cooed, wiping your tears, “You and I, we can have what is ours, sweetling, what has been ours since they took our eye.”

Our eye, he says, not mine— “You’re the missing eye that fills his socket.” Helaena once told you.

“What of Aegon?” You opened your eyes at him, holding his stare as best as you could even when he took a sharp breath and press his thumb on your pouty parted lips, “Aegon rushed to Rook’s Rest to proof his worth despite the better judgement offered by the council,” He paused, nose nudging into yours where you can feel every single allure that drips off your husband like its second skin, “He challenged Meleys, got overpowered, and I had to come in to save the armies… as I have intended to do before he so recklessly join in with Sunfyre.” His lips are touching his thumb now, the only thing shielding your petal bloomed parted lips with his.

You should be concerned by his statement, for you know Aegon would not ended the way he is now if Aemond had actually meant to ‘save him’, there is something else, you know he would not kill out of spite even with the years of insults and torments that Aegon himself, had bestowed upon your brother, he would not deliberately kill him, yet the intention to hurt is not lost on you.

Meleys is a strong dragon of your house, a battle trained one at that, but still not enough against the mighty Vhagar, that fought alongside Visenya on Dornish war and conquer it, let alone two dragons— but perhaps, you have naught but pressing longing now, your impulses seems to control you— your innate desires taking over and you can only do what your heart and body wants, never mind what your mind says, it matters not, you’re his, he’s yours.

You leaned impossibly closer to him, urging him to take away his thumb against your lips by tugging on his wrist as your glistening eyes look up at him with desperation in them, his humming is slightly cold, but you know better that its full of mirth— he is teasing you.

“I suppose now that I am in charge…” He tilted his head menacingly, pressing his lips upon the gap of your brow, hold you tight to him as he took in your rose oil scented skin, how heavenly, he thinks, “You ought to call me, your grace, isn’t that true, princess?” His thumb slipped inside your rosy lips then, the force is too heavy to bear as you sigh and suckle on the tip of his lips— eyes fluttered shut, “Uh huh.” Your lips parted from his thumb with a lewd pop!

“Your grace.”

Your eyes flit open, droopy with want, heat on the apex of your thigh is ever so persistent against the now soaked fabric of your silk smallclothes, Aemond eyes are sharp— ravenous as he stared at you, “Syz riña.” He purred. Good girl.

Having no more self control over him, Aemond use his free hand to hold the side of your neck— lightly pressing on the pulse point, enough to make your head dizzy, and presses his lips on yours with so much want, need, pressure of claim-claim-claim and mine-mine-mine.

If there is one thing about Aemond is that he’d never be denied, not when he was destined to claim the greatest dragon in the realm, not when he is supposed to sit on the Iron throne, and certainly not when he’s going to have you— no, you’re his, since you were bare as a babe, to now, his beautiful sweet girl of a wife.

Fuck, he’s achingly hard just at the feeling of your lips, body heat, and thought of your sweet flushed face. Gods be damned.

You gasped at the feeling of his teeth grazing your bottom lip, asking— no, demanding you to part your lips by biting at it— not too hard, yet enough to make you squirm on the ledge of the table, as your pretty pink raw lips parted in obedience, he wasted no time to push his tongue inside passionately— exploring your oh so delectable wet cavern like a madman, whilst you mewl with the lightheaded feeling of his grasp on your throat and his tongue battling, or more like conquering yours.

Your body is now dangerous low to the tabletop behind you as your nails fisting weakly at his leather tunic, a silent plea for him to give you time to breathe, its pure instinct he knows, but how can he deprive himself of you. Your melodic whines, the way your pink lips parted and indulge him so so sinfully, the way your chest heave with each gulping breath you try to take, and the way you clench your thigh, oh yes he knows all about it, little girl.

After you slap at his chest for a few times, Aemond finally relent, parting his lips from your now cherry bitten lips— you take big gulps of breath, gasping for what seems to be minutes after he released you, your head spins and you’re sure your knee would not been able to hold your figure even against the table if not for his strong grip on both your neck and waist.

“Come back to me.” He whispered, temple pressed against yours as you let out soft whimpers at the heightened pleasure of fuzziness in your head— just him him him, just Aemond Aemond Aemond, “I— please.” You can do naught but to plead with him, eyes watery as you stared at him—lips trembling, wanting to say so much more, please claim me, fuck me senseless, please make me forget that this realm exist, make me only yours, make me your queen just as you promised— but he knows, Gods he knows you, he knows what you want, he always does.

“Please what, sweetling?” But does it thrill him to no end seeing you so desperate, so needy for his touch that you’d beg and beg—Seven hells, not only is his heart thundered against his ribcage, but his cock is painfully aching at your dewey flushed face, “Use your words, zaldrītsos.” His words might be encouraging, yet his tone is anything but— its mockery, he is taunting you and it makes you drip down your legs. Little dragon.

“Touch me… please.”

You gathered all the voice you have left, even if it is just a mere whisper that sounded more like a meek mewl, “I am touching you.” He said, his fingers trails up and down the sleeve of your gown, making you shudder with want— tiny wantons of needy whines escaped you as his fingers trail upon the material of your silk covered breasts— nipples pert with peaking desires.

“Not— you know where I want your touch…” The frustration embedded within you forced this snappy remark of yours, one he clicked his tongue at, just like he always did when you were little— when you had eaten all your lemon cakes in a single sitting, when you would hide beneath the grassy slope atop of Rhaenys’s hill, when you would constantly fuss to keep his wound clean, so much so that you had stayed whenever the maester came in to change his dressings albeit the warning from your mother. It’s the click of the tongue that signifies not only to remind you of disobedience, but it holds a stronger purpose to know that he so affectionately loves and ardor whatever it is you do, even when you are being a fussy bratty little thing that you are.

“Being an impudent girl for me will not serve you well, I had thought you know this by now.” He shakes his head at you, fingers trailing backwards to slowly unlace the neat tying of your ladies’s work on the bodice of your gown— all the while brushing your half braided silver locks to the side and lean forward to nip at your neck causing you to gasp.

Oh he wishes to bend you to him, but moreover to protect you, all the same, as he did when he would wipe the lemon frosting from your lips, or give you his last candied sweets, or grip your wrist to lead you back to Maegor’s tunnels to not incurs the wrath of your mother, or clasp a hand to your lips to keep you from squeaking as to not alert Aegon of where your whereabouts— it is all meant as a testament of his often unspoken devotion to you, and you know it.

“Aemond—“ You are unable to mutter anything let alone an apology as you feel your gown slides off from your body down as it pooled on the ledge of the table— only held by how your body is pressed against the stone table, now only clad in your thin silk shift and smallclothes, you felt so exposed, your neck snapped sideways as you looked at the door behind you, it dawns in on you that you are in fact in a room where someone could just walk in, and found you both in the state of lewdness, “Aemond, not here.”

“I am the Prince regent, I shall do what I please, where I wish.” Came his reply, you can do naught but shudder at the deep rumble that is his voice, at your small gasp, Aemond continued to press soft almost gentle feather kisses on the exposed skin of your pulse point, down your jugular, to the base of your neck, behind your ear—“Ah!” You can feel him chuckling at your voiced pleasure, he knows you like the back of his hand, which spot makes you tick and jolt— you arch your back when he suck and nip at the sensitive skin, ever so reactive to his touch, you are.

You always are, little dove, like you are made to respond to him— his voice, touch, kisses, pleasure, demands— each and every single one of his decrees.

Aemond palm comes up to cusp your flowery breasts next, fondling the soft skin with your buds firmly against the calloused skin of his palm. He then rolled the blossoming darkening buds of pleasure between his index and thumb, causing you to grip onto his biceps, “Mm Seven—.” You tried your best to remain sane but alas, you never were to begin with, nothing is ever normal nor sane but you could not care less, not when it is him.

He chuckled at your oversensitivity, mouth slide down from the crook of your neck to your stern collarbone, before reaching the valley of your breasts. He looked up at you menacingly as he takes one of your pert bud into his mouth to suckle on it as you yelp— hand clutching his doublet in desperation, you are sure by now that your smallclothes is not only drenched but soaked from the way your cunt pulse with each second going by.

“Doñus riñus.” He murmured as he littered marks all over your now flushed skin, moving to the other neglected nipple, applying the same treatment of pull-tug-suckle on the poor overstimulated bundle of nerves. Sweet girl.

Aemond released your now reddened bitten tender buds with a loud pop! causing blush to once more darken on your flushed skin, he smirks up at you then,“Lay down, ābrazȳrys.” wife. He lightly push you downward against the stone table, you shuddered lightly when your heated skin met the cold surface, your eyes are glistened— wide yet droopy with needy innocence as you stared up at him, eyeing him as he removes his breeches slowly.

“Aemond…” You whined and pressed your thighs together when he keeps on teasing you by undoing his laces way too fucking slow, he knows it will drive you mad especially since your drenched tight cunt is inviting him oh so warmly— fuck, he thinks, you looked like the Maiden and Mother has painted, created the perfect goddess of the realm, silver locks wildly splayed on the table, with your braids almost undone, and your body glistened with thin layer of sweat and some of his spit, skin flushed with his markings on you, “Fucking temptress little slut.” He groaned as he stared at you panting.

Your puffy cheeks are heated with lust and neediness, your eyes stared at him like you always did when you sought comfort or wisdom from him— the same way little you had looked up at him whenever you beg for his remaining sweet treats, or when that first time in your reading chambers, oh how you had asked him so so sweetly to touch you— open and take your maidenhead like a good obedient little girl you are, how your bitten raw lips is murmuring pleads to him as if he wouldn’t give you what you want— oh his poor little darling, always wanting more more more.

Then his gaze fall down the swell of your breasts, the way it rises up and down with each breath you take, inviting him to suck and nip at the tender buds once more, and when he dropped his sight to your fluttering folds— he bit his lip, hard, for the view is both the most sinful obscene yet heavenly thing he could ever have witnessed in his lifetime, there you lay, ready for him, ripe for the taking, and the center of your pleasure is weeping for him to take care of you— to take you.

“Gevie.” He whispered as he drank his fill of you— you, the embodiment of a Princess, a Queen— all in name, nature, body, spirit, and soul, everyone should worship you, for he can swear to the Seven that you are holier than any deity common folk would pray to, you are not just the core of his being, but the essence of his vitality— his his his. Beautiful.

Aemond wastes no time to drop to fold your legs so he can enjoy his treat, he grunted before leaning down to kiss the inside of your mound— hand holding to your hips and one on your thighs to keep them there, his hold is stern enough to let you know that if you were to move them, oh little one, there will be consequences. You tried your best to keep them there as he press sweet lingering kisses all over the very surface of your folds, all wet and begging for him.

You gasped at the sudden sensation of his fingers parting your warm heat gently, making way for his tongue to spread the wetness from your opening up up up through the soft muscle then to your pearl, focusing on the now reddened and hardened nub with teasing licks and not yet a suckle on the oversensitive gem for he knows you would crumble and reach your peak oh so suddenly— no he wants to keep you on edge for a little longer, having you on that teetering insanity, controlling your pleasure as he pleases.

But when he does let up and suckle on the raw pulsing nub— you let out a sound akin to that of a scream, somewhere between a loud needy whine and strained moan— causing him to grunt, sending vibrations through your core, you jolted at the feeling, arching your back to pull away from him but causing a grinding effect instead— you clasped a hand on your lips to stifle the wanton sounds you let out.

“Ah-ah, do not hide from me now, little one.” He rasps against your cunt, you had half the mind to be bratty and yank his hair for causing you to be so so messy, but you only bit your tongue to halt yourself from getting yet another bruises from the last time you were bent over his knee— which was not that long ago, having been ridiculed on yet another Aegon’s quest, combined with your snappy attitude had him seeing red.

“Enough.”

“No.” You raised your eyebrow at the fuming man standing tall over you, having you crane your neck just to look up at his sharp eye and the mean clench of his jaw, “Thread carefully, sister.” He warned you, tilting his head that should’ve been an indication for you to stop— but alas you wanted to push him, to see the limit that is Aemond Targaryen, if only there is one— you rolled your eyes then, biting the inside of your cheek in an act of defiance. Oh now you have done it, little girl.

You barely seen him coming for the next you knew, you yelped as he manhandled you over his knee on the bed, both of your wrists are behind you, tightly gripped by his much larger ones— “Let me go.” You whined, trying to tug free of his grip only for him to chuckle darkly, “You wanted to test me, push me, and now you shall see the consequence of your misbehavior.”

“Aemond—“

“Ah-ah, if you wanted me to treat you like a whore, all you gotta do is ask, darling.” You clenched at that, letting out a squeaky gasp at the way his voice resonates through the room, “Hm, lets see if we can put that mouth to a better use than running your tongue like a tart.” With that he pushed two of his free digit to the inside of your bitten lips— down down down until it rests against your throat.

You looked up at him with teary eyes, heated cheeks, and lips wide open with his fingers stuffed inside of you— both preventing you to speak and constrict your air intake, causing your head to get fuzzy— not dangerous just flying on that mind space of him him him, Aemond notices your now cloudy lilac orbs and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead— all the gentleness short lived, however, when he freed your wrist from his grip to press a loud impactful swat to your cheeks causing you to yelp against his fingers.

“Now lets see if your dumb little head can count for me.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you feel the stinging white noise of his slap against your folds— yelping as you feel your peak closing in, “I’m close— please please.” You writhed underneath him before he gently shushes you, taking one of his hand and intertwining it with yours, whilst he enters your wet warm opening with the other— a finger slides in, before a second joining the pleasurable stretch.

“Tight little thing, you are.” He shakes his head between your thighs but your ears are ringing too loudly to register anything right now, mind so so hazy with cunt so so overstimulated, meanwhile, Aemond continues his ministration on your pearl, suckling on the poor nub with vigorous attention, “Mmnh, I—“ You can feel the height of your pleasure come crashing down on you, stomach tightening with heat, too hard, too much, so quickly.

“Let go for me, sweetling.”

You obeyed at his command, as you always do, a good girl you are always do as he wishes— your peak was a long one with you letting out a silent scream followed by plethoras of his name and chanting ‘ah’s’ and ‘oh Gods!’ as he savor your release.

The man above you grinned as your body shake beneath him, having one of the hardest peak of your life, he pulled his fingers out of you with a satisfied smile— a proud one at that, having to see your essence coating not only the tabletop where all the lords that serve him now would sit to discuss the runs about the realm, about his reign but also covering his fingers. You’re a delectable delight, perfect molded whore, carefully shaped nymph for him. His.

Aemond stands up, intertwining both your fingers together to guide you to sit up— having been near insensate from your heightened senses, he had to support your spine as you shakily face him again— and his sight of you is one he can only describe of all Seven heavens in itself. You, a mess you are, silver hair mused and wild as if you had been on Valyx back, it cascades down the plane of your shoulder and back, your face is flustered, eyes droopy, unfocused, and lips, your lips pulled into a drunken kind of smile.

Oh, he has gotten you in a place where all you can do is take what he gives you. Fuck.

You, sweet pliant you, in the daze of your peak welcomes him gleefully when he presses a passionate kiss on your lips, feverishly moving your lips with his, you gasp as he bit your bottom lip, tongue entering to enter your wet cavern once more, before parting with a lewd pop! sound, “Syz riña.” good girl.

The gentleness of his actions are short lived though, Aemond smirks before you feel him manhandled you around, and bend you over the cold stone table, causing you to gasp in both surprise as well as feeling the chilling sensation on your tummy and up your overstimulated chest area, “Shh, no fussing.” He scolded you as if you’re a child, but his stern tone alone made your knee goes weaker.

You can hear the sound of his breeches being untied behind you, the sound alone has your neck craning to the side, your head pressed against the table and drags one of your leg upwards to graze against his legs, smiling to yourself in a post peak-haze state, “Hurry.”— that soft giggly voice of your demand surprises Aemond as he chuckled behind you, shaking his head at the gentle brattiness you let out.

“Aemond!” You yelped when you feel his hand coming down on your bottom, not once but three times in loud harsh succession— you lift your legs once more not out of teasing nature but to quell the pain and the oh so good feeling that comes from it, your cunt clenching around nothing as you arch, “Little girls who ran their mouth will not get anything but this, you hear me?” He said, palming your now reddened tender skin roughly, though the sensation makes you whimper.

“Of course you’d love that too, filthy girl.” He gives you no time to process his words before he tap the now hard leaking length against your opening, which makes you whine lewdly, he is pushing just slightly in, but not enough to even get half of his tip in, making you cry out in frustration, “Kostilus, lēkia.” Please, brother.

“Hm, I do love seeing you beg for it.” He hummed, pressing a kiss on the skin of your back, before breaching the tight opening of your cunt inch by inch, “Fuck, missed this tight cunt.” He grunts, feeling the way your walls sucking him in inside your warm heat.

The stretch caused you to wail and mewl “Tis too much—“ and, “too big!” if anything, the sound of your protests and the contradicting clench of your cunt around his cock is making him more feral— almost animalistic in how he thrusts harder inside you, before burying himself deep deep deep, head nudging the opening of your cervix with just the right amount of pain from the pleasure of being opened by his length, and pleasure from the way the curved tip hit your spongey spot with ease.

Aemond does not let you breathe much it seems, as he begin his fulfilling assault on your battered cunny, thrusting his length oh so deep before pulling, then slam it back in with vigorous pace, hitting all the right places even when his width alone made you shudder near your peak, “So good— oh!” You moaned, closing your eyes and arching your back, to which he responded with a hand yanking your silver locks tightly, the impossibly deep arch of your back has you both drunk on the feeling.

“Take it, take me.” He moaned in your ear, not once does he relent in his pace, always fucking into you harder, pounding you into oblivion, so much so that your cannot care anymore of who might heard what the of you are doing in the very same table he now commanded, he now holds the highest marble rank, the thought would exhilarate you further if you had not been so consumed by the way his cock reach your sweetest spot over and over again.

“Let them hear you, sweetling— fuck, let them know who you belong to, who is in fucking charge.” His words have double the meaning, that you can interpret perfectly, for he relinquish in the knowledge of claiming you, owning you, which you happily obliged, but he also needs to hear it from you that he has deserved this place, as the Prince Regent, that he has fully earned it, and shall lead the realm as his own.

“I belong to- Ah! you, My Prince…” Your voice is shaky in the wake of your nearing release, your velvety walls involuntarily clenched around him when his hips stuttered at the revelation that is you words, it seeped into his skin, thrumming along his veins— his grip on your hair and waist is tightening, for you are sure that your skin would be covered by his love marks by the morrow, but you did not care, let them see, let them know who rules the Seven Kingdoms, and who is steadfastly stood by his side, his Queen.

“Ao nykē perzōñi iksi, ābrazȳrys. Hen prānot hae mērȳ zālagon indīliks.” You and I are made of fire, wife. We have always been meant to burn together.

“Issa! zaldrīzo ānogar, Īlvon qumblī iāris.” Yes! blood of the dragon, ours runs thick. You replied in the midst of your clouded mind, his declaration has made you seen the stars that for a moment you thought you had been flying through the sky with Valyx, yet make no mistake, for his hips driving into you, and the way he snaked one of his arms down around you to rub at your pearl, instantly ground you back to earth, “Va sȳndroti vāedroma.” Joined as one. He whispered deeply, “Avy jorrālean, zaldrītsos.” I love you, little dragon.

“Come for me.” He rasped deep in your ear, that was the last restraint you have on you, as the combination of the never ending pounding of his cock inside your now oversensitive cunt has you curling your toes, the feeling of his fingers rubbing quick circle over your now engorged reddened nub has tears running down your face so prettily, so messily, painting the perfect picture of a ruined slut just for him.

You came with sobs escaping your lips, the plethora of whimpers of his name heightened the pressure inside the now sex smelling room, the sound of steps are loud from the grounds outside the keep, so does the sound of the occasional knight’s armors clanking, but all of that escaped your mind— too dumb speared on his length to give a fuck, your eyes closed as his hips faltered, feeling him shake above you at the telltale sign of his own impending release, you smiled drunkenly at the knowledge of your effect on him, “Give it to me, please, fill me up,” You mewled softly, finding every bit of your strength left to urge him, “Give me a babe, Aemond— mmh! let me give you an heir.”

Aemond groaned loudly at your words, “Fuck— fucking shit.” You have no idea what you have said to him, sweet girl, you have no idea how the thought of him marking you, both bound by blood, vow, and his seed inside you, does to him. You have no idea how much he wishes to always keep you full of his come, so you may be swelled with babes, because then nobody would ever question his claim over you, nor claim over the true line of Targaryen blood that is deserving of the Iron Throne.

He thrusted inside you one more time before stilling himself deep— so fucking deep inside you with his tip nudging your womb, and releases his seed inside of you with words of lewd affirmations spilling out of his lips, “Good girl, gonna watch you swell with my babe.” and, “Take it, little one, I’m yours— fuck!”

Your neck craned to the side as warmth filled your insides, smiling and biting your lips at the overwhelming sensation of both searing pain as well as being completely full of him, claimed and mark by him, undoubtedly his, “Avy jorrāelan, valzȳrys.” I love you, husband. You muttered, his eye still closed and his lips peppering small kisses along the plane of your back and your spine.

After some moment of calming down basked in silence, with only each other’s deep breathing, and him humming high Valyrian to your ears, he then slipped out of you, before turning you around and carry you to the where the chair for the King, or in this instance, the Prince Regent is located.

He sat down on it, with you laying on top of his lap in a fetal position, the crown of your head is tucked safely under his chin whilst his palm caresses the skin across your back and arms softly, “I hope I was not too rough.” He murmured against your hair, kissing at the messy silver strands lovingly.

“You were…” You mumbled, looking at him mischievously, he raised an eyebrow at you- biting the inside of his cheek awaiting your response, “But I like it.” Came your reply, cheeks flushed once more at the way he muttered something akin to “Fucking hell” under his breath.

“Aemond—“

“I will never put you in danger.” He said, eyes boring into yours, full of hope, full of promises, “Do you trust me?” His voice came out with a hint of vulnerability to you, almost like he bares his neck for you to bite if you so please.

You frown at this, “Of course,” You put your palm on his jaw, “Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo, rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.” Vow spoken through time, of darkness and light. He smiled at your words, have long he had dreamed of binding your blood in the tradition of Old Valyria, he is perhaps the perfect devout son that worships the Seven, yet he is also very much connected to the blood of the dragon as you are with yours. Tis’ something he have vowed to do with you once the realm’s stability comes back.

“Do not be afraid.”

“With you? never again.”

It is true that you longed for nothing more than to be with him in a world of your own, in a world where there is no more bloodshed, in a realm where peace is known, no green— no black, just you and him— but you also know that it is wishful thinking, for you all have a part to play, you included, as Helaena has said before, if your part is to be the eye he had lost, if your part is to be his anchor, his devoted wife, his sweet sister, his lover, his destiny, then by his side is where you shall be.

For it is better to go to Seven hells and back with him, then to live in agony without him.

You’re bound by vow, by blood, by wounds, by heart, and most importantly by that invisible string of everlasting fire. You are meant to burn together.

[cokou]

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝙻𝚊𝚠 × 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

sum. an unknown substance had hit your face causing you distress, Law helped you rid of it. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. sex pollen. office sex. rough sex. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. I love this trope and was kinda hoping to write it one day, which is this day!! Hope you guys enjoy :3 // do not translate or transfer to any other platforms, this is my only account, will not be crossposted anywhere. POLL DECISION.<33

As soon as the submarine resurfaced, you couldn't help but explore the newly discovered Island that was infront of your very eyes. Getting off the ship then walking to explore the forest like Island, you left trail remembrance of ribbons in each tree branches. While on your walk, you acknowledge all plant types that you come across of, such as tree's with various sizes, or various patterns of green, even small bushes that grew kinds of small red berries.

Walking around and distinguishing which berries or fruits are edible and poisonous, you come across a vine with a strange leaf and flower pattern, the flower being bigger than the vines itself, causing the vines to slowly give up on it. The flowers color hue was different, it was shaded a blackish red that faded into a greyish pink towards the middle. The vines were deep green colored and it grew thorns on it.

Curiousity took over you as you recalled all vines that you had studied on a book you had recently bought, most types of growable plants were there, but you certainly haven't come across this one. As you leaned your face closer to examine it, it's scent took over, the scent was flowery, sweet, and it reeked the smell of freshly cut grass.

Leaning your fingers through the vines, you touched the flower. As you tried picking it up, it squirted a pollen into your face, latching itself into your eye, causing you to scream at the sudden pain. As the others scream your name behind you, asking if you were okay. You had told them that something had just gotten into your eyes and that it wasn't such a big of a deal.

As the sun sets and the sky turns darker, you all had decided to call it a day and head back into the submarine before anything bad happens outside. Walking back behind several crewmates, you felt a burning sensation across your whole body, your mouth turned watery as heat pools between your legs. You had thought that you were just tired, or maybe even hungry and shrugged off the sudden feeling.

But as you make your way to your room, you felt the heat through your body again, rethinking about the way pollen had gotten into your eyes from the flower earlier, making you a tad bit concerned. You backed away from your room and proceeded to find your captains whereabouts to let him know what had happen. By the time you had catched him inside his office, you couldn't help but feel irresistibly horny.

—

"So you're telling me that a powdery substance got into your face, and that now you feel like you're burning?" Law makes sure that he had heard you correctly as you identify all the details of what had happened earlier.

"y-yeah, and I'm telling you— it's getting worser." As you finished the sentence, your cheeks had grown an even more pinkish hue.

"..That isn't likely to happen, what type of flower- or vine was it?" Even more confused, Law had no idea of what vine nor flower you talking about, talk about bad day.

"Well, it had a blackish red color and a bit greyish by the middle, and— the vines were dark green.." You were such sweaty mess right now, it's taking such a huge toll on your personality, causing you to slighty hump the chairs edge as you urge yourself to masturbate under the table while consulting Law, or just fuck it and take Law right here in his office.

"Hmm, well you do have a book th—"

"Fuck it Law! Please, take me right here right now!" As you ball your fist onto your thighs, having your thoughts win, you felt a pang of embarrassment wash over you.

Law looked towards you shockingly, examining how your face was bright red, and how you were 'burning'. He finally understood what you were trying to ring up on his mind. It wasn't any type of regular pollen that had brushed through you, it had some sort of aphrodisiac on it, causing your behavior to be distressed.

"Come here." He gestured you towards his lap. You obeyed him and made your way infront of him, slowly lowering yourself onto his thighs.

You felt his hands hold your hips, wasting no time, he lowered your bottoms all the way towards your ankles. Unzipping his pants, he lowers it to his knees together with his boxers, freeing his semi-hard cock, giging it a few pumps to harden its current state. He positions your legs onto his arms, and slowly lifting you up.

He latches you towards his cock, your wetness being enough to lube both of you up.

"Are you sure?" Taking a moment to reassure that you'll be fine with this.

"y-yeah, please." You reassured him.

Satisfied with your answer, he decides to slowly move you on his cock, making you bite a moan out of your lips. He continued thrusting you onto him slowly, making sure that you'll be just fine on his hands.

"No— don't hold back, please!" You held his hands, which were holding onto your legs.

Law hesitates with your order, but gives in as he knows that with your situation right now, you'd probably need it. Without a warning, his grip tightens and he continues thrusting you onto his cock faster.

The harder you contain yourself from biting back your moans, you eventually give up, your lips swollen from your teeth biting against it, causing blood to form on it. You released a low moan, enough to be heard by Law, followed with a much louder one, as you get used to letting out noises for him to hear.

Law jolts as you released a stream of moans from your mouth, causing his dick to twitch inside you. Feeling his dick grow inside you, your moans increase volume enough for the whole room to hear. Law hugs your figure whilst still holding your knees and thrusted harder and faster inside you.

You felt heat rushing through you as you about to hit your edge, you warned him with your upcoming release and he nods in response. A bit later, you felt climax jolt onto you as you released on his cock, embarrassment pangs through you as you realized what you just did.

Law slows his pace and continues thrusting inside you, making you release shaky breaths and panting. Law didn't stop even when you had reached your climax, now you felt a second one coming through. His pace once again picked up, being faster than earlier.

"L-Law— i'm, c-coming again—" warning him with your upcoming orgasm again, his pace picks up once again— this time it felt like volts of light colliding, your skins producing noises that you sworn could be heard miles away, your moans being louder and clearer, it was obvious that he was close.

"m'close— (name).."

"i-inside me— please!" As his pace slows down, you felt his release deep inside you, it was warm, warm enough to feed the coldness of his office.

He removes you from him, his release dripping off your entrance.

"Better?" He was panting and out of breath.

"Yes, thank you—" You stood up while holding onto the table for dear life.

"We should get you cleaned up, especially your face, you wouldn't want that happening again do you?" He leads you into the bathroom and hands you a towel.

If it meant by Law fucking you like that, maybe you shouldve preserved that little flower that gave you trouble, right? Definitely.

©Cokou 2024,all works belong to me. DO NOT TRANSLATE OR TRANSFER!

[lila-lou]

✨Stubborn Heat✨

Summary: Jensen is exhausted and coming down with a fever during a busy convention, but his stubbornness won’t let him rest—not until he’s had his way with you.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, language

Word Count: 4458

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As Jensen walks into the green room, his eyes are heavy and slightly red. He sniffs a few times, texting you to inquire about your whereabouts. But before he can send his messages, you return from the toilet. The two of you are alone, since everyone else is occupied giving autographs or on stage. Jensen doesn’t look particularly good right now.

"Hey", you say softly, noticing the fatigue in his eyes.

"Hey", Jensen replies, his voice sounding tired. "I thought you might've gotten lost".

You give him a sympathetic smile. "Nope, just had to pee".

Jensen nods, but there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. It's your first convention together, and despite being officially together for a year now, it's been a rough journey since his divorce from Danneel became official six months ago. The weight of the past still lingers between you, adding an extra layer of complexity to your relationship.

As Jensen lets himself plop down on the couch, he holds out his hand, signaling for you to sit with him. His forehead rests on his palm, and you can tell he's really tired. You take a seat next to him, feeling the weight of his exhaustion.

Gently, he wraps his big arms around you, pulling you close against him. You lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence. Despite the fatigue and the challenges you've faced together, being in each other's arms feels like home.

"You okay?", you ask softly, running your fingers through his hair.

"Yeah", he murmurs, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "Just… tired".

You nod in understanding, offering him silent support as you hold each other in the quiet of the green room.

As Jensen holds you close, you mumble softly, "You really don't look okay, Jay".

He lets out a weary chuckle, but it lacks its usual warmth. "Just a long day, baby. Nothing I can't handle".

You're not convinced, though. Carefully, you place your palm against his forehead. It's a bit warm, but not alarmingly so. Still, concern flickers in your eyes as you gaze at him.

"I think you might be coming down with something", you remark, furrowing your brow.

Jensen lets out another sniff, and you can tell he's trying to brush off your concern. "I'm fine, really. Just need some rest".

But you know him well enough to recognize when he's pushing himself too hard.

You had about 15 minutes until Jensen went back on stage. You stand next to a security guard, not wanting to disturb either the fans or Jared and Jensen on stage. From your vantage point, you watch Jensen plaster on a smile for the audience. Despite his fatigue, he's a professional, and he knows how to put on a show for his fans.

As he interacts with the audience, answering questions and sharing anecdotes, you can't help but admire his dedication. But behind the façade, you can still see the weariness in his eyes, the slight slump in his posture.

As the panel goes on, Jensen's voice cracks slightly now and then, but he overplays it perfectly, making it seem like part of his natural charm. The fans are none the wiser, laughing and cheering along with his jokes.

Once the panel ends, Jensen barely has a moment to catch his breath before he has to head to the photo op. The schedule is running a bit behind, leaving him with no opportunity to see you or take a little break. You can see the annoyance etched on his face as he rushes past you, giving you a quick, apologetic glance.

You manage to catch his hand for a brief moment. "Hang in there", you whisper, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

He nods, a tired but grateful smile flickering across his face. "I will. See you soon".

As Jensen moves towards the photo op area, you watch him summon the energy to engage with the fans, each smile and pose a testament to his professionalism. Yet, you can't shake the worry gnawing at you, knowing he desperately needs a moment to rest and recuperate. You resolve to be there for him as soon as his commitments allow, ready to offer the comfort and support he needs.

It was about 8 in the evening when Jensen finally entered the green room with the rest of his colleagues. He looked even more tired than before, dark circles under his eyes and his shoulders slumped. You could see the exhaustion etched into every line of his face.

Without even giving you a glance, he grumbled a simple, “Let’s go”.

You felt a pang of concern but nodded, gathering your things quickly.

While Jensen gave the fans one last smile and wave, you walked more between the bodyguards and assistants than beside him, since the two of you wanted to keep your attendance this weekend low-key. The crowd’s cheers and flashes of cameras felt distant as you made your way through the throng of people.

As you reached the exit, Jensen finally turned to you, his eyes softening slightly. “Sorry for being grumpy”, he murmured, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Let’s just get you home”.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet. Jensen leaned his head against the window, eyes closed, as if savoring the brief respite.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, you guided Jensen to your room, helping him out of his jacket and shoes. He collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh, clearly relieved to be away from the chaos.

You knew he didn’t want to be grumpy with you, but you couldn’t hide your disappointment about today. It was your first convention being the new girl at his side, and you saw him less than the fans did. And then he gave you the grumpiness while the fans got the smiles and charm.

As you moved around the room, tidying up and getting things ready for the night, you couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt. You understood the demands of his job, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle the disconnect.

Jensen, sensing your unease, opened his eyes and looked at you. “Hey”, he said softly. “I know today was rough. I’m sorry I took it out on you”.

You paused, turning to face him. “I know you’re tired, Jensen. I just… I guess I hoped we’d get to spend a bit more time together. It’s hard seeing you give everything to everyone else and having nothing left for us”.

He sighed deeply, sitting up slightly.

With a soft sigh, you felt a pang of guilt for expressing your frustrations. You knew Jensen's heart was in the right place, even if his actions sometimes fell short of your expectations.

Suddenly, Jensen's expression softened, and he reached out his hand to you. "C'mere", he said softly, waving to himself lazily.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should accept his invitation. But his warm gaze melted away your reservations, and you slowly walked towards him, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation.

As you reached him, Jensen pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you tightly. Finally being close to him again, you nestled into his embrace, feeling the tension melt away.

With his arms tight around your waist, Jensen's lips brushed against your jaw and ear, his murmurs sending shivers down your spine. "You know, sweetheart", he whispered, "there's something special I've been saving just for you. How would you like it if I showed you something that only you're allowed to get from me?".

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, anticipation coursing through your veins. "I'd love that", you whispered back, a smile tugging at your lips.

Jensen smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously as he pulled himself away slightly.

"How about", he murmured, his voice low and husky, "you get out of that little dress of yours?".

A flush spread across your cheeks at his suggestion, but excitement bubbled in your chest. With a coy smile, you leaned in closer, letting your fingers trace lightly along the collar of his shirt.

"Only if you promise to make it worth my while", you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen's grin widened, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. "Oh, sweetheart, I'll make it more than worth your while", he replied, his voice laced with promise.

You pulled your dress over your head, revealing nothing underneath but a delicate lace thong. Jensen's breath caught in his throat as he watched, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with hunger.

A deep groan escaped his lips as he took in the sight of your hardened nipples, the desire in his eyes intensifying. Without a word, he reached out to pull you close, his hands trailing along the curves of your body as he kissed you hungrily.

With a sense of urgency, you gently pushed Jensen farther towards the headpiece of the bed, determined to take care of him. As you started to unbutton his dress shirt, Jensen watched you with heavy-lidded eyes, a mixture of desire and exhaustion swirling in their depths.

But as your fingers brushed against his skin, you couldn’t ignore the heat radiating from his body. His chest practically glowed underneath your fingertips, and you could feel the fever simmering beneath the surface.

Despite his efforts to overplay it, Jensen was definitely sick. The realization sent a pang of worry through you.

Jensen sensing your hesitation, rolled his eyes and growled softly, a mix of frustration and determination crossing his features. In one swift move, he turned you over, overplaying the dizziness that accompanied the motion. Now, he hovered above you, his hardness pressing insistently against your still-covered core.

“Jensen, you’re not well”, you demanded, concern lacing your voice.

His eyes darkened with a mixture of defiance and desire as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna fucking show you how pretty well I am”, he mumbled, his voice rough but full of intent.

Despite the heat radiating from his fevered body, his hands moved with practiced ease, sliding down your sides, eliciting shivers of anticipation. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment, a mix of passion and worry intertwining as Jensen sought to prove his strength and you struggled to temper your concern.

With a soft sigh, you stopped resisting, knowing exactly that Jensen would get his way like always. You were putty in his hands, and he knew it. The moment your resistance melted away, Jensen's lips found their way to your jaw, kissing it down to your neck.

His touch was both urgent and tender, each kiss sending shivers down your spine. As he continued his trail of kisses, his hands roamed over your body, heightening your senses and deepening your desire.

"That's it", he murmured against your skin, his voice a mix of satisfaction and raw need. "Just let go, baby".

You arched into him, your body responding to his every touch. Despite the worry gnawing at the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the electricity between you, the way he made you feel like no one else could.

Jensen's hands slid down to your thong, his fingers hooking under the delicate fabric and slowly pulling it down. The anticipation built with every movement, your breath coming faster as you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours.

"Jay", you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of need and concern. "Promise me you'll rest after this".

He paused, lifting his head to look into your eyes. The fevered intensity in his gaze softened slightly, replaced by a glimmer of affection. "I promise", he replied, his voice sincere. "But right now, I need you".

His words sent a fresh wave of desire through you, and you reached up to pull him closer, your lips meeting in a searing kiss.

Shortly after, you pushed him back, forcing him to sit on the bed, and crawled above him, your movements deliberate and commanding. His eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and anticipation reflecting in their depths.

“We’re doing it my way, then”, you ordered, your voice firm yet sultry. “Meaning I do the work”.

Jensen’s breath hitched as he watched you take control. You reached for his belt, fingers deftly working to undo it. The sound of the leather sliding through the loops filled the room, adding to the tension building between you.

His hands rested on your hips, his grip firm but allowing you to take the lead. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his fevered state only heightening the urgency of the moment.

With his belt undone, you moved to unbutton his jeans, your hands brushing against the hard outline of his arousal. Jensen let out a low moan, his head falling back slightly as he watched you with heavy-lidded eyes.

Jensen tried hard to focus, but his sickness clouded his mind. Still, as you undressed him, his erection stood hard and proud, showing his desire.

Despite his fever, Jensen responded eagerly to your touch.

You gave him a few pumps, feeling his hardness pulse beneath your touch. Then, you straddled his lap, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you. With his head resting against the headpiece of the bed, Jensen watched your every move.

With a knowing smile, Jensen brushed his thumb over your lips. Without hesitation, you eagerly licked his thumb, coating it with saliva.

He then brought his wet thumb to your clit, which was inches above his hard erection, rubbing your sensitive nub lazily. Each stroke sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body.

You moaned softly. Jensen's eyes darkened with desire as he continued to tease you, his movements deliberate and tantalizing.

He grabbed the base of his dick, positioning it just at the entrance of your slick folds. With a slow, deliberate motion, he spread your arousal with the hot head of his cock, dragging it through your slick slit, up to your swollen clit.

You gasped as he teased your most sensitive spot, the friction driving you to the edge of ecstasy.

Jensen's touch was both gentle and firm, his movements expertly calculated to drive you insane. With each stroke, you felt yourself growing closer to the edge, the tension building to a fever pitch.

With a throaty voice, Jensen leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Sit".

As you obeyed his command, slowly lowering yourself onto him, you felt the familiar pang of pain as you stretched to accommodate his size. But like always, you couldn't take him completely, the fullness almost overwhelming.

Jensen's hands gripped your hips firmly, his touch both possessive and reassuring. "That's it", he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Take me, baby".

You gasped at his words, the pleasure and pain mingling together in a heady rush. With each inch that disappeared inside you, the tension in the air grew thicker.

Jensen groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he let his head fall back, overwhelmed by the sensation of you surrounding him. His grip on your hips tightened, almost bruising, urging you to move, but you needed a moment to ease the pain.

Feeling his urgency, you placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back onto the bed. “Give me a moment”, you whispered, your voice strained with discomfort.

Feeling your discomfort, Jensen's usually attentive nature struggled to break through the fog of his sickness. His mind was clouded, his thoughts sluggish and muddled, making it difficult for him to focus on anything other than the overwhelming sensation of you surrounding him.

Usually, he would have made sure you were alright, his concern for your well-being paramount in his mind. But in that moment, his body was beyond weak, drained of energy by the fever raging within him. So instead of speaking, he simply nodded in response to your request, his eyes falling shut every now and then as he fought to keep himself present.

As you took a moment to ease the pain, Jensen let out a soft sigh, the tension in his body slowly dissipating as he allowed himself to relax. Despite the discomfort and the overwhelming fatigue that weighed heavily on him, he couldn't deny the spark of desire that still burned within him, fueled by the raw intimacy of the moment.

You started to move your hips, the slow, deliberate motion sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. Your hands steadied yourself on his biceps, feeling the strength beneath your touch, while Jensen held onto your hips lazily.

As you found your rhythm, the tension in the air grew thicker, the anticipation building with each thrust. Jensen's eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking with yours in a heated stare.

"You feel so good", he groaned, his voice thick with desire.

You moaned in response, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming your senses. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment of raw intimacy.

But as you felt the heat radiating from Jensen's body, concern gnawed at the edges of your mind. Carefully, you placed your palm against his forehead, your breath hitching as you confirmed just how hot he was.

Sensing your worry, Jensen weakly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. Before you could speak, he let out a low growl, his voice hoarse with exertion.

"Don't even fucking think about it", he demanded, his words laced with stubborn determination.

You hesitated, torn between your concern for Jensen's well-being and your desire to continue. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the fierce resolve that burned within him, the same determination that had carried him through countless challenges before.

With a sigh, you relented, knowing that Jensen wouldn't back down until he had proven his strength.

Jensen's hips met yours with a forceful thrust, a reminder to stay present in the moment.

You winced at the depth of his thrust, feeling the pressure build within you as you struggled to maintain your balance against his chest.

"Jensen", you gasped, the intensity of the sensation overwhelming. "Easy".

But Jensen's response was a low growl, his grip on your hips tightening as he urged you to keep moving. "Don't stop", he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Keep going".

While you moved your hips, Jensen leaned forward, pressing soft, heated kisses along your collarbone. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close as if he could draw strength from your connection. You could feel his breath hot and heavy against your skin, mingling with the fever sweat that dampened his forehead.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands and pulling gently, urging him to continue. With each movement, you took him in deeper, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through both of you.

"Jensen", you breathed, your voice a mixture of concern and desire, "you're burning up".

He groaned against your neck, his forehead pressing against your skin. "Don't care", he murmured, his voice strained but determined. "Need you…need this".

The raw need in his voice sent a thrill through you. You moved together, the rhythm building with each thrust, the heat between you growing more intense.

"Just…stay with me", Jensen whispered, his voice rough and filled with emotion. "Don't stop".

Your heart ached with a mixture of love and worry, but you nodded, determined to give him what he needed.

With his hot lips kissing your skin, you clenched around him, the sensation driving him deeper inside you. Goosebumps rose on your skin where his arms held you tightly, the contrast between his fevered body and your own adding to the intensity of the moment.

Your breathing grew heavier, each gasp and moan escaping your lips as you felt yourself nearing climax.

“Jensen”, you moaned, your voice filled with both desire and urgency.

Hearing his name, Jensen pressed you tighter against himself, his head still weakly buried in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin, mingling with the sweat that dampened both of your bodies. He held you as if you were his anchor, grounding him amidst the fever and exhaustion.

“Come for me”, he murmured into your neck, his voice rough and commanding despite his weakened state.

The raw need in his voice pushed you over the edge. With a final, shuddering gasp, you let go, your climax washing over you in powerful waves. Your body tightened around him, drawing a deep groan from Jensen as he felt you pulse around him.

As you reached the peak of your pleasure, your nails dug into Jensen’s shoulders, the sensation sending a jolt of pain and pleasure through him. He hissed against your neck, the sound muffled by the heat of the moment.

Feeling you clenching so tightly around him, Jensen couldn’t hold back any longer. With a throaty groan, he released deep inside you, his body tensing as he spilled himself into you.

“Fuck, Y/N”, he moaned, his voice hoarse and exhausted, his breath coming in ragged pants. He buried his face against your neck, seeking solace in the warmth of your embrace.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, lost in the aftermath of your shared release.

Jensen could barely catch his breath at the intensity of his climax and the strong dizziness that followed. His body felt even weaker now as he held onto you. With each ragged breath, he tried to regain his composure, the waves of exhaustion washing over him.

You felt his dick slowly softening inside you. With a tender touch, you ran your fingers through his hair, soothing him with your touch.

"Are you okay?", you whispered softly, concern lacing your voice.

Jensen nodded weakly, his forehead still pressed against your neck. "Yeah", he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just…need a moment".

You nodded, holding him close as you both caught your breath.

After a few seconds, you gently pushed him to lay back, brushing a tender kiss over his cheek. “I’m going to get some medicine for you”, you murmured softly, your voice filled with concern.

As you carefully got up from the bed, you moved with gentle care, not wanting to disturb him further. Making your way to the bathroom, you took a moment to clean up and pull on some clothes.

As you returned from the pharmacy, your heart sank at the sight of Jensen emerging from the bathroom, his figure clad only in boxers, still sweating and clearly exhausted. His eyes were half-open, glassy, and red, a clear sign of his illness. With a heavy sigh, you set the medicine down on the bedside table and approached him with concern etched on your face.

"Hey, Jensen", you said softly, reaching out to brush a gentle hand over his arm. "Got some medicine for you".

Jensen's eyes flickered with recognition as he glanced at you, his expression a mix of fatigue and gratitude. "Already?", he murmured, his voice hoarse and strained. He made his way back to the bed, his muscles flexing with each step.

You nodded, offering him a sympathetic smile. "Yeah", you replied gently. "Let's get you feeling better, okay? You look like you could use some rest".

With a weary nod, Jensen settled back onto the bed, his exhaustion evident in every line of his body. As you handed him the medicine and a glass of water, you couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for him. But you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on providing him with the comfort and care he needed in that moment.

After taking the medicine, Jensen leaned back, his eyes closed in a futile attempt to find some relief from his discomfort. “I feel like shit”, he grumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. A quiet cough escaped him, punctuating his words with a harsh reminder of his illness.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy as you watched him struggle. “I know", you murmured softly.

Jensen let out a tired sigh, his frustration evident in every line of his body. “Tomorrow’s gonna be hell with the second day of the convention”, he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laid your palm carefully against his forehead again, sighing as it still felt hot to the touch.

Heading to the minibar, you grabbed a bottle of water and returned to his side. "Here, drink up", you instructed gently, holding the bottle out to him.

Jensen nodded weakly, accepting the water. He took a few sips, the cool liquid providing some relief to his parched throat.

As he drank, you quickly shed your clothes. With a soft sigh, you settled back onto the bed beside him.

As Jensen looked towards you, his gaze filled with longing, you could see the silent question in his eyes. Why wouldn't you cuddle against him? He weakly brushed his arm up the pillow, silently inviting you to slip into your usual place beside him.

Feeling a surge of warmth in your heart, you couldn't resist his silent plea. With a soft smile, you shifted closer to him, sliding into the space beside him on the bed. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you close against his warm, fevered body.

With Jensen's steady heartbeat as your lullaby, you closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day finally catch up with you.

A sense of relaxation washed over him as he felt the coolness of your body against his fevered skin. Your face nestled against his chest, you wrapped one arm around his torso, seeking comfort and solace in his embrace.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to bask in the warmth and security of being in Jensen's arms. Despite his sickness and occasional grumpiness, being with him felt like coming home.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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