#his eyelid drops a little more heavily

[icharchivist]

also hold on i'm just realizing Past!Lavi's eye is droppy exactly like Lavi's eye.

like do you see what i mean. it's the same eyeshape.

[nochepsicodelica]

"All those drinks are gonna do you dirty, ma. You're gonna throw up if you don't get some food in your system, so eat," Toji says, pushing the box closer to you.

You giggle at his serious face, before standing up from your chair for the fourth time, trying to go around him. Toji's used to this by now and stands up, bringing you back down to your chair.

"Stop getting up and eat your food. You literally begged for this. Why aren't you eating it?"

"Why aren't you eating it?" You return, raising your brows at him, seductively. It doesn't come off too sexy when raising your eyebrows makes you immediately squint because of the light going into your sensitive eyes, but it does lure a chuckle out of Toji.

"I'm ignoring that. Just eat. I don't wanna hear you upchucking in a couple hours."

"You won't hold my hair back?" You pout. Your feigned little flash of sadness produces real tears in this state, so it's a little confusing for Toji when you start giggling while wiping at your reddened cheeks.

"Your food's getting cold. I know how you are about reheating fast food, so eat it before it goes to waste."

You smile at him, your eyelids almost completely shut in your drunken daze. Toji can't even lie, it's cute. It's the only reason he's not up the wall about this little situation. Then you decide to drop a bomb on him.

"I'm not hungry anymore. Too tired to eat." You rest your chin on your palm, shutting your eyes. It feels nice. It would take less than thirty seconds for you to fall asleep.

Fuck. Think, think, think...

"Hey." Toji pokes your forehead, lightly, earning a hum and a furrow of your brows. "What if I feed you?"

You laugh, giddily. "Ooo, you trying to romance me?"

"Sure, if you eat."

You laugh again. "Toji, you dog, you. I'm not putting out." You shake your head, eyes closed with a dumb grin on your face. "No, sir. It's food and then goodnight for me."

"You already put out for me, earlier, doll." He smirks at the way you blush, clearly having an 'oh, yeah...' moment. "Eat some more so we can go to sleep."

"Hm?" You hum, rolling your eyes open after your blink of sleep. You crack a grin as soon as you look at Toji. "You wanna kiss me sooo bad. Look at you."

"I'm not gonna kiss you. You're not listening. You think you deserve kisses for that?"

"Uh... yes? I mean no. Pshhh, nooo. Of course, not."

"That's right. So eat, or you'll go to sleep without kisses, tonight."

"Noooo," you whine, dramatically. "Wait! Fine, fine. Look." You take a huge bite of your sandwich, your cheeks puffing up as you chew. "Oh, this is really good," you say, muffled by your mouthful of food.

"Don't choke, doll. Small bites are fine," he says, picking up a napkin and wiping the excess condiments off your face.

You push through it and gulp down the bite. "That was a lot. Got bread stuck on the roof of my mouth." You take a sip of your drink to wash it all down. "Did I look so pretty for the party, today?" You ask, your lips curling as you put the cup back down.

"You did, mama. Stunning. Swept everyone there, off their feet."

You smile, the gesture transitioning into a giggle. "Even Shiu?"

"Yup. Even Shiu said he wanted a piece of you."

You gasp. "No... Did you fight him?"

"Nah, I wanted to, but I kept my cool. If he had put his hands on you, then I might have, but I had my eye on you all night, to make sure nobody did more than look at you."

"I wouldn't have followed him anywhere, anyway." You roll your eyes, suddenly so hostile against the host of the party. "Probably would've kicked him in the nuts and gone to find you."

"Yeah, that's a smart idea, doll."

Toji's elaborate answers to your questions kept you awake long enough for you to mindlessly eat while he talked. You were at the end of the sandwich when you realized how much you had eaten and how full you were.

"Can't... do it..." You groan, lying on the arm you have extended on the table. "Too full." You sigh, heavily, setting the rest of the sandwich down on the scattered fries in its box.

"That's good, ma. You don't have to eat it, anymore. We can go to bed, now."

You let out another heavy sigh, sluggishness washing over you before you force yourself to stand up from your chair, this time with Toji's 'okay'. He looks at your little belly as it protrudes from your dress, proof of how full you actually are, and pokes at it. Your usually soft tummy is temporarily stiff and it's adorable.

You grab Toji's hand so that you don't stumble as you walk. Before leaving the table, he finished the remainder of your sandwich in one bite and threw out the container with the remaining cold fries.

"Damn, you were right, baby. That was good."

"Mhm," you mumble, waiting for him to lead you to the room.

Toji helped you brush your teeth and wash your face, and when you finally made it to the room, he helped you dress down into comfier clothes. Now, you're in bed together and you're in his arms trying to doze off, but you can't with the way he's smothering your face with kisses. It's just kiss after kiss with him and you can't focus, but It is what you wanted. After all, you stuffed your face for this.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Overprotective

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

Summary: Your son is due to be born any day now and Feyd is very protective. He kills anyone who so much as lays a finger on you, but it’s gotten out of control. 

Notes: this was an anon request. same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. *can be read alone*

Warnings: mention of murder and pregnancy. 

Words: 1100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

“You’re mad,” Feyd says, his smile dropping at the sight of your frown. Your arms are crossed over your swollen belly as you lean back against the headboard of your bed. He closes the door behind him. “Why are you mad?”

You roll your eyes. He knows exactly why you’re mad. By your count, you’ve been pissed at him twenty-three times in the past month and a half and you don’t care for your widely-known highly-intelligent husband playing naive. “Don’t act like you don’t know. We only ever fight about one thing, Feyd. One.” 

Feyd sighs and steps closer to the mattress, but when you put your hand up, he stops in his tracks. Your throat strains as you swallow your grin. You still get little flutters in your belly when he demonstrates how you have that kind of power over him, but you cannot let him see the satisfaction on your face now. If he sees you smile, he will smile, which means you will have lost because he’ll know he’s won, and when he wins he gets turned on, so then you’ll get turned on, and then you’ll end up fucking. But you cannot be fucking right now. He needs to learn a lesson. His hard dick in his wife’s warm pussy will not achieve any lesson-learning. If anything, it will encourage his bad behavior. 

“You killed another one,” you tell him, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed; though that’s far from surprising.

Feyd crosses his arms over his broad chest. “He touched you.”

“I tripped.”

“And then he touched you.”

“He caught me.”

“So you agree,” Feyd says with a sharp nod. “I’m glad we are on the same page.”

Your huff descends into a groan as the heels of your palms press against your closed eyelids. “Your wife—your heavily pregnant wife—would’ve fallen on her ass if he hadn’t.”

“He shouldn’t have let you trip in the first place,” Feyd tells you. “He was meant to ensure you have a clear and safe walking path.”

Your lips part, mouth opening and closing and opening again as you search for a response. However, you end up with the same one you always do: “You are unbelievable,” you reply, shaking your head. “Twenty-three servants, Feyd! It has surpassed extremes! You killed one for brushing my hair–”

“Touching—and she was pulling on it too hard.”

“You killed one for helping me dress in the morning when you had already been called away for a meeting.”

“I prefer you naked anyway,” he says, shrugging, a smug grin stretching across his face. “Naked and in this bed.”

You raise a brow. “And the one who helped me sit down so I could watch you in the arena?”

“Ah, that one—” Feyd waves his finger as he clicks his tongue “—that one thought I wouldn’t notice because you were so high up in the stands. I don’t like sneaky people,” he reminds you, though you’re plenty aware of how he handles deception and trickery. “You should have told me you planned to attend and I would’ve helped you well before it started.”

Ignoring his point, you retort, “You cannot keep killing everyone.”

Feyd groans. “My love, you’re in too delicate a state,” he says. “I gathered all of them together not two months ago and explicitly forbade them from laying a finger on you. It is not my fault if they break the rules. And what sort of Baron am I if I do not enforce punishment?”

You hum in dissatisfaction. “You do understand you put me and your child in more danger by not permitting their assistance?”

Immediately, his brow pinches. His head turns to look away from you and when his jaw clenches, you realize the weight of your mistake. A sickening feeling settles in your gut. Your face falls from frustration into total devastation. “Oh God, Feyd…”

“I do not put you in danger,” he says, and it’s so shockingly meek that your heart cracks right down the middle. Not once in almost two years have you heard that tone leave his mouth, and you think maybe his eyes have become glassy, but you’re praying it’s a trick of the low lighting in your bedroom. Feyd has never cried in front of you, if he's ever cried at all, and you hope you didn’t just unfairly yank that vulnerability out of him. 

“I’m so sorry. That isn't what I meant,” you whisper, sinking into your shame. You know it’s such a sensitive topic for him and you spoke without thinking. You reach your hand toward him. “Come here….please.”

Feyd stares at you for a long moment, but then he sighs through his nose and walks over to sit at your side atop the mattress. No tears—your breath shudders in relief. One hand grasps his and your lips brush his knuckles. The other cups his cheek as you guide his forehead to rest on yours. 

“You protect me,” you swear to him. “No one could ever keep me safe the way you do, and I know that's all you want, but our son is coming soon. We will need help. I can’t birth this baby without a doctor and that doctor will have to touch me. Me and our son.”

The heat of Feyd's heavy breath warms your face. You wait for his response but he doesn’t have one, and instead, he shifts to lie down. You adjust your body until you’re flat on the mattress beside him. “Sometimes,” he starts as he rubs his palm over your stomach, “I have dreams about the three of us living elsewhere. Everyone is forced to leave us alone and all we have to care about is each other and our child.”

Feyd kisses your exposed shoulder, and in that moment, you’re reminded of how different he has become. He’s transformed from someone whose sole ambition was to be the Baron—a man driven to control this planet and have the people of Giedi Prime bow to him; a man who sought destruction and pain and power—to a man who secretly craves a bit of peace for his family. Though no one other than yourself sees this side of him, it’s hard to watch him tackle that burden, especially when you know you’re the responsible party. 

“What have I done to you, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen?” you mutter as you press your lips to his forehead. 

He chuckles lowly and hugs you into his body. “You turned me soft.”

“You kill servants without batting an eye.”

“Fine,” he relents. “As soft as I’m capable of being.”

[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.

the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.

it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."

then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."

then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."

that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.

"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."

but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.

'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.

if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.

if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.

"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.

for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-

the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."

eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.

"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.

three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.

he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.

"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"

there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.

"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"

eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.

"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."

eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.

he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.

"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."

"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."

eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?

but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.

and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.

eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.

"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.

it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.

there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."

"holy shit."

it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.

"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"

choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-

"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."

he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.

"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"

and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.

"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.

"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."

eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."

steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.

"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."

"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."

he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."

eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.

"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.

"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.

"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.

"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"

the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.

and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.

"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."

it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.

"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."

"...are you bribing me, harrington?"

"is it working?"

eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.

"of course it is."

the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.

"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"

it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.

he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.

"lucky indeed."

[tamayakii]

a son for a son.

notes: I changed a thing or two of what happened in the show, basically putting Maelor in cause i still cant believe they didnt put him in it (same thing with Daeron) this can be read as a stand-alone fic or paired with the Their Angel series. pairings: Otto x reader (romantic), Helaena x reader (can be viewed as one sided or platonic) warnings: Otto & reader have a son, SPOILERS FOR HOTD S2;E1!!!

The candle light illuminates the room, flickering against the stone walls of your and Helaena’s chambers. You had moved into her living spaces the night that Aemond had come back from the Stormlands, a sick smirk upon his face as he waltz into the small council room.  

And when your husband had shown no remorse for your brother's actions, no sympathy for your dead nephew? You couldn’t stand to look at him, matter of fact, you couldn’t bear to look at anyone. The grief toppled upon the hatred you had towards everyone who had played a part in usurping your sister’s throne. 

The twins and Maelor were already asleep within their beds, and your own son blinks his big owl-ish eyes at you. He looked so much like his father, even at two years old, a little wisp of white tangled within his brown locks- almost emulating Otto’s salt and pepper hair.

“Why can’t I..?” Alerion fumbled over his words, tiny hands curling over the cotton blanket, trying to fight his heavy eyelids as they dropped low. Chuckling lightly as you brushed his hair aside, he was quite stubborn. Especially as bedtime neared and sleep hovered over him. “Because I said so, besides; don’t you want to play with your cousins on the morrow?” Your reasoning seemed to reach him, Alerion’s brown eyes slowly shutting as he murmured. Sighing, reaching around your back to unclasp your heavy necklaces, you couldn’t help but smile as your son unconsciously pulled the blanket closer. 

The recent days weighed heavily on you; the war was impending. With no word from Rhaenrya, Rhaenys and Meleys helping guard the gullet with the hundreds of Velaryon ships, war was going to burst like a bloated goat. 

Perhaps if you were more active in the small council, you would’ve stopped the rats that sat in those seats. Staring at the necklace as you set it down, dark jade glimmering in the light. Helaena’s soft reflection reflected in the deep sea of green. It hits the table with a soft thud.

As you hear steps incoming, you simply assumed it was Helaena. She always had a sense for when you were upset, coming to you like a doe, with her big purple eyes and soft face filled with worry. 

Or perhaps she came to take you to bed. Since your move, Helaena was delighted to have you close, and near-ordered that you sleep in the same bed, just as you did when she was a little girl. “Quiet! Quiet!” The voice made you turn around, and your gasp died in your throat. Fear laced through your veins like a snake coils around its prey, freezing your body like the north. 

A strange man holds a dagger to Helaena’s throat, her blood dripping over the steel. Her eyes were wide with fear. The man's eyes flicker over to you. “Move and I'll cut her throat.” He spits, slowly dragging the blade, causing more blood to leak. Nodding as the tears well in your eyes, heart beating against your rib cage. The blood roars in your ears like a thousand horses stampeding. 

Another man comes in, a bigger and scarier man, and your heart stops. 

“A son for a son.” His words were all muddled until he said those five words, a son for a son. Helaena offered her necklace to the men, trying to convince them to run off with its worth, but the bigger man snatched it from her. “It’s not a son.” He turns around and looks at the twins in their beds, sleeping ever so peacefully. Gently, you reached back for Alerion’s crib. Shaking hands gripping the wood with a grip tighter than death and yet you were too weak to fight these men off, in the past week and a half, you’ve neglected your meals within your grief and even if you didn’t, you’d sooner be dead on the stone floors of the Red Keep with your sons fate unknown. 

The men came to the realization that they did not know which twin was the boy, and for a brief moment you felt elated that perhaps they would give up their mission, but all hope vanished when Helaena pointed at Jaehaerys.

“Helaena..” You whisper, lips trembling and you can't help but feel bile come up your throat as the men storm to Jaehaerys, the bigger one covering his mouth, covering his scream. Helaena shakes as she makes a move to her daughter and youngest son, and you do the same.

As you hear the splatter of blood, a sob escapes your throat, your hands trembling as you hurriedly and carefully retrieve Alerion from his crib. Helaena runs out first, holding her children close to her and you’re not too long after her. 

Whilst Helaena makes a mad dash down the stairs, you run onward. Climbing up the other pair of stairs, Alerion stirs in your jumbling hold. Whining at the rude awakening and you try to shush him over your crying, 

“Shh.. shh.. Alerion,” The halls rushed past you as you ran, the skirt of your night-dress threatening to trip you. Only thoughts of protecting your own son ran through your frightened mind, fearing that perhaps he would be targeted too. 

The doors to Otto’s chambers slam open and a flurry of fabric and hair falls to the floor in sobs. The man looks at the sight bewildered, but soon he realizes it is you, his wife, that refused to look him in the eye. Surely, you had come to beg for forgiveness, having come to your senses. 

But as you look up at him, your son in your arms, cradling him like he was about to shatter- he knew something was wrong.

“They killed him.. They kill the boy!” 

[junicult]

contains ; suggestive conversation (pillow talk typa stuff). sappy sappy cheesy & corny fluff! just the way i like it! established relationship — dating. two ppl in love blah blah blah. gender non specified reader. he is all i ever think about.

note ; hello! didn’t wanna look at this in my drafts anymore. boo!

“what’s the wildest thing you’ve done in bed?” you ask, smiling over the rim of your near-empty glass of wine.

your lips are well past stained at this point, dazed eyes holding a curiously eager gaze with the man sitting similarly before you.

“the wildest thing?” harvey repeats, eyebrows raised, looking around as if to search for his answer.

“yeah, like, the craziest thing you’ve done while having sex.”

you’ve been playing this little question game for hours now, concept of time nothing but a distant thought after you both downed even more glasses of wine a single bottle could fill. it’s been a while since you’ve been able to relax like this, which is well in agreeance with your boyfriend.

you’re quite tipsy at this point. facing him on your living room couch, legs crossed and arm propping your head that’s perched against the back of the couch.

he purses his lips, shaking his head in deep thought. “i dunno…i guess um,” he presses a knuckle to the upper rim of his glasses, adjusting them, “i guess the kitchen—having sex in the kitchen, probably.”

you furrow your brows, giving him a long look. “in the kitchen?” it’s your turn to repeat, this time confused.

he shrugs and nods.

“with me?” you ask, more clarification than uncertainty in your tone.

“of course with you.”

“no, i’m speaking in general, like out of everyone you’ve ever had sex with—what was the craziest thing you did?”

“i know the question. i said have sex in the kitchen.”

you stare, unwavering eye contact glued to his. you know him, you know he’s definitely telling the truth, yet somehow you were shocked. “that was your craziest sexual experience?”

“i take it wasn’t yours, huh?” he snorts, giving the contents in his glass one small swirl before he leans over and places it on the coffee table.

you laugh airily, “i mean i…told you about the ferris wheel—“

“—ah,” he cuts you off, shivering, “yes, not my thing.”

“so let me get this straight,” you mimic his previous gesture—placing the glass on the table—, using both of your now-free hands to hold out in front of you. “your craziest, absolutely wildest sexual experience was on that kitchen table?”

he flicks his gaze past your head to where you’re pointing your thumb behind you. he suppresses a quirked up lip from the recollection.

“well, i didn’t say it was absolutely wild. but if i had to pick, that would be my answer.” he murmurs, and despite the topic, he’s managing his typical flushed cheeks and nervous lip-nibble well.

“wow,” you lean back with a light laugh. “i’m honored.”

“i’m glad.” he smiles.

he reaches back for the last sip of his wine, taking a short whiff of the glass before savoring the last drop. maybe he’s biased, but your wine will always be his favorite. he never allows it to go to waste.

it’s late. his eyelids rest heavily over his pupils, contrasting your wide-awake gaze. you’re eager to move around, emphasizing most of your words with hand gestures while he’s remained put for the last couple hours. despite his tiredness, he soaks every minute he has with you just as he does with your wine.

you clear your throat. “okay, so now i have a new question.”

“alright.” he nods, leaning into his hand.

“what was the best sex you’ve ever had? it’s okay if it wasn’t with me.”

he exhales from his nose at that, smile to accompany his cheeks.

“well, it was,” he confirms, once again looking off to the side. although, he doesn’t pause long, seemingly prepared with his answer. “i would say, after you told me you loved me.”

you beam immediately. “i knew it. you’re such a sentimentalist.” you tease, reaching over to pinch his thigh. but you soften, laying your hand flat and gently soothing your thumb over his pants. “that’s mine too.”

“really? even more than the ferris wheel?”

you scoff. “oh, absolutely. a million times better.” you wave a hand dismissively, and he tries not to let the comment go to his head. “that was purely just to say i’ve done it. at least you can make me finish.”

of course his cheeks set aflame, due to the ego boost and vulgarity. you smile as he purses his lips after murmuring an awkward thank you. it’s always so amusing to make him flustered, given such an easy task.

you sigh, rolling your head back against the couch. your fingers lightly tap at your t-shirt clad stomach, eyes wandering each crease and ridge in your ceiling during a moment of peaceful silence you’ll always relax into when you’re with harvey.

it’s only then do your eyes feel heavy, and it finally dawns on you just what time it is, and how early you have to wake up tomorrow.

“it’s late,” you conquer, staying put, “do you wanna stay—“

“i’ve got a question.” he hums. you turn your head, remaining relaxed against the cushions, to find him looking off towards the dimming fireplace in front of you.

“yeah?”

“who was the…if you had to rank everyone, uhm,” he presses his knuckles into the cushion beside his thighs, readjusting himself but not without a clear of his throat. “who’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

you allow a smile to creep onto your face. it seems purposeful he’s avoiding your eyes, the golden hue of the crackling fire causing his warm skin to glow. his lips look a little pinker due to the light—or maybe the wine—and from your angle you can see his dark brown eyelashes clearly from the space between his glasses.

you let out a faux sigh, almost taunting.

“hm, that’s a toughie.” you snicker, now readjusting to sit sideways on the cushion with one leg crossed and the other dangling over the couch. “out of the whopping four?”

he gives you a peek, subconsciously wiping his palms across his pants wordlessly.

you almost want to tease him a little longer—the shy purse of his lips making it just so easy. yet you give up quick, leaning in to snake your arm around his neck and press a hand to his cheek.

“without a doubt, it’s you. don’t even have to think about it.” you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his warm lips.

“really?” there he goes, yet again doubting himself.

“harvey, i’ve never been in love like i am with you. i’ve never been with someone and started picturing marriage after the second date.” you croon, so close you can nearly press your forehead against his. you look down at his lips. “it’s not just because of the sex—but believe me, that plays a good part. no one has known how to love me like you can.”

he swallows, mimicking your gaze and fixates on your lips as you continue, “you make me feel so comfortable, and so appreciated. you’re so sweet, and caring, and reliable. i can tell you anything.”

his fingers are warm from the fire, and he delicately uses them to push pieces of your hair that have fallen in front of your face, blocking his view of you.

just as you’re about to go on, he stops you. both of his hands finding purchase at the crevice of your neck, while his lips meet yours. not just a peck, a deep and meaningful kiss that forms all of your praises into the action. the same kind of kiss that takes your breath away, even before it started when you quietly gasp as he tugged you close. he ignores the way his nose bumps into yours, instead tilting his head to the side once you melt into him, pressing a flat hand against his chest for balance.

it’s deep and needy. the wine somehow tastes even better off your lips, his tongue selfishly stealing some of the sweetness. in some ways you think you could genuinely go stupid just from the way he kisses you.

he takes a moment to pull away, the exact way that has him sucking all of the air out of your lungs and leaves you chasing the feeling and making your brain grow fuzzy.

letting you go, he licks his lips and drops his quick gaze down to yours before looking back in your lidded eyes. he’s so impossibly skilled at taking your breath away, literally and figuratively.

“like a starved man,” you tease, masking your faint whimper with a chuckle.

“i know,” he swallows. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

he shakes his head, padded thumb softly pressing against your bottom lip where his gaze sits.

“not possible.”

[sweetblinginrose]

𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖑 ,

(OS Eddie Munson x reader)

summary: You catch Eddie red-handed.

word count: 3k +

warnings: +18, friends to lovers, caught jerking off, handjob, oral (m receives), cum in mouth, all this in a hospital.

a/n: hi! so, im dropping this one-shot without pronouns so everyone can vibe with it. just a random idea i had, nothing too crazy

masterlist

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

Eddie was lying on the hospital stretcher, his face reflecting a mixture of satisfaction, annoyance and relief. "Mmhmm, fuck, yeah, right there..." he sighed, while a slight tremor ran through his closed eyelids. His toes curved involuntarily, reacting to the feeling he had longed for. His long hair, usually tied in a bun given to the summer heat, had come loose and now it fell disorderly on his forehead, dark strands stuck to his skin by sweat.

There you were, his unconditional, only person he trusted to carry out this delicate mission. With the precision of a surgeon, you had inserted one of his forks into the narrow opening of the plaster that imprisoned his hand. You moved the fork carefully, gently scratching the palm that had been for weeks without feeling the slightest touch. Eddie twisted slightly every time the fork touched a new point on his palm, sending a wave of relief through his immobilized arm. "There, there... That's it!" He exclaimed whimpering with satisfaction more deeply, every time you manage to calm that unattainable itching that tormented him so much. The room was silent, except for Eddie's occasional moans of comfort and the soft rubbing of metal against plaster. It was an intimate moment, not because of their nature, but because of the trust and connection they shared. Finally, after several minutes that seemed eternal to Eddie, he sighed deeply, a sign that you had completed your task. "Fuck...," he murmured, gratitude shining in his eyes when he opened them and met yours. "I don't know what I would do without you."

The night Eddie was injured was one of those occasions that would be remembered not because of the music, but because of the chaos that followed. Corroded Coffin, your band, had gotten a concert in a biker bar on the outskirts of the city, a place known for its rude clientele and unbridled atmosphere. The band was excited, especially Eddie, who always sought to push things to the limit. The place was small and the stage barely an elevation above the ground, only a little higher than the shoulders of an average man. Your battery occupied most of the space, leaving little room for the rest of the members. The crowd that night was scarce; less than fifteen souls gathered near the stage, lost in their own conversations and drinks. Eddie, under the influence of substances that promised a night without inhibitions, decided that it would be a good idea to try to surf over the crowd. In an impulse, he threw himself into the void, hoping to be held by the hands of the spectators. But the audience, taken by surprise, dispersed quickly, leaving a void where Eddie hoped to find support. He fell heavily, his right arm hitting the ground first. The sound of something breaking was almost as loud as the music. In a desperate attempt to cushion the fall, he extended his other hand, the left, which was still holding the microphone. His fingers were crushed between the metal and the ground, and a sharp pain ran through his body. Eddie's screams were mixed with the music as the audience, now aware of the situation, approached to help. The show stopped abruptly, and the confusion took over the place. Gareth jumped off the stage, followed by the rest of the band, as they tried to understand the severity of Eddie's injuries. Eddie's right arm was clearly broken, hanging at an unnatural angle, and his left fingers were swollen and deformed. The night ended not with applause, but with sirens, while an ambulance arrived to take Eddie to the nearest hospital.

The recovery would be long and tedious. Eddie would have to learn to do things with his non-dominant hand and endure the pain and frustration of not being able to play his guitar, and something more than this. The plaster in his dominant hand drastically limited his mobility, while the bandage in the other imposed additional restrictions on him. Every daily task became a titanic task, from tying your shoes to reaching for a glass on the highest shelf. Frustration and pain were constant companions in his day to day, and the inability to play his beloved guitar only intensified his despair. The night was particularly difficult for Eddie. Accustomed to releasing his sexual tension through masturbation, he was now deprived of this relief. His excitement was palpable, a constant reminder of his unmet need. In his mind, he relived past moments of solitary pleasure, now unattainable due to his condition.

In the midst of his anguish, he turned to you, his lifelong friend. You did all the tasks he couldn't do, except the most important, at least for him.

Although he had always seen you as a loyal partner, now he was beginning to notice a different spark in your presence. He remembered the nights in the pub, when the music enveloped the room and your presence was as comforting as it was stimulating. In those moments, he saw you with new eyes, a vision that was now intensified with his frustration and repressed sexual need. Your presence, and the minimal visualization of your collarbone through that t-shirt, only served to kindle the fire of his desire. Every adjustment in the bandage or every accidental contact caused a wave of forbidden sensations. Eddie was in a state of constant excitement, his body longing for liberation and satisfaction, and those noises were not of relief, but also of pleasure.

Eddie's cock was beating with an almost painful urgency, trapped between his thighs, anxious to be released. However, she was trapped under the thin sheets of the hospital, and the idea of being discovered in that state was too embarrassing to contemplate.

While the nurses completed their last night care, giving him medication and making sure everything was in order, Eddie got impatient. Although he wanted to be discharged, he knew it was not yet the right time. Possibly his recovery was delayed due to unexpected complications or the need for more medical tests to ensure his full recovery.

You decided to say goodbye to Munson and leave the room, since you had to prepare for the next day's classes. With a slight touch on his arm you said goodbye, and as you walked away, Eddie couldn't help but admire your movements, watching your uncovered legs move.

When you finally left, Eddie strongly separated his thighs, releasing his cock that was full of weeks of accumulated desire. The burning need for satisfaction consumed him, but with his dominant hand immobilized, he knew that he could not resort to his usual methods. However, instead of surrendering to frustration, he began to devise a plan to find relief from his sexual urgency.

The whisper of the sheets when touching each other filled the room, accompanied by the soft buzz of the lights in the hallway that filtered through the ajar door. Eddie twisted in bed, struggling to free himself from the oppression of his underpants without risking bending his non-dominant hand and causing more pain. Every move was a challenge, and sweat beaded his forehead as he strove to reach his goal. "Fuck, c’mon..." he murmured in a barely audible whisper, aware that the elderly patient next to him, separated with a sheet carefully arranged by his wife, was soundly asleep. The roommate's advanced age gave him some confidence, knowing that he probably wouldn't realize if Munson decided to look for a little pleasure in the middle of the night.

With trembling movements, Eddie finally managed to lower his underpants, releasing his throbbing erection. The temptation was overwhelming, and although he knew that it was not the right time or place, the urgency of his sexual need pushed him forward. His cock stood up with a sober and natural majesty. Its size, although not exaggerated, exhibited a perfect proportion, promising satisfaction without being intimidating. The skin that wrapped it was smooth and soft to the touch, with a slightly velvety texture that invited contact. The blue and prominent veins meandered along their length, highlighting their vascularity and suggesting a latent potency. Each vein seemed to pulsate with a life of its own, marking the rhythm of its pulse and the urgency of its desire. The thickness of its member was remarkable, filling the hand with a comforting firmness. However, its form was not only physical, but also aesthetic. A soft curve adorned its contour, adding a natural elegance to its appearance. Each strand of hair seemed to delicately caress the skin, adding a feeling of texture and depth to its appearance.

You had gone out the door, the sound of your steps was fading in the hallway. But then, a twinge of oblivion stopped you; you had left your glasses. You turned on your steps, opened the door without making any noise, carefully sliding the sheet, and there was Munson, struggling with his cock, trying to reach that unreachable point with his hand. You stood still, observing. An accomplice silence spread between you, only interrupted by the slight rubbing of his fingers against the thin skin that covered his entire cock.

You were frozen in the room, watching the scene with a mixture of surprise and fascination. Eddie's cock was just as you had imagined it, but seeing it in that state, struggling with the need for satisfaction, caused a heat to start forming in your pants. Your cheeks blushed at the intensity of the moment, feeling trapped between shame and a growing excitement.

He, oblivious to your presence at first, seemed to be trapped in his own world of despair and desire. With clumsy movements and limited by his injury, he was looking for a way out of his sexual torment. That's when he had the great idea of turning his body slightly and rubbing against the mattress, simulating the movement of a sexual relationship. His movements were cautious at first, but soon they became more fluid and rhythmic. His eyes were closed, lost in the feeling of self-induced pleasure, while you watched the scene with a mixture of fascination and bewilderment. "Mmhmm..." he moaned, so you felt as if some butterflies were hitting your stomach hard. It seemed as if they were eating you inside. You were completely hot, but you decided to intervene, since it didn't seem appropriate to be observing Eddie at a time like this.

"Edd...?" You whispered, capturing all his attention. At that moment, shame completely invaded you. You were totally embarrassed, even more than him. You felt as if you had invaded his privacy, as if you were witnessing something intimate and personal that I should never have seen.

When Eddie finally listened to you, his reaction was instant and tumultuous. He was completely startled, his body tense and his eyes wide open in a gesture of panic. He began to randomly insult out loud, a cascade of curses that filled the room and made you jump in surprise. "Shit! Fuck! What are you doing here?!" Eddie shouted, his voice full of shame and despair. He clung to the nearest sheet, trying to cover himself, but when he bent his hand he hurt himself, and a deep moan of pain escaped from his lips. The situation became more and more tense when you noticed that the old man in the bed next door began to frown, a sign that he could wake up at any moment. Without thinking twice, you rushed to where Eddie was, tightly covering his thick lips with your hand and staring at his round eyes, trying to convey the urgency of the situation with your gaze.

When you approached Eddie, with the urgency of the palpable situation in the air, you felt how his cock, through the sheet, was in contact with your side. A shudder ran through your body as she perceived the heat emanating from it, like a burning ember that burned the skin and stoked the flame of excitement. Everything in you began to tremble, from your hands to your legs that barely held your weight. You felt like a flan, on the verge of collapse, at any moment you could collapse me in the face of the intensity of the situation.

"What are you doing, idiot?" You asked whispering, your voice just a murmur full of annoyance and shame. Your eyes were desperately looking for theirs, looking for some answer or sign of repentance in their gaze. "Why you beating your meat in a hospital, asshole?" You kept whispering, your tone of voice mixed frustration and worry. Even covering his lips firmly, you hoped that your words would make him reflect on the seriousness of his behavior and the need to contain himself in a place as inappropriate as that.

With his left hand, Eddie pushed yours away, finally allowing him to breathe normally, although his face was totally reddened by shame. "I haven't come or jerked off for a month, so don't question what I do or where," he also whispered in defense, his altered tone revealed his overexcitement and the urgency of his unmet need.

His words hit you hard, reminding you of the internal struggle he was facing. "And what?! You should go to the bathroom!" You answered him, your voice equally whispering but full of frustration, gesticulating forcefully near him to emphasize your point.

"I can't! That's why I'm doing it here!" Eddie exclaimed, his despair palpable in every word.

"What do you mean you can't?" You asked, trying to understand the situation while you struggled to contain your own confusion and dismay.

"Well, I can't jerk off, that's what happens! I need to cum," Eddie explained, his voice full of anguish and shame. The vulnerability of his confession resonated in the air, exposing the depth of his need and his inability to satisfy it in a conventional way.

You were silent, observing Munson's expression under the slight reflection that emanated from the moon. You were very hot for seeing him that way, so vulnerable, that you didn't think about what you said. "And... do you need help?" You murmured, letting the words escape from your lips without thinking about the consequences. As soon as you said that, Eddie's expression changed completely. Now he was pale, his eyes opened like plates, revealing a mixture of surprise and anxiety. However, you noticed how his cock moved slightly in response to your question, a non-verbal sign that your offer had been received with interest and excitement.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room while you looked at each other, each processing the situation differently.

"What exactly do you mean?" Eddie asked with a crooked smile, still unsure of his point.

"You would do the same for me, wouldn't you? Although I don't think I'll ever get to such a... perverted state of despair," you said laughing, feeling how the tension dissipated and a sexual warmth filled the room. Eddie settled down, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his back against the head of the bed. "You're the pervert, I don't know how long you'd been watching me," he replied with a mocking smile. "But yes, I know you would do the same for me. That's what friends do, isn't it?" He joked, noticing how his cock was begging for it to be uncovered and touched.

After that exchange of glances full of complicity, a tense silence took over the room, as if you were both weighing the meaning of what had just happened. You decided to break the silence by placing your ass on the bed, staring at Eddie with determination. You began to lower the sheet that covered him up to his chest, revealing what you both wanted so much. The excitement invaded you even more when you saw his body vulnerable and exposed to you. Your best friend was defenseless, and he couldn't do anything to stop you, which gave you a feeling of power and freedom to explore. The fact of being in a hospital, sharing a room, added an element of risk and emotion to the situation. You were in a semi-public place, which intensified the feeling of the forbidden and excitingness of your meeting.

Munson breathed with difficulty, his half-open lips let out his choppy breath, while the slight movements of his cock gently hit his abdomen, setting the rhythm of his desire. You decided to stop that by grabbing his erection, noticing how hot and wet it was. A shiver ran down your back when you felt its heat throbbing between your fingers, increasing your own excitement and anticipation for what was to come.

After starting gently, your movements became more energetic and determined. With your hand in his mouth to put out any noise, you began to pump even harder on his erection. Each onslaught was greeted with a drowned moan on his part, his hips were looking for more depth, and you gave it to him without hesitation.

The tension in the room was palpable, every sigh and every moan was proof of the unbridled passion you shared. Suddenly, without warning, you took your mouth towards his cock, staring into his eyes as your tongue began to draw circles around his member. Eddie's eyes rolled backwards in ecstasy, his hips moved with difficulty, responding to the expert movements of your tongue. Each lick was received with a deep and guttural moan on his part, his voice vibrated against your fingers as he struggled to contain the overwhelming pleasure that invaded him.

And suddenly, without warning, you felt his body tense, how his voice vibrated against your fingers, and how his warm and sticky liquid soaked your cheeks inside, filling your mouth with its unique and delicious flavor. A moan escaped from your lips in response, an echo of his pleasure that mixed with yours in the air full of desire. “Uhh… fuck, yes…”

Taking his member out of your mouth gracefully, you looked at him with a naughty smile. "I thought you were going to hold on longer..." you joked, before swallowing everything that Eddie had expelled for his cock.

"I told you that I hadn't cum for almost a month..." Eddie stressed with a smile, running his thumb over your lips, picking up some of his remains. With a seductive gesture, you brought his thumb to your mouth, allowing it to enter slightly, savoring the sweet taste of its essence.

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

[ ###… ] modern AU, rockstar Wriothesley, gn reader, est. relationship, a lil bit of hurt/comfort, fluff, long-distance pining, lovesick & homesick wrio, kinda cheesy which is kind of on brand for me lol

By the time Wriothesley manages to get back to his hotel room and check his phone, he's pretty sure you're asleep. He hopes you are, knowing how late it must be on your end.

It's no surprise that there are several messages waiting for him— each day you've been apart, you give him something sweet to read in the evenings after a busy day of promos or after a hectic show. Something to make the distance between you seem a little less vast, to let him know that you're still thinking about him.

Even on days where he's dead tired, he'll always read them. Always let you know that he thinks of you, too.

What does surprise him is the newest text, sent at just over twenty minutes ago. Wriothesley frowns as he wonders why you're still up, and his heart only drops more when he scrolls through the messages and reads the latest thing you sent.

I miss you. I really, really miss you.

Before he can even hope that he's not bothering you, his finger near slams on the call button. You answer on the second ring, voice lacking the raspiness of a roused sleep. It makes him sigh with relief.

"Wrio?" you ask, surprised. "Are you okay? What's up?"

"I should be asking you that." Wriothesley sits heavily on the plush bed, flopping back against the pillows with all the grace of a man who just gave a two-hour performance.

As luxurious as the king-sized bed is, with its soft sheets and myriad of immaculately fluffed pillows, he can't help but yearn for the warm familiarity of your own bed and your well-loved blankets.

"Why're you still up, honey? Don't you have breakfast with your friends tomorrow?"

"...can't sleep," you murmur after a beat, voice so quiet. He hears sheets rustling, then silence again. You hesitate. "I... it might sound selfish but I miss you being here with me. It sucks that the bed feels so empty without you."

And oh, if he could, Wriothesley would crawl through the phone right this very second and wrap you in his arms— would crush you to his chest and hold you tight as he listens to your breath taper off into sleep. Would keep you against him, wrapped up in his love and adoration, until you practically have to beat him off of you with a stick.

But he can't and it's killing him.

"It's not selfish. I miss you too," he says, voice longing. "I want to go home to you so bad, sweetheart, you have no idea. Wish I could've packed you up in my bag and smuggled you here with me." He has to fight sleepy giggles at the thought.

"Speaking of— you better be prepared for a crapload of gifts when I get back. I've got a whole suitcase of stuff I thought you'd like."

You gasp, and even sounding a little crackly from the speakers, his heart does a flip. "A whole suitcase?! I wouldn't even know where to put all that!"

"We'll find space. 'm pretty sure there's some stuff we can jigsaw around." Wriothesley tries to keep the tiredness from his voice, tries to fight back the yawn. It's been so long since you've called, what with timezones and schedules getting in the way, and he wants to talk to you longer— ask how your day's been, what your plans are for the rest of the week, if there were any places you want to visit when he gets home. This call is much too short for all the things he wants to say, for all the hours he wants to spend listening to you talk.

But try as he might, you can tell he's close to knocking out without even having to lay an eye on him.

"You should sleep," you tell him, voice soothing him like a balm. "You're probably tired after your show. I saw a few videos, you know— you were so cool. I'm proud of you, Wrio."

He hums, basking in your praise. His eyelids are already growing heavy, the soft siren's song of sleep growing harder to resist. If he closes his eyes, maybe he can imagine that you're just down the hall, busy with something. You'll come in any second now, crawl into bed and slip into his arms, and everything would be right with the world.

"Thank you for... for calling. For checking up on me just because of a text." You giggle at that last bit, and (as it always seems to do) his heart flips. "I love you lots."

"Mm, no need to thank me. Just gimme lots of kisses when I get home." His tongue is growing heavier, sleep more inviting. But he manages to get one last thing out— "I love you lots, too."

Right before Wriothesley lets himself drop, you press a loud, exaggerated kiss to the receiver of your phone. He smiles.

That's how you both fall asleep: with both phones still on the line, even breaths and quiet snores comforting the other into a restful slumber.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (38)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, attempted rape, murder, descriptions of wounds and their effects, descriptions of the fight ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She felt that something hung in the air, that it was all too simple, that Larys Strong would never allow himself to be caught with such ease. She knew this, but no arguments could stop her uncle or her brother, and she was left alone, locked in their chamber in Harrenhal, waiting in fear and tension for their arrival with the hope that they would both return alive.

By her husband's orders, no one was to cross the threshold of their quarters, so she had to remove her gown herself before going to bed. She sighed heavily when she finally managed to free herself from under the layers of her attire and remain in just her nightgown, stroking her belly as if trying to soothe both herself and the child in her womb.

They will come back, she thought in the back of her head.

They will both come back.

She lay back under the thick furs, checking once more with her hand that the dagger her mother had given her as a child was still between the bedframe and the sheets. She let out a quiet breath when she felt the cold steel beneath her fingers and curled up, looking towards the window.

She knew she wouldn't get a wink of sleep that night.

After a few hours she shuddered, snapped out of her half-slumber when she heard a rustling outside her chamber door, and then a click, as if someone had turned a key in the lock. For a moment she thought with joy that it was her husband, but then decided that he would not have crept in, and her hand involuntarily reached for the hilt of her dagger and slid it out, hiding it under the duvet.

She squealed loudly, bouncing in place as the door suddenly opened with a slam and two muscular men, smelling of sweat and alcohol, stepped inside.

"– let's go, little one – don't make me use force –" One of them said as she shook her head quickly, feeling the hard pounding of her heart, her hands clenched into fists.

The man laughed as he saw her pale, terrified face.

"– what a pretty thing you are – maybe we could make use of this body first? – what do you think? –" He chuckled mockingly to his companion, who grinned, from a distance she could see that he was missing a few teeth.

At their words she felt tears under her eyelids, she moved as far away from him as possible, but he grabbed her arm, wanting to lie on top of her, gripping the material of her nightgown.

"NO!" She shouted in rage, the blade of her dagger again, again and again thrust deep into his abdomen, making his voice stuck in his throat, the man behind him shouted in rage, running up to her.

"YOU LITTLE WHORE!" He screamed, pulling her away from his companion, who coughed loudly and slid to the floor, clutching at the spot where his warm blood was dripping, his eyes bulging in shock.

"– LET ME GO! – LET ME GO! –" She screamed and squealed, trying to push him away and stab him blindly with the blade, but he snatched it from her hand, dropping it to the floor with a powerful jerk, crushing her with his own body.

He punched her in the face with his fist, making her feel like she had gone deaf for a moment and lost her sight, his strong, rough hands caught her in half and threw her over his shoulder. They walked out of her chamber into the corridor, as if through a fog she could see the bodies of the guards covered in blood, their wide eyes empty and lifeless.

She didn't have the strength to scream or cry, breathing hard, feeling her swollen cheek pulsing with pain.

And then she noticed some kind of shadow moving behind them – the man noticed it too, because he turned, and after a moment he fell to the floor with her, crushing her with his body. She heard someone's groan of exertion – she took a loud breath as someone slid the man off her, a hand smelling of lavender and clove touching her cheek.

"– Princess – get up, we have to go, quickly –" She whispered, trying to lift her up. She threw her arm around her neck, leading her down the corridor.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the body of the man who had tried to abduct her lying on the stone floor, an axe stuck in his head.

Alys took her to some room that smelled of herbs. She laid her down on something soft, and then she heard a rustling and her gasp of effort, as if she was moving something heavy. She breathed loudly, slowly regaining consciousness, and raised herself up on her arm, seeing that she had pawed the doorway with a large dresser and a table.

"– rest –" Alys said, panting heavily, kneeling beside her, her wide-open green eyes shining in the moonlight. "– you are safe now –"

"– what will happen to my husband and brother? –" She mumbled out with difficulty, feeling her whole body begin to shiver with cold and terror. Alys shook her head.

"– I don't know –"

Several hours passed before they heard the powerful flapping of wings, two dragons began circling around the fortress in the darkness.

They were back.

They came out to meet them, both only in their nightgowns and overlaid robes, running down the stone steps. She stopped and screamed involuntarily, sobbing and wailing at the same time, covering her mouth with her hands, as she watched her brother and the man she was seeing for the first time in her life carry her unconscious husband through the fortress gates.

"– he was stabbed with a dagger in the back –" Jace cried out, all red and sweaty.

"– follow me, immediately –" Alys called out, pointing her finger at them to which chamber they should head to.

She ran after them, watching as Jace and the stranger laid her uncle's body on Alys' bed, her aunt beginning to take out various objects from the drawers one by one, panting heavily.

"– take off his cloak and tunic and turn him onto his stomach –" She commanded, and they obediently obeyed her order. She stood a few paces behind them, looking at his pale face, at his parted lips, and only after a moment did she see that a trickle of blood was trailing down his left foot.

Her whole body was trembling, she was unable to get a word out or move from her place.

When her husband was left in only his breeches and shirt, Alys cut the material with scissors. A terrified, helpless, loud moan ripped from her throat as she exposed the wound from which his blood was dripping and she wept loudly, burying her face in her hands, thinking that if he died, she would throw herself from the highest tower of Harrenhal.

"– hold him –" She ordered the men. Jace climbed onto the bed, sitting down on the side of his head, pressing his torso against the bedclothes with his hands while the other man grabbed his legs.

As her aunt leaned over and poured the contents of one of the vials onto his wound, her husband suddenly opened his eye and screamed as if someone was skinning him.

She felt her body suddenly rush up, running towards him – she fell to her knees beside him, grabbing his hand, stroking his hot, sweaty cheek.

"– shhh, my love – shhh – I know, I know it hurts –" She whispered soothingly. He whined low, his fingers tightening on hers.

"– I want to see our child –" He mumbled out in pain. She wept at his words and rose up on her knees, hugging his head to her breasts, stroking his hair. He screamed out loud as Alys repeated the action, spreading his wound with her fingers.

"– why are you doing this?! –" She cried out, hearing how much pain she was causing him, how much he was suffering.

"– I need to clean the wound and make sure there is no internal bleeding –" She replied coldly, looking at the man standing at his feet.

"– Erwin, there are needles and threads in the second drawer from the bottom – give it to me and a lit candle for me –" She ordered, and the man nodded, walking over to her large chest of drawers, snooping through her things, finding after a moment what she was speaking of.

Her husband was convulsing in her arms when they all watched in silence as Alys took out the needle, washing it with the same alcohol-scented liquid, and then slipped the tip of it into the fire. This went on for a while, and as she took it out, she put a thread through its eyelet and leaned over his wound, looking at her brother.

"– hold him –" She said, and then jabbed the needle into his skin, beginning to suture the wound.

Her uncle hissed and whined, squeezing her hand as hard as if he wanted to break her fingers. She looked at her in despair, not knowing how to relieve him, how to help him.

"– gods, please, at least give him poppy milk –" She mumbled out pleadingly, tears of pain and fear running down her cheeks red with emotion. Alys shook her head, heedless of his sobs.

"– no – he's lost too much blood – he won't wake up –" She said in an unobjectionable voice.

She put her arms around his head, cradling him to her chest, hushing him and stroking his hair as if he were a small child, a little boy.

"– shhh – shhh –"

"– Rhaenys – not yet – not yet –" He babbled, terrified, his trembling hand clamped on her wrist.

She felt her throat clench at the thought of him trying to tell her that he didn't want to die.

"– I'm with you – you're not going to die – you're not going to die –" She whispered softly, kissing his hot forehead again and again. She felt his breath begin to calm, and his grip eased: frightened, she touched her fingers to his neck and was relieved to feel a pulse.

Alys finished her work in silence, then reached for a small vessel standing on the table and opened its lid. She scooped a grey ointment onto her fingers, which she began to apply gently to the fresh wound.

"– the wound must not be covered with any material – he must lie on his stomach all night so that the stitches do not rip – if he survives until morning, there will be hope for him – he has lost a lot of blood –" She said, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. She only wept at her words, placing her cheek on his head, stroking his jaw with her palm.

Neither of them slept for a moment that night.

However, morning came, and her husband, although burning up with fever, was still breathing.

"What's happening?" She asked, touching his hot forehead, placing on it a linen cloth previously soaked in the icy water Alys had given her.

"– it's a sign that his body is fighting – that he's not giving up –" She said calmly, and she nodded, trying to comfort herself with that thought.

When Jace asked them to speak in private she did so reluctantly, leaving her husband in the care of their aunt. They went out into the corridor and looked at each other for a moment in silence.

"– it was an ambush on me, not on him – his spies must have reported to Lord Strong that I had come to Harrenhal – the information that was given to our uncle was just bait – when they attacked me, he tried to protect me –" He muttered and she nodded, stroking her slightly rounded abdomen.

"– your cheek – what happened? –" He asked, but she shook her head.

"– I don't have the strength to discuss it, Jace –" She whispered, tired and powerless. Her brother nodded.

"– we need to inform our mother about what happened –" He replied.

"– yes – and not only her –"

While Alys replaced the cold cloths she had placed on her husband's back and forehead, she sat at her desk and wrote two letters: one to her mother in Dragonstone, the other to her uncle in King's Landing.

She ordered them to be sent immediately knowing what the consequences would be.

During the day, her husband's condition neither worsened nor improved – he was still asleep and Alys' chamber was cramped, so they decided to move him to his chamber, being careful not to hurt him. As they laid him on his bed, Alys placed the ointment she had used earlier on the table next to him.

"– apply a little of this ointment every five hours, Princess – the wound is swollen but no infection is developing – that's the most important thing – I think the worst is behind us – I will inform the servants to prepare hot soup for him and I will personally supervise how it is prepared –" She said, watching her calmly, without an expression of fatigue or discouragement.

She looked at her and nodded.

"– I am grateful to you, Alys – for everything you have done for me and my husband – when this is all over, decide for yourself where you wish to go – you are a free woman now –"

The woman smiled at her in a way that seemed sincere and filled with an emotion she didn't understand. She nodded and left without another word, leaving them alone.

Her uncle, when she tried to feed him, was semi-conscious. Because of the way he was lying on his stomach, she had to lift his head higher so he wouldn't choke. Her brother helped her attend to him without saying a word, holding his chin as she poured the contents of the bowl down his throat spoon by spoon.

Several times he muttered something in displeasure and furrowed his brow, however, he did not open his eyes, restless, sweat droplets on his forehead.

She only fell asleep in the evening, tired and weak, waking up once in a while, however, checking that he was still breathing. She shuddered when she felt him move, his breath became heavy, as if he was frightened of something. She lifted herself up on her arm to see that his eyelid was open, his lips parted, as if he didn't recognise her.

"– Rhaenys –"

She touched his cheek, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, her stomach clenched in emotion, hearing his voice again, his skin hot from the heat.

"– I am here, my beloved –" She whispered, looking up at him tenderly, begging in her mind just for him to survive, for the Stranger not to take him away so early.

She heard him sigh quietly with some kind of relief, looking at her with a misty gaze.

"– I knew you would come –" He said quietly.

She didn't understand what he meant, but decided it didn't matter, her lips placed a warm, moist kiss on his forehead.

"– do you still want to marry me? –" He asked with difficulty, and she looked at him in disbelief, feeling her heart stop in her throat.

I knew you would come.

It seemed to him that they were still children.

That she had come to him that night when he lost his eye.

Her fingers ran gently over his jaw, hot, burning tears of emotion and pain running down her cheeks one by one.

"– uncle – we are married – I'm expecting your child –" She whispered, gently grasping his wrist, allowing his hand to touch her rounded lower abdomen. She felt him freeze, his lips parted, relief and warmth in his eyes from which she felt a tightening in her throat, stifling the sob that wanted to escape her lips.

"– I have married you –"

She laughed under her breath, wiping her tear-wet face, stroking his hand with hers.

"– yes, my love – I am your wife and you are my husband –" She whispered softly, leaning over him, placing a tender, sticky kiss on his lips, from which he sighed quietly in contentment.

"– you promised me that you would take me to Essos – you can't leave me now –" She mumbled, feeling that despite her efforts, tears flowed down her face in waves again, her breath heavy and hitched as she pressed her forehead against his, stroking his cheek.

"– never, my sweetest – never –" He whispered and closed his eyes. Horrified, she shook him, feeling her heart stop in her throat.

"– Aemond? –" She mumbled and pressed her fingers to his neck.

She cried out loud, feeling his pulse, and lay down beside him, snuggling into his body, praying aloud to all the gods, old and new, to show them mercy, to reward her husband for what he had done for her brother and to allow him to see the birth of his child.

The gods heard her prayers, and when Alys woke her the next morning, wanting to check how his wound was healing, he was still breathing.

Then Daemon arrived in Harrenhal.

The sight of Caraxes over the fortress filled her with fear and joy at the same time. She ran to meet him along with her brother, and although she knew that affectionate embraces were not in his nature, as soon as he slid off the back of his dragon, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms.

"Father!" She cried out, snuggling into him, and he did not reject her, embracing her tightly, pressing her to his heart.

Their stepfather received the information they conveyed to him with an air of disbelief, as if he thought they were hiding something from him; the uncertainty vanished from his face when he was led to the chamber where her husband rested.

"Will he survive?" He asked indifferently, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She nodded, pale.

"With god's blessing, yes. Alys says the worst is behind him, but he still has a fever. Last night he woke up and spoke to me for a while, but then he lost consciousness again." She explained and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, walking around the room.

"I told your mother to let me handle the Strong and Hightower case, but she didn't consent. Does anyone in King's Landing know what happened here?"

"Aegon." She admitted immediately, looking at him, not lowering her gaze even as he turned to her in anger.

"You are a fool. He'll protect his grandfather. He'll hide him like a rat."

"No. Not after what happened." She said with a confidence that surprised him. He laughed and shook his head.

"Your naivety is dangerous, you are aware of that?" He asked, finally making himself comfortable in the chair and sighed heavily, tapping his fingers on the armrests.

"My men will find Larys Strong, and I will feed him to Caraxes in front of his own people. This, however, is not a problem. As long as Otto Hightower lives, don't hope for peace. And that green whore will never give him up to us, even if he unwittingly almost killed her son."

It turned out, however, that Daemon had been mistaken in his assessment of the situation, and the retinue with the carriage with the Queen inside arrived in Harrenhal after a few days. It frightened her that Harrenhal was slowly becoming a small Red Keep and that this woman would stand before her father.

Alicent, however, did not seem to be bothered by the sight of him, and instead walked up to her, panting heavily, grabbing her by her shoulders.

Only after a moment did she realise she was wearing black.

She wore mourning.

"– where is my son? –"

To Daemon's displeasure, she led her husband's mother to his chamber. When she saw him, she cried aloud, covering her mouth with her hand, and walked over to him, sitting down beside him on the bed. She stroked his white hair as if he were still a child.

"– my little boy –" She whispered in a breaking voice.

She decided to give them a moment of solitude.

While her husband was left in Alys' care, she, Jace, Daemon and Alicent sat down at the table together for the first time since the King's death.

They were all waiting to hear what she had to say.

The Queen sat in silence for a long time, staring dully ahead, not tasting the wine or the food, picking at the cuticles around her fingernails.

"My father is dead. My son-king sentenced him to death after he received a message from Harrenhal. He wanted to fly here in person, but I wouldn't let him." She confessed. Daemon snorted at her words, raising his eyebrow as if her words amused him.

"Your son-cunt is no king, and your father's head should have long since welcomed visitors to King's Landing impaled on a spike." He sneered.

"– father –" She said to him pleadingly, involuntarily stroking her abdomen again, weak and drowsy, having not experienced a peaceful sleep for several days. Alicent looked at her, pale and tired.

"– is this his child? –" She asked, and her father snorted at her words, raising his gaze to the ceiling.

"– for goodness' sake –"

"– yes –" She replied calmly, looking her straight in the eyes.

The Queen smiled sadly and nodded, as if this information actually pleased her.

"I'm glad." She whispered.

"– how touching – did you know that there was an attempt to poison my daughter? – that there was an attempt to kill my son and abduct her? – it's a miracle she hasn't lost that child yet –" Her father hissed out with a fury from which everyone fell silent, all around them only the sizzle of the fire in the fireplace behind him.

Alicent pressed her lips together, swallowing hard, looking down at her empty plate.

"– I tried to reason with him, but I couldn't – he thought, as he has all my life, that I was weak and naive in believing that a war could be avoided – he made me his pawn from the moment he put me under the nose of your brother, and my husband, like a mare for sale –" She replied indifferently, as if she was already tired of pretense and courtesy.

Daemon tapped his index finger on the armrest and licked his lower lip, watching her vigilantly.

"– King's Landing is not burning just for the sake of my daughter and what your son has done – remember this well –" He said lowly and rose from his seat, taking his cup and jug of wine, then left, leaving them in complete silence.

If anything good had come out of what had happened, it was that she and Jace were closer than they had ever been. Her brother watched over her and made sure she ate and drank, convincing her that since his mother was at her husband's side, she could finally rest a little.

"– you need to think of yourself and the baby too – call me if you need anything –" He said softly, looking at her lying on the bed, sitting beside her on the sheets. She put her hand on his and stroked it with her thumb.

"– I love you, brother –" She whispered.

Jace smiled at her words in a way from which she felt moved and leaned in, placing a warm, tender kiss on her forehead.

"– sleep –" He murmured and got up, leaving her alone in her chamber.

She had slept for several hours without waking for the first time in days, and when she opened her eyes, she wasn't sure if it was morning or evening. Only when she rubbed her eyes did she realise that the sun had only just risen above the horizon and she had slept through the night. She shuddered when she heard a quiet knock on the door to her chamber.

"– come in –" She said loudly. The door opened and Alicent stood in it, a small smile on her lips from which she felt warmth in her heart.

"– he's awake –"

Although only in her nightgown and a robe thrown over her shoulders, she ran to his chamber driven by euphoria. When she saw that he was lying on his back, that his eye was open, that he smiled softly at the sight of her, she cried out loudly and rushed towards him, climbing onto his bed, cuddling into his chest.

He hissed quietly, as if she had caused him pain, and she moved away immediately, looking at him apologetically.

"– forgive me – I –"

"– no – come here –" He muttered in a hoarse voice, putting his arm around her, pushing her back to him. She laid her head on his chest, this time being careful not to make any sudden movements. She sighed in relief as she felt his lips place a lingering, loud kiss on the top of her head.

Alicent followed her into the chamber, smiling as she watched them from the side, as if something about the sight brought her relief.

Her husband lifted her chin and furrowed his brow, seeing the remnants of a purple-pink bruise under her eye.

"– are you well? – did they hurt you? –" He asked, but she shook her head quickly.

"– no – but – I killed one of them –" She mumbled, lowering her gaze.

Over the past few nights, she had dreamt of the figures of this two men again and again, causing her to wake up terrified and drenched in sweat.

Her uncle sighed heavily, stroking her cheek with his thumb, looking at her face, his sapphire eye shining in the sunlight.

"– how? –" He asked coldly.

"– as you taught me – I stabbed him in the stomach with a dagger –" She muttered and heard him smile.

"– my Visenya –" He whispered and kissed her forehead with a quiet click.

She involuntarily felt herself blush at his words and snuggled her face into his neck, enjoying his proximity and scent.

"– I will order a meal to be prepared for you –" His mother said and left their chamber, leaving them alone. She felt his uncle's hand slide down to her lower abdomen, stroking her skin.

"– how do you feel? –" He asked quietly, as if she had been stabbed in the back with a dagger rather than him.

"– I feel well, uncle – now that I am in your arms, all is well –"

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Bruce Wayne. 2

.⋆｡Batman’s Kryptonite｡⋆.

Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Bruce works too hard but unluckily for him, you’re more stubborn than he is

Warnings: reader can be sunburnt, fluff, mentions of showering together, workaholic Bruce

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

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Bruce was nothing if not a hard worker. He continuously worked himself to the bone to keep everything afloat and for that, you really did admire him. He used his privilege to help so many people both in his day job and his night job but god did you find it hard to spend time with him.

His brain seemed fixated on his goals, even in the quiet moments where there was nothing to do. Nothing ever got his full attention, not even you, his loving girlfriend.

“How long has he been down here?” You crossed your arms over your chest as you observed Bruce who was currently hunched over his new project, blue eyes firmly fixated on the delicate wiring. Alfred sighed heavily through his nose.

“Since the moment he returned from the airport after dropping you off.” Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“That-“ You took a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself down. “I knew a week long girl’s trip was too good to be true. I’ll take care of this, take a couple days off.” The older man nodded and left the cave with a fatherly squeeze to your shoulder.

As soon as you heard the elevator doors shut, you shed the thick cardigan and long sleeve shirt you were wearing, leaving you just in leggings (that Bruce absolutely went crazy for) and a thin undershirt that did little to disguise the colour of your bra. Your steps were light but not completely silent, it would do you no good to sneak up on the Dark Knight.

Even centimetres away, you could feel the tension in Bruce’s muscles, like he was wound up for a fight. He jumped only slightly as you laid your hands on his shoulder blades but he quickly eased into your tough, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Back early?”

“Actually, I’m right on time.” His hands faltered and you knew that his dark brows were pulled up like they always did when he was coming out of a work-related trance. The chair turned yet your hands never left his skin, now resting on his strong chest as he looked up at you. His pupils dilated, slowly overtaking the stunning blue of his irises as he took in your attire.

“Are you sure?”

You chuckled. “I have the sunburn to prove it.” He grunted, obviously not quite believing you, or he just didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t obeyed your suggestion of taking some time off when you were gone. 

“You were supposed to come back on the fifth.” Bruce tried to argue as his eyes flicked back to his work. You knew that look, it was his ‘I want to end this conversation so I can get back to work’ but you knew exactly what to do to distract him.

“It is the fifth, my love. Maybe you need to take a break. How about coming upstairs with me and we’ll have a nice hot shower?” Your touch slowly migrated up his chest to his jaw and Bruce’s eyelids fluttered under the attention. But he just as quickly tensed up again, catching onto your game.

“Sorry sweets, I have work to do.” He attempted to turn his chair back around but you stepped between his spread legs, pinning him to the spot with your body. 

Your bottom lip turned out into a truly award winning pout and you sniffed. “But I missed you baby, I just want to spend some time with you.” You could actually see his will beginning to crumble. One more step.

Tears filled your eyes. “Do you not want to spend time with me?” 

He knew that they were crocodile tears but they tugged at the mass of guilt in his chest anyway. “Do not. I said no. Those puppy dog eyes don’t work every time. Fuck- fine.” Immediately, your tears disappeared and you beamed at him.

“Great! Maybe I’ll also show you the new bikinis I got on the trip.” Bruce groaned and let you pull him to his feet, abandoning his half-finished work.

“You are a cruel woman.” He complained as you dragged him to the cave’s exit. You looked back at your boyfriend with a wink.

“I just know Batman's kryptonite.” You teased and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Bruce wholeheartedly agreed. You definitely knew how to get him to fold.

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[lis-likes-fics]

aaron hotchner drabble

tw: none, fluff. 750 words

Aaron is a light sleeper. It just comes with being in his line of work. When he married you, sleep became a little easier to indulge in. He loves holding you as he sleeps, an arm around your waist, his nose nuzzled in your hair. You're a warmth he adores, and one he welcomes.

And you're also really funny.

Sometimes in a worrying kind of way.

The bed dips next to him sometime in the middle of the night, and Aaron is warmed by the movement and the chill that follows. His eyelids part heavily as he orders them to open like the agents he orders on the field. His sleepy gaze follows you out of the door of your bedroom, closing it behind you as you do. He lets out a groggy sigh, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Aaron shuffles the covers off his body and stands to his feet. He opens the door you closed and walks after you.

He comes up carefully behind you as you stand in the living room with a pillow in your hands. You're tapping on it like it's a tablet, giggling about something under your breath and then “typing” something out.

“Hey, honey,” he whispers, setting a hand on your waist so gently and he turns you to look at him. Your eyes are open, but you seem to look right through him, even as you snake a hand around his own waist. “What did you find?” he asks as he takes the pillow from you.

For a moment, he gets worried. Because as soon as you hear him, your smile drops and you look annoyed.

“I don't want to hear your excuses.” You give up the pillow, staring past him as you shake your head.

Oh?

“I'm sorry,” is what he says, wanting you to elaborate without accidentally upsetting you.

“You can't just give me wet-willies.”

Oh.

If the pillow hadn't proved it, your reprimand just did. Never in his life has he ever given you, or anyone for that matter, a wet-willy. You're sleepwalking again.

“Okay,” he chuckles lightly. “No more wet-willies.”

He rubs your back as you lean into him. You make no move to walk, so he just holds you.

“What about the baby?” you ask randomly.

He raises a brow, wondering what's going on in your head. You could be talking about Jack, but you've never called him “the baby” before. “What about the baby?” he counters.

You tilt your head. “Did you tell them?”

“Tell them what?”

You scoff, blinking strangely. “The goose bit a bug on the baby.”

Your nonsensical words amuse him to no end. Part of him feels guilty for finding this so entertaining. You've been a tad stressed lately, which is why you've been sleepwalking a little more than usual. But it's nothing the two of you can't handle.

“Is the baby okay?” he asks as he guides you slowly back to the room before Jack wakes up at the sounds of your voices.

You scoff again. “It's a baby.”

While that does answer his question, he takes it anyway. “Well, let's talk about it in bed,” he says.

You walk with him, though your words protest. “We can't.”

“Why not?”

“The zombies.”

Wow.

Aaron can't help the little chuckle that slips past his lips. He looks at you, “Where are the zombies, honey?”

“On the toaster.”

He loves you.

“How'd they get there?”

“Tap dance.”

“Tap dance?”

“On the sofa. Like this.” You raise your hand, wiggle your fingers, and then give a thumbs up. When you've finished, you drop it again at your side.

“That's really good,” he laughs, trying to be quiet as he leads you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot. You hum in response.

“Lay down,” he murmurs at your side of the bed.

“On the plank?”

He nods, his smile hurting his cheeks. “Yes, on the plank.”

“But there are sharks.”

He kisses your forehead fondly. “I'll protect you from sharks.”

“Okay.” You lay in bed, and he pulls the covers over your body and rounds to his side. When he's securely at your back, he wraps his arms around you once again and pulls you into his chest.

“Goodnight, honey,” he whispers into the back of your head. He kisses your shoulder, sighing gently. “I love you.”

“Love,” you mutter distantly, “like loaf. Bread.”

He smiles against your hair, rubbing your side. “Yes,” he says, lulling you back to sleep with soft touches. “Bread.”

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[watermelonlovershigh]

Spontaneous Pleasures {part 7.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

The Rated R Card Game {part 6.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: we're getting so close to them actually having sex. then after that, it'll go back to more mundane things they do in their everyday lives. sorry i keep dragging this on but i'm having fun writing this series. enjoy!!! and make sure to leave your ideas and feedback!!! xoxo

This story contains: fingering (both pussy & ass) blowjob, analingus, aftercare, comfort

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - au!harry - softrry }

word count- 2,159

After Harry spontaneously fingers you during what started out as one of your typical movie nights, you get a wave of dominance come over you, leading you to get on your knees and sucking Harry's cock while also eating and fingering his pretty little ass hole for the first time.

> A few days later

"Har....H..Harry, mhm fuck!" you moan in pleasure as Harry fucks you with his fingers. What started out as a casual movie night, cuddling on the couch, soon turned into more when Harry's hand slipped into your yoga pants. Of course, there were kisses exchanged as well.

Grinning from ear to ear, he dirty talks, "Yeah, feels good baby? M' I makin' you feel so good? Fuckin' you with my, long, thick, fingers? Hmh?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" is all you're able to chant. It's rare for you to get fingered unless someone else fingers you. The angle at which you need to be fingered is something you've always found difficult to do to yourself. So you generally stick to clitoral stimulation or one of your dildos. But on the rare occasion you do get fingered, it feels amazing, when done right of course.

As Harry continues finger blasting you in the middle of his living room, on his sofa, he starts applying pressure to your clit with his palm, enhancing the sensation and causing your body to arch from its reclined position. The moist, squelching sounds reverberate throughout the walls of the house. Overwhelmed by immense pleasure, your mind becomes hazy and your toes begin to curl.

"You gonna come for me? Can feel you clenchin' down on my fingers."

You respond with a nod and out of nowhere, your orgasm hits you like a crashing wave. The intense pleasure you've been holding in your stomach erupts, creating a display of fireworks behind your closed eyelids. Your body trembles, your back stays arched, and your legs quiver as if they might close.

As you begin to come down from your euphoric state, the words "Oh my God!!" instinctively escape your mouth. Harry continues to pleasure you until he notices the signs of overstimulation and gradually withdraws. Now you find yourself lying on the couch, breathing heavily, as you attempt to regain your composure.

Rising to his feet, Harry states, "I'll be right back. Gonna get somethin' to clean you up with." While he's away, your senses begin to awaken again and you become aware of just how horny you still are.

Upon Harry's return, he cleans up the mess between your legs that he created from the spontaneous fingering session. Once he's finished with that, in a display of dominance from your horniness reappearing, you assert yourself by pushing him onto the couch and positioning yourself on the floor between his legs. Before Harry can utter a word of inquiry, you swiftly lower the front of his sweatpants, and he willingly aids in pulling them down even more until he's able to kick them off to the side of the couch.

His penis springs forth, looking as appetizing as ever. You reach forward and encircle his large shaft with your small hand, causing him to recoil slightly due to its sensitivity. Harry remains quiet, allowing you to have your way with him but his mouth is dropped open in an 'o' shape, breaths becoming heavier and more pronounced with each touch you give to him. Finally, you rise to your knees and lean over his lap, taking his dick into your mouth.

Upon feeling the head of his cock touch the back of your throat, he breaks his silence with a quiet curse of, "Shit" You adjust to accommodate to his size by tugging on what doesn't fit in your mouth, making Harry believe he's in heaven. Little does he know though, that what you have planned next will take him beyond the heavenly gates.

While removing your mouth from his cock, you continue to provide consistent strokes with your right hand as your face travels lower. When your mouth grazes over his testicles, Harry assumes you might engage in licking or sucking them, which he'd find incredibly satisfying. However, you exceed his expectations by bypassing his balls and positioning your mouth face to face with his puckering hole.

The act of performing analingus has never been your preference. You have only done it once, and that was with someone you knew very well. You would never entertain the idea of engaging in it with a one-night stand, as you had no way of knowing their level of cleanliness or when they last used the restroom.

However, you feel comfortable doing it for Harry. You're aware that he maintains excellent personal hygiene, especially when it comes to his bum, thanks to his experiences with men. He's well-versed in the practice of keeping his anus clean through regular douching and ensuring it remains free of excessive hair.

After gathering your courage with a deep breath, you plunge headfirst into the task at hand. Your tongue encounters the tense ring of muscles and slowly pushes its way inside. "What r' you doin'?" Harry blurts out. It's not that he dislikes what you're doing, because he fucking loves what you're doing. It's simply surprising, as he never envisioned you as someone who would engage in such activities. Nevertheless, he feels incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

You pull away quickly with a smirk. Despite feeling a bit nervous about whether or not what you did was acceptable, you can see from his expressions that he thoroughly enjoyed it. "Did you like that? I bet you like having your little ass played with, don't you? I wonder if you'd ever let me fuck it. Would you? Maybe with one of my dildos, or I could purchase a strap-on. If I bought a strap-on, perhaps I could also fuck your throat. Just like you allowed that other woman to do. Make you choke and gag on my fake cock."

Harry has never seen you so confident with your dirty words. It probably has something to do with the orgasm he previously gave you. You're still out of it, he concludes as an explanation. And you referencing something he admitted happened in his past during that card game a week or two ago, he was hoping that by sharing that event, maybe, just maybe you'd get some curiosity and fantasize about trying it out on him. He guesses his plan worked.

Still breathing rather heavy, Harry answers back, "Y/n, you can do whatever you want with me. Anythin'. Nothin' is off limits." And he truly means that. You want to fuck his ass? He'll get on his hands and knees this instant. You want to fuck his throat? He'll open his mouth so wide his jaw threatens to snap. You want to tie him up one day? He'll tie himself up for you, if that's even possible. He'll be your submissive. The only catch is, you've gotta let him do the same things to you.

"Good to know." is all you say before continuing where you left off. You lubricate his tight hole with your tongue before slipping it inside and fucking him with it. Your right hand picks up its speed on his cock. Harry grabs the backs of his thighs to hold his legs open for you, his feet propped up on the edge of the couch, which you greatly appreciate.

After a minute of continuous action, Harry is nearing orgasm. His legs quiver, his breathing becomes strained, and his stomach muscles contract. As soon as you feel his cock twitch in your hand, you remove your mouth from his hole and proceed to place his dick back into your mouth. Although you don't neglect his bum hole. Slowly, you guide your left hand down until it reaches his tightening hole, then smoothly easing inside without any resistance thanks to the lingering saliva left from your mouth..

Just as you insert your fingers, Harry announces, "Y/n, baby, m' gonna come." True to his words, he ejaculates, releasing his warm jizz all over your tongue as you skillfully pleasure him. Simultaneously, you continue to stimulate his anus, ensuring he experiences the utmost pleasure.

Even after his orgasm subsides, you persist in pleasuring him with your mouth and fingers until he physically has to push you away, stating, "Enough, baby. M' too sensitive now." When he uses the endearing term, "baby," it fills you with warmth. Though it's mostly been used during intimate moments. You eagerly anticipate the day when he will use it more frequently and not just during your sexual activities.

With a pop, you release Harry's softening penis from your mouth and retract your fingers from his ass hole. Harry is left on the couch, panting like a dehydrated dog. He's trying to compose himself after what just occurred. You stand up on sore legs, from the hard floor that is, and go to the bathroom to get a damp cloth for cleaning him up with. He deserves aftercare too. While in the bathroom, you also wipe away the arousal that formed between your legs and change into a clean pair of panties.

Upon your return, Harry remains in the same position where you left him. However, there is a slight change as his head now rests against the back of the couch, eyes closed, and he's no longer holding his legs up. You step in between his legs and speak softly, "Let me clean you off" He raises his head slightly, his eyes barely open, and notices that you hold a damp cloth in your hands. Without uttering a word, he spreads his legs to provide you with more space and just silently observes as you lean down and meticulously cleanse his genitals, followed by his wet ass.

Harry's sensitivity causes him to hiss, but he relaxes once you're done. Placing the damp cloth on the coffee table, you stand up and reach for Harry's hands. "Let's go to bed. We're both knackered." Harry takes your hands and stands up with your assistance. Upon standing, he notices something shiny on the floor.

"What's that?" Harry questions looking downwards, prompting you to cast a glance downwards as well, seeking to identify what he's referring to. It's in that moment that you become aware of a small puddle, evidence of your overwhelming arousal while you were pleasuring him. Although you were conscious of your heightened state of arousal, you didn't realize it had reached a point where it leaked onto the FUCKING floor. This situation is unbelievably humiliating.

Stumbling over your words, you reply, "Ohh, um, well doing what I did to you got me wet. Like really wet. I didn't realize it dripped on the floor though. I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be embarrassed, Y/n," Harry says softly, his hands cupping your face. "M' actually flattered that I got you so wet. It's an easy fix, we'll clean it up." With a nod of agreeance, you observe as Harry retrieves the cloth from the coffee table and bends down to eliminate the small puddle. In a matter of seconds, the area is completely cleaned and you both proceed to Harry's room where you'll be staying for the night.

Once in Harry's room, you go to slide under the covers when Harry suddenly asks, "Can we sleep naked?"

"Um, yeah if you want. But why?" Not that you have anything against sleeping naked but normally whenever you've shared a bed with each other, you have some form of clothes on. Typically you in an oversized t-shirt and panties, Harry in just his briefs.

As you both proceed to remove your remaining clothes, Harry answers, "I don't know. Just want to feel close to you, s'all. Your warm and your boobs make great pillows." That garners a laugh from you.

Now fully nude, he turns the one lamp that remained on, off and you each get under the duvet. "Come over here then." you instruct Harry. "Your pillows are waiting for you." He slides across the bed until he's settled by your side and gently places his head on your nearest breast while his top arm is slung across your belly.

In this moment, Harry realizes just how much he loves you. Never in a million years did he think he'd fall in love with the shy, timid girl who accepted his housemate position all those months ago. But gradually, after becoming friends, he realized how much fun you are to be around. How comforting your presence is. How you make him feel safe and warm. How you never judge him for his sexuality and accept him for who he is. He knows in this exact moment he wants to spend the rest of his life with you and you haven't even had sex yet.

But without a shadow of a doubt, he knows you'll be the best sex he's ever had and he has a feeling it's going to happen sooner than you anticipated. Like really soon. He can feel the sexual tension every time you do other sexual things. Tensions that make you just want to scream, "fuck me already." Soon can't come fast enough.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

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My Masterlist Masterpost

The Next Morning {part. 8} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

[angellayercake]

Champagne Kisses

Papa Emeritus III x Femreader x FemOC | NSFW | 3600~ words

this one is for the bisexuals!!! 🩷💜💙 happy pride month everyone :) warnings: pwp, threesome, m/f/f, fingering, pussy eating, blow jobs, pinv sex, facials, cream pies, cum eating, all the bodily fluids, unsafe sex, unnamed oc photo source here

The smooth gloss she was wearing doesn't feel much different from Papa’s grease paint you think, sucking on her lower lip until she gasps into your mouth. You had been kissing sometime now and you can imagine the mess your desperation has made of both of your faces. The angle is a little awkward, leaning over Papa where he is sitting between you at the end of the bed but you manage to work your hand between you and up her top until you can tease her nipple through the thin lace of her bra.

Papa lets out a low moan of appreciation at her reaction to your attentions as he encourages you both, his gloved fingers woven into your hair. He loves watching you like this, giving and receiving pleasure under his guidance. You pull back for a moment to catch your breath taking in her smudged make up and blissed expression. The night had barely even begun and you already had her lost in pleasure, subject to your and Papa’s mercy.

He let’s go of you for a moment reaching for the half full bottle of champagne you had been ignoring in favour of each other, bringing the neck of the bottle to your joined lips. He pours a slow stream between you, all but a few errant drops caught in your panting mouths. You follow the sticky trail down her chin with your tongue, kissing your way back up to swallow her gasping moans.

‘How does she taste amore mia?’ He whispers in your ear just loud enough for you both to hear.

‘Like champagne Papa.’ You can feel the last of the bubbles still tingling on your tongue from the mouthful you had shared and you crave more leaning in to close the space between you and capture her lips once more but his grip firm in your hair makes you pause.

‘I do enjoy champagne,’ his voice is so low you can feel it rumbling through his chest and then you get a front row seat to Papa taking his taste. He tips her head towards him until she is perfectly angled for him to capture her parted lips. A kiss from Papa is all it takes to steal the breath from your lungs and the sense from your head and it seems she is not immune either, leaning heavily on you both as Papa deftly seeks out the last traces of champagne in her mouth. Her eyelids flutter rapidly as she enjoys his undivided attention, her hand even leaving you completely to grasp his neck, the tips of her fingers digging into the hair at his nape.

A whine leaves you involuntarily, not wanting to lose both their attention completely. Papa chuckles into her mouth but doesn’t stop. He catches your eye, glancing sideways and watching your desperation build, almost daring you to act. You are unsure whose attention you want more but your mouth waters as you watch them together. Finally taking matters into your own hands you push her top up until you can cup her breasts in both hands but even the thin lace between you feels like too much. You make short work of clasps until her soft skin is bare against your hands and her sensitive nipples squeezed between your fingers and she is shuddering against Papa.

She breaks their kiss, her mouth falling slack and her eyes blinking slowly at you as you continue your teasing. She is beautiful still even with the black and grey of Papa’s paints adding to the mess on her face. You squeeze more firmly until she falls back into you with a moan, licking and sucking sloppily at your lips until you open them for her. Distractedly your hands slide to her waist until you can pull her firmly against you but another disappointed whine slips from you when the layers of clothes between you prevent you feeling her skin against yours. He squeezes the back of your neck, chasing the shivers down your spine with his fingers and drawing your attention back to him.

‘Ready for more, mie principesse?’ His intense mismatched eyes flit between the two of you, eagerly anticipating what was to come of your evening and so you take the opportunity to appreciate your Papa. His shirt is already half unbuttoned by your earlier searching fingers, never missing an opportunity to paw at his soft hairy chest. His paint is smudged, turning grey on his brow, his mouth and chin. He is handsome with his paint and without but like this he is charmingly debauched, his hair falling out from its usual perfect style only adding to the effect. You both nod and you smile giddily, butterflies of excitement and lust swirling in your stomach. It is always a thrill for you sitting on the precipice of intimacy like this whether it be with the familiarity of your Papa or the novelty of someone new like the beautiful woman joining you tonight. 

He slips his fingers under the hem of your dress, teasingly uncovering you even knowing full well that you are wearing absolutely nothing underneath. He pulls it up and over your head, leaving you bare to both of their eyes and you relish in their attention. He growls, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you firm against him. Your lips are captured by his and it is your turn to be devastated by only his kiss. Like always he makes your knees weak and your brain fog so when he releases you it takes you a moment to register he is speaking. 

‘Will you help our guest undress?’ He poses it as a question but it sounds like an order and not one that you feel inclined to disobey. You find your feet and help her to hers, easily divesting her of the top and bra you had already partially removed. You stroke the newly revealed skin as you strip her marvelling at how beautiful every single inch of her is. She turns her back to you so you can unzip her skirt and lift it over her head and then she is left in nothing but her lacey pants. 

Papa has lost his shirt while the two of you have been occupied and it is a test of your willpower to not turn all your attention to his now bare chest. His trousers are also undone giving him room to palm his cock as he watched you undress her. He stands, letting them fall to the floor so he can step out of them without letting go of his cock which he manages with a surprising amount of grace given his usual issues with balance. He gestures for the two of you to take his place on the bed so you do, helping her shimmy out her underwear before lying back on the soft sheets.

She is finally laid out before you and you are paralysed, unable to decide where you want to start on the feast of pleasurable possibilities. Papa’s gaze burns into your back impatiently but when all you do is trace the perfect curve of her waist he takes matters into his own hands. He comes close, his warm chest pressed to your back and his thick hair tickling your sensitive skin. He sucks on your earlobe, the barest graze of his teeth and his hot breath on your neck send shivers down your spine. His large hands wrap around your wrists guiding your hands up her body until you are cupping her breasts once more. They are soft and heavy in your hands all at once as you push them together, her fullness almost spilling between your fingers. Papa has yet to remove his gloves but you think you would like to see his larger hands on her.

‘Will you take off your gloves Papa?’ you ask reverently, catching his gaze over your shoulder. He nods and offers you his finger, seeking your help. Gently, you nip the tip of the glove so he can pull his hand free. He takes it from your teeth grazing your lip with his thumb before offering his other hand to you for the same assistance. He throws them to the side of the bed, floating to the floor forgotten and now it is your turn to guide his hands. He leans forward over her, forcing you to fold in front of him until you are forced to crawl to your knees over her. She has barely moved, quietly watching you interact with your Papa with round eager eyes, just waiting for both of your attention to fall back to her. He cups her breasts just as you were moments ago. You were right, his handsome hands fit her ample shape perfectly, her dusky nipples almost a perfect match for his olive skin.

‘Touch her amore,’ his voice soft but still commanding and you have no choice to obey. Whether deliberately or by chance he has positioned you in exactly the right place to capture her nipple between your lips but you don’t just yet. Instead you trace around his fingers with the tip of your tongue where his strong grip meets her soft flesh but before long the temptation of her pebbled nipples is too strong. With a flick of your tongue you have her arching her back, encouraging your exploration of her body. She is so sensitive, moaning as you suck and nibble on her until Papa has to shift his grip to her waist to keep her in place for you. Giving her some mercy you work your way down her body sucking and nibbling a path down her soft stomach. 

Papa follows your every move, pressed against your back. He watches your every action offering both his encouragement and his guidance until you reach your final destination knelt between her legs. He reaches around you, opening her up for the two of you to enjoy, her folds flushed pink and already glistening with arousal. You ghost a touch over her that has her shaking, swiping at her slick because you just can’t wait to taste her. The two of you moan almost simultaneously as you suck your finger into your mouth, the flavour perfectly salty sweet in a way that only a woman can be. You pull your finger out of your mouth slowly, holding her gaze and keeping her in suspense of what you have planned for her next.   

Papa continues to hold her open as you sink your spit slick finger inside her tight hole. She is so wet and so warm but you feel resistance as you stroke around carefully to find her gspot. You are definitely going to need to prepare her to take Papa’s cock comfortably and with that in mind you press your mouth to her. You lick and suck at her until she can’t decide between pressing her hips down on to your finger or up into your face even as you ignore her more sensitive spots to lavish attention on her sensitive inner thighs. 

He is still pressed closely behind you, his hard cock pressing against your ass. You want to push back against him, angle yourself so he might slip right inside you right then but you know you won’t be the first to get his cock tonight. He must sense your need though as the hand not holding your hair back from obstructing his view begins to work its way down your body. He tweaks your nipples just how you like, pulling and twisting the bars of your piercings just to the point of pain before soothing them with gently massaging fingertips. His hands drift lower until he cups you firmly, his palm hard against your clit making you ache.  

‘If she is as wet as you amore mia she must be ready for me.’ He whispers in your ear kissing sloppily at your neck. His fingers dip inside you feeling out how turned on you are right now and not being disappointed. He pushes his hips against you in time with his fingers, you hope imagining how easily he might just slip inside you right now as you were not a moment ago, but it still is not the time as much as you might both wish it. 

‘Almost Papa.’ You don’t want to keep him waiting longer then you must so you slide a second finger alongside the first. ‘She is so tight,’ you say with a groan picturing what she was going to feel like around your Papa.  

‘She is going to feel so good for you.’ His cock twitches against you as you speak so with a few more careful stretches you pull your finger from her. He helps you back to your feet and you use the new leverage to position her hips right at the end of the bed exactly where Papa will want her. You climb up onto the bed, kneeling over her and she grabs your ankle to ground herself. You offer her a smile and give her one last kiss before getting into position. 

‘Look at you both,’ he moans. He stands at the foot of the bed stroking his cock slowly as he takes you both in. ‘Such a tasty treat for Papa eh?’ He steps closer bringing his dick level with your face. 

‘Will you get me ready as well amore mia?’ he asks with a wink. Part of you wants to just swallow down his length in one go but the other part of you wins, smoothing your hand over his hairy stomach, fingers catching in the thickness as he continues to stroke. You have always loved his tummy, supporting him through his initial discomfort with his post retirement body. In your eyes he was always perfect but the main benefit to his rounded tummy was there was even more of him to love and worship. 

You drag your hands downwards, taking over his stroking. He is thick in your hand and so hard you swear you can feel the thud of his pulse. You stroke him once, twice, three times before bringing the head of his cock to your lips. Filling your mouth with saliva you open up to him and he needs no more encouragement to sink into the wet heat of your mouth. It is difficult to only concentrate on the job at hand with him hot and heavy on your tongue but you do your best coating his length with spit so as to ease the way for both him and her. He pulls out reluctantly leaving your mouth empty and watering but the pulse of arousal you feel as he lines himself up to her entrance and pushes in with little to no resistance makes it all worth it. 

He sinks into her heat so slowly, inch by controlled inch, her thighs shaking from the maddening pace. You can’t help admire his restraint even as you marvel at how her body stretches to accommodate him. He pulls out just as slowly setting what must be an infuriatingly steady pace. You match him stroke for stroke, lapping at her clit as he rolls his hips in the way you know grinds the head of his cock perfectly against your inner walls. His hardness looks incredible sinking into her wet heat and you can’t resist the enticing wetness gathering at the base of his cock with every thrust. So you don’t, ignoring her clit in favour of feeling with your mouth where she is stretched around him the blend of their arousal making you almost drunk with lust. 

He slips from her, gripping his erection and offering you a proper taste. You open your mouth wide, sinking down his length as slowly as he was thrusting into her pussy only a moment ago, lathing him with your tongue in order to taste every drop. With a final swallow you take all of him, your nose buried in the soft hair at his base, luxuriating in the smell and the taste of him but sooner than you like he is pulling back leaving you empty and yearning for more. 

‘Amore, we shouldn’t leave our guest unattended,’ he chides you, but you need little encouragement to return your attention to her swollen clit. He sinks back into her as you swirl your tongue around her in apology for leaving her neglected and although she is incapable of words right now you take her broken moans and her panting hotly against your thigh as acceptance. 

He finds his rhythm, fucking into her with short hard strokes that you know have her seeing stars so you try to match him. Sucking on her steadily and flicking her with your tongue every time he bottoms out inside her until her moans turn to sobs beneath you. Her body starts to tense, writhing as her release begins to build inside of her. You grip her hips tightly keeping her still and Papa’s thrust start to build momentum, the slapping of his hips forcing you lean back and give him the room he needs to fuck her properly. You find her clit with your fingers now, trying to keep pace with Papa’s more frantic thrusts but it only takes a few more strokes before her body goes taught and she cums on his cock. You watch her pussy clenching around him as he grunts above you, fucking her through it until the wave of pleasure subsides. 

‘Fuck, I am going to cum amore mia,’ he groans as his rhythm begins to stutter. He pulls out of her spasming hole, fisting his cock frantically. The head glistens with her juices and his pre cum and makes your mouth water and you watch mesmerised as the head seems to swell and his balls twitch up as his climax approaches. His eyes flit between your face and her used pussy and you can guess that he wants to paint both of you with his spend. You drop your head and open your mouth just in time because with a final grunt he cums. 

Thick spurts splatter over your face and her pussy, over and over. He pants, squeezing at the base of his cock milking that last drops directly into your mouth. You close your lips around him as he starts to soften, lapping at his slit and suckling his tip until it begins to recede back into his foreskin and protect him from over sensitivity. You let his dick drop free from your mouth falling heavily against his thigh and he drops to his knees almost instantly and pulls you into a deep kiss. He wipes your face free of his cum, kissing you soundly once more before backing away slightly with a smirk. 

‘Shall we clean her up,’ he asks but you beat him to it, licking at the mess covering her clit, only pausing to watch her twitch in pleasure. She doesn’t protest so you continue carefully, Papa joining you with a moan as he dips his tongue into her used hole. When the last of his cum is cleared you begin to sit up but he holds you a moment longer, pulling you into a slow sensuous kiss even as your faces are sticky from both of their juices. He pulls back when he is finished, eyes fond even as you try to imagine the mess you must look right now. 

You climb off her, sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling oddly satisfied despite the ignored heat burning in your core. Leaning over her you smooth back her hair where it sticks to her forehead with sweat and drop a kiss there, then her cheeks and her nose until she is giggling underneath you. Together you crawl to the head of the bed where Papa is waiting, watching you again fondly and the three of you collapse into the soft pile of pillows with you sandwiched between them. 

He manhandles you, turning you until you are facing her and he can spoon up close behind you. They are both exhausted, her eyes half lidded as she smiles at you lazily and tired waves seem to roll off him even as he runs his hands lazily over your skin. 

‘You have been very good to us tonight, amore mia,’ he murmurs against the back of your neck. His warm breath makes your hairs stand on end and you can’t help pressing back against him. His cock twitches valiantly where it is pressed between you but it is more a token reaction. Instead his hand slides down your thigh lifting your leg and encouraging you to hook your knee over her hip. 

Your core is entirely open for them, the air feeling cool against your overheated skin. She reaches for you first with her nimble fingers teasing your clit as she distracts you with a kiss. Your whole body shudders with it, eager for every touch after having waited so long. Then you feel his fingers at your entrance. He pushes two fingers into you, the build up of your slick easing the way until they are buried to the knuckle. His crooked teeth find your shoulder, teasing at a harder pressure just how you like so when he begins to stroke your gspot unrelentingly you find yourself quite trapped between them. 

They aren’t quite in sync, lacking the experience you and your Papa have but their off rhythm means you can grind your hips back and forth with them until your mind is almost lost in an infinite loop of pleasure. He guides her to your nipples somehow knowing exactly what you need to tip you over the edge, directing her how to use her teeth to drive you to distraction. The feeling is overwhelming, forcing you closer and closer to your climax until you are dangling by a thread. 

Everything seems to speed up while seemingly happening in slow motion so when he grazes your nape with his teeth and she tweaks your nipple just so and he tap tap rubs at your g spot and she squeezes your clit between her fingers it all narrows down to one spot in your core. For a moment it's like all your senses go numb and then it is exploding like fire and ice coursing through your nerves all at the same time. You feel it through your whole body from the palms of your hands to the soles of your feet and then your mind goes blank.  You don’t remember much after your orgasm, the pleasure so intense after such a build up. When you come too you find yourself dozing in your Papa’s arms with her curled against your chest and you can’t remember ever feeling so content and satisfied is all that crosses your mind as you fall back to sleep.  

P.s if there are typos I will fix them in the morning

[sissylittlefeather]

It's double-fic Wednesday!

Although, I'm not sure this counts as a fic 😂. More like a ficlet or drabble.

Anyway, here it is:

Play

Warnings: 18+ SMUTFEST MINORS DNI, cussing, blowjob, swallowing, pwp

Word count: ~580

Elvis bites his lip and stifles a moan. He looks down over his guitar to where his legs are spread wide and you have your warm, wet little mouth wrapped around his rock hard cock. You pull back and leave the tip of him glistening.

"I told ya to keep playin' baby."

"Not sure I c-can, doll." He breathes heavily at the sight of you on your knees, dick in your hand, pink lipstick smeared.

"Then I'll just stop." He shakes his head quickly.

"No, please don't. I-I-I'll play." He forms his fingers in a chord and starts strumming gently. You smile and lick the precum off his head, savoring the salty taste of him. He looks up at the ceiling and sighs, trying desperately to keep his hands moving on the guitar.

"Fuuuuck." You slide your lips all the way around his member, pushing it deep into your throat and sucking gently. He groans and muddles the chord progression as you bounce your mouth on him pornographically. When you open your throat and bury your nose in his pubic hair, he whimpers and you gag a little. His hips buck, but he keeps his hands moving. He's dying to fill your throat with hot white ropes of cum, but the guitar is slowing him down.

You pull off a little, lips puffy from use, and pump him with your hand. Then, you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock while you jack him off. His hand shakes and he drops his pick.

"Goddamnit doll, I gotta cum."

"Play. Or I'm done." You squeeze his dick in your hand gently and he whimpers again. He half-heartedly strums the strings and rolls his hips into your palm.

"Fuck, baby, please." He can feel his load waiting just at the base of him, making his balls throb.

"Play." He moans loudly and his hands tremble, but he makes a chord and strums again. "Good boy."

You sink your pretty lips onto him again, holding them tight as you move down his dick slowly. He's so close to cumming that he feels like he might cry. He bites his lip again to stifle a groan and strums the guitar as fast as he can, imagining his hand on his cock. But he doesn't have to use his imagination long as you slide your mouth up and down quickly, complimenting your movements with your hand. His dick is sloppy with your spit as you give him just the right amount of friction and pressure.

"God! Fuck!" He damn near screams as you pump him and suck him all at once. His hands stop and his hips shudder against the guitar as he finally climaxes, shooting your mouth full of salty, hot semen. You swallow as he cums, sucking his release out of him like his dick is a straw. His eyes roll back and his body shakes as the waves of ecstasy crash over him, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

When you finish, you lick a stripe up the bottom of his shaft and kiss his tip gently. He jerks and yelps from the overstimulation and then relaxes in the chair, arms and legs going slack.

"There. Now do you think you can record the song?" He looks up at you, his pupils blown and eyelids heavy with the afterglow of his orgasm.

"Yes. I can, doll." He slurs almost drunkenly.

"Good. You know I love to watch you play."

******

End

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Taglist:

@ccab @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

[heeliopheelia]

"no one has ever cared about me like you do" (jungwon x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.7k requested by nonnie ♡

warnings: a little blood, mentions of getting into a fight, alcohol, jungwon being tipsy

a/n: i actually love the way this turned out!! i'm gonna post another drabble later on tonight <3

One of the things you completely didn't expect to find at your door at 2 am was a tipsy Jungwon. Frowning, you take in all of the cuts marring his face, bruised knuckles coming up to your view as he raises his hand up to wave at you awkwardly.

"Hi," he greets you, other arm outstretched on the door frame to stop himself from stumbling over onto you. "Can I come in?"

You nod your head silently, opening the door wider so that he can step in. Now, patching up Jungwon is something you've already grown used to doing throughout the past couple months. What you're not used to witnessing is the fight-seeking boy being drunk. Maybe it's all thanks to his high alcohol tolerance but not even once in your life have you ever seen him stumbling and tripping over his own feet as he giggles drunkenly underneath his nose.

After making him take off his shoes, you lead him to your bedroom, carefully guiding him through every step and threshold until he's safely resting on your bed. The soft floral scent of your fabric softener instantly brings peace to his hollering heart and he leans backwards until his head drops down on your pillows.

You leave him in your room, trusting him enough to know he's not going to hurt himself within your absence, and when you come back with your heavily-used first aid kit, he's watching you intently with his misty eyes.

"Tilt your face up," you tell him, grabbing him by his chin to help him with the task yourself.

Reaching for the soaked cotton ball, you start cleaning up the cuts on his face, dabbing on the already dried blood and wiping it away. Jungwon endures it all without the smallest whine, always feeling thankful for you to even have the will and strength to deal with him yet another time. Getting used to the stinging, he finds himself drifting off with the gentle touch of your fingers.

"Hey, stay with me for a little longer, okay?" You ask, leaning closer to him. Only now he can see the concern more prominent than usually painted on your features and he feels a sharp sting of guilt for making you feel such way. "Why are so you drunk tonight? And who did you get into a fight with again?"

He hums low in his throat, blinking up at you with his heavy eyelids. "I dunno. Kinda felt like doing shots today. Jake has no control when it comes to vodka, you know that," he explains simply, shrugging his arms with a small smile. "And it was just some guy at the party. Pissed me off loads."

You nod your head with a sigh. "Wonder when will be the first time you come to my doorstep in one piece."

Jungwon instantly notices the resentful hint in your voice, so he leans up on his elbows. "I'm sorry. I should stop bothering you with my bullshit at nights, I know you're probably tired of it at this point. I'll try not to the next time, okay?"

"That's not what I meant." You shake your head, putting the kit aside as you finally take a spot right next to him on your bed. "I don't mind you coming here. I'm glad that you're comfortable enough to let me help you. I'm just worried about you, that's all. I don't want you to seriously get hurt somewhere along the way, Won."

His heart melts at your words, so he quickly pulls you to his chest, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck so that you don't see the chokehold that you have on him written all over his features. He stretches his arm out, flicking the switch of the lamp on your bedside off and engulfing the both of you in a comfortable darkness.

He tugs the covers on top your bodies. The silence nearly lulls you to sleep, his calloused hands softly running over your skin before his muffled voice interrupts it.

"No one has ever cared about me like you do. I know I don't show it a lot but I really do appreciate you. Thank you."

"I love you," you mumble into his t-shirt tiredly, arms tightening around his middle.

Even though it's the first time you've ever said these words to him, they sound so incredibly easy on your tongue that instead of feeling nervous, a soothing warmth flows down his system. Pressing a kiss to the side of your head, he feels you snuggling even closer to him and he can't keep the exhausted smile from creeping upon his lips.

And he knows that no matter how drunk he would be, these words he would always remember. And would always mean with his entire heart.

"I love you too."

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @venividibitchin @ramenoil

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [5 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: The journey to Tarrath is not one to be undertaken lightly—there are more things to fear in the untamed places of the world than stags, a lesson you are soon to learn. 

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy/n AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse

A/N: 👀

You have been riding since before sunup, and your hips and back ache from long hours spent in the saddle. The pack sets a leisurely pace through the grass sea, meandering through the plain in a loose line. The vast mountains you knew are at your back now, shrinking into misty, faint points. They tell you how far you have come with their distance, and you wonder how many steps you have taken since last you were the person you had been before. 

Since you left the woman you were supposed to be by the riverside—and how many more you will have to take to become someone else entirely. Though it has been only a fortnight sine you watched the village burn, it feels like a lifetime ago. Someone else’s memory, someone else’s eyes. 

The pack keeps a steady pace until the sun is high in the sky and the mountains are meaningless pinpricks. The land changes too, the flat plains turning into rolling hills that remind you of the cresting waves you have seen painted in books and on tapestries. The only difference is, these don’t come crashing down to drown you, the grass whispering quietly in the breeze. 

You ride somewhere in the middle of the line, the pack stretching both before and behind you, riding towards the sun as it begins to sink low in the sky. You can see Steve near the front, his sword strapped between his broad, bare shoulders. Like he can feel your gaze, he turns back, one thick fang hanging over his lip as he grins. You drop your head, your cheeks burning. 

Let them see.

When you look up again, he’s gone. 

—

Night on the grass sea is beautiful. A thousand thousand stars glow like fireflies caught in tar, stretching out further than you can see into the darkness. The pack does not stop, continuing at the same pace as all light fades, and the moon rises cold and clear. At first, the sheer drop in temperature is enough to keep you awake—without the thick furs and blankets neatly rolled and strapped to your horse, your ripped dress offers less protection against the biting wind. But after a few hours, despite the chill, your eyelids begin to droop heavily, your shoulders dropping as you slump in the saddle. 

It is the feel of Steve’s warm hand on your back that wakes you, instantly jolting you into panicked awareness as you turn sharply to glare at him. 

“Easy, Sweetmeat,” he replies. “I mean only to keep you from breaking your neck.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless that is your wish this night.” 

You scowl. “No, I—thank you.” The words come haltingly.

“The journey is a long one.” Steve shrugs. “You will learn to sleep in the saddle.” 

“Or fall out of it,” you mutter, and he laughs, a loud boisterous sound that carries out into the night. 

“You never cease to amuse, Sweetmeat,” he says after a moment, the words still colored with the sound of his mirth. “I wonder what the elders shall make of you.” There is fear at his words, but your curiosity burns just as brightly. 

“What is it like?” You ask. “Your city?”

“In your tongue, Tarrath means ‘city at the end of the world’.”  You feel your eyes widen in spite of your attempt to keep your features schooled into neutrality. “It was built into the cliffside by my people long ago, before we knew the arbitrary lines your kings drew on their maps.” You gape at him, floundering for words. The maps you know end somewhere out into the grass sea. At their edges, perhaps an orc settlement or two, but mostly… nothing.  The impossibly vast mountains and the forests that border them are all you know.

But perhaps the truths you know are not truths at all. 

“Have you seen the sea, little one?” You shake your head. 

“What does it look like?”

Steve smiles. “Blue. The water is salt to the taste, but so blue. Like… two skies.” He motions with his hands, and you hold the reins tightly as you close your eyes and try to see it. More water than you could possibly imagine, as deep and endless as the sky.

“And the city?” You ask, stifling a yawn. 

“There are great towers of red brick with fires at their hearts. And there are not so few men as you might think.” 

“Humans?”

“And more.” He nods. “Elves, Dwarves. Children of the world before.”

You begin to slump again as he speaks, but this time Steve doesn’t wake you. He reaches across your lap to grasp the reins in one large hand. He loops them around the horn of his saddle. When you do finally begin to lean over, it is against his warm shoulder. 

“You coddle her.”  Bucky’s irritated voice doesn’t wake you—the firm hold exhaustion has on you is too heavy to drag your mind back to wakefulness, and you will not remember these words when you do wake again. Steve chuckles. 

“I like her.”

—

“Storm’s too thick.” You, and the rest of the pack are crowded around Bucky as he speaks, the horses shifting anxiously in the stillness. You can see it, the band of dark, angry dust stretching across the horizon. You’ve never seen anything like it, like the Gods’ fury given terrible form. When Bucky had set out to scout, it was a pinprick–and now the cloud stretches almost as far as you can see. “We’ll be waiting days for it to pass.”

Steve grimaces, his tusks hanging over his lip as he showcases his displeasure. 

“Aye,” he agrees, turning his eyes toward the horizon, eyeing the storm. “We’ll go around.” 

“The pass?” There’s a murmur of something like discomfort that passes through the pack. Something like fear. “Gods damn it.” Bucky looks back toward the storm and curses again. “We don’t have the rations to wait it out.” He doesn’t ask—it isn’t a question. And Steve’s grim expression is all the answer you need. 

“We’ll put it to a vote. The pass—or the storm.” He turns to the pack. “Those who want to brave the storm, step forward.” Lightning crashes in the distance, and you swallow thickly. By the sound of it, the pass is equally formidable. You recall the stag, it’s hungry jaws and fierce eyes, and wonder what else waits for you on this road—the one you’ve chosen. 

After a moment, Steve nods stonily, his expression battle-fierce. 

“The pass it is.” 

The pack wastes no time reorienting itself, turning west to skirt around the tempest of stinging sand and thunder. Carol rides up beside you, her expression grim. 

“Do not think we have chosen the easy road, little human.” 

You don’t. “What is the pass?”

“It was a road, once. One that has returned to the sea and the things that live inside it.” Her voice is low, warning. “Men are wise to fear the zikaegina,” she gestures at the endless shifting grass. “It hides many things.” 

“Why did you abandon the road?” Carol grimaces, her expression heavy with memories, knowledge you don’t share. Her eyes are dark when they meet yours again.

“Because other things used it too.” 

to be continued

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