#oh 'the dread gets to you in your first waking hour and in the hours between night and early morning' like what is that. get a fucking grip

[mainfaggot]

didnt go to class today because i didnt want to leave the house and be around people and be on the bus and be on the train and be on campus. i just couldnt bear the thought of being looked at or observed or maybe even seen in a way that makes my skin crawl (i.e. to be seen when i am an open book with a grief stricken expression—over virtually nothing but also everything that's ever happened to me— although it's only 9 am or 5 pm and the world is still spinning). worst of all i couldnt decide what to wear and what am i if not a carefully constructed performance!!!! i couldnt wrap my head around getting on stage today. god forbid someone see right through it all

[chuluoyi]

✎ sweet felicity

- gojo satoru x reader

what do you get the man who already has everything for his birthday?

genre: teeth-rotting fluff and comfort because no—i can't make his birthday angsty ok

note: so this is my entry for the birthday boy <3 this takes place immediately after daddy-to-be, where the first years are still yuta, maki, panda and toge

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Honestly? Satoru wondered about it a lot these days.

He already has everything he wanted—unparalleled cursed technique, a fairly happy life, a pretty wife, and just recently, a kid on the way.

But his birthday was in a week and it was as clear as a day that you were planning something for him.

“Come on, you can't fool me, sweets.”

He noticed that you had started waking up earlier than usual. Initially, he thought it was due to your morning sickness, but it turned out you were sneaking away to another room for an hour or two and only came out when it was around breakfast time.

Did you really think he wouldn't catch on? Satoru found himself torn between concern and amusement. He didn't want you to strain yourself—especially after your recent fainting spells—and yet a part of him was over the moon by the fact that you did it for him.

His eyes crinkled, twinkling with affection. “You're planning something for my birthday in the mornings lately. That's sweet, but you don't have to, really.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so sure that it's for your birthday? I never said anything."

"Well, what else could it be? Unless you're cheating on me at six in the morning—"

"I have your spawn inside me, Gojo Satoru—"

"Don't call it ‘spawn’!" Satoru interjected with a theatrical gasp. "It's our very own little munchkin! Our love! Love!"

This was so ridiculous and you couldn't help yourself from giggling. And seeing you like that softened something inside him.

"Really, don't push yourself too hard," he said with a pout, resigned. "You need lots and lots of sleep."

"I'm not a baby, Satoru."

"Half of you is, so it makes you one!"

He was dramatic, but it was his own way to care because your husband was just wired that way.

You sighed, relenting. “Okay, okay… I know my limits. I will stop when I don't feel well, yeah? Besides, I won't have time to do it except in the mornings because I still have classes to teach.” It seemed like he wasn’t satisfied with your answer so you added, “Just so you know, it's something I enjoy too.”

"Hmph," Satoru huffed, eyeing you petulantly. "It'd better be good, or I'll spank you."

If it were physically possible for your eyes to roll a full 360 degrees into the back of your head and back, they definitely would have. "Oh, you will adore it, I promise."

Well, it wasn't a part of the plan, but now that he had asked for it, you'd definitely add a twist in his gift...

Satoru connected the dots instantly when he saw yarn and needles—what else were you doing aside from knitting?

His sweet wife, who woke up early just to make a handmade gift for his birthday—ahh, his heart could've burst. It was so cute and so you, the warmhearted being that you were.

He would go back early today, he decided, as he strolled the halls of the Jujutsu High with a cheerful tune. You were certainly waiting back at home and he would shower you with love and praise just for your efforts alone these past few days.

And so, he would have never expected that when he received a call from Nanami that afternoon, his world would utterly shatter in the most terrifying way.

“Gojo-san, please, you must come back.” Nanami was always steadfast even in the direst situations. And yet, now he was breathing hard, and panicking. “Something happened. You must go back to your residence—”

In that moment all he could think of was you and his baby. His entire world. Were you hurt?

He didn’t dwell on it—or rather, he couldn’t. His fingers went to rip his blindfold off as a sense of exponential dread creeped in and threatened to engulf him whole—a very, very strange, unfamiliar feeling to him—and he teleported back to his haven in a blink of an eye.

He had been ready to unleash hell, to see you lying on your own pool of blood, or anything. No, that was something he could never be ready for, but he would somehow make it right—

“Ooh, there he is!”

“Already?!”

“Nevermind—”

—and suddenly, he was swept into a whirlwind of confusion and commotion.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GOJO-SENSEI!”

Today is December 7.

It took a while for Satoru to discern everything, with his pulsating heartbeats and the rush of emotions that overwhelmed him. His eyes darted from each and every face who were suddenly in his house, searching for yours—

“Satoru!” you greeted him from behind Nanami, radiantly beaming, and only then could he finally breathe. You are safe—you’re well—

You had meant for it as a joke, a little payback for all the grievances he had caused you—and let’s not forget, Nanami—but you immediately regretted it when you had a look over the absolute terror in his heavenly blue eyes that you loved so much.

You had seen this once, before, when he proposed to you.

“Satoru.” You waltzed towards him, gently cradling his stunned face in your hands. “Hey,” you coaxed him with an apologetic smile, reassuring him of your presence.

Satoru looked at you squarely in the eyes, and as he fully took in the sight of you, he let out a shuddering breath and pulled you close with a firm arm around your waist and and the other around your back.

“You evil woman,” he murmured in your ears, and you could feel the slight tremble of his body and the way his heart was still thumping wildly inside his sturdy chest, which made you feel even more sorry.

“Whoa, that got you good, huh?” Panda remarked with a bemused grin.

“As expected,” Megumi snorted.

“Salmon! Salmon!”

“Ehh, that’s actually sweet…” Maki noted thoughtfully. “I would have never expected him to drop everything that fast just to go back here only after a suspicious phone call—”

“Of course he would!” Yuta rebuked with pride. “It’s his wife after all! And Nanami-san truly did a really convincing job at it!”

Nanami. Satoru casted a stern glare toward his junior, while the man in question awkwardly coughed. How did you even involve him in this?

Nah, he would deal with him later.

Despite the scare that got him good, your little plan commenced as it should. The closest of his friends and students were there to throw him this silly birthday party, as well as shower him with a plethora of gifts.

You had managed to round up his students to write birthday wishes for him in a scrap book filled with various photographs throughout the past year. This is sweet, he thought.

And one note tugged at his heartstrings the most:

Thank you, sensei, for everything — Yuta.

If anything he did ever made an impact on those young sorcerers, then Satoru was wholeheartedly glad. He wanted them to grow and made their own path in this unforgiving world, and their gratitude stirred a profound sense of relief within him.

“Here.” He was genuinely surprised when Megumi abruptly pushed a long, thin box toward him next, shyly averting his gaze. “Happy birthday.”

A fountain pen. It must have costed him some. It was strange, but Satoru felt oddly emotional.

The kid was barely six when he first approached him. He was prickly and sour and definitely wasn't welcoming. And then, he had matured right before his eyes. Satoru couldn’t help ruffling his hair vigorously and snickered, disregarding the scowl directed his way.

Nanami extended his well-wishes, and even though he still had a score to settle with him later, he was happy to have him here. Shoko couldn’t come but she left you with a recorded message.

“Happy birthday, Gojo, idiot,” Shoko was grinning in the video you played. “I'm sorry I can't be there, but my wish is for you to tone down your antics. We could all use a bit less of that.”

The two remaining reminders of the bluest spring in his life. Something pricked his heart at the stark reminder that they were not whole—and if only that someone was here, they would—but the fact that these two thought of him was enough.

And now, at last, it was time for your gift. Satoru thought he knew what it was, but as he carefully opened the ivory box, a profound sense of warmth still washed over him.

Mittens, with the color of freshly fallen snow, lay in the box—two pairs in total. One was remarkably tiny, seemingly tailored for a baby, while the other was notably larger, undoubtedly meant for him.

You. Him. The baby. By this time next year, there would be three of you. The happy picture of all of you together in near future was a gift in and of itself. You two are his everything.

Satoru went by his instincts and grasped your arm, crashing his lips against yours ardently, beaming with the broadest grin. He paid no heed to the squeals and disapproving glances from everyone around, as he felt entitled to do so—declaring his love boldly so you would know… that he was utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

That he was grateful for you in this otherwise dreary life.

And that if there were any other lives he might live after this ended... then he hoped the heavens would always bring you back to him—and for you to always choose him just like this, no matter what.

Epilogue

“So you really did call Nanami at six in the morning.”

Later that night, just before bed, your husband was still holding a grudge on you for frightening him back in the day, evident by the permanent purse of his lips.

You shrugged, buttoning the last button of your sleepwear. “I did… but it’s for greater purpose, so… yeah.”

“I can’t stand this. I’m suing you for collateral damage.”

You almost laughed. “Pffft—what? What damage—”

“My fragile heart! You can’t do that to me and expect I won’t charge you!”

“Well…” You noted with a meaningful smile. You couldn’t say you didn’t expect this, because Satoru always got pouty whenever he was irked in one way or another, and so in advance, you had actually been prepared for this.

You caught him off guard when you suddenly sat on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers teasing his undercut. It was a nice change of pace, seeing the faint blush coloring his cheeks as he steadied you by your waist.

“…what if I say… I still have one present left for you?”

So, what did you get a man who already has everything for his birthday?

Your whole heart, of course.

And if you were in the mood for an additional surprise, a brand new pair of lacy lingerie you had under your pajamas might do the trick.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill – earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud – noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice–fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call – quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress – along with the charger cord still attached to it – and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to just leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my only daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, your laundry– gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. 

“Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as that sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum–depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you–almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update – although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game – so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead – probably tonight when you do your daily login – you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling in your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word – girl, from what even – so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming– but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell dropped on you and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you didn’t switch your phone to silent, didn’t make the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend–nope, nothing unusual here–you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading! 

[trappolia]

── IT'S BEEN A LONG, LONG NIGHT

silver vanrouge. when silver wakes up from a dream, you are the first thing he searches for.

Silver finds you in the aftermath.

Amidst the wreckage of it all, even in this world that possesses so much grandeur of magic, you are a vision that he has only ever seen in his most darling dreams; bloody and exhausted, the tips of your fingers stained black with blot─ the same colour as Malleus's hair, the same colour that the beloved Draconic Prince bleeds now as Divus fusses over him. But his brother is a Fae of the greatest breeding, a dragon's son born from acrid flame and green lightning; his skin would stitch itself back together, and he would be whole again.

Silver cannot yet say the same for himself.

He is exhausted. The sweet arms of Morpheus beckon to him, the home of his magic calling him back to that dreaded sleep. Or perhaps it is just the strain of it all, the force of his Unique Magic being stretched over so many dreams in so many hours. His boots scuff over the gravel and debris as he drags himself towards you, step by step.

"Silver?" Somewhere through the fog that clouds his eyes and the ringin in his ears, he registers the uncharacteristic softness of Sebek's voice. Silver lifts his foot to take another step, but finds the weight of his own muscle too much, and he stumbles. Sebek startles, and Silver feels him grasp his arm. "Silver! Don't─"

"I─I'm fine," Silver croaks, his voice hoarse. His eyes blur, but still you cut a figure at the center of it all, haloed by the light of the rising sun and the darkness of his brother's blood. His Sleeping Beauty, your head raising as you hear the commotion. There are more people clamouring to aid Silver, but there is only you in the reflection of his irises; your expression as your brows furrow, eyes widening as you stumble to your feet.

"Silver?" you call his name, oh-so-soft despite the distance that stands between the two of you. Silver is reminded again of that vision you in his dreams, welcoming him home in that soft voice and sweet smile. He takes another step, his body protesting.

You're a dream.

"What are you...?" Lilia croaks as he sees the beaten human passing, but his son only rests his palm over his shoulder, squeezing the small frame of his father. Silver stumbles forward as if he held the burden of a hundred heavy stones. A beat passes, and Lilia realises what he wants.

He does not stop him from reaching for it.

You had stood by now, your own exhaustion forgotten as you realise where Silver is headed. He must be a sight for sore eyes, battle-beaten and exhausted beyond all measure. And still, he has to get to you─

You're still there.

Silver recognises that you are nothing like the visage in his dreams. You had been sweeter then, softened around the edges and holding none of that bitterness you cradled to yourself in your time in Night Raven College. No overblots, no slacking headmasters─ just that little cottage and the garden in your backyard, your lover's boots tracking mud and soil over the carpet. And still he wanted─ he longed.

After that long, endless night, all he wanted was you again.

"Silver!" you gasp as you reach him, and Silver allows himself to hold you. His arms, bruised and weak as they are, wrap around your waist, holding onto you with the strength that he had lacked just earlier. "Oh, Great Seven, are you─"

"You're here," he exhales breathlessly, pressing his forehead to yours. His arms shift, the scratched surface of his palms pressing to your cheeks, and he hears your breath hitch.

( He had held you like this, once upon a dream. It is only now that Silver realised how much more tender it felt in reality. )

"…Silver?"

"You're here," he whispers again, almost as if he can say nothing else. A weak laugh bubbles at his throat. "I found you."

For that single moment suspended in time, you say nothing. But then Silver feels your arms wind around his torso, reciprocating his embrace.

"You found me," you murmur, squeezing him lightly. Silver wonders, as your nails dig into his back through the fabric and leather of his uniform, if you are subconsciously trying to assure yourself that he is not a dream.

"Did you have a bad dream?" you ask him.

It takes a moment for Silver to realise you are attempting something of a joke, perhaps to ease the tension and the horror of what had just transpired and ended moments before. Another laugh bubbles at his throat, one of disbelief and such tender fondness.

"No," Silver admits honestly, pulling away. His hands cup your cheeks still, ever so gentle. "No, I didn't."

You laugh then, equal parts fond and puzzled. Silver leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours; his nose nudges against yours, his breath warm and airy and real. You shudder, clutching onto him tighter.

"What's gotten into you?" you ask with another breathless laugh, even though you are now the one clutching to him like a lifeline.

Silver lets out a slow, shuddering breath, brushing the traces of blood that still bled from a cut at your cheekbone. This close, he can count the little marks upon your skin and pinpoint the exact colour of your irises. He imagine you again in his dreamscape, domestic and sweet and oh so lovely.

"You're a dream," he says softly.

You stare at him like a deer caught in the headlight, doe eyes unblinking. Someone, perhaps his father or Sebek, chokes on their spit somewhere close by. Silver does not notice. A moment passes, then another, and then your eyes crinkle into these lovely crescent moons, and you begin to laugh.

"Well, aren't you sappy today?" you muse, lips quirking up into that soft smile that Silver oh so longs to kiss. "What's the occasion?"

He is suddenly struck with a sense of deja vu, like he had heard your words before. His heart stutters, and suddenly, he finds himself speaking, the words not properly registering in his mind before they come tumbling out of his mouth.

"I'm no prince," Silver confesses. The sun had begun its ascent in the horizon, casting a new dawn upon this land of dreams come true, but all he can see was you in the daylight, the sunbeams illuminating your lovely expression of shock. He goes on before he can stop himself. "Perhaps I could have been, once. Not anymore. I am the brother of an heir, the son of a general─ but I have neither title nor fortune to offer you."

"Silver," you say softly, breathless. Your eyes are soft, almost pitying as he seems to put himself down.

"The man who loved the woman who bore me was no different. All we have is the iron of our blade and the promise of a knight's devotion. And yet─" Silver swallows. "And yet─ And yet, I long for more with you. More than the sworn oath from a knight to his monarch─"

Sebek makes a noise of protest, only to be cut off by the swift jab of Lilia's elbow against his ribs.

"─more than a promise of a friend to be by your side."

You laugh weakly, almost unsure as you glanced around. "Silver, are we doing this here─?"

"I dreamt I was back home again," Silver goes on, cutting you off─ not too unkindly, he hopes. He understands that it is most improper to cut someone off as they are speaking, but he needs to speak first, he needed you to know all the things he did not dare to confess to you before─ "Lili─ My father, he─ he has a lovely cottage in the forest, far in the outskirts of Briar Valley. There's a garden out in the back where we grow our fruit and vegetables, and the trees in the forest bear fruit sweeter than anything you've tastes and I─ I─"

He falters then at the look in your eyes, the soft and knowing curve of your lips as he stumbles over his words. Silver looks down at the scuffed toes of his boots, swallowing once more before he speaks again.

"I─ I love─ I love you," he breathed out shakily, almost pleading for you to acknowledge the truth. You had kissed and he had held you in his arms before, but such an admission... Silver feels as though he is teetering at the edge of a cliff. "I have nothing to offer you except an oath that I will hold these affections for you dearly till the end of time and that cottage where I learned how to love and hate and live all the same─"

"Silver─"

"But just a word from you, and I will be silent forever─"

"Silver!" you raise your voice to be heard over his rambling. It is so uncharacteristic, almost odd to see this boy that had only shown his affection to you through lovely and subtle gestures and whispers rather than the bold declaration of those three certain words, awoken from his cursed sleep as a rambling, flustered mess.

Silver raises his head, helpless as you laugh sweetly at him, and he loathes to think of a world where he had never woken up and heard the true melody with his own ears again. He wants to fulfill his oath, to give you all the love he possesses in this wretched body of his, and then some.

Your fingers come to card through the matted strands of his hair, moonshine under all the dust and dirt. When your hand comes to cup his face again, tilting his head to meet your gaze, your eyes are just as lovely as he remembers in his dream.

"I love you too."

And Silver's heart sings to have its song reciprocated once again, to be loved by you as he was once upon a dream. You laugh again at the expression on his face, that sweet melody that he wants to hear for the rest of his life. He has no ring to give you now, but Lilia hollers something at him, and Silver's mind is so dazed by the smile on your face that he does not realise it until you take his face in your palms and kiss him hard.

"Come home with me?" he whispers hoarsely when you pull away, and his mouth still seeks to touch your cheek, your nose, the space between your brows. Silver loathes to part from you again. Perhaps he never will.

"Yes," you giggle, lips meeting his once again. "A thousand times, yes."

© trappolia 2024

[miserable-sarah]

I Care 18+

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: NSFW, smut, 18+, fingering, oral (F), mentions of blood, bad language, unprotected sex, praising. Requested: Heyyy, idk of ur requests are open but if they are can u please write a dean Winchester x ex girlfriend smut who is a hunter and who dean is still not over. Sam and Dean rescue her from a vampire nest and dean is angry and worried after her and she's all like "stop acting like you care" and he says something like "I'll show u how much I care" + angst + kinda enemies x lovers + dark dean? + marking ; ( set in early seasons llke;1,2,3) A/N: I did make a few changes, let me know if you enjoy it! Thanks!

~

You've been hunting down this nest of vampires for a while. It was a big nest, bigger than you've ever seen. It's a hard job alone but you're confident enough in yourself to do it.

Well at least that's what you thought, you see you went into the nest killing almost all of the vampires that were there. You somehow missed calculated the amount. You got taken down and now you're tied up with no way out. You are dreading this, you have no one coming to save you. You're not scared, you're angry. you're mad that they caught you, and mad that you can't get out by yourself. You don't want to be turned into a vampire or have all of your blood drained from your body. So this sucks. You can hear the vamps talking about something they're too quiet to make anything out.

"Hey! Are you guys gonna do anything with me or?" You ask getting annoyed, you'd rather just die now. They just ignore you of course. So you start singing at the top of your lungs to annoy them, they have "super hearing", you know it bothers them. You continue for a couple minutes until someone, you're assuming the head vamp, comes over to you right in your face.

"Shut up!" He yells in your face "I'll kill you right now!" Just as you were about to say something, you hear a commotion. The head vampire cuts your stomach making you wince, then he leaves without saying a word.

"Aw come on, don't leave me here." You say in a stale tone. "We were having fun." you add. After a couple minutes, you don't hear anything.

"Well, well, look at who we have here."

"Oh, fucking kill me." You mumble to yourself.

"Couldn't handle the nest?" Dean smirks at you. You don't say a word just ignore him. "A thank you would be nice."

"Dean, leave her alone." Sam says to him, Sam comes over to you and unties you.

"Thank you, Sam." You smile at him. You glare at Dean.

"Are you alright?" Dean drops his tough guy act.

"Fine." You say sternly, you walk away from the boys trying to leave the building. You however, weren't fine. You were bleeding and had no idea.

"You're bleeding pretty bad." Dean says to you.

"It's fine, it's nothin-" You look down and see what he's talking about. You're covered in blood. You lift up your shirt and see a huge cut on your stomach. "Oh no." You feel dizzy and then Dean's arms around you as you fall.

~

You wake up in a motel room, not unusual.

"Dean?" You say softly looking around the room.

"Hey, you okay?" He answers, he sits next to you placing his hand on your back.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks." You mumble. You stand up even though your stomach is in pain.

"You should relax for at least a few more hours."

"Nah, I'm good." You say looking around for your things.

"Y/n, I'm serious." Dean says to you in a frustrated tone.

"Dean, I don't care. I'm fine."

"Y/n! Sit down!" He gets angry with you.

"No!" You yell, you have to hold back a wince. He's right you are hurt but you're not going to sit in a room with your ex boyfriend because you're hurt. You can recover somewhere else.

"You're hurt. Something can happen to you!"

"Oh and now you care?" You roll your eyes. "Stop acting like you care."

That was it for Dean. He stood up and got right in your face. "You don't think I care, huh?" He chuckled at you. "I'll show you how much I care." He said with promise. Dean smashes his lips on yours, at first it took you by surprise but you came around to it very quickly. You kiss back but then pull away.

"Dean what are you doing?" You say trying to push him away but he doesn't budge. "We can't, I mean we broke up. It's been months-"

Dean has been on your mind since you two broke up. It was over something stupid, literally so stupid you don't even remember what it was about. You were in love with Dean, well you still are. He treated you like a princess, but like a bad ass princess. He was your safe place and you were his. When you broke up it just so happened to also be a really bad time in his life and he needed to leave. So he did, you two never got to fix what was broken.

"Stop talking." Dean interrupts you. You go to say something else, Dean cuts you off by kissing you, again. This time you immediately kiss back. You slide his jacket off and tug at his shirt. He breaks the kiss to lift his shirt off. Your hands run down his muscular body. You almost moan in excitement.

Dean carefully took off your shirt, trying not to hurt you. He unclipped your bra and tossed across the room. His hands gently massaged your breasts, you let out a little whine. You've been so needy for him it's pathetic. Dean picks you up effortlessly and drops you on the bed. He unbuttons your jeans and slides them off your body, you can feel yourself getting wet with anticipation. Dean hovers over your body he kisses you softly, then your neck, down to your chest, then down your stomach and all the way to your panty line.

"Dean, please" You beg quietly. You hear Dean chuckling.

"Patience sweethheart." He says as he slowly takes off your panties. He kisses up your legs to thighs incredibly slowly. You groan in frustration Dean ignores your frustration.

"Please!" You beg louder.

"Look at how wet you are." He smiles at you "All for me?" He smirks.

"Yes" You moan softly.

Dean finally enters a finger in you, you moan in relief. He watches your face making sure you're enjoying it, he enters another finger and thrusts them deep curving his fingers to make sure he hits your g-spot. You moan louder at the feeling, it's been months since you've been with Dean, well anyone for that matter. Dean always knew what to do to please you though, he just knew your body so well.

"You like that baby?" He asks, you nod and moan "Words" He says

"Yes, Dean." You say softly.

"Good girl." He smirks at you. Dean dips his head between your thighs, you feel his tongue directly on your clit.

"Oh my god." You let your head hit the bed and close your eyes. Dean continues to pump his fingers in and out of you while his tongue dances around your clit. It feels so amazing. You start to buck your hips, he puts his arm around your hips to hold you down.

He adds a third finger stretching you out for him. You moan and whine, it feels good but you want him. All of him.

"Dean, please" You pant. He ignores you, he keeps sucking and licking your clit. "please." you whimper. He still doesn't listen. Your legs are shaking and you try to squeeze your thighs together but Dean won't let you. Your moans become more desperate. "Feels so good" He keeps going he can tell your close by the way you're squeezing his fingers.

Your buck your hips up, you let out a loud moan, your vision goes blurry and you see stars. Dean slowly pulls his fingers out, you look down at him out of breath. He licks his lips then smiles at you.

"You taste good." He slowly crawls up to your face and kisses you. You kiss back and pull him closer. You reach your hand down his stomach and realize he's taken off his jeans. You palm him through his boxers, he lets out a groan. Dean takes your hand and puts it down his boxers you take his invitation and pump his cock slowly. Dean kisses and bites your neck. You pull your hand out and pull his boxers down springing him free. He moans at your movements.

You tried moving to get on top of Dean but he stopped you. "You're hurt. Let me take care of you." he says kissing your forehead. He lightly brushes his hands down your body to your legs, he places them around his waist. He lines himsef up with you and slowly enters you. You and Dean let out a loud moan. "You feel so good." He says through his teeth. "So nice and tight."

"You're so big." You arch your back.

"I've missed you." He says he leans down and kisses you, you kiss back. He rests his forehead on yours, in this moment everything feels right. It feels like everything is going to be okay. You've missed this feeling.

"You're doing so good, taking all of me." Dean praises "Such a good girl." His words make you weak.

"You feel so good." you moan. Dean switches positions he leans up and places your legs on his shoulders, deepening his thrusts. You moan louder, so does he. His grunts and groans are getting more frequent.

"Damn baby, I've missed this pussy." He brings his fingers to your clit and starts rubbing "I can't believe this is all mine. Only mine."

"Yes, all yours."

"I know." He mumbles. Dean continues to rub your clit causing your legs to shake. You whimper and try to move around. "I know baby, I know." He coos at you. "Feels so good, huh?" You nod. "Words." He reminds you.

"Y-yes." You stutter "So good." He's so focused on pleasing you, his hair is messy, his body is glistening, his grunts and groans are filling the room along with your moans. You can feel your whole body shaking, your walls are clenching around him.

"Damn baby you're squeezing me so tight." Dean moans. His thrusts get deeper and faster. "Are you going to cum for me?"

"Yes" You moan "Feels so good."

"I know, you feel so good too." He groans. "I'm not going to last long with you squeezing me like that."

"I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead baby, cum for me." His fingers rub faster on your sensitive clit, with every thrust he hits your g-spot, his words are ringing through your head. Your body starts twitching, your legs shaking, you close your eyes tight, you try to scream but nothing comes out. Dean helps you ride out your orgasm, soon after you feel him fill you up. He lightly presses his body on yours and catches his breath.

You wrap your arms around Dean and hold him. He kisses your shoulder a few times before rolling off you. "Uh, let me clean you up." He says awkwardly. Dean gets up and grabs some clean towels he cleans you up then cleans himself up. "I'll change your bandage too."

"Dean." You grab his arm. "Just come lay down."

"But-"

"Please." You cut him off. He nods and lays down next to you, you move yourself so you're laying your head on his chest. "I've missed you." You look up at him.

"Me too." He says softly "Sorry-"

"Dean. It's okay. I know you had to go." You cut him off. "I'm sorry I never got to apologize."

"I know." He pulls you a little closer to him.

You're not sure what will happen next, you're hopeful it'll work out between you two. You both have a lot of love for each other, if it's meant to be it will be. But for right now all you want to do is enjoy your night with Dean Winchester.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter five

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): mentions of drugs/weed but only minor, its an angsty one folks!!

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Madame Pomfrey had the house elves bring up food for you and the other occupants of the Hospital Wing when dinner time rolled around later that day. You enjoyed a plate full of roast chicken, potatoes and mash before the plate was magically vanished upon you finishing it before the matron came to check on you again.

Some time after that, the doors to the Hospital Wing are pushed open with an echoing creak but you didn't look up from your book to see who it was until your copy of Pride & Prejudice was plucked right out of your hands.

"Hey!" you protest, going to grab the book back from Mattheo Riddle's grasp. "Oh it's you."

"You sound so happy to see me." he teases as he sits on the edge of your bed. You stare from the fabric of the bed sheets to where he's sitting with raised brows.

"There's a perfectly good seat right next to you." you grumble as he enters your personal space.

"The seats are uncomfortable, I'd rather not sit on them again after I spent a good hour waiting for you to wake up earlier." he replied, forcing you to move over so that he could fit properly on the bed next to you.

"You stayed?" you asked incredulously. "Why?"

"You passed out the second we all saw Bell on the bed. I was worried. Sue me."

"Awh you care about me." you cooed, jokingly patting his knee before rolling your eyes.

He picked up the book that he had taken from you and flipped it around cover to cover, reading the blurb and scrunching his face up. "What's your book about? I don't understand it."

As you begin to explain Elizabeth Bennett's intricate and turbulent relationship with Mr. Darcy with fervour, Mattheo can't help but stare at you with eyes full of admiration and...something else.

Some time later, the dreaded conversation ended up coming around. You tell him how odd it felt when you saw the necklace; how your weird intuition seemed to carry over to the Hospital Wing when you saw Katie; to Dumbledore's cryptic visit.

"Dumbledore spoke to you?" he asked, curiously.

"Well at first he complimented my Occlimency abilities. Thank you by the way." you start. "But then he asked me about what happened when Katie was cursed."

Mattheo listened as you talked, nodding his head to show that he was paying attention.

"...and then he asked me to tell him what I felt when I touched a ring that he had in his possession."

"A ring?" A look crosses Mattheo's face, but it's gone in an instant.

"The magic was similar to the necklace, but different at the same time." you continue, picturing the Riddle insignia in your mind. "Dumbledore's hand is the way it is because of it."

You didn't know whether you should tell him about what Dumbledore said about Professor Slughorn, that seemed like something Dumbledore would want to be kept under wraps.

"He didn't really give me a solid answer, but he gave me sound career advice." you say with a huff.

"What happened when he gave you the ring?"

"Same thing that happened when I touched Katie. It burned me. But my magic was surrounding the ring this time. It felt...odd."

"Huh." He's quiet for a moment before he changes the subject once more.

"Your friends spoke to Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Snape earlier, after you fainted." he said. "Potter thinks it was Draco that cursed her. Accused him right in front of them."

"Did he do it? Malfoy?" you interject, Harry's theories had become more consistent over the last few weeks, and you weren't surprised to hear that he had suspected that Malfoy was behind this, despite ludicrous the allegations were.

"He had detention with Mcgonagall today. Didn't show up to transfiguration remember? He was pretty pissed off about missing the first Hogsmeade weekend." he says and you recall the detention being issued a few days ago when Malfoy appeared in the doorway of the Transfiguration classroom a quarter of an hour late.

"Right. Yeah." you say tiredly, somewhat unconvinced but you push the feeling aside when he begins to stand.

"Where are you going?" you say with a yawn, reaching for his left forearm. He winces but you don't catch it in your tired state.

"You're getting tired, and it's almost curfew. I need to get back to my common room so I don't risk getting a detention."

"Pansy's patrolling tonight. You'll be fine." you say, dragging him to sit down. "Stay a little longer. At least until I fall asleep. Please?"

The way you looked at him with your big, tired eyes caused him to falter.

"You don't really want me to stay, Princess." he murmured but he didn't move to stand again.

"I hate when you call me that." you say. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise, Mattheo. I don't want to fall asleep alone in here."

"Alright, move over then." his resolve crumbles and he moves to lie down behind you, using an arm around your waist to drag your body closer to his, his body heat warming you from the inside.

It takes you no time at all to fall asleep in his embrace, feeling the most comfortable you'd ever felt in your entire life. In your sleepy haze, you swore you felt him kiss the side of your temple, murmuring into your soft skin.

"Good night, sweetheart." he had whispered, before he fell asleep shortly after you.

~∞~

The week following his visit to the Hospital Wing, your interactions with Mattheo were few and far between.

Your lessons had dwindled after he had first started skipping out on you, but now he seemed hellbent on avoiding you altogether.

He had once again skipped your Ancient Runes lesson that week and Theo proved to be of little help when he refused to tell you where his best friend was. Pansy seemed to be growing increasingly agitated by her two friends over the course of the time Mattheo was ignoring you.

"For Salazar's sake, Teddy. Mattheo's just been a little busy this week." she said. "No need to worry. I think he's been doing extra Potions work."

"Do you know where he is now?" you ask your friend with pleading eyes.

Like Theo, she seemed reluctant to give you the boy's location, as if they knew something that you weren't supposed to know, but in the end they shared a look and relented.

"He's in the Room of Requirement." Teddy says, before his hands gently grip your shoulders. "But we never told you, okay. I don't want to die a premature death, tesoro."

"Thank you. I won't tell him you helped, don't worry Teddy." you reassured him before walking down the corridor and towards the system of staircases that would take you to the seventh floor.

Due to the interval between lessons ending and new ones beginning, it seemed to take you ages to get from point A to B, with everyone lingering in or rushing through the corridors but when you got to the familiar wall, you waited.

I need to see Mattheo.

I need to see Mattheo.

I need to see Mattheo.

I need to-

The door began materialising in front of your eyes, reminiscent of the late evenings that you'd come here with your friends for DA meetings before Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad had it disbanded. Your hand still had that prominent scar from the two weeks of detention you had each received: I must not disobey the Ministry.

When the door was fully formed, you twisted the handle and slipped through.

The room appeared to be huge and full to the brim with piles upon piles of junk. It was going to take you forever to find him, but you knew he was in there somewhere.

You started down a pathway that had appeared between some old arm chairs and bookshelves and followed where your gut was telling you to go.

It was quiet, too quiet and you were about to give up hope when you saw Mattheo lounging on a dark velvet chaise lounge, a blunt hanging in his lips, something shiny resting in his lap that looked an awful lot like a tiara, which he vanished away when he saw you.

"So this is what you do in your spare time?" you ask, hesitantly sitting at the edge of the chaise lounge, by his feet.

He only sighed as he took another hit of the blunt, leaving you to carry on speaking without a reply.

"How'd you even get that into the school? It's more illegal for wizards to get their hands on than muggles." you turn your head to face him only to find him staring straight ahead, avoiding your gaze altogether.

You huffed before you stood up and rounded the chaise to stand directly in front of him; he continued to stare in the opposite direction.

"For Rowena's sake, Riddle. Look at me." you snapped, using the pads of your fingers to firmly direct his face to yours.

His gaze was void of emotions when he stared at you. Like it had been all the times before when he'd antagonise Harry or Ron with his friends. His eyes were no longer soft like they had been with you these past months. They were cold and dark and angry.

If you hadn't have grown some sort of friendship with him, if you could even call it that, then you'd happily go on ignoring his existence again. But for some reason, you couldn't shake him, wouldn't shake this hold he had on you.

"What do you want, Meadow?" he asked, voice low and raspy, as if he'd not spoken in a while. "I thought you'd get the hint by now? Or are you seriously that stupid?"

"You confuse the absolute fuck out of me, Riddle." you say, beginning to grow annoyed at his apparent nonchalance. "What's your issue? You agree to help me out for Theo's sake and the second it gets complicated you what? You just....leave?"

"'S not like we're mates, Meadow." he grumbles, rolling his eyes as he takes another hit. "Actually I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be enemies."

"The whole point of the lessons is for me to help you and your friends get out, is it not?"

"To get them out. Not me. That wasn't the deal." he snaps.

"I agreed to help. That includes you, too."

"And how did you honestly expect that to go down? Huh!" he stood up so suddenly that you stumbled backwards, into the table that was behind you.

"How do you think the Order will react when you go to them, pleading for my case? The son of The Dark Lord on their side? They'd sooner call you a traitor for even associating with any of us." he had gotten closer to you, so much so that the toes of his shoes kissed your's.

"They would be understanding. If you told them how much you hate him-"

"And you think they'd actually believe that?" he snaps, stepping even closer to you. You had to press your hands against his firm chest to stop him trapping you further against the table. "They'd show mercy to Theo and the others. That's all I care about. I didn't want any of them to be involved. You need to get them out. Not me."

"But why?" you question harshly, looking at him through your lashes. His brown eyes were pure onyx now, no traces of the boy you'd gotten to know were present.

"I am my father's son, sweetheart. My fate has been sealed since the day I was born. There's no helping me." he says quietly, his eyes boring into your's.

"Let me help you. Please." you say resolutely. "We'll think of something. They have to hear you out."

"They won't."

"They have to." you insist. "What kind of people would they be if they refuse to help someone in need."

"They can't help someone who can't be saved, sweetheart."

"For fuck's sake Mattheo! Why are you being so stubborn?!" you snap, your voice raising in octaves that surprises both of you.

"Why are you so determined to save me?" he shouts back, leaning down so that your faces are level. His hands sit on either side of your thighs, bracketing you to the table as his breathe huffs against your cheek, the scent of weed and smoke overtaking your senses. He's breathing heavily, eyes flicking between your's and your lips. Mattheo seems to be holding onto what little resolve he has left before the unthinkable happens.

He's staring at your lips now. Your breathe hitches as he seems to contemplate something but you can't see his thoughts very clearly.

It's only a split second decision but you can see it, the moment he decides to let go.

"Fuck it." he mumbles before his mouth decends on your's. In your shock you don't realise that you've practically frozen until he pulls away with wide eyes.

"Shit- Meadow I'm sorry I-" you snap out of your frozen state and don't let him finish his sentence as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and kiss him like your life depended on it.

The feeling is euphoric. His lips are like a warm and gentle hug against your own; it feels right. Like the missing piece of a never ending puzzle was finally put back into place. You're so in your head that you don't even register the unceremonious moan you let out when Mattheo's tongue sensually brushes your own. It allows him to deepen the kiss and you think you might die happily right then and there, with his soft lips on your's.

Gods, sweetheart. he groans, his inhibitions down, so you feel everything he feels. Every thought and every desire. If I knew kissing you felt this good, I would've done that much sooner.

When you eventually pull away from eachother, only a hair of space was left between you, your breathing equally heavy.

His onyx eyes held that familiar softness that he seemed to only show around you, his lips quirked into a cheeky grin.

Merlin, he was the most attractive boy you'd ever layed eyes on. It was then that you realised that you were well and truely fucked.

~∞~

omg they kissed 🫢🫢

the one bed trope gets me every time 🤭🤭 i think we can all agree that mattheos a bit of an idiot but the guy's got his secrets...😁

and i love angst and slow burns so much but i couldn't help myself lol i love a '"fuck it" and they kiss' moment but im sorry this was short. i was contemplating carrying this on or splitting the chapter into two which is what im doing so really this is more of a filled chapter for whats to come ;)

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora

[stinmybubs]

“Do It For Us.” Pt.1 1k likes special !

Summary: A simple girl, quirkless and will never amount to anything! Well that’s what’s she’s been told. Bullied along side Izuku Midorya, her best friend, and long term crush. Getting into UA and having a quirk? And she’s left behind…what’s left for her?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: bullying, domestic abuse, and violence!! NOT PROOFREAD !!

M. Izuku x AFAB! Reader! x B.Katsuki?

Quirkless. A label that’s been slapped onto you for as long as you can remember, something you couldn’t control. But you still got punish all your life, you were bullied, scorned, and outcasted by others and your own family. But.

You had Izuku Midoriya, another quirkless person. You weren’t suffering alone!

That’s what you thought at least.

For the longest time you’ve stayed by Izuku’s side, defending him from bullies, taking the hit for him. But he always had this big ambition to be a hero, you of course encouraged him.

“One day! Even though I don’t have a quirk…I’ll be just like him. I’ll make people feel safe!” The small boy exclaimed, the biggest smile painted across his face, and you admired that. You admired every part of this boy.

“Yeah! You’ll be the greatest hero! Show them all Izu, show them we can help…do it for us!” You wanted to share this moment, you wanted to be happy with him about this dream. All you could do was hope, but deep down you felt dread, knowing his dream could never be fulfilled.

“Y/n! Y/n l/n! Get your ass downstairs IMMEDIATELY.” Hearing the screams of your father, your heart dropping at the sudden call.

You heart raced with every step, trying your best to keep your composure before even reaching the bottom of the steps.

“Ye-“ before you could even utter a word you felt a sharp pain against your cheek. The hit was so strong you collapsed to the floor, the feeling of tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“What is this!?” Your father slammed a bunch of papers onto you. It was your test scores. C- and D+ written on all of them.

“I…I…I’m sorry father I-“ your words cut off with another slap to your face.

“First no quirk! Then you keep bringing these home? How useless are you? I expected you to at least to be smart since you’re quirkless.” Your father insulted you, and all you could do was sit there and stare at the floor trying to contain all your tears and rage.

It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t control whether you had a quirk. It was your parents fault, something in their genetics made you this way! Is what you wanted to think.

“Go back to your room. Fucking shit…” your father turned to walk away, your mother making dinner in the kitchen not having a care in the world for your well being.

You frantically pick up the papers scattered on the floor, tears streaming down your face as you run back up the stairs to hide in your room.

All you could do was throw your papers on the floor and rush to your small closet. You’ve always hid in your closet, not even your bed or your room felt safe when things like this happened. The small cramped space made you feel safe.

Curling up in a ball, 15 year old you cried. Cried for hours until you fell asleep in that closet.

The next morning you quickly got ready before anyone could wake. Sneaking yourself food for breakfast and lunch.

As you make your way down to you and Izuku’s meeting spot you couldn’t help but think. Of how your mother wasn’t always like this, she used to defend you, she used to help you.

She used to love you.

But after all the bearings, after all the insulting she finally stopped. So broken down to the point where she couldn’t even look at you anymore. You couldn’t help but hate her for it, you needed her.

“Hey! Oh…what happened…?” Izuku quickly ran up to you.

You didn’t even notice the boy until his hand placed itself upon your cheek to make you look at him, the sting of the bruise made you flinch.

“Oh…! Uh…bullies ahah..got me last night.” You lied. The last thing you wanted to do was worry Izuku about your home life, he never knew about your family. And he never will.

“Ah..I’m sorry y/n. I’m sorry I didn’t get to walk you home last night.” He pulled you into a tight hug, tears begging to run down the boys face. You hugged him back, finding comfort in his warmth. A perfect morning. You thought.

You two chat, wiping the tears from each others eyes and make your way to your middle school.

You loved every bit of Izuku’s company, it felt safe, it felt like home.

“Yeah! Then Mount lady came in and-“ Izuku rambled on and on about the fight that happened with an amateur villain this morning. “Woah! I love Mount lady! She’s so cool.” You state, imagining what Izuku was describing.

“You know it would be cool if Mount lady could control her size! Like what if she could…” Izuku began to mutter again. Oh how you found this habit so cute. When this happened you sat and listened until he realized what he’s doing and get flustered as always.

The school day was hell, you and Izuku getting picked on by Bakugou Katsuki and his little gang all day.

“I would pass out career forms but we all know…-!” The teacher went on to talk about the hero tracks, with everyone celebrating.

“Oh yeah, Izuku Midorya didn’t you want to attend UA too?”

What…?

You quickly look over at your friend as soon as the class starts to burst into laughter. You didn’t know how to feel, you though he might’ve given up that dream already. But he hasn’t. Hah…I guess you never give up Izu.

After the commotion and class was over you padded over to Izuku hugging him from his shoulders behind him. “Gotcha Izu!” You giggle as the startled boy let out a yelp.

“You’re so cute when you’re scared!” You laugh looking over to see what he was writing. Cute! You thought seeing the notes on other heros quirks.

“How could a quirkless guy like you have a girlfriend?” Oh boy. One of Katsuki’s lackies stated, even though you weren’t his girlfriend you never will deny not being his.

“Don’t ya’ dare even try useless Deku! Once I am the only-“ you tune out Katsuki’s words, anger filling your body, your smiled immediately fading into a frown. Letting go of Izuku as the frightened boy jolted up out of his seat.

“What’s this!? He’s writing about being a hero!?”

Your heart dropped when Katsuki grabbed the notebook, your blood boiling at soon as he exploded the notebook your best friend work so hard on and throwing it out the window like it was trash.

You couldn’t control yourself, all you felt was pent up anger and you could help but run to Bakugou and.

SLAP. The noise echoed throughout the empty classroom. Adrenaline rushing through your body, realizing what you’ve done.

“You bully! You’re the pathetic one for bullying helpless people with your quirks! We never asked for this! We couldn’t control whether we are quirkless or not! Why should we be punished? It’s unfair and-“ you quickly shut your mouth. Realizing everything was pouring out in that moment, and realizing the anger in the the boys red eyes.

You had slapped Katsuki Bakugou. And now all you felt was fear, quickly trying to retreat before Bakugou grabbed your wrist tightly. “Ow-!” You wince in pin at the grip, it felt like he was going to snap your wrist.

“Kachann stop!” Izuku put himself between you and the blonde. “You can hurt me but you should never hurt a girl!” He states a angrily. Bakugou simply huffed, finally letting go of your wrist and stomping out the classroom.

You wince in pain, grabbing your own wrist taking a good look. “It’s already bruising…” you slump in one of the nearby chairs. You really wanted to cry, but you couldn’t. You’re were too tired.

“I’m sorry…” feeling the warmth of Izuku’s hug felt a bit better, but you were just so tired of feeling so helpless, useless, and weak.

You try everything not to go home, sitting there on a park bench for what felt like ages. It’s not like you haven’t done this before, sleeping outside to avoid your parents.

“I’ll sleep in the park…I didn’t eat lunch so I have dinner..” you sigh, taking out the bag of food you packed, staring at the onigiri in your hand.

“Oi’ the hell you doin here.” Your heart sank, hearing the angry voice of Bakugou. “N-none of your business..” you don’t even look up at him. You just start opening up your onigiri.

“It’s gettin’ dark. A girl shoul-“ you cut him off. “What’s it to you huh!?” You yell, taking a bite out of your food just hoping he goes away. Praying he doesn’t keep talking to you.

A long pause of silence. Thinking he’s gone the tears roll down your face, falling onto your skirt as your hands begin to shake.

“Those bruises…aren’t from bullies aren’t they.”

He was still there. Your face flushed out of embarrassment. “What!? They..” you didn’t know why but…everything just flooded out.

“No…they’re from my dad…you’re not the only one who hates quirkless people.” You chuckle lightly, looking up at the blonde boy tears running down your face.

“Come.” He simply states, turning away from you, “What…?” You question, not knowing what he meant.

“You comin or nah?” He looks back at you, noticing the kind of rough state he’s in. Did he get in a fight? You thought, standing up to follow him.

You didn’t know why you were following him. You didn’t know why you didn’t feel so scared anymore.

Bakugou led you to his home, opening the door carefully and quietly. You guessed you didn’t want his parents to find out he was bringing home a girl.

Well Bakugou wasn’t sneaky enough.

“KATSUKI BAKUGOU!” The sound of his yelling mother made you flinch, subconsciously grabbing onto the back of his shirt. It’s smelt of smoke and grime.

“ugh…” you heard the boy groan he clearly wasn’t in the mood for his mom, when is he ever in the mood? You thought.

“YOU WENT AND GIT CAUGHT BY A VIL-“ Seeing the spikey-blonde hair women approach, she suddenly stopped in her tracks seeing you cowering behind her son. Woah…Bakugou looks exactly like her.

“A GIRL!? MASARU ITS FINALLY HAPPENING!”

“Stop yellin’ yer scarin her.” Katsuki stated, looking back at your cowering figure. You jump, realizing that you were holding on to him and quickly stand beside him, a bit flustered.

“Oh! I’m sorry, what’s your name sweetheart!” She leans a bit forward trying to get a look at your face, noticing the bruise on your wrist.

“It’s…Y/n.” You meekly look up at her, terrified to meet someone else’s parent. Hell you barley even met Izuku’s mom!

“Oh my..what happened to…KATSUKI DID YOU DO THIS!?” The pointed to your face, noticing the bruises on both sides of your cheeks. Oh! You forgot you had those, ever since Izuku mentioned them at least.

“No you old hag! And stop yer yellin!” Natsuki hissed, defending himself. Well he did bruise your wrist but he never slapped you. “No! It’s wasn’t him…it was…” you trailed off, clearly the topic wasn’t something you wanted to talk about.

“Oh..! Well my name is Mitsuki Bakugou… you can stay here as long as you want. Come to me if you need anything sweetheart.” She placed a hand on your cheek, it was gentle and warm. It felt nice.

You couldn’t help but lean into her touch, feeling a mothers love is something you craved for the longest time. Tears began rolling down your cheeks, running to Katsuki’s mom hugging her.

Katsuki’s eyes widened at your sudden actions, surprised that you went to hug his mother. Is it that bad? He thought, a sense of guilt and sympathy washing over him, watching you cry in his mothers arms.

After a few tears, and hugs, Mitsuki sent you off to wash up. You were sleeping in Katsuki’s room! That is until they put a bed into their office room. You felt bad for Intruding in their home, sinking into the hot water.

This home was so loving regardless of the yelling, they felt so natural so different. You were jealous of their happy home.

Mitsuki had given you some spare clothes, of course you weren’t sure if you’d fit her underwear at all, she said that you two would go out and buy some together, this was all happening so fast. You felt so guilty.

Turns out a grown women’s shorts cannot fit onto your adolescence body! Her shirt was a little baggy too, your brah also was in the wash! So looks like you were only wearing panties and a shirt to bed. Which was embarrassing.

Katsuki was laying on a futon on the floor, he was kind enough to lend you his bed.

“H-hey…Bakugou…why..why are you doing this?” You question, turning yourself over to face him.

“Dunno…just cuz..” what a vague answer he gave you. You probably knew it was for pity, or maybe your outburst put a bit of sympathy in his heart.

“I’ll be gone by tomorrow…don’t worry you won’t have a quirkless loser in your home.” Katsuki flinched at your words, a sense of guilt still in him for saying those things to you and Izuku.

“Like my ma said. Stay as long as you need. Don go back to yer parents…or yknow.” He turned over to look at you, the both of you making eye contact for a minute.

“Thanks…thank you.” You smile softly at him, letting your eyes close to get a peaceful nights worth of sleep.

AN: This will be a couple of parts! A short story :) I hope you all enjoy some soft Bakugou and Some Izuku! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY POSTS I LOVE ALL OF YOU MWAH here’s more XoXo Stinmybubs!!!

[gluion]

satin ➵ park sungho

the pink ribbons that you and your daughter used to dress up sungho now used on you.

general genre/warnings ➵ smut, fluff!, soft but teasing dom!sungho, slight shibari with ribbons, pet names (baby, teasing use of daddy), foreplay, fingering, nipple play, impregnation, creampie (duh), aftercare, ends with the start of a second round

word count➵ 4.1k words

a/n➵ i wrote this the night before my flight and also during the two planes rides back. it was so serious it was killing me. this was originally a jacob fic but anon asked for a sungho ver!! so here you go! not my proudest work ofc becoz i think ive learned more abt writing smut so tune in for that!

The early hours of the day are ones you used to dread. The sun would barely be out, the idea of sitting through countless hours of lectures, the contemplation of your ongoing list of work, work, work, that needs to be done once you return from a tiresome day.

But now, it’s different; sunlight refracts through window panes, sounds of birds bounce off the walls, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. The early hours of the day are ones you used to dread, but waking up has gotten easier—maybe because you have someone to wake up and go back home to.

“Daddy, one more!”

“Sweetheart, we’ll run out of ribbons for your hair! Don't you wanna show your friends your pretty, pink ribbons?”

Your eyes peel open to the sight of home—the loves of your life seated by the vanity, one helping the other get ready for school.

Well, sort of.

Your little devil continues to bubble as her nimble hands gather more satin strands while your husband, Sungho, continues to brush her hair.

The white sheets you snuggle your nose into still smell of Sungho: fresh laundry and baby powder.

“But daddy! Look at you.” Her finger points at the mirror, making his gaze land on the reflection. “You’re beautiful,” she coos, pronouncing the first half of the word like a name.

He chuckles at her compliment. “Thank you, sweetie. You’ve got a good eye for fashion.”

Sungho’s adorned with pink, satin ribbons. Every part of him that you can name probably has a ribbon tied on it; some were loose, almost as if they would fall if he were to move, but some were tight, too tight, for your liking. His skin spills from bands of satin and his muscles show off more when they’re restrained.

Maybe you needed to get out of bed.

As you sit up, the sheets rustle from the movement, causing your husband and daughter to look back at you.

Sungho’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “Oh no, did we wake you up? I’m sorry.”

“Sorry!” Your daughter’s apology quickly follows his.

You shake your head, a smile resting on your lips as you get out of bed. As you walk towards them, your eyes catch sight of your freshly woken up state; the contrast between you and your husband and daughter has you giggling.

“God, I have a bird’s nest.”

“No! You have beautiful hair made for,” your daughter pulls out another blush strand, “ribbons!”

A pair of lips meet your cheek. “She’s right,” your husband mumbles into your skin. “You’re beautiful.”

As he parts away, you meet his gaze. He shoots you a lazy smile, one that reminds you of the times you wake up beside him, and your cheeks are dusted with rose-colored hues.

Warmth continues to spread throughout the room—not from the sun but from them.

You roll your eyes before you look at your daughter, your hand reaching out towards her. She hands you the torn-up satin and you smile. “Thank you.”

You look at the man beside you, still tied up in ribbons. Your free hand trails over where they rest—hair, forearms, waist to name a few.

(Though, you let your fingers play with the one around his waistline.)

“Where should I put this one, honey?”

Your daughter hums for a moment. Sungho shakes his head, not in disbelief that you’re playing into your daughter's shenanigans but more so that you're going to make her late for school. And it’ll be okay, you tell yourself, because he’s the one in charge of dropping her off today.

“What about the neck? Like a necklace!”

Your eyebrows shoot up at her suggestion, a playful smile now on your lips. “A good choice! I'm sure daddy will love it.” The pet name rolls off your tongue so well that it has a grunt leave Sungho. The annoyed expression flashes through his features like a blink, but he tries to cover it up with an innocent smile.

“C’mon, you'll be late if we keep doing this. Let me finish fixing your hair and then we can go to school.” He tries to take control of the situation but you won’t let him—not this time, at least.

“Nu–uh,” you disagree, moving so that you can stand right behind him. “You can do that while I put this necklace on you,” the satin piece meets his neck before you lean in to whisper into his ear, “right?”

The distance between you two—the heat of your chest against his back, your lips grazing against his ear—is enough for Sungho’s tongue to turn into cotton. It didn’t help that you were doing all of this right now, right when your daughter is here getting ready while he’s pressed for time, but he knows that it won't do any good to deny the request if you two, so he nods.

Your hands guide the ribbon to wrap around his neck, the ends meeting past his nape which gives you enough to tie it into a bow. Your fingers busy themselves trying to form a beautiful knot while Sungho focuses on brushing your daughter’s hair.

And when you tug on the satin, making it wrap tighter around his neck—pulling into his skin—he stills for a moment.

“Daddy?” Your daughter looks up.

“What’s wrong?” The question leaves your mouth, the playful tone that clings onto your words fails to make sense to her but has Sungho clenching his teeth.

“Nothing, sorry,” he quickly says with a smile to cover up his behavior. “Just got distracted.”

She’s oblivious to whatever is occurring between you two; you make the most out of the situation.

Thanks to the distance, it’s easy to hear his exhales—his sounds. His shoulders move along with them. Heavy. Deep. Desperate.

Your fingers brush against his skin, and it blooms in rose tints. When your eyes catch sight of him swallowing down nothing—everything—you can’t help but let mischief take over.

You finish tying the satin into a perfect bow. The expanse of his skin covered in rose-like hues, dolled-up just for you, is enough for warmth to spread all throughout your body.

You don’t get to see Sungho like this: all adorned with pink ribbons, restrained without being restrained to an object. It’s humorous; you’ve switched positions just this once thanks to your daughter’s shenanigans.

Your lips hover over where the bow rests, your breath grazing his skin, and it has his hair standing. Just one kiss—one bite—to complete the present, and then—

“And done!”

He jolts away while dragging your daughter along. Your gaze now lands back to your reflection, a pout now resting on your lips.

When you look at the two, a satisfied smile rests on your daughter's mouth while Sungho sports a relieved expression. “Go say bye now. We’ll be late.”

Due to your husband’s rushed words, your daughter quickly pecks your cheek, her teeth bumping against your skin. “Bye bye! I’ll see you later!” You smile at her before she rushes out of the room.

When your gaze leaves the door, it lands on Sungho who only looks at you with eyes filled with irritation, frustration, dominance. “Anyway, I’ll—”

His hands grip your waist, pulling you close to him and noses bumping against each other. His breath grazes your lips while you hold yours in.

“What was that?” The question is asked with such sweetness but you know he means the opposite.

“W—what do you mean?”

He groans into your ear. “Don’t play games with me, baby.”

There’s the Sungho you know.

Satisfaction paints his features; a smirk with eyes that flicker down occasionally to your lips. And when you feel his grip tighten around your waist, air is knocked out of your lungs. He leans forward, as if distance needs to be closed, but his lips never touch yours. “Baby, baby, baby,” he whispers with such care, and yet…

“You know what you did. Just say it.”

You know better. He’s giving you a chance to apologize—to repent—for what you did, but instead of settling for that, you lean forward, lips interlocking with his. His hand shimmies its way under your shirt, a thumb drawing circles on your hip bone, and warmth blossoms further.

You part away and lean your forehead against his. As your fingers dart towards the ribbon wrapped around his neck, fiddling with the ends of it, it takes every ounce of resolve to not tug on it. 

“Well, you need to bring her to school,” you whisper words he doesn’t want to hear.

All he wants is an apology—an explanation—for your behavior this morning, but you don’t give in, so he rolls his eyes, a chuckle leaving him before he lets go of your waist. “I’ll see you later.”

You let your hand fall back to your side and shoot him a smile. “I look forward to it.”

Before you know it, he makes his way towards the door, still wrapped in pink satin. The thought of Sungho showing up in front of your daughter’s school adorned in bows has you giggling.

“I can hear you laughing!”

You roll your eyes. “Just go!”

You wonder what he’ll bring you after he’s done with the task at hand.

If you were expecting anything good, then you were absolutely wrong.

(Well, that’s a lie. You were hoping for something, but you weren’t expecting this.)

Whatever present you were looking forward to—food from your favorite cafe that’s only a 2-minute drive from your daughter’s school or an opportunity for you to finally do whatever you want unto Sungho—couldn’t prepare you for what’s happening now.

“You just couldn’t behave.” A pair of hands roam over your torso as teeth tug on the expanse of your neck, satin grazing your skin. You hold back your sounds, eyes fluttering close, until he digs in harder, wetter.

A mewl escapes you without a second thought. His lips leave your neck and his hands focus on tugging your oversized shirt off, leaving you only in a pair of night undies.

You’re greeted once more by the sight of Sungho wrapped in satin. Your gaze trails to where the ribbons rest, some threatening to fall off of him while others still making sure his skin—his muscles—spill out.

(And it didn’t help that the white t-shirt he wears clings to his torso, probably from its fitting or thanks to the ribbons.)

His hands rest on the space around you as his legs cage you down, restricting you from any movement like you did with him.

You’re lightheaded, maybe from lip locking, the position you’re in, or even from the sight of your husband. And with your heavy breaths, a smug grin takes over Sungho’s face. His hand tugs on the loose satin around his waist, allowing it to fall on your stomach.

“What if we play dress up?” He hums as he lets his lips trail from your jaw, to your shoulder, all the way to space between your tits. He looks up at you, and says, “Like how you did with me this morning.”

A grunt leaves you.

He grabs onto the ribbon. “Don’t you think it’s only fair that I have my time with you? My fun with you?”

When you shake your head, Sungho chuckles. “Sungho, c’mon—”

“Nu–uh,” he retaliates like how you did then. “Don’t try to weasel your way out of your punishment.”

He sits and chucks his head up, signaling you to lift your torso up. You follow his orders, and his hands dart around so that the strand wraps around your upper chest. 

With his fingers busy tying a bow, your hand darts towards the ribbon wrapped around his forearm. Your fingertips fiddle with satin and his warm skin, and you both relish in your final moments of freedom.

“There we go.” Your eyes dart down to your chest, spotting a perfectly tied pink bow resting above your tits. And when his nails dig into your waist, a mewl escapes you as you arch your back.

Sungho loves it all; the ribbon that was once tied around his waist now tied right above your tits, the sounds that leave you from the different sensations of satin and his hands brushing your skin, and your hazy eyes that meet his wide ones.

He litters you with kisses, from your cheeks, neck, and chest. “You’re so pretty for me,” he mumbles in between. Once his lips hover over yours, noses grazing against each other, he whispers, “I just want to devour you.”

You catch his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him close. He moves one knee in between your legs, letting you grind your clothed slit against his thigh, as his hands find themselves on your tits. The warmth of his fingertips flicking against your nipples has them pebbling and you moan his ministrations.

He parts away. As you attempt to control your breathing, you watch him reach for the ribbon that rests on his shoulder and tug it undone. Its length is longer in comparison to the one that rests on your chest; perhaps your daughter may have overestimated how much she needed to tie around Sungho’s shoulder.

And before you know it, he grabs hold of your wrists and lets the strand circle around them. “Too tight?” He asks once he ties a knot around them.

You shake your head. “Just right.”

He smiles at you. “Good. Now,” his hands find their way on the band of your underwear, “let me taste you.”

He tugs it down, exposing you to him. The contrast between you two—nude and fully clothed—makes your head spin.

“Sungho, please.”

He hums. “‘Please’ what, darling?”

“Remove your clothes.”

“Making demands?” He clicks his tongue. “I’ll see about that.” He spends his time undoing the ribbon that’s wrapped around his arm. “Plus, I enjoy you like this, just physically unable to fulfill your desires.”

A groan rips out of your throat.

You hate Sungho.

His hands brush against your upper thigh, tying another ribbon around you. Once he finishes, his hand lingers, teasing you with the short distance between him and your slit. You’re about to curse at him, yell out profanities, until you watch his face get closer to your pussy.

He breathes you in and a groan rips out. “God, you smell delicious.”

Before you know it, his tongue darts towards your slit, drinking up your juices. A moan leaves you, your back arching at how he eats you out. And when his nose nudges against your clit, your mewls get louder, uncontrollable.

Your head is spinning from how Sungho plays with your five senses; satin strands wrapped around you, his tongue touching you in places you longed for him to graze against, the squelching noise that comes from him eating you out has your head spinning. The lack of power—control—turns you on even more.

As you attempt to look down, you’re greeted by his eyes on you, and the eye contact knocks the air out of your lungs. When his hand reaches to the bow that rests on your thigh, fingers playing with pink satin, you throw your head back.

Your lower half finds itself moving on its own, lifting itself from the mattress as it attempts to chase the pleasure, but Sungho rests his forearm on your stomach, holding you down, and continues to eat you out to his liking. Still, you try to move under the restraints; it’s reflexive, out of control. 

His mouth leaves your slit, a whine leaving you. “Baby, if you keep that up, you won’t get what you want in the end.”

You try to control your breathing, bringing your satin-tied wrists close to your face.

He finally strips off his shirt. You’re lightheaded when you look at him, top naked with one singular satin ribbon left—the one you tied around his neck.

He reaches for the button of his pants. “You’ve been such a treat for me, let me reward you.” His pants and underwear are down, revealing his hardened length that leaks pre-cum.

He moves your restrained wrists away and reaches for your lips with his; the taste of you still lingers on him. As he sucks on your bottom lip, a whine leaves you.

He moves away so that you can catch your breath—or so you thought.

Before you can control your heartbeat, you feel a finger prod its way into your pussy, having you clench over the digit. Your eyes roll back as you moan, and he curls his finger, hitting your walls.

“God, look at you. Such a moaning mess over one finger.” You do your best to look at Sungho, seeing him tonguing the inside of his cheek as he keeps his eyes on your face. It has warmth rise to your cheeks. “I wonder how you’ll take my cock. It’s been a while, after all.”

Before you know it, another finger enters you. Your eyes are wide, your bottom half filled with pleasure. And when his thumb plays with your nub, you don’t know if you’ll be ready for his cock after all.

You thrash in bed, overwhelmed by pleasure, and Sungho only watches. The sight of you struggling to do anything while he holds you down, through satin or his hands, causes more precum to leak.

“S-Sungho, I don’t—”

“No, baby, you will. You’ll hold out until you get on my cock.” It’s a demand, and you don’t know if you’ll be able to fulfill it, but you try.

That is until his finger curls hits one spot; all resolve is broken. As he notices your expression shift, he smirks and continues his ministrations. A series of moans escapes you as he continues to hit your g-spot.

You swear you feel the band about to snap, and you consider telling Sungho that you’re about to come. But for selfish reasons, you don’t want to; all you want is to finally come.

You’re close, short rapid breaths escape you as you clench tighter around his digits, until his fingers leave you.

“Fuck!” You complain only to be met with Sungho’s chuckle. “I was so close! Are you kidding me?”

He clicks his tongue. “Didn’t I tell you to hold out?” He moves close to you, his cock lining up to your pussy. “You were going to disobey me if I kept going.”

You roll your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek. You’re irritated from being left high and dry.

“Fuck you—”

His cock enters you without warning, cutting you off and causing a moan to rip out of you. He goes at a steady speed, building the pleasure up.

“You’re still tight even after that?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you only answer in a series of moans. He chuckles. “My baby can’t even answer me properly this early on and we’ve only started.”

Before you know it, his cock leaves you, causing you to whine. You were going to complain, but he flips you so that you rest on your knees and elbows. 

Without a warning, he enters once more which has a moan rip out of you. He goes at the same pace but he feels deeper, hitting crevices that your fingers could never reach.

As Sungho continues to fuck you, you try to look back at him, and you watch how his eyebrows scrunch as he watches his cock enter you. Your eyes catch sight of the pink satin that clings to his skin and you cannot help but clench around his cock, making him moan along with you.

He finally notices your eyes on him, and he tongues the inside of his cheek. Then, he leans forward, face-to-face with you as his chest is pressed against your back.

“Baby.” he smiles at you—not a smug one but one filled with adoration. And yet…

“Should we try for another?” The air is knocked out of your lungs. His smile turns sinister as he feels you grow wetter at the thought. “Wouldn’t you love that? Another baby? Another opportunity to be filled to the brim?”

As he starts to pick up the pace, you can’t hold back your moans. “God, you just want to be filled with my cum, don’t you? Wouldn’t you love that? Just us trying again, again, again, for another baby, me filling you with cum.”

He watches your breathing get heavy over the idea; to be filled with Sungho’s cum for days, weeks, months, years as if it were your only job or purpose in life.

You feel it coming; the rubber band is about to snap at any moment.

“Fuck, I’m close—”

“Come for me. Do it, baby,” he chants such words. “I’m going to come. Going to fill you up, going to impregnate you,” he growls as he keeps going at such a fast pace. “And we’ll keep going baby, going to make sure you’re filled with so much cum that I’ll have to plug my fingers to keep it in.”

Your pants get heavier as you try to meet his thrusts. You’re so close but you don’t know what you need. You’re too light headed to think of what to do until you feel fingertips draw circles on your clit. Your moans get louder. Uncontainable.

You rip your gaze away from him, overwhelmed by the pleasure, and it lands on your satin-tied wrists. “Come for me, baby. Let me impregnate you,” he whispers into your ear.

The rubber band snaps. You clench around his cock as you come as a long moan leaves you, and Sungho can’t help but fill you with his cum.

It doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, riding out his high to ensure that you’re filled with enough.

Once he stills, you find yourself collapsing down to the bed. You attempt to control your breathing, eyes shut from what just occurred.

“Baby, let me flip you. I need to remove the ribbons,” Sungho says with care.

You only hum. His cock leaves you, causing you to hiss as you’re still sensitive. His hands find themselves on your waist, flipping you so that you face him, and he undoes the ribbon wrapped around your wrists. He then takes the opportunity to examine your wrists.

“Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, smiling at your husband. “I’m okay.” You still see the pink satin wrapped around his neck. “That was good.”

He chuckles before pecking your lips. He takes in the sight of you in your fucked-out state dressed in pink ribbons that were once wrapped around him and his heart grows warm.

As his eyes trail down to your slit, he gasps. “Oh no, it’s leaking.” His fingers scoop his cum that leaks out of your pussy and shoves it back in, another hiss leaving you. “We don’t want to waste any cum.”

A giggle leaves you. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in for another kiss. “I love you.” Your fingers graze against the ribbon that still rests around his neck. “I’m glad you kept this on.”

He hums. “I mean, I knew it turned you on, so I played into it. I understand though. After seeing you tied up, maybe I need to learn shibari.”

You gulp at his words and he notices. A smirk lies on his lips. “Of course, I should’ve known. How come I never knew about this?”

You shrug. “I don’t know—well, I do know. I think I was just too shy to bring it up.”

“Baby,” he starts off, giving you another kiss, “there’s no need to be shy around me. I would love to know everything about you, even what gives you the most pleasure. What else do you like?”

You chew on your cheek. “Well, I really want to do shibari on you.”

“Deal.”

“I know you might not—wait, really?”

His lips press against your cheek. “I’m willing to try it out.” You cannot help yourself but smile. “So, now?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Sungho, you just gave me the most earth-shattering orgasm of my life, and your fingers are still in me. I don’t know if I can go another round.”

“You sure?” he smirks before letting his lips trail to your neck. “Just a little foreplay can change that.” He starts to suck on your skin, and you cannot help but let a moan slip. And when his fingers start to move, your eyes roll back.

God, you need to buy more ribbons for your daughter.

(And for you and Sungho, of course.)

taglist: @onedoornet @kflixnet

[sakashq]

a happy lamine yamal blurb? a day in together? i love your work! 💞 emphasis on happy

Glue Song 𝜗𝜚 lamine yamal x fem!reader.

🦢 summary. You were feeling sick, but your clingy boyfriend was not going to leave you alone.

🦢 wc. ≈400

🦢 yap! first “no. angst.” now “emphasis on happy”?!?! is sadness just my brand? i’m sorry guys imma fix that soon trust. ☺️💕

🦢 DTS . . . @ar4ujos @halfwayhearted @joaoflms @iovepoem @hrts4havertz @planetpedri <3

You woke up, your throat feeling clogged and your nose stuffed. You were already dreading the day.

You also woke up to your usual ‘good morning beautiful ❤️’ text from Lamine, which almost made everything better. Almost.

You responded with, ‘ahhem, hem, i’m sick 🤒,’ referencing the movie the two of you watched together just nights before. As soon as you responded, Lamine called you.

“Are you actually sick?” He asked you, no greeting or anything.

You couldn’t help but chuckle and respond, “Yes, Lamine.”

“Okay, give me twenty.” Is all he said before hanging up. What did he mean by that?

After twenty minutes you found out. He had gone out to get you breakfast (toast, yogurt, and hot tea) and a small bouquet of flowers. Your mom let him in and he made his way upstairs, surprising you.

“Oh my gosh, Lamine,” you exclaimed, sitting up in bed. “You didn’t have to do any of that.”

He shook his head in disagreement, setting your tray of breakfast on your bed. “No, I definitely did.” He then placed the flowers which were now in a vase on the side table.

You began eating your breakfast silently as he sat down next to you. “Lamine, I’m sick.”

“We’ll be sick together,” he smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“The same since you called me this morning,” you responded. “Did you get yourself anything?”

Lamine nodded, not replying with words. He grabbed the remote to your television and turned on your favorite show, the one he swore he hated, but would always watch with you.

For the next few hours, you and him both rested together cuddled up and watching TV together. At one point you ended up falling asleep, taking a small nap. When you woke up it was 6:00pm, and Lamine was still laying there by your side with you in his arms. He hadn’t noticed you wake up, but you noticed his slight cough.

“Did I get you sick?” You jokingly asked.

“Like I said, we’ll be sick together.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The evening shift is quiet. You don’t mind the low din of the atrium. The cafe offers the only light to the empty lobby. Hours ago, it was a rush of bodies and voices, now, the shops have closed down and the sign above you remains lit as the sole beacon in the business plaza. 

The slower hours are more routine than the frantic mornings filled with early risers desperate for their first dose of caffeine. You did a few weeks of that before you hopped on the evening’s rota. It gives you time to read between baking and cleaning. 

The front doors open and close, echoing through the space. It’s eerie this late at night but you it doesn’t bother you as much as it once does. The footsteps that follow add to the unease of their approach. You recognise the man by his silhouette. 

The marquee glow limns his harsh features, the stubble on his jaw adding to the sharp angles, his dark hair and brows give him a sinister slant. You smile as you stand from the stool and pour him a black coffee. You ring him up before he even gets to the counter. 

“Evening, sir,” you greet him. You still don’t know his name. All your other regulars like to chat. He doesn’t. “Black.” 

He flicks a card up between his index and middle fingers. The stamps across the rows add up to a free drink. You take it, brushing his calloused fingertips as you do. 

“Oh, a free drink. Exciting.” You cancel the transaction and slide his cup forward, “enjoy.” 

He grumbles and takes the cup. He moves to the other end of the kiosk and grabs a lid and sleeve. As he walks away, you bid him a good night. He never says much, if anything. 

You go back to sanitizing the frother. The work isn’t so dull when you have nothing else to do. The night wears on as the sky softens through the glass walls of the atrium   

Dayani arrives just before five to take over. You hand her the keys and balance the till before you go. She sends you off with the dread of the shift ahead. 

Out on the street, the lull remains. Not for much longer. The bus routes will pick up and the daily commuters will clog the streets. Your trek home is five blocks but not too bad considering. You share a loft with two other girls but you rarely run into them. You all work different shifts in different borroughs. 

Your room is at the rear of the old brick building. The legislated fire escape crosses your window and casts a shadow through the sheer curtains. You undress and unwind in your single bed. The room is small and not exactly worth the cost but it’s a roof over your head. 

You sleep until just after one. The city had you waking in spurts at the honk of an angry driver or the shouts of rowdy pedestrians. You eat the stale scone you claimed from work and have instant coffee to wash it down. 

You go through the usual. You wake up little by little and drag yourself out to the shower. You catch a glimpse of one of your roommates. Lottie barely seems to notice you as she carries a basket out the door. 

When you’re done washing up, you pull on your sweats and a loose tee. You waste some time watching TV on your phone then plug it in so you have some juice left when you leave. You eat a microwaved tray of pasta and change into your uniform. You do up your hair and face, nothing too much, and count the minutes until you’re due to leave. 

As exciting as the city can be, you can’t afford that part of it. You work, you sleep, you get by. 

Xander has an hour overlap with you before he goes. He tells you about all his midterms and the party he wants to ditch his studying for. It’s only an elective course anyway. He leaves in indecision. 

You never finished school. You did one year and dropped out. You did well enough but you couldn’t afford it. Not even the local community college in your hometown. Funny, you still came all the way out here to scrape pennies. 

The last rush of the day passes through. Those on the way to their own overnight shifts; security guards, hotel clerks, and all others. 

The silence sets in. You play around on your phone. The battery dies a lot quicker lately so you make yourself quiet the matching game and put it in your pocket. You pull out the novel you keep hidden behind the till and read until the door opens and closes. 

Same time, same man. His black hair swallows up the light of the sign above as you pour his coffee. You get him a new card and stamp it, handing it over with your usual smiling nicety. Still no response. He goes to grab his lid and sleeve. 

You wait patiently. He doesn’t march off like usual. You peek over as he strides along the counter. He drops a bill in the tip jar. You thank him. Still no answer. 

He walks off and you look in the cup. You can’t believe it. You snatch up the bill and push through the door at the side of the kiosk. You hurry after his shadow. 

“Sir, sir, I think you made some mistake--” the door closes heavily and his figure passes outside the glass panels. You can’t go that far without locking up. Oh well, he’ll be back tomorrow and you can let him know. 

You walk back to the cafe stand and dip back behind. You unfold the hundred dollar bill. Maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s a joke. Looks pretty real when you hold it up to the light. 

[notroosterbradshaw]

about: just some smut to fend off jetlag. i love sleepy Bradley, I make no excuses that I feel he does his best work in the early hours of the day. This was supposed to be a drabble… it’s not anymore. Sorry.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

masterlist.

The morning after the night before when Bradley met your family for the first time, you'd flown across the world to surprise your dad for his birthday and really, it luckily coincided with Bradley's time off. When you mentioned heading home for your old man's special day that usually kicked off your family's holiday season, you almost fell out of your seat when he said maybe it was time he met the fam face-to-face, not just making small talk over FaceTime. It almost didn’t seem fair that he was subjected to meeting everyone this way, but alas… here you were the next morning, jet lag kicking in while wrapped protectively in Bradley’s strong, golden arms and washed in the relief your family fucking loved him. You weren't overly surprised. 

Bradley's quiet, unassuming charm was just who your mum wanted you to end up with, he was into golf and surfing, so your dad and brothers thought he was the bee's knees. Your sister on the other hand... 

You had to fend her off more than you would have liked. You were confident in your relationship with Bradley, knowing he'd never allow anything to happen. "You're coming across a little desperate," you hissed after one or two drinks, which mortified her, and she apologised, admitting she was just happy to finally get to meet the guy who'd swept you off your feet. "Yes, my feet," you reminded her. When she pointed out how possessive you sounded, you didn't deny it. But she got it and gave you space for the rest of the evening. 

Ahh, sisters. 

Bradley felt your body writhe in the gentlest of movements against his and he sighed. Sleep hadn’t come easy for either of you and compounded with the food and booze you’d indulged in the day before, neither of you slept much. “You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered at God-knows-what-o’clock. 

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

“I dunno, baby. Sun is barely rising,” he admitted. “Can’t hear a peep in the house.”

Which was nice because yesterday was intense. Everyone was so excited to meet your new American boyfriend (fairly, it’d been about eight months, give or take with a few deployments), the incredibly handsome navy pilot whom you’d met one evening at a naval bar while travelling. You’d caught his eyes behind his sunglasses while he played the piano, the crowd around him as swept away with him as you were. The first half-smile in your direction, as he sang, had done you over in a way not one single person on the planet had before. 

He'd charmed you instantly. He still charmed you constantly. 

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked, biting back a yawn.

“Not really,” he peppered tender kisses into your shoulder blade and smiled into your skin as you pressed back into him, the oh-so-quiet moan made for his ears only waking him from his dreaded fog as well. “I’ll try and get a kip somewhere today. That fuckin’ flight murdered me.” 

“You were happy to fly economy,” you muttered. “I know you’re used to tight quarters, but fuck Bradley. It was 15 hours." 

“I know, I know I fucked up. I was looking at upgrades overnight. I’ll use my discount and stuff; we can do it flying home.”

“You sure?”

“Sue me for wanting to save a buck,” he sighed, with a tired, deep chuckle. “Flight was so full; people may as well have been sitting on the wings.”

“It’s Christmas. People travel.”

“You don't say,” he affectionately gripped your waist, rolling you to him and kissed you. “Good morning, I think," he nuzzled your nose against his and asked if you wanted some water or anything.

You shook your head, rolling back and snuggling into him as he adjusted his arms around you again, his nose buried in your hair. "I think Dad is gonna expect you for at least nine holes today." 

"I think so, yeah. Grill me and make sure I'm good enough for his little girl.” He murmured and if he was honest, he was the teeniest bit nervous. He’d never really been in relationships long enough to meet families… and who would he introduce anyone to, except for Mav?

"I think you'll be fine."

"He probably wouldn't be if he knew what a deviant I've turned his smart, beautiful baby girl into.”

You giggled quietly as you could feel the soft ends of his moustache curve into a smirk against the nape of your neck. "He'd send you back on the first flight to LA."

"I would believe that," he said softly. 

"I think yesterday went really well, Bradley," you confided quietly to him.

"You think? I was on my very best behaviour," he teased you.

"Yes, you were," you admitted. Not that he ever wasn't. Bradley was instilled with a remarkable set of manners. He was chivalrous and courteous to a fault, incredibly sweet and at times, pensive, even shy. Almost make believe that you were lucky enough to share his time. You wriggled back against him, and you could feel the hard-on straining through his boxer briefs. "Down, boy." 

"Can't help it," he sighed. "You know what you do to me with that ass. I know what you want. You're not that transparent."

You bit back your pleased smile as his wandering hands travelled down your side, fingertips toying with the hem of his old Navy tee that was now your bed shirt. At home, you were nude sleepers. At your parents' home during the holidays? You showed decorum and respect and you both hated it, preferring skin-on-skin of the other but alas, anyone could walk in at any time. 

“Have a thought about how we might be able to fuck this jetlag off…” 

“Oh, yeah?” at this point, you’d do anything and with Bradley’s travel for work, you hoped maybe he might have some insight. You had planned to just power through and try not to be the world’s most exhausted asshole. 

"You just move your thigh a little this way..." he murmured, his palm cupping your hamstring and you pressed back into him, grinning softly. “And I just slide up in here – ”

“Confident of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re always wet for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Unless you deny it.”

“Never…” you told him, reaching back to wrap an arm around his strong neck. “I just can't keep it down with you. Why didn’t you convince me to get the AirBnb?”

He loved how vocal you were during sex. Your moans, the hisses, the way you'd bite your lip when you were so close. That groan as you came, or the little squeal when you were too sensitive was burned into his brain as his favourite sounds in the world. 

"Just lemme hold you then, it's okay, sweetheart," he grumbled. “I’ll live if you can.” 

“Asshole,” you muttered as he chuckled. 

“Do you want a blowjob?” You nervously offered, turning back to him and he looped your thigh over his hip and perched you above him with such little effort on his behalf - you loved how strong he was but you knew what was waiting for you, Bradley made no secret he was turned on and you loved that you were able to have him on a knife-edge at all times. 

The one per cent, he’s told you once before. 

You’re so sweet to him as you slowly dragged your hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing more and more skin, cock springing free, slapping against his toned, tanned Adonis belt. Long, thick and dripping with precum already and he almost blushed at how eager he was.

“I’ll never say no,” he replied, “And I know you might be uncomfortable here. Your dad is right across the hall, baby."

“But my daddy is right here…” you immediately corrected him, and he smiled darkly to himself. You didn't use that term lightly, you couldn’t nfi fed to him he had the ability to bring out your innermost feral when you least expected it and he would do his utmost to encourage it (if you were comfortable). 

“Jesus,” his head was swirling, trying to keep calm and not blow his load the second you bared your tongue to him but there was absolutely nothing sweet about it. He was a preening mess when you went down on him. The night you'd told him you weren't overly experienced in blow jobs was the greatest night of his life, coaching you through what he liked and watching you perfect your generous technique time and time again. 

These days, you loved giving Bradley head. He gave you confidence, he made you feel sexy and not like it was only about him on the receiving end. He’s whispered and encouraged, and when it all got too much, he told you he was close. He was neither here nor there on the whole spit or swallow thing… until you and your preference but he was never left empty-handed.

"Shh," you hissed. "Not a sound." 

That one thing you did for him that absolutely made him come undone. And he'd bury his face in your pussy all day if you allowed him to show you how fucking grateful, he was for all the pleasure you presented him. Your sweet, tight wetness that he would eagerly drown himself in if you’d let him. 

Your honeyed tongue delicately tasted the flawless head of his cock, lapping up the precum as Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head and his big hands reached to knot into your hair as you went to work, swirling your tongue and looking up with your big, scheming eyes, knowing you had him at his most precarious. 

He was a weapon in his training, his mind and body were always primed to do what was asked of him, but you were the exception and it scared and excited him.

He could feel himself getting so close to painting the back of that beautiful mouth, and while it pained him to say it, the way your eyes softened told him he’d made the right choice. “Come on, baby, I want you.” 

You gently pulled away and asked, “You don’t want me to finish?”

“No, I wanna fuck, baby. Watch you lose control.” 

“Okay,” you said, your soft hand trading with your warm mouth to tenderly pump and tease him. 

“Gimme a sec. I don't have condoms close,” he whispered. “They're in my luggage.”

"Just pull out, sweetheart," you enticed him, wanting to feel all of him. It was so infrequent you fucked without protection, and of course, you both preferred it that way but after a pregnancy scare (or not, neither of you was really sure) a few months back, you'd both decided to stop tempting fate and ensuring there was a stash of condoms at his place, your place... the goddamn Bronco – Bradley understood that it was your body and you didn’t want to be on the pill. A condom was the least he could do, and he knew it. 

Bradley helped you move up his body and rest you above him. "Are you sure?" he kissed you, your gleaming teeth lightly stinging into his bottom lip with an affectionate nip. 

“I trust you,” you told him. "Cum where you need...”

Truth be told, he wanted to cum deep, but he licked back a wet smile and he moved to his knees to pull his navy tee over your head, bearing your beautiful breasts to him, full, round, nipples begging for attention. “On your back, baby,” he urged, guiding you under him, anticipating how wet you were for him, legs splaying open unashamed. He rested the head of his cock on your weeping cunt, his fingers spreading your bare lips and sweeping your slick across your clit, fascinated by that little peep of desperation from you. Your head fell back against the pillows, bliss sweeping through you as he sweetly pressed one finger into you. “Drippin’,” he reported, pressing in another finger and his thumb rubbing tenderly against your throbbing clit. “Gonna gush for me?” 

You probably would, Bradley’s ability to drag absolutely everything out of you blew your mind each time. “Need your cock. Fill me up, Bradley.” 

Pushing in, one delicious inch by delicious inch, licking his full lips as your back curved to take him as deeply as possible. He buried his face in your breasts, holding one in his calloused palm, eyes fluttering closed as he traced, left wet, open-mouthed kissed and tenderly bit the other, and the groan you let you made him clamp his palm over your mouth. “You’re so wet, baby,” he stared deeply into your eyes as he evened his breath with the first few rolls of his slender hips. "But you're gonna wake your parents if you don’t control yourself."

"Let them fuckin' hear," you muttered behind your hand (you’d die if they heard you though) as he chuckled and began his ruthless assault on your senses, one thrust at a time. 

"You're too good to me," Bradley reminded you in disbelief.  

"All for you," you confided, as you watched the beads of sweat break across his brow as you dug your nails into his well-worked traps, willingly knowing it would leave a mark courtesy of your fresh manicure. You raised your hips to meet his deep, plunging thrusts, fucking into you strong and deep. He felt incredible, you don't think anyone had loved on you as Bradley Bradshaw could. So thorough, and never one to leave you hanging. 

Too long, too sore? He'd pause and tenderly withdraw to hold you, reassuring you that it was fine, and your comfort was paramount. Too sensitive after coming too hard, he'd give you time to recover, finding other ways to bring you pleasure.

It was nice to be considered in your relationship, in your sex life especially. In the past, you'd been made to feel like a machine, if you didn't cum, partners still could, and you'd just deal with it. For a long time, that stuck with you and having someone consider you like Bradley would almost seem too good to be true at the start. 

But that consideration never lapsed. He was make-believe and you fucking hoped if this man and everything he brought to you was a dream that you’d never, ever wake up. 

Desperate to keep himself controlled, Bradley reached for the headboard of your old bed, gripping it for dear life as he tried so damn hard to avoid coming. He loved fucking you raw, and since birth control was completely your choice, you two had to stop playing this dangerous game. Because one day? It would beat you both.

"I need to cum, Bradley," you whined to him as he nodded, chewing his lower lip, and putting your delicate fingers in your mouth, not losing his rhythm. He knew. He knew how close you were. 

"Lemme see you touch yourself, baby. Get those fingers - " he gasped as you clenched around him. "Get 'em nice and wet and play with that sweet, tight pussy. Lemme see you fall apart.”

Before, language like that would embarrass you, but with Bradley, it only spurred you on. It was incredible the ways he’d helped you grow and mature as a friend, partner and lover. As instructed, and in the low early morning light, Bradley’s breath hitched, watching you touch yourself and you couldn’t help it, the beat of his cock against your g-spot, your fingers pressing rough circles into your clit and you started to come. 

“Yes, baby. Yes,” he urged, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering his sweet encouragement. “You feel so good, just a little mo – ” he forced his mouth against yours, kissing your pleasure to him, to keep the noise down. He wrapped his hand under your hip, lifting your waist to push harder into you as you trembled below him, your pussy clutching his cock, spasming as he shuddered against your lips. “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus, Bradley, fuck me,” you begged as his hips speed up like a piston, thrusting hard into your swollen, sensitive pussy, his hand clutching yours away from your strained clit and pressing intensely in your place, hoping to drag your orgasm out and as you fell, lifeless, back against the squishy pillows, pussy pulsating, Bradley grunted low he was coming and after his final few thrusts, he quickly withdrew and unloaded, stroking himself until he was spent, pearly ribbons of cum decorating your belly and breasts. 

He collapsed beside you, taking your cheeks in his face and kissing you wildly. “I love you. I love you, baby,” he kissed you again, and though you were spent, you returned his affections, because truly… you loved Bradley Bradshaw with your entire being. It was going to take a lot to change that. “Are you okay?” he asked, chest still heaving as he breathed, his pointer finger tracing through the mess he made on you.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” you assured him as he gave you one last, final kiss.

“Think that helped with your jetlag?” he teased.

“Makes me want another round,” you admitted as he chuckled and raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course you do,” he pressed a kiss into your pulse and lifted his lips back to yours, holding you close and just like horny teenagers, enjoying making out for a few moments in the afterglow. “Where’s that shirt gone?” he asked, peering over the side of the bed, and cleaning you up. “Jackson Pollack painting here.”

“Be less proud,” you told him as he snorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect, but let me go pee,” you whispered as Bradley kissed you long and deep, he nodded into the kiss but was not quite ready to leave you leave him. 

“Go, clean up, baby,” he helped you up from the bed, your legs precarious and meandering like Bambi. “Careful,” he sighed, wistfully. But he knew it already, you were thoroughly fucked, just how he liked it. 

A few hours later and thankfully, a few more hours of sleep, your alarm woke you, the sun much higher in the sky and the heat of the day starting to rise. You’d showered and told him to come down when he was ready, you’d help your Mum with some brekky.

“You want eggs?”

“Anything,” Bradley admitted. “Famished.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you cupped his face in your palms and kissed him lightly. “Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he gave a small grin but didn’t much feel like lingering. After a quick shower, he dressed, annoyed he didn't pack any golf gear, at minimum the shoes that you gave him grief for every time he wore them, but maybe he'd treat himself and buy some at the course today. He rifled through his bag, clutching the velvet box in his palm tightly, convinced more than ever that this was real, this was happening and soon, he'd hope to have you wearing his mother's engagement ring too. 

Slapping on his CVN-71 cap, he knew you went a bit feral when he perched it backward. May as well leave you with good thoughts while he was out and about, asking your old man for your hand on the golf course. And if it went badly, it was also something to identify him when the authorities found him if your dad said no. 

[todomochi-uwu]

Who (6/?) J. Y & S. M

Pairing: Poly! Jeong Yunho x reader x Song Mingi

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warnings: This content is for a mature audience

Synopsis: You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you.

Author's notes: It's been such a long time, and I'm sorry for that. Life hasn't been quite easy, but as an apology here's some smut. Hope you enjoy.

Other chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

It had been a couple of weeks since that night, and getting used to being back wasn’t quite as easy as you thought it would be. At first feeling like a stranger to the place you had once called home, and while your lovers may try to help with that, you fear they may seem to be overcompensating a bit.

You woke up because of the ungodly amount of sound that came from the kitchen.

“Yunho?” Your eyes could barely focus on the things in front of you, besides, what the hell was he doing at home at this hour? Wiping the floor?

“Good morning, my love.” He sighed and got up, “I’m sorry did I wake you up? I dropped some pans and spilt milk. I’m sorry I’m a bit of a mess right now.” He kissed your forehead before going back to cooking, “I’m making breakfast, are pancakes, okay? We also have cereal, or I can make you some eggs or…”

“Pancakes are okay, but what are you doing here so late in the morning? Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?” You took a seat on the kitchen bar.

“I’m taking some time off, they asked me to. Just to get my head back on my shoulders.” He flipped a pancake, “Mingi will be back in a second he went to get some orange juice, we ran out yesterday and we know how much you like it and…” He kept on going, but you couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.

You looked at him without saying anything. His hands trembled with every move he made; he kept on rambling, not stopping to take a breath, afraid to let any uncomfortable silences come through. He couldn’t stay put, moving things around, not able to focus on one thing.

Mingi came through the door. His hands were full of grocery bags that threatened to snap and spill what was inside of them. “I’m back!” He set everything on the countertop, bags of snacks spilling out, hygiene products you were missing, and a bunch of things you don’t even remember mentioning you needed. “I bought everything you ask for, my love.”

“Mingi, you didn’t have to buy this all at once. I have most of this stuff back at my place.”

“Oh well, now you have them here.”

After everything that you had gone through you felt like you needed a bit of time alone, to take a step back and process. Having to come to terms with the idea of being single, actually trying to move on, Bang Chan, the club, Yunho and Mingi. All that in such a short period was messing with your head. But your lovers seemed to differ.

“Babe, I will come back earlier from work to take you on a date, okay?”

“Mingi, we went out yesterday, I’m sure Jongho needs your help back at the office.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of everything.”

Yunho wasn’t any different.

“My love, how about we go for a walk? Or would you rather watch a movie? We can go for some ice cream.”

“Yun, don’t you have to study? I saw your calendar and you have an upcoming test.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll figure it out.”

You missed them, and not having them around had been a nightmare, but this might be over the top. Not neglecting you didn’t have to mean neglecting everything else. So, a list of all the things you had to do began to form in the back of your head.

First, figure out a way to tell them (in a way that won’t destroy Mingi) that you need some space to understand what’s going on in your head and heart. Second, get some actual work done; bills still need to get paid. Third and last of all (and the one you have been dreading the most) talk to Chan. You weren’t even sure if he would be willing to. Jisung said he hasn’t seen him come out of his apartment, and he doesn’t even answer the door; every single time Minho tried contacting him it goes straight to voice mail. Your friend assures you he only needs a bit of time, but you are not quite sure, this might be it for your friendship, and you won’t lie, it breaks your heart.

­____________________________________________

Going back to the first task. You rehearsed over and over again the things you want to say, in your head and front of the mirror, it makes you cringe, but it’s better than to see Mingi drown in tears and sobs.

“I appreciate all the effort you are putting in, but that doesn’t mean you have to neglect everything else in your life...”

“We have to learn how to balance work, our individuality and this relationship...”

“All this will take time, trust is gained slowly, and I’m sure…”

And you swore those would be the words that would come out of your mouth the second dinner was over. It wasn’t easy to explain how you ended up in this position…

Mingi between your legs, lapping at your pussy like a starved man, his mouth alternating between your entrance and your clit, not knowing which one to pleasure first. Meanwhile, Yunho was sucking at your neck, leaving bruises all over the sensitive skin; his fingers pinched and pulled on your nipples, and the sins that came out of his mouth made you tremble.

“Haven’t you missed this, my love?” He said pulling on your earlobe, “Have you missed Mingi eating your sweet, little cunt, mm?”

Mingi let your skin go with a pop, before pushing two of his long, thick fingers inside you without warning, finding a rhythm immediately, kitten licking your clit at the same time.

You couldn’t form any coherent thoughts; pleasure had completely taken over your brain; you could only feel the warmth of Mingi’s tongue and Yunho’s hard cock on your back.

“Please, please, please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“What do you need, baby? Tell us and we’ll give it to you.”

“I need you.” You whimpered.

“But baby, you have us.” Fucking Yunho, always a tease.

“Please, please Yuyu.”

“You need to tell me, love.”

Mingi’s mouth abandoned your core, leaving you aching and in need of more. “Come on, baby. You have to tell us what you want.” He urged, mocking you. “Use your words.” His fingers kept you on the edge, but not giving you any more.

Your mind is clouded by the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "I need..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "...both of you."

Yunho's fingers continued their torturous assault on your sensitive buds, while his teeth nipped your skin, "And you will have us."

Mingi resumed his ministrations with renewed fervour. His fingers delved deeper, stroking that sweet spot inside you that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins, while his tongue resumed its teasing assault on your throbbing clit.

“I need to cum, please.”

"Then cum, my love, cum for us.”

With a strangled cry, you let yourself go, surrendering yourself to the overwhelming sea of sensations your lovers were providing. Heavy breaths escaped your chest, a constant ring in your ears, you could barely tell where you were, but one thing was clear, your lovers were not done with you.

You could feel them moving around you. This time Mingi was the one behind you, holding your knees against your chest, placing small kisses and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, his hands massaged your thighs gently.

“You did so good for us, sweetheart.” His fingers traced patterns in your bruised skin.

The familiar sound of the lubricant’s cap opening made you whimper; you had been conditioned to know what would happen next. Yunho and Mingi would always make sure to prepare you to take them, making you cum a couple of times before even trying anything, but tonight you just couldn’t wait, and neither could they.

“Are you ready, my love?” Yunho’s words made you tremble. You felt both their tips in your entrance, ready to claim you at the same time. Mingi kept his hands on your hips while the man in front of you caressed your legs, waiting for your permission to go on. Both of them slightly shaking with excitement and desperation.

“Yes.”

The sensation of being filled by them was overwhelming, but made you feel complete, whole, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Their movements were slow and hesitant, not wanting to hurt you. Mingi’s moans and whines filled your ears, his hands pinched your skin and his head was thrown back in ecstasy.

“Oh my god, yes, god yes!” He wasn’t concerned by the sounds that left his mouth, too busy enjoying the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

Yunho wasn’t doing any better, groans constantly leaving his mouth, driving himself deeper inch by inch. His eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly opened, his eyes could only focus on the place where your bodies met and became one. The image of his and Mingi’s cock splitting you open wasn’t new, but goddamn was it the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

You closed your eyes, trying to control yourself. Pain and pleasure danced inside you, intertwining themselves and covering your entire being. Each thrust consumed you entirely, making your moans turn into screams, you could feel yourself teetering over the edge. The blonde´s fingers pushed on the small bud of nerves at your core making tears spill out of your eyes, while Yunho’s lips sucked your nipples raw.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned, his hips never relenting their hellish pace. And a single moment of clarity, his eyes met Mingi’s. The same look of need and lust covered his face, red cheeks and dazed eyes, cries escaping his mouth, a small I love you between them. With what little sanity he had left, he took the younger man’s head and pushed their heads in a kiss. their teeth clashing and tongues sucking on each other in ardour, both of them moaning because of the new stimulation.

“I’m going to cum!” You cried. An explosion of pleasure filled your system, as your body convulsed in ecstasy, making you almost pass out. Yunho and Mingi couldn’t hold back any longer, the tight knot snapped, joining you and spilling their seed inside you. Their essence and yours running down your thighs, ending up in the couch’s leather.

The three of you lay breathless, boneless, but complete. You had for once and for all found your way back to each other, and after what felt like an eternity, everything felt right.

____________________________________________

Taglist:

@tunaasan @scuzmunkie @jeongwangjessmina @certifiedmoa @tenebrisirae @ddaeing @bratty-tingz @myshadowsbackstage @berryfiavoured @jkookiejiminlvr @yunsara @soobiverse @kyeos4ng @asjkdk @popcatx0 @yunho-leeknow @escape-from-realitys-stuff @thedistractedwriter @vsereniasstuff @sundayysunshine @queen-thiccness @toomuchtellyneck @daemon-bunny @hyuk4ngel @rxnexxi @daemon-bunny @toomuchtellyneck @queen-thiccness @queen-beanzzz @faesmingi @imcoenffl @fandom-freak-geek @sunnyhokyu @icouldntcareless22 @idfkeddieishot @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mellikestoread @harriy3nko @yvnhoos @shnstarlight @realviviboss @yeosangiess @astro-doll-the-star @smilefordongil

[spicy30]

Echoes of a Stolen Fate 2/2

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targ!Reader

cw: Blood, Bastardry stigma, infidelity, classism, regionalism (regional bias), childbirth

Rating: 16+

tags: AFAB reader, no use of Y/N, angst/no comfort, the reader has anger issues, reader is depressed reader takes issues against bastards, reader does not like the north, reader acts like a princess (discriminates against those who are not like her (gets it from her mom tbh, have you read about Rhaenyra?)), Reader has traditional Targaryen features (Hair and eyes, skin color nor body specified), Dino Dragon is named Acrocanthosaurus because I'm not original, Reader is assumed to be true-born due to traditional Targ features

(Not Proofread)

Bold text noted to be High Valyrian

First part: 1/2

Indulgence is based on this post. Inspo Dino Dragon is Acrocanthosaurus.

WC: 13.2K

You felt like you were withering as the weeks passed by here in the North, the same thing every day. You’d wake before your husband in the cold room, groom yourself until you were presentable, and then you would dress in simple clothes such is the Northern fashion, skip breakfast, and go to the cold Gods Wood to ‘pray’. Then you would begin your duties as Lady of Winterfell; planning meals, overseeing finance, delegating resources, planning events, preparing for the long winter cold that the Starks never seem to shut up about, planning the staff's daily doings, going to the Maester for your daily check in. They seemed eager for an heir for Cregan. Then and only then would you eat your one meal of the day, then get up once again.

You wrote daily to your brother and uncle for updates, and then you wrote letters to the alliances you secured through the possibility of marriage to you but as you are married now, they seemed to pull away. Those letters only served to infuriate you, so after a healthy dose of daily hitting the cold stone wall so no one would hear and toss their letters into the fire watching them burn, you would get ready to meet with whatever ladies you were set to entertain today.  

Then afterward, you made it a priority to go greet the commons of Winterfell, though you had to fight the urge to scowl when they smiled at you. Their ugly teeth greeting you, and commons touching you with their dirty hands. The only good thing about the North is the cold stifled the disgusting smell this place would surely have, but when commons got too close or spoke to you, you’d smell their rotten breath and their putrid scent. It was disgusting and every time you went out, you felt like running away, far away from here forever because Winterfell was oh so dull, gray, and cold.

Then after your daily nightmare of interacting with the commons of Winterfell, you’d go back home only to be badgered by the servants of Winterfell seeking guidance. Every day, every single damned day of your existence here in this cold desolate place called Winterfell felt like monotonous hell.

Then finally as the day comes to a close, you’d go to the dinning room only for your husband to bore you with his attempts at conversation. After your husband finishes eating, you’d both go to your shared chambers where you’d do your duty always having him finish fast never bothering to catch your own high then sitting still as you felt his seed sit inside you. 

You’d pretend to sleep until he slept, and then you would wake and sit on a nearby chair that was always cold, and stare at the map of Westeros. It was horribly dreadful as you wallowed in your own self-pity watching your allies dwindle.  

Truly a sad sight of you sitting there in a chair, bare as the day you were born with a sticky feeling between your legs looking at a map for hours never moving in this cold room. Then you’d stand up sometimes and just look at yourself in the mirror and at the nasty scar that was forming on your calf. Sometimes you’d stare so long that you’d hallucinate your face and body beginning to morph ever so slightly into the woman you wished you were. A woman with a crown on her head in the warmth of King’s Landing, a woman who was not wasted on simply being a lady of a cold household. 

Then you’d go to sleep for a couple of hours only to restart your pitiful day all over again. 

It was unbearable some days. On those days you considered simply flying off to the warmth of Essos and never turning back or just flying to King’s Landing and burning everyone in the Red Keep. Though sometimes you’d think you would just be content with burning anything or anyone, the heat would feel nice. 

So on those days, you’d take Acrocanthosaurus and fly him high, high above the clouds, and have him breathe fire and destroy the clouds around you as you relished the feeling of fire around you. You’d pretend he was burning the grimy eyes on you, the Northern accents that grated your ears, Aegon, Aemond, Alicent, Otto, and sometimes you even thought about burning your Grandsire. 

However, as the weeks went by, those days that used to be rare were now becoming all too common. Days where you felt your blood boiling at the desperation of your situation were becoming too frequent for your own good. 

So today as you made your way out to God’s Wood for your daily ‘prayers’ for the first time since you got here, you knelt. You knelt in the God’s Wood but in front of the tree, but in front of Acrocanthosaurus, and simply held him. You felt the warmness contrast the cold of your damp clothes and slowly you began to cry, anger that made you cry, uselessness that made you cry, an emptiness that made you cry.

“There is something wrong with me.” You whispered in a broken voice as tears fell from your eyes onto his snout. “I hate feeling like this, so pathetic. I wonder if anyone else can see me for how I truly am. I had everything, the gods were generous with me but now they don’t even answer my prayers, no matter how high I fly to see them.” Your body shivered from the cold that seeped into your bones. “I don't know why. What did I do? What is wrong with me?” You looked into the eyes of Acrocanthosaurus. “Please just tell me so maybe I can be better. I don't want to end up like my mother, fighting for people to simply accept me. I wanna be loved, I want to be supported like Aegon is, just for simply being born. I simply want to be.” 

…

It had been weeks into your marriage, Cregan had taken you several times, left his seed in you several times, left marks on your body several times, had touched you where no one else ever would, in all except one place, a place that he yearned for more than anything. 

Your lips.

Every time you’d avoid him, you’d never deny him any other part of your body, just your lips and it left him frustrated. What kind of wife does not kiss her own husband? It was all he needed from you. The very thing you denied him. Perhaps you did not feel comfortable with him? So he tried to give you gifts, they were always received and worn, but never once did you kiss him in thanks, he praised you for your work in Winterfell but never once did that ever result in a kiss, he talked to you during your shared dinner or more so his dinner as you never ate, and even then it did not make you any warmer when he took you once more. 

You were simply impossible. Never did you go out of your way to talk to him, touch him, hug him, kiss him. You were hard to talk to, only simply giving him those dismissive hums he was growing to hate. Despite the bed you both shared meant for sleep, he never really did sleep next to you. You gave him nothing on your shared nights or at any time, the only thing he could feel from you was a heartbeat.

Yet despite you only ever completing your obligation to him he never did find himself ever wanting to stop, because the only time he ever really got you to open up was when he got you undressed, and even if it wasn’t the way he wanted you to open up for him, this was still good enough, for now. 

Weeks passed and Cregan watched you, he watched you when he felt the bed shift from when you got up like you did every night after he’s marked you. He watched you sit in the same chair every night and simply stare at a map. He watched you become so lost that you never noticed that he watched you, every breath you took, every time you blinked, every time you shivered from the cold, he’d watch the tips of your breast harden then after a while soften only to harden again when you shivered as if suddenly noticing the cold again. He’d watch from the bed as you sometimes stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror, never noticing him in the same reflection as your mind drifted elsewhere. He watched you as you crawled into bed and slept beside him though the sleep never rejuvenated you. 

Cregan would always wake up as you left your shared bedroom. Cregan would always watch you, your practiced smiles to everyone, or the way you rode your dragon away from here. He always watched you, never understanding why you would not let him in. That night, that first night you told him: 

“I’d rather not share something so intimate.”

Those words haunted him, day and night. Never once did you let yourself be intimate with your husband and Cregan was starting to break. 

He didn’t know what they meant, there was no way you would have known about the kiss. There were only three witnesses and two of those witnesses had good reason to not tell and the third was a dragon who could not speak. You vexed him, vexed him, and frustrated him. You elicited reactions from him no one else has. Soon you were the only thing on his mind and it began to drive him insane. 

So he watched you and watched because it felt like that was the only way he could ever be intimate with you. Not when you were bare and your bodies connected but when he watched you.

He knows you don’t love him, not yet at least. He hopes you will, because it feels like he already loves you. You’re all he thinks about, but he can never tell you, not as you are now. It almost feels like a joke to him. One big joke, a joke he tries to gain insight into by watching you. 

Today when Cregan wakes and he looks over, he sees you, still in the bed beside him. You hadn’t woken up yet. Today he’d watch some more trying to understand. He watched your eyelashes flutter sometimes, he watched your hair become disheveled from moving, he watched your chest rise, and he watched every time you moved.

He reached over and brushed your hair back. It is shined with the light of the fire and your skin reflects the light. He was entranced watching you sleep. His hands traveled along the side of your face stopping on your lips. He touched them, and they were so soft and smooth. He pinched them softly and watched them turn a slight red and only then could he imagine how red your lips would be if you allowed him to kiss you. 

He moved closer to you, to observe every part of your face. He simply lay beside you, his hands never moving from your lips. 

Then you moved and he shut his eyes like a boy who was caught staying up late. He kept them shut pretending he was sleeping. He felt you stir more and finally he felt you take his hand in yours. He relished the feeling of your warm hands against his, though it was only to move his hand away from your lips. The he felt you stand and leave the bed. 

He opened his eyes slightly watching you get ready for the day before you walked out. Cregan quickly got up and put on simple clothes before following after you as quietly and quickly as he could. He watched you walk slowly through the walls of Winterfell as your calf held you back. He watched and followed you to God's Wood. He watched from behind a tree as you knelt, but not in front of the Weir Wood tree, but in front of your dragon, which he has told you to keep out of these woods. 

He watched you as you seemed to pray to your dragon, as you hugged him. He watched you shiver from the cold but felt the warmth your dragon exhaled. It seemed like you were saying something, but he couldn’t hear.  

He watched as your dragon then narrowed its eyes on him and for a second time stopped. He watched you turn your head slightly in his direction. He watched as you ignored him and instead grabbed onto your Dragon. 

He didn’t know why that rubbed him the wrong way.

You ignored him like you didn’t care that he was there. 

You didn’t care.

Cregan watched you fly away and you didn’t care that he was there. 

When you came back from wherever it is you went today, he didn’t greet you like he usually did. 

You didn’t care.

He didn’t talk to you during dinner.

You didn’t care.

He didn’t take you that night.

You didn’t care

For days he did this hoping you would do something, pleading that you would show him something, anything!

You didn’t care for it or his act. 

He did his best to ignore you, though he didn’t last long. How could he? When the Maester had just given him such great news. You were with a child, his first child with you. Something only you could give him, so how could he ignore his wife?  Damn the Wall and damn the South, all he could think of was his wife. 

However, the way things are would not do for him and the future child born between the both of you. There had to be something he could do to remedy this. He will be the first to admit that the game he is playing with you is childish. But he can’t help himself. He feels like a spoiled child crying and whining to get what he wants. He hasn’t acted like this since he was a child, yet this is what you have reduced him to, a little boy playing silly games vying for your attention hoping you’ll notice him and notice how desperate he is for you. 

Another gift perhaps? Surely it would be better than starving himself of you. 

You seemed to express a want for Arra Norrey to raise your children. He’d rather her far away from you, but if it is what you wanted, who was he to deny you that? 

Pulling out fresh ink and the seal of the Starks, he wrote to House Norrey. 

…

As you cried on Acrocanthosaurus, he breathed out steam that warmed your body. You looked into his eyes and saw them looking behind you. You looked over your shoulder and saw no one, however, it was clear someone was there watching you. Acrocanthosaurus reached his claw to you and you climbed onto it as he lifted you to your saddle. Not bothering to look deeper into who was hiding, you set off into the skies, hoping that maybe if you pray up there, the gods will hear you this time. Perhaps you’ll even fly to Old Valyria if you become desperate enough. 

Acrocanthosaurus flew and flew higher and you laid back on him. 

You sighed looking up. “It doesn't change anything. Nothing changes no matter how high I fly.  The Gods will never hear my prayers. I've lost everything. No matter how many times I pray, no matter how many times I plead, it's never coming back, Acrocanthosaurus.” 

You lift your hands to look at the simple clothes you have on. “And I’ve done this for what? For a man whose alliance was already secured? For a man who so clearly does not want me!? For a man who only seems to see me as what the world does already, a womb and nothing more?”

You crawled forward onto Acrocanthosaurus's neck as you held on tight. “Can't I just be loved? Be loved by the realm as they seem to love Aegon? Be loved…” Your voice lowered as you held onto Acrocanthosaurus trying to crawl forward as he made noises.

 “By my husband? Maybe if I had been born of love…” You trail as you finally reach the head of Acrocanthosaurus looking into his green eyes watching you as he flies. 

“You love me, don’t you Acrocanthosaurus?” You heard him make a deep rumble that you felt vibrate your body before he swung you high in the air. You screamed as he caught you with his snout. You sat as he continued flying and you hugged his face, holding on breathing fast.

“I hope that was a yes.” You breathed out as you held onto him. “Yeah, just you and me…forever. Maybe we could stay alone, just me and you, together.” You rested your head against his. 

You felt the rumble of his roar in the depths of your bones. “Yes, and while we're at it, burn the whore’s house down.”

…

After hours of riding and deciding against the idea of burning down the Norrey House, you flew back to Winterfell to a strangely quiet husband. He did not greet you, nor did he talk to you during his dinner, or even take you that night. Though it was all the same to you, one less person to talk to. 

It was all the same to you until it wasn’t. When you saw the coat of arms that held six green thistles crossing through the gates of Winterfell. For days Cregan hadn’t spoken to you, nor marked you. It wasn’t you missed it but he was still your husband, and the nerve of him to invite her to Winterfell. For what!?

Walking as fast as you could with an occasional limp and burst through his door interrupting his study. You saw him lift a brow and you swore you could see the smallest smile. 

“My lord.” You gritted out. “Why was I not told of the Norreys visit?”  He sat in all his glory, the gray stone walls surrounding him, his fur pelt, and the chair of Winterfell. He sat there with what you swore was a smirk and it aggravated you. 

“It’s not a visit.” He spoke as if it was the most normal thing. There were very few things that got under your skin and even fewer people who managed to bring out a resentful side of you. Yet this man here did it all without even trying!? 

Cregan Stark; the bane of your existence.

You spoke trying your best to hide your annoyance. “No? Then why are they here?”

“It is only one person. Arra Norrey.” He responded cooly watching you with eyes that seemed to drink up every expression you gave. 

“Why?” You walked forward looking at him leaning forward with your hands on the desk. 

“On the day of our wedding, you had told Arra Norrey you wished for her help to raise our children.” As Cregan spoke you felt your patience thinning.

“And?” Of course, the Northern brute did not register sarcasm, damn all these Northers who you swear will turn your white hair gray. 

You watched as Creagn stood and walked behind you taking you in his arms as you felt him inhale your scent. You watched as his hands intertwined with yours and finally had them settled on your belly. 

“Now that you are carrying our first child, heir to Winterfell, I figured you’d want her here.” As you listened to Cregan speak you felt your heart drop. Suddenly the feeling of his hands rubbing your stomach felt confining. The heir of Winterfell he called it. You felt as if he had just stabbed you through the heart. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It hurt to know that you were his excuse for bringing back his whore to Winterfell, and while you labored to grow this child, his heir as he called it. Cregan would be off fathering bastards, like his father did.

You knew the men of the realm did not see value in women, but it hurt a little more to know you had married one of them. A tie to your name and to your blood. 

“The Maester told me the news a couple of days ago-” You stepped out of his grasp, cutting him off. You took a second to recompose yourself. You turned and faced Cregan and smiled. 

“I was not aware of the news. Such grand news. However, I must make haste to prepare for Lady Norrey’s arrival.” You spoke in the calmest tone you could muster before dismissing yourself leaving Cregan in the dull, gray, cold room. 

…

The last thing Cregan wanted to do was to greet Arra. After what had happened between them, he never wanted to see her again. Guilt always pooled in him when he saw her. The day you became his wife, the day he was unable to take his eyes from you was the day he decided that what happened under the Weirwood tree was the biggest mistake of his life. 

Arra did not make him yearn. Not even after he kissed her, he did not yearn for more. He did not spend that night thinking of her. The night and days after his wedding only consisted of thoughts of you. In fact, in these past few weeks, the only time she has ever crossed her mind was when he thought that perhaps he should confess his mistake to you. Arra Norrey was only ever was brought up in his mind as a negative thought and in correlation to you. 

Arra Norrey in Cregan’s mind, never stood alone. 

Despite this, he put on his best face and gave a greeting that reflected his position, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. 

He watched as the Norrey guards held out their hands for Lady Arra. She walked with a big smile on her face as she greeted him first then you. As they welcomed her inside, she would not stop singing praises for Winterfell and how wonderful it felt to be invited back, this time as a lady-in-waiting for the Lady of Winterfell. Cregan watched for a reaction, a sign to assure him that he had done well. 

You gave him none. In fact, you seemed the opposite of pleased, you had recently gone on dragon back and had only come back an hour ago. Perhaps….the feast thrown in your honor would please you. 

Cregan felt nervous at your lack of enthusiasm. You were the one who wanted Lady Arra, were you not?

He would try once more to please the soon-to-be mother of his child in the coming days, try and have you lighten up as he prepared to share the news of your pregnancy.  

However, over those days, every time he stepped into your presence for something even as minuscule as holding his hand to your stomach, Arra would be there to ruin the moment. Never could he get you alone, and even then when he seemed to enter the same room as you, he felt Arra’s eyes on him. He had been the one to send the letter requesting her presence, but he did not invite the looks she would give him. Longing looks. Looks he did his best to ignore. Worst yet, you seemed to broil in anger every day since Arra’s arrival. 

Every day you would disappear for hours at a time leaving Arra with his half-sister Sara and consequently in his presence for all those hours you were gone for. Cregan found himself frustrated with your behavior and frustrated because he did not want to face Arra and what he had done on the day of your marriage. 

You were the one who held his hand so eagerly when speaking to Lady Arra about your shared children. How excited you had seemed, but now you detest being around him. Before, at the very least, you would give him dismissive hums, but now all you responded with was your eyes and the movement of your eyebrows, the rest of your face always set in a permanent scowl. 

He didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. He is trying, he really is. Trying to meet your every need and every want any lady could ever want. 

Sighing he pushed back his hair from his face as the background noise finally set. You had left once more early in the morning despite the Maesters advising you not to, leaving him alone with Sara and Lady Arra as they spoke of the upcoming banquet today in your honor.

Cregan figured that if he could not please you or Lady Arra, then perhaps Sara could, her talkative nature made it easy to become friends with. 

“Lady Arra, could you give my sister and I a moment alone?” Cregan spoke without looking up. He often tried to not look towards Lady Arra. 

He heard her obliged and stepped out. 

“Brother?” Sara spoke as she sat in front of him. He lifted his head showing his defeated expression.

“What do you know of my lady wife Sara?” He asked her with a sigh.

“Not much brother, on the day before your wedding I attempted to talk to her, though she seemed in a sour mood only giving me a smile before she left,” Sara spoke as she observed her brother. You had given him such a hard time, though Sara had seen your duties, you had even gone so far as to take what she usually did, giving her the excuse that you did more as Crown Princess and the work in Winterfell paled in comparison.

“Yes, she and her brother, Prince Jacaerys, were at odds that night.” Cregan rationalized.  

“In her days in Winterfell, I have not gotten the chance to speak to her much other than the greeting which she returned. The lady has such structured days that it is hard to find a time when she is not working on something. I believe the only time she spares is for you, Cregan.” Sara offered with a smile. 

Cregan nodded. “She does not seem fond of Lady Arra, though she had-” 

“I would not be fond of the company of Lady Arra if I was your lady wife either,” Sara said, cutting Cregan off. 

Cregan looked at her eyes slightly wide as his palms felt clammy. “Why?”

“Well if my lord husband invited the woman who he was supposed to marry and his childhood friend to be my lady-in-waiting, I would not be pleased either. Why would you even want to invite Lady Arra back to court?” Sara looked at her brother incredulously. 

Cregan felt a little sigh of relief, glad his sister did not know of what happened between Lady Arra and him under the Weirwood tree. However, this information should be unknown to you, how could you have come to find out? “Lady Arra and I were not promised to each other, my wife should not know of that.”

“Well, brother I may have…told her?” Sara mumbled as she watched her brother give her a bewildered look. 

“I did not expect you to invite her back to Winterfell!” Sara defended herself against the incredulous looks her brother threw at her. 

Sighing, Cregan rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Today, during the banquet, you will keep my wife company and try to remedy this…misunderstanding. She needs a friend here that is not someone who was supposed to marry me.”

“Are you asking me to put in a good word you brother?” Sara gave a small teasing smile at her brooding brother. 

“No. I am asking you to fix this. My lady wife seems to always be upset these days.” Cregan spoke as he looked towards the window. Your dragon seemed to return, going back to land in God's wood. 

“How do you know? She seems as she always is. She is silent and does her duties. She still goes to greet the commons of Winterfell. She is doing well brother.” Sara reaches over for her brother’s hand as she looks outside to see your dragon give a loud roar before disappearing out of sight as it lands. 

“She only ever goes riding when she is particularly upset or displeased with something,” Cregan says, giving his sister’s hand a final squeeze before retracting her own hand. “She is pregnant now, Sara. The Maester says such harsh movement such as dragon riding is not good. Sara, she is angry all the time, I can see it every day on her face.”

“She is the blood of the dragon Cregan, of course, her blood runs hot and consequently; her temper. However, she is not in her home, her home is in the South, you know as well as I do, that the North is not welcoming to outsiders, especially Southerners from King’s Landing. It is only natural that she should find comfort in her beast. ” Sara reasons Cregan. 

She watched Cregan give an exasperated sigh. “Fret not brother, tonight, I will be her friend and give a good word.” Sara smiled before excusing herself. 

Cregan watched his sister leave before standing up himself to go to the God’s Wood. Ever since the wedding Cregan has avoided going due to the dragon that now resided there, and the guilt that would build up in him as he looked at the Weir Wood tree. However, if he decided that if he truly wanted this to work, he would not be bullied out of the place his ancestors had been going to for solace by a dragon or guilt. 

Getting closer to God's wood, it felt warmer than the rest of Winterfell. He felt nervous, yes he is Cregan Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, but that does change that a dragon is a dragon. Dragons do not care for names or titles, only for blood, Valyrian blood, blood he does not possess. Despite this, he pushed forward into the new warmth of the woods. As he walked deeper he saw the growth of flowers he had never seen before. The more small life grew, the closer he went to the Weir Wood tree. Eventually, it was so warm he took off his coat and sat down on the bench near the Weir Wood.

This had been the place where he kissed a woman who was not his wife, in front of the ever-gazing eyes of the Weir Wood tree. Looking into the black water, which was so black it could work as a mirror. While looking into the black mirror he saw a figure moving across the pond. 

A large head reflected and Cregan simply looked at the creature through the water. The head was long, low, and narrow. Its eyes are big and green with black slits for pupils. The outside of its upper jaw up to its nasal bone looked rough and textured. Long, low ridges arose from the nasal bones, running along each side of the snout from the nostril back to the eye, where they continued onto the tear duct bone. As Cregan kept looking at the large dragon through the reflection, the dragon looked towards him. It did not bear its teeth but yet Cregan counted nineteen curved serrated teeth protruding from its mouth.  

From the pond Cregan watched it stand taller showing off its stocky body covered in scaly skin. It stretched itself seemingly intent on going towards Cregan now baring its teeth. Cregan looked up from the pond standing from the bench ready to back away if need be. Though despite the fact he had just spent the last couple of minutes looking at the dragon he never noticed you standing next to your dragon. 

It wasn’t until you stood in front of it stopping it from crossing the pond. He watched as your dragon nuzzled against you, more specifically towards your belly, blowing smoke, and even from the distance Cregan could feel the heat. It was hot, scalding hot, and he began to sweat. 

He began to worry that perhaps it may be too much heat for the child you carried, however, before he could say anything he was blinded by the large puff of smoke your dragon exhaled. His eyes burned from the heat and it wasn’t long before his skin felt like it was boiling. 

It hurt and he could hardly breathe, he panicked, but not for himself, but for you. What about you? What about the child in your womb? He found himself trying to yell your name, coughing with each breath he took. He yelled, coughed, and tried to find his way to you through the smoke. As he coughed he nearly fell tripping over a protruding root from the ground. Though suddenly with a large gust of wind, the smoke fell away leaving Cregan alone. You were nowhere in sight and your dragon was lying down ignoring his existence. 

Cregan stood up straight and wiped the tears away that had gathered from the smoke. 

“Cregan!” He heard a voice shout. Turning he saw Arra walking towards him. She was the last person he wanted to be seen with. Not with your dragon now opening an eye and looking at them both, where weeks ago he had committed an act that should never be repeated. He doubted whatever you had told your dragon would keep him at bay should Arra attempt to bring up what happened that day, or if she did anything he reckoned. 

“Lady Arra.” He spoke in a monotone voice. 

“Are you alright? I saw all the smoke and your shouts for the Lady, I rushed over as fast as I could.” Arra spoke as she came closer to him, seemingly trying to wipe soot away from his face. 

Cregan backed away, keeping a distance from her. He watched her face become confused before quickly giving a respectful smile. 

“I am alright, I was simply looking for my lady wife, have you seen her?” 

Arra nodded and stated that she had only recently entered your chambers to prepare for a bath. Content with the answer he left, hoping Arra wouldn’t be foolish enough to remain in the God’s Wood alone with your dragon. 

…

“The dragon’s blood runs hot maester. I assure you I will not burn if you increase the temperature.” You spoke feeling the water which was lukewarm. 

The Maester spoke to you trying to reason.“You may not burn my lady, but the child you bear has Northern blood-” 

That title, ‘my lady,’ it irked you. Something that came along with this cold place, something you were not used to when all your life you had been called ‘your grace,’ it was your proper title and to have someone speak to you in such a manner, it irritated you. You were still a Targaryen, you did not take the Stark name, a noble woman never take her husband’s name. Especially not a royal one who was set to inherit the Iron Throne. You were born a Targaryen and would remain one for the rest of your life. Your mother was born a Targaryen and even when she married your father, Laenor Velaryon, she remained a Targaryen, when she bore you, you took your mother’s name, Targaryen. The child you had growing inside you would also bear the name Targaryen, by right, your child was a Targaryen.

“The dragon’s blood runs strong within me, and it will run strong in my child. I am a cold maester, I have been cold for weeks. Can I not have one hot bath?” You countered cutting him off. Winterfell rarely saw the sun and you could not enjoy the warm rays of sunlight you had in King’s Landing or on Dragon Stone. The only warmth you ever found was near Acrocanthosaurus or hot baths.

“When you are not with child my lady, you may have the water as scalding as you’d like, however, until then, this is the warmest I will allow.” You felt the slightest twitch at the title as the Maester finished. He seemed determined to not let you have your bath. So finally, desperate for some alone time, you agreed and dismissed everyone.

As you disrobed and slipped into the bath, you relished in the slight warmth it provided. It felt good to rid yourself of the scent of dragon. You loved Acrocanthosaurus, you really did, but it didn’t change the fact that dragons didn’t exactly smell the best. 

You cannot say how long you remained in the bath as every part of your being soaked in the scented oils of the bath, your ears plugged from having half of your head submerged, your hair stuck to your forehead and your hand subconsciously resting atop your stomach which now protrude outward ever so slightly. While you were born and given the name Targaryen, as was agreed upon when your mother married your father, it seemed that your father still resonated with you heavily. You always love baths and the weight the water takes from you. Weightless, a feeling that only the seas and skies can give you.

However, the peace broke when you heard someone enter. Giving out a deep sigh of annoyance you rose from the water and you felt warm water fall out from your ears as you watched Lady Arra lay out the dress on the bed. It was the dull colors of the North. You had just about enough of all these dull colors. You wanted vibrant colors for your house, bright crimson colors or deep azures from House Velaryon. 

“Take it away.” You spoke as you sat properly in the bath and drops of water cascaded over you. 

“My lady, this is traditional wear of the North and it is in honor of the next heir of Winterfell…” Lady Arra spoke as you pulled up the dress trying to show off the minimalistic design. As you listened to her, you lifted a brow at the title. The assumption of your child being heir of Winterfell and not heir of the Iron Throne grated you. 

“I don’t care. Take it away and bring me….” You told her to roll your eyes again. “One of my Southern dresses, a red one, with dragons embroidered.” Your child may be fathered by a Northern brute, but you were Southern through and through, and so would your child. 

“Such tight corsets would not be good for the babe you carry, my lady. Southern dresses are also not good for the North, you will run cold.” Arra told you as she walked closer with a robe to help you get out of the bath.

There was that title again, ‘My Lady.’ A title that insulted you. You felt your annoyance grow every time Arra spoke to you.

“I am the dragon’s daughter, my blood runs hot. Now fetch me the dress.” You spoke with an absolute tone. They would not claim your child as a Stark, you will show your alliance with your name. Your child would be Targaryen, as were you. The throne will always belong to a Targaryen.

“My lady I don’t think that would-” 

“Nobody cares…what you think.” You cut Arra off as you stood in all your glory, steam radiating off of your body as you stepped out of the tub and standing in front of her, your eyes met her plain ones You took the robe from her and put it on before looking her up and down unamused. “So bring me my red dress with dragons embroidered.” You spoke in a slow tone as if trying to dumb it down for her. 

You watched her look down before nodding and excusing herself.

…

As you walked into the great hall of Winterfell, you felt all their eyes on you. Your deep crimson dress contrasted the dull grays and blacks of everyone else and your elaborate Southern hair-do stood out from the boring plain ones that Northern ladies wore. 

You were made for the limelight, born for others to look to, born to rule. That was your purpose, a heavy one to carry. 

As you sat next to Cregan, you nodded allowing the feast to begin. From the table you watched everyone scarf down the food and you felt your eyebrows crease in disgust. You felt sick when your own food was placed in front of you. The white meat was glistening under the candlelight and the smell wafting in your nose nearly made you lose your lunch. As you pushed the plate away you drank water, content with only that. You rested back drinking while looking upon the people of the North. The Northerners who thought you were bearing their heir. This was your child, your heir, not theirs, not anyone but yours. 

Just like that, you found yourself standing with your chalice lifted in the air giving a forced smile. You waited until it was silent and everyone watched you, the candlelight casting a dark shadow over you. 

“I’d like to make a toast, as the newest Lady of Winterfell and the alliance this marriage between my lord husband, Cregan Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, and I, your Crown Princess.” You smiled as you reminded them of your position. “We hold this banquet in honor of the babe Cregan has gifted me.” You looked down at Cregan with the softest smile you could conjure, though it was an empty one. He looked up to you and as he nodded towards you then faced his men, and you swore he sat up a little straighter. 

“Who will be born Targaryen, as I was, and will be my heir to the Iron Throne as I am to my Mother, your Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen.” You felt your smile widen into a grin as you saw the people in the hall make the realization that you had every intention of taking the Throne, making you first and foremost, their Crown Princess and then Lady of Winterfell.

“So I toast to the future heir of the Iron Throne.” The cheer they gave was loud as they drank. You gave a small sip. “And should the Gods be generous, Cregan will give me more children who will then bear the name Stark.” With a promise that the Stark name would live, the cheers increased in volume, though the only person you looked at was Arra Norrey who had a neutral face on, which amongst happy flushed places, looked misplaced. She met your eyes and you greeted her with a smug smile. 

Cregan was your husband, for better or worse.

Finally sitting down keeping your eyes on her, to drive your point further, once more, as you did on your wedding day, you took Cregan’s hand and held it near your belly, which now carried your heir.  

As you sat happy, you felt the hand that held Cregan’s being lifted. You looked and watched as Cregan brought your hand to his lips and gave a long soft kiss. You looked deep into his eyes and for the first time, you realized just how gray they were. Never had you really looked towards Cregan as you did now. The forming creases on his face from stress, his long brown hair, but he was handsome, more so now as he looked up at you mumbling a “your grace” acknowledging you as his Crown Princess. 

For the first time since you had met Cregan, since you had married him, since you had been with him, a genuine smile crept on your face unwillingly, forgetting the sin he committed against you. He looked like perfection at that moment. Such gray eyes you had never seen, a sharp nose, a nicely sculpted face. If you had a son, you desperately hoped he inherited his father’s handsome and manly looks rather than the beauty Targeryens were known for. 

“More children, may the gods bless us.” He murmured against your hand which was still resting on his lips. You felt a pulse of desire hearing his Northern accent. Never had you wanted to hear the damned Northern accent more than right now. You could imagine it, hearing his rough voice and pronunciation whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he gives you another babe. The mere thought made you take a deep breath to calm yourself. You felt the warmth of his soft lips leave your hand and you felt almost deprived of his touch. His lips which you had forbidden yourself from touching. 

Why? 

At this very moment while looking at your husband who had done so much for you, giving you expensive gifts, accommodating your every want, giving you the warmest room in Winterfell, excused your leaves with Acrocanthosaurus, putting up with your attitude all without complaining, and giving you an heir for yourself. You honestly couldn’t remember why you would deny yourself such a man. 

You looked into his pretty gray eyes and then down at his perfect lips. You felt yourself lean closer into him seeking him out. For the first time in weeks, you sought him out. As you came closer and felt his breath, which smelt of sweet wine, you grew eager to taste him. Taste the flavor of the wine which was surely left on his tongue. 

Cregan reached his hand to cradle your face and you leaned into the rough calloused hand. Despite the fact that he is a Northerner who came from the cold North, you swore his hand was the warmest one you’ve ever felt. A warm hand to comfort you in the never-ending cold Winterfell seemed to produce. 

Just as your lips touched his own you turned away as someone called for your attention. As you looked up, you saw none other than your lady-in-waiting. 

Lady Arra Norrey. 

Suddenly the cold reality came crashing down on you. Your refusal to share something that should only be yours reminded you of why you treated Cregan Stark, the way you treated him. What he represented to you. The loss of your home, your throne, your place next to your mother as you both fought for your birthright. As you drew your face away from him and his warm hand you looked up towards the woman who stole what was yours. 

Your eyebrow quipped up in annoyance as you looked at her. To your side, you heard Cregan give a sigh, it appeared you weren’t the only one who didn’t want her presence anymore. You didn’t want to see her ever. She too was a constant reminder, a reminder that she ruined something for you. 

As you tuned out her little ramblings you simply looked at her to see what she had that you did not. She wasn’t prettier than you, you spoke better than her, were probably better educated than her, you had a dragon and she didn’t. Why would Cregan want her? Suddenly you felt very annoyed by her. Annoyed by her presence as you had been these last couple of days. Annoyed that she caused you to doubt yourself. Annoyed that she would forever remain a stain on your marriage. 

“My Lady, I am grateful for you and I am also thankful to Lord Stark for extending the invitation.” Arra finished as she bowed and excused herself.

My Lady. She had called you my lady again. Insult after insult she gave you. You wanted her gone. 

Permanently. 

You kept your eyes as she went to converse with other Northern ladies. Ladies you never bothered to entertain. You watched her for as long as you sat, it wasn’t until the bastard of Winterfell tore your eyes away by tapping you. You looked at her with a perplexed look. The nerve of her to touch you. You watched as she smiled at you and as she was to open her mouth to speak, you stood up and excused yourself with a flat smile before she could get a word out. You could care less about what a bastard had to say.

As you made your way through the crowd to the corner where Lady Arra and her friends talked and laughed. You approached behind Lady Arra and the other ladies around her quickly fell silent. 

“Lady Arra.” You spoke and you watched her give a small yelp. 

“Oh, my lady, I was simply speaking to them about how wonderful it is to be your lady-in-waiting.” She gave a smile. 

Once again she insulted you and you felt your eye give a small twitch. You watched her take a breath and open her mouth again to speak. Before she could you raised your hand telling her to stop. She stayed silent. Then you looked behind her at the ladies whose names you didn’t bother with giving them a lifted brow. No doubt you’d have to spell it out to them to leave you. Luckily at least one of them had common sense and left. The rest followed like sheep. 

You looked Arra up and down with disgust and annoyance present on your face.

“That day in the GodsWood. You did something you weren’t supposed to do.” You spoke with a blank smile. You watched as Arra’s face fell. “Keep your face girl.” You were reprimanded. “That day you angered the dragon, my dragon. Who nearly burned Cregan alive, because of you. What do you think will happen when I’m not there to stop him? If he was willing to burn the Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell. Do you think he would think twice about burning an insignificant girl, from a minor useless house that annoys me?” 

You watched her look away from you and towards the ground before looking back up at you with pleading eyes. “My lady, I never meant to annoy anyone!”

“But you are.” You stressed anger boiling threatening to spill over and cause a scene here in the middle of a banquet. “You’re annoying me right now. Every breath you draw in my presence annoys me, everything you do within these walls annoys me, so here is what I want you to do. I want you to leave my presence. Leave Winterfell right now and go back to whatever part of the North you belong to where they use pinecones as money.” You gave her an annoyed smile struggling to keep your face neutral. 

“My lady, Lord Stark, Warden of the North has-” You cut her off having enough of being called a lady. “Your Crown Princess is telling you to leave Winterfell. Whether in a carriage or a casket, I will be merciful enough to let you have that choice.” You watched her face drop at your implication. “So…are you going to try and wake the dragon who has already decided to burn you alive for your insolence against me, or will you appeal to me? Who’s still mulling it over?” 

You smiled as she bowed, mumbling a small ‘your grace’ before leaving the banquet. A smirk grew on your face as you watched her leave. 

Content with your work and a small smile on your face you went to walk back to your seat next to Cregan and on your side, the bastard of Winterfell. Despite the clear insult, you were happy with your work today. 

“Your grace, you are the eye banquet!” A cheerful voice sang next to you and you felt your smile nearly falter. 

The bastard of Winterfell stood next to you with a wide smile. Sara Snow. The same Sara Snow who had thrown a small look towards your brother Jacaerys during your wedding. As if a bastard would ever be worthy of your brother. Your brother was recognized by the crown and was named heir to Driftmark. This bastard had nothing to her name and only lived at the mercy of her brother. 

“Well, I am a Targaryen.” You give a smile as you look at her from your peripheral not bothering to even face her as you speak. 

“I am happy that you have taken well to your duties here in Winterfell. Even more so now that you have taken mine.” She spoke with such enthusiasm it hurt to listen. However, when she hugged your arm you looked down in shock that she would dare touch you. However, you kept face and kept that same practiced smile on your face. 

“I know my brother can be difficult at times and he can make such rash actions, but he means well. He has gone through so much in his youth. You must understand. However, you should not fret sister-” The moment she said sister you turned her out. You were in utter disbelief that someone who was not your family would touch you so casually.

 A bastard nonetheless. 

A bastard who was making excuses for her brother. She was an annoyance to you. A shame and right after you had just rid yourself of one. 

Breathing in you smiled towards her facing your body slightly more to her. “Who are you?” You asked with an unfaltering smile. 

“I’m sorry for your grace?” Sara looked towards you with furrowed brows and a smile on her face.

“Who are you Cregan?” You resisted rolling your eyes at her. You stood in front of her to block her face from Cregan who you could feel staring towards you.

“His sister,” Sara spoke in low tones as her grip around your arm lessened.

“Half-sister no? You have a different mother, yes?” You corrected her. She needed to learn her place. A bastard had no place talking to you or even a seat at the main table.

“Yes,” Sara spoke in even lower tones as she stared down in shame, feeling your burning eyes and unforgiving smile on her.

“Did the late Lord Stark remarry after Cregan’s mother?” You feigned confusion as tilted your head to the side slightly.

“No…” This she whispered out as you felt her hands start shaking a bit. 

“So that makes you what?” You lowered your face to her level as you leaned in with a mocking smile and fraudulent innocence. 

“A…” She couldn’t even say it as you saw tears on her waterline. It pleased you to know that you were the one to properly educate her on the place of bastards in society. 

“Bastard.” You finished for her as you lifted your hand which she had cupped in both of hers. “Even a common true-born is higher than a bastard.” You kept your smile as you peeled her hands off of yours. Finally, as her arms dropped and you forced her to look you in the eye your smile dropped revealing an unamused disgusted face.  “You ever presume to touch me or call me sister again, I will have Acrocanthosaurus burn your already average-looking face off. Nobody wants to marry a bastard, much less an ugly one.” 

You watched her give you an incredulous look. “And don’t ever make excuses for your brother in my presence again, do you hear me?” A futile effort on Cregan’s part to justify what he did on your wedding day. Your face twitched slightly as you watched her nod. Deciding you’ve had enough, you gave a flat smile and turned away from her, walking towards Cregan to inform him you were retiring for the night. 

…

Cregan watched you walk away. The Southern crimson dress contrasted the dark walls of the Great Hall and the clothes of everyone else. The Southern up-do of your hair, elaborate with jewels, twists, and braids. Gold dripped from your fingers and your neck. You were regal, and it was all he could bother to pay attention to, even if his sister came back with a solemn face and Arra had left after you’d finished talking to her. 

You had made a promise to him. More heirs, made by you and him. It was all his mind focused and soon his pants felt tight on him. He watched you until the doors of the Great Hall finally closed, your figure leaving his sight. He replayed the memory over and over in his head. His lips are on the back of your hand. Your eyes looking into his and a small smile on your lips. Lips that he was so close to kissing tonight. His hands are on your face tonight, when before, he was only able to touch you when you slept. The weight you pressed on his hand when you leaned into him. Everything about it was perfect. You were perfect, and tonight he was so close to tasting it. 

However, it is ruined when Lady Arra interrupts. A shame, though he supposes he could ease you tonight, as you seemed in a rather generous mood. To carefully undo the laces that held your Southern dress together, he’d hate to ruin such a dress that looked so pretty on you. The golds around your neck and on your fingers. It all served as a stark reminder of where you were from, and where he is from. Polar opposites. However, opposites attract, don’t they? 

The feeling in between his legs was beginning to hurt. So while he would normally ask his sister what was wrong with her, his mind was only clouded with one thing. 

You. 

So ignoring his sister, he stood and left the banquet, chasing after you.

When he entered you chambers he found you bent over placing your golden jewelry in a chest. 

He loved Southern dresses.

He raked the room finding it filled with your Southern ladies-in-waiting, and luckily for him, no Arra Norrey. 

With a look, the ladies bowed and left. He watched you look at him over your shoulder and he heard a sigh. 

Seems he would have to ease you just a little back into the woman he had in his hands hours before. Walking behind you he hugged you, praising himself. Northern dresses tended to be thick, better for insolation and keeping the women warm. These Southern dresses were thinner, let him feel you. Cregan would make sure to have more Southern dresses made for you. 

Inhaling your scent he pressed soft kisses against your exposed shoulder and like always you gave him better access to your neck. His hands traveled up your front side against the hard corset you wore until one of his hands cradled your face and the other lay on your stomach. He tilted your face towards him intent on finally claiming your lips after weeks of agony. 

As he went to kiss you, he felt your head tilt down and he instead made contact with your forehead. He sighed and closed his eyes in annoyance. 

“I am already with child Cregan.” You spoke in low tones as he rubbed your belly though he could only feel the hardness of the corset.  

He let your face go and buried his face in your neck. 

“Why do you deny me my wife?” He mumbled against you. He felt you shudder under him. Then he felt your finger massaging his scalp and you rested your head on his. 

“Why don’t you understand?” Cregan heard you mumble and he lifted his head looking towards you. You looked at him with unmoving eyes, a tired look on your face. 

“What is there to understand? Every night you deny me.” Cregan walked in front of you cupping your face with both hands looking down at you. “I have played your game, wife, what more can I give you?”  

“What game Cregan?” You lifted your hands holding onto his wrist, perplexed by his answer.

“I have tried to give you everything! I have respected your space, I have tried to understand you, and I have done more than what anyone else would do in my position!” His grip hardened on the sides of your face as he looked trying to decipher you. 

“It is truly a shame, I thought you were an honest man.” You pulled your face away from his hand as you pushed him away, narrowing your eyes at him. “You don’t think I know of your whore!?”

“What whore? I have been faithful to you, I have never needed anyone but you.” There was no way you would’ve known about the kiss, and in any case, you were not married to him yet. Though Cregan knew they were excuses. To kiss someone under a weird wood tree. Any Stark knows that only oaths are sworn under that tree.

“What happened that day? The day where you were nearly burned?” You finally asked him, your patience had run out. You watched him as he avoided your eyes and stayed silent. 

You scoffed and an unbelieving smile on your face. “You cannot even face yourself! I would’ve never thought it of you. You didn’t seem the lying kind, had it not been for my dragon, I would’ve been none the wiser.” You shouted at him while he stood in silence. You walked closer to him, your eyes narrowed in anger and betrayal. “And you never would’ve told me. You’d be happily prancing around with her, behind my back whilst I labor?” 

“Fine! Yes, I kissed her-” Cregan admitted, but never did he ever think of taking her as a mistress. 

“At the very place where you and I wed!” You cut him off. You didn’t know what to name this feeling. It was humiliation and something else. Something for which you did not know the words for, and it caused you to doubt yourself. What did she have that you did not? 

“It was a mistake, one I will spend the rest of my days atoning for it! I do not care for her!” Cregan spoke desperately trying to make you understand that Arra means nothing to him.

“And this!” You made a gesture towards yourself and him. “What a waste! This is such a waste!” Your hands covered your face as if trying to hide you from the ridiculousness of it all. “This marriage could’ve been so much more! If you had just- IF YOU HAD JUST THOUGHT WITH WHAT IS IN BETWEEN YOUR EARS AND NOT WHAT'S IN BETWEEN YOUR LEGS!” You screamed at him, it was the first time you had ever raised your voice at him. Raise your voice at anyone in Winterfell. 

“It was a mistake and I am sorry, truly!” He gripped onto you trying to keep you still as he reasoned with you. “You are the only woman in my life! Never once did I ever think of Arra once you and I married. Not another woman has held me as you have! I do not ask for your forgiveness, not yet, but I ask for understanding. I ask that you know that you are the only woman I will ever love, the only woman I will ever give children to. You are the mother of my children. You are all that matters to me!” He held your face and you tore away from him

“You have disrespected me, Cregan! Humiliated me in front of someone who doesn’t compare to me in any way. Yet you…” You breathed before looking at him with an accusatory look.

“You made me doubt my worth.” You spoke in low tones as if confirming it to yourself. 

“Do you know how much I was worth before I married you?” Your voice rose as you pointed to yourself. “I secured crucial alliances all with the possibility of my hand! Not even a promise, but just a possibility that my blood, the blood of the dragon, would flow through their family line!”

Cregan watched you and though you yelled at him, he felt pity for you. All you saw yourself, all your worth was from your name. From what you stood to inherit.  

“I am worth a thousand of your men and twice as many noblewomen because of my blood! There is not a power that can hope to stand against the House of the Dragon if it were united!” You yelled your chest oscillating as you attempted to catch your breath. Your hair was loose as golden trinkets fell on the floor. 

Looking at the gold that fell, you pulled out another piece and threw it at Cregan who had just been standing there, giving you this…a look you couldn’t describe but it irked you.“Do you see this gold? All of it means nothing when compared to me! Others wear gold to elevate themselves in the eyes of others. When I have gold, the gold wears me. I elevate anything I touch and you make me doubt myself! And for what? A lady of a lower house!? Nearly common!?” You yelled. That woman was nothing to you, yet he saw fit to degrade you to her level. It was unthinkable. You were heir to the Iron Throne, the blood of the Dragon. You would always be worth more than anyone else. 

You watched as Cregan stepped closer, and as he did you stepped back. For every step you took backward, he took one forward. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for this man. Someone who did not see your worth. Someone who had you questioning everything about yourself. Suddenly your back hit the warm rock. You had never noticed the walls being warm. They always seemed so cold to you. 

Cregan’s warm rough hands cradled your face once more. You tried to move but his grip was firm. He had never used this force with you, always letting you tear yourself away from him, but now, you were caught between a wall and him. 

“Let me go.” You hissed out looking away from him. 

“That is not what you are worth to me,” Cregan spoke in a low voice. 

Your eyes turned to look at him with confusion. “What?” It was a small whisper that came out a bit muffled with his hands on your face. 

“The blood of the dragon means nothing to me. I did not agree to marry you for the blood you carry.” He spoke as he watched your face morph into a puzzled look then into a defensive one. Your hands came to hold his own while they held your face. “You are to be the mother of my children. You simply are yourself to me. That in itself is worthy enough. Your blood was not the one that captured me when you first kissed me, even if it was not where I wanted you to kiss me.”

You felt disappointment pool in your stomach as he spoke. “I only matter because I will be the mother of your children!?” 

Cregan sighed as his thumb caressed your cheek. “You matter to me because you are my wife. If you were not, then you would matter to me because I made an oath to you. You matter to me not because of the worth you carry, but because you are mine and I am yours. There is no one else.” He rested his forehead against yours.

As you felt his skin against yours, you wanted to rip yourself away. Your entire life has been defined by one thing. Your blood. Blood of the Dragon, Blood of the Seas. It had been questioned, your worth had been brought into question. All your life had been spent telling you how important you were because you were your mother's heir. Always had to act the part, always had to look the part because your it was your blood’s worth, your worth was always called into question. For someone to tell you this, for the very man who had managed to make you feel as if you lost all your worth by marriage, for him to tell you this, it was like poison to you. No one can live with such poison. The hope that it gives you, the hope he gives you. It is a poison that anyone could become addicted to. If taken away, it would kill you. 

You shook your head refusing to accept the poison he was feeding you, but as much as you shook your head, you tilted your face upwards, closing your eyes, a yearning that should not be there. 

You felt his lips brush yours. A slight roughness to them, and before you could register, you found yourself pulling his hands away from your face desperate to kiss him.

However, he lifted his face upwards instead of kissing your forehead. 

A pang of humiliation hit you hard as you looked down. Even now he humiliated you, even as you gave in to him.

You felt his hands cradle your face again and made you look up. But your face was a shade of red that no matter how hard you tried to push down, it wouldn’t leave. This room that had once been so cold, now you felt as if it was burning your skin. 

“I swear to you, my Crown Princess. Your grace, now and forever, till the end of our days. I will always tell you the truth, truths about yourself, and truths about myself. Never will I give you a reason to doubt me. I will not let myself have you until you accept your worth to me.” Once more he leaned forward and you let yourself close your eyes not having the will to say anything back. 

You felt his soft lips against your cheek before he let you go. 

You stood there as he let you go. You kept your eyes closed as you felt the cold air hit your face when he walked behind you, his body no longer shielding you from the cold. 

You felt his hands on your hair, taking out the gold pieces and undoing your braids. Then you felt his hands undo the laces on your dress. As he took your arm pulling out from the sleeve of the dress, then doing the same to the other. Until your dress fell down leaving you bare, safe for your undergarments. 

Despite that, you felt awfully vulnerable as his hand went to take yours. You had been bare in front of him many times before, but this time, you felt like hiding away from him. Your hand went to cover your breasts as he sat down on the bed facing you. 

Cregan took your hand and pulled you to him. You fell onto his lap as he laid back. You hid yourself in him. He fixed himself on the bed bringing you with him as you stayed hiding within his chest. You both stayed like that. His hands wrapped around you holding close to him as his fingers traced symbols on your back, and you relished the safety of being able to hide away and the warmth he provided. In the same room where the cold had been unbearable, you now took cover from it using your husband.

…

You cried out shaking your head begging. “I can’t, I can’t! Make it stop! Please! Please make it stop, I can’t, I can’t!”

“You must push!” The Master spoke as the wet nurse cleaned the sweat from your brow. 

“No! No! No, I can’t!” You cried as you felt the excruciating pain between your legs. The child refused to come out, and you couldn’t anymore. It was too much. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t” It was all you could say and only stopped to gasp for air. 

“It’s too much, it hurts, it hurts. Please just make it stop” You continued to cry. 

Cregan stood by you watching as you struggled. He watched the Maester stand as Cregan followed.

“Help her.” It was a command. Cregan had watched you struggle for hours, but the child simply wouldn’t come. The Maester looked at him with a helpless look as your cries continued in the background. 

“I do not think the child will live like my lord.” The Maester spoke. 

“Will my wife?” A child, they could make another, but you? After these past months, everything he’s built with you? There was nothing that could replace you. 

“Possibly, at the expense of the child my lord.” The Maester spoke with such carefulness. “We can extract the child and it will live…however it would cut into the mother’s womb directly-”

“No, save my wife.” Cregan rejected the idea immediately. There would be too much blood loss, he would lose you and that wasn’t an option for him.

“If the child does not live, there is a possibility that she will become infertile.” The Maester tried once more. “Save. My. Wife.” Was all Cregan said before returning to your side as you cried. 

“They're going to take out the baby, it’ll be over soon.” Cregan watched you nod as tears spilled from your eyes. 

He watched the Maester as you gave one final push.

“The child! It was crowned! Push once more! Once more, the child will be out!” The Maester urged and gave it all you had, you pushed and you heard a cry. 

Cregan furrowed his brows. The Maester had said only one of you would live. Cregan stood up leaving you to carry your newborn. 

“What did you do?” Cregan asked in a low tone, narrowing his brow at the Maester. “I did nothing, I swear it. It was your wife. She persevered.” The Maester assured him.

Cregan looked back at you, a gleam of sweat on your face as you held your child. White hair on the top of its head. 

“A boy your grace.” The wet nurse smiled. You looked towards Cregan and gave him a smile and he returned it. 

Cregan walked to you and kissed your forehead as he looked down at his son, your heir. “He looks like you.” 

“A shame, I wished he took after his father.” Cregan gave another smile as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“Hold him.” You told him as you handed him off to your husband smiling, feeling the warmth radiating off your husband. Though you think the window is left open, because even as you felt Cregan’s warmth, the cold air seemed to overwhelm it. You shivered a bit as you looked towards your child and Cregan. 

“A Valyrian name. He was born Targaryen, as his mother.” Cregan leans against you, warming you. 

“Meaximus.” You whispered out smiling. “Meaximus Targaryen, my heir.”

Cregan went once more to kiss your face, but before he could process it, you moved yourself so that you would be kissing his lips. Your lips fit perfectly against his, moving in perfect motions as if this was your millionth kiss when it was your first one. The first kiss was shared with your husband. 

As you broke off the kiss to breathe, you gave him a smile. “You are my love,” You kissed him again. “My joy.” Once more you kissed him cupping his face. “You are my refuge.” Kissing him as if it were the last and he returned your eagerness. “And the truth of my life.” Once more you kissed him hoping to feel the warmth you had spent the last months basking in.

However as you kissed him, the warmth that he once filled with was overwhelmed by a cold. As you pulled away from him shivering and giving a smile you pulled the sheets up trying to keep yourself warm. You had never felt this cold, the fire in your blood, never allows you to run this cold.

But here you were, shivering. “P-perhaps they should…close the window no? It’s cold Cregan. He could catch a cold.” 

Cregan furrowed his brows. There were no windows open, in fact, this room was the warmest in all of Winterfell. He had made it so, knowing you much preferred warmth. He looked back toward the Maester whose hands were coated in blood. A slow shake of his head made Cregan shiver. He looked back at you, the flush of your face that always seemed to be there was now gone, and instead, your teeth clattered and your eyes looked tired. 

“Come!” Cregan spoke in desperation trying to keep you warm. “Just come,” You listened and cuddled close to Cregan, fingertips touching the cheek of your son who flinched away and made a face as he began to cry. 

“I’m cold Cregan.” You spoke as your hands touched his face. You were trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist. 

Cregan felt your cold hands draw him closer and once more he kissed you, but your lips were no longer warm, instead, they were cold and he felt them chapped. He leaned back. He watched you give a small smile as you began to cry. 

You looked up at him, then down to your son and as you did a lone tear escaped your eye. You didn’t want to die. Not yet, not now. Not when everything was going so well. You wanted to live, to have more children with Cregan, give him an heir. To see your son grow and you hope that he inherited his father's rugged handsomeness and not the beauty from the Targaryens. To see your little brothers meet your son. To see your mother rise to the throne and bless your son. You didn’t want to die. Not yet. However, it didn’t stop the black dots from taking your view. 

“Please…” You heard it faintly being spoken, like prayer or more so begging and you faintly registered a feeling of something on your lips. Closing your eyes you leaned into the kiss. A final kiss from your husband.

…

“He is beautiful,” Rhaenyra whispered as she looked at the boy whose beauty was unparalleled by any other child she had ever seen while tears escaped her eyes. She watched as Cregan nodded. The son between you and Cregan would be beautiful. A beauty that would transcend time and be sung about in ballads hundreds of years from now. 

Your son, your heir, your legacy. All that remained of her firstborn child. Her first and only daughter had lived with her. Try as she might, Rhaenyra could not stop the tears from falling. Her daughter, her heir, lost to childbirth as her mother was. Your dragon, Acrocanthosaurus, stood off to the side ready to burn you when commanded. Cregan had been kind enough to bring your body back to her to be burned like how all Targaryens left. 

Once more, she was made to burn her own family. As she tried to move forward, she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to burn her daughter. Not her daughter. So she stayed still watching what remained of you in his father's arms. 

“Dracarys!” Rhaenyra heard and she turned her head to find Jacaerys with that same look she once had when she had to burn her mother. Rhaenyra watched her sons, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey look at their sister as she burned. Little Aegon and Viserys in Daemon’s arms as he watched ahead with an unmoving face. 

Then she looked over to see your son who did not look upon your burning body but instead looked up towards Acrocanthosaurus. A wobbly smile grew on Rhaenyra’s face as she began to sob. 

The only thing that remained of you, it would only make sense if your blood once again reclaimed Acrocanthosaurus.

Notes: Jon Snow would hate to see reader coming. She does not fw these bastards 😭

Took inspo from Cerslay of Cuntly Rock (this edit pushed me to finish it)

All credit to tik toker: moonqsnat

To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

[thrillered]

"You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnew x Reader | Pt. 9

Pt. 9: Fallout

-

-

I'm so sorry o7

-

-

You woke up early, the birds were just beginning their morning songs. For a moment it was bliss, you were secure in Spencer’s arms as he curled around you, leaving a strong arm around your waist. 

You often woke up cuddling with Spencer when you or he slept over, your bodies like magnets, naturally finding their way together in the night. This time it was different. Everything was different. 

Your mind reeled with memories of the previous night. It all felt very dreamy but if you focused hard enough you could still feel the pressure of his lips on yours. Oh my god he kissed me, You thought to yourself. And I kissed him back. 

Warming at the thought you untangled yourself from Spencer’s embrace, sliding out of bed to grab your phone and quietly slip into the bathroom. You locked the door behind you, leaning against the counter you looked at yourself in the mirror. You were a blushing mess. The flashes of last night consumed you. How were you going to focus at all today? You turned the faucet on, cupping the cool water in your hands before bringing it up to your face. 

All at once the bliss you felt remembering the previous night turned to dread. Everything was going to change: your personal relationship with Spencer, your professional relationship… god forbid you ever go in public together because the fans are relentless. Your thoughts began to spiral. You had wanted Spencer for so long but now that you might have him (pending his morning confession you requested) it was too much. 

You couldn’t think in his apartment, everything smelled like him and he was fast asleep in the other room. Needing to think clearly you did what anyone would do you went back to bed you left. 

Exiting the bathroom you took one last look at Spencer’s sleeping form. The early morning light casting a warm glow on his features. You grabbed your bag and as quietly as possible you left, locking his apartment behind you. 

You all but ran to your car, needing to get away. Everything felt too real. You drove home, taking a slightly longer route than usual, allowing the purr of your engine and the morning breeze to calm you. 

When you arrived home you knew you only had like two hours before Spencer would wake up and realize you were gone. You stripped your clothes off, overwhelmed at how strongly they smelled like Spencer. Hopping in the shower you let the cool water run over you. 

You continued your morning rituals, your anxiety spiking as the time ticked closer to having to talk to Spencer. Unsure of what to do you texted Amanda, knowing she would be awake already. You asked her to talk and soon got on a facetime call with her. 

You had barely answered the phone before Amanda could tell something was wrong, “Oh honey, what’s going on?” 

“I’m not sure what to do,” You began, “I was at Spencer’s last night and we got high and we kissed and he told me he loved me.”

“Well that’s good isn’t it?” Amanda questioned, having clocked your feelings forever ago. 

“No. I mean yes? I don’t know?” You sighed, “I’ve wanted this for so long but now things are gonna change and that’s so scary and what if this doesn’t work with the company or the fans hate it or-” 

“Take a breath Y/N”  Amanda cut you off, seeing you spiraling, “Let’s break this down, okay? First, the company is fine, Shayne and Court are literally married, no one will be upset, in fact I think there would be some bets needing to be cashed in.” She laughed, “Second: The fans don’t have to know anything, they are not entitled to your personal life so you don’t even need to think about that. But third: where is Spencer now?” 

You were grateful for Amanda, she was always so comforting and wise. You already felt calmer. “He’s at his house, I kinda left at like 5 am because I got scared and started to spiral…”

“Oh honey no.” Amanda sighed, “He’s gonna wake up without you there and freak out, he's so protective of you. You need to at least text him and tell him you left so when he wakes up he doesn’t lose his shit.” 

You knew Amanda was right. But you were terrified to actually talk to Spencer about everything.

–

The sun was beaming through sheer curtains, creating a serene moment in Spencer’s bedroom. Until his alarm started blaring. He haphazardly searched for his phone, turning off the alarm before rolling over to pull you close to him again, but his arms found nothing. He opened his eyes to find an empty bed. He felt around, not even finding a warm spot where you had been, it was like you were never there. 

Was last night a dream? Did Spencer imagine that it all happened? No, he couldn’t have, he could still feel your fingers parting through his hair. He got out of bed, walking to the bathroom, assuming you were just in there getting ready.. 

The light was off and he opened the door, his anxiety spiking as he found no one. He all but ran to the kitchen, searching for your stuff only to find nothing. Your bag, shoes, and keys were all gone. You had left. 

You had asked him to tell you everything in the morning and now that the sun had risen you were gone. Something must have happened to you. He walked back into his room and grabbed his phone, eager to call you and check in. As he picked up his phone he saw your contact “Y/N!!! :)))” with a message from 5:45 am, Hey sorry, my landlord needed me for something, see you at work. 

For a moment he was worried that he pushed himself on you. But you kissed him back, you told him you loved him too. 

All at once Spencer was pissed. He had poured his heart out and not only did you not fully believe him but you LEFT. He knew your landlord didn’t need you, he could read you like a book and you were lying, he just didn’t know why. His heart shattered, why would you do this? 

He threw his phone on the bed, exasperated by the morning's events. Spencer had planned to wake up next to you and have the first thing you hear be his undying love for you. He was ready to become more. He didn’t know how he would even look at you today.

[goblinontour]

A Mistake

he’s gonna fuck it up again

part 9 | series masterlist

warnings: prof!al, age gap (not specified), fluff (a bit), angst, feelings, crying, smut, oral (m/f receiving), fingering (f receiving), piv, footjob

word count: 14.8k

First day back. You weren’t sure if you were ready to go back to ignoring him basically all day. You didn’t know if you could keep your hands off him. You dreaded having to force yourself to not go up to him each time you’d pass by each other in the hallways. Or to just stop yourself from searching for him subconsciously.

Great thing you at least had a few more hours to prepare yourself. He had to leave before you, and you only had one class later in the evening. So no ride together.

“I don’t want to go.” he said, putting on his suit jacket and coming back to you, where you were still laying in bed. Still naked from last night. Only the comforter to cover yourself. 

It was colder now. The summer heat was fortunately, but unfortunately at the same time, over.

“I don’t want you to go either.” you said, extending your arm to catch his fingers between yours.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll miss you.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. The weight of his absence already felt heavy, a dull ache settling in your chest, even if it would just be for a few hours. 

“You’ll call me during lunch?” you asked, trying to keep the neediness out of your voice but failing miserably.

“Of course.” he replied, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I’ll think about you all day.” 

For a moment, he just stared at you, his gaze intense and filled with longing already. The air between you crackled. He couldn’t stop himself any longer. He pulled you close and kissed you, kissed you like it was the first and last time he’d get to do it. 

You would never get tired of his kisses and the way you could feel everything pouring out and seeping into you. He kissed you hard and he didn’t want to stop kissing you. Not now, not ever.

He started trailing the kisses down your neck, and lower, making you drop the material you were holding to cover yourself. Not that you needed it anymore. He got you hotter than any blanket could ever. There was no point to a competition.

“You’re gonna be late.” you murmured, trying to play the reasonable one in this situation. But deep down you knew you didn’t want him to stop.

“I haven’t had breakfast yet.” he whispered against the skin of your breasts as he was kissing his way down your body, his hands following the lead of his lips.

“Oh…right.” you said, stopped by a gasp escaping your lips as his hands ran down your legs, making goosebumps appear in their wake.

“You’re not gonna let me faint during a lecture just cause I didn’t have my breakfast, right?” he asked, lowering himself on the floor by the side of the bed, pulling your feet together to cradle them in his hands.

“Yeah…Can’t let my man get so neglected.” you said, looking down at him as he left a chaste kiss on one of your ankles before spreading your legs apart, positioning them over his shoulders and pulling you down on the bed until your hips were right at the edge. 

The anticipation buzzed through you like an electric current, every nerve ending alive with the never ending desire for him as he moved closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“Good. Because I’m starving.” He looked up at you, his eyes dark with intent, and you felt another shiver of excitement. 

His hands slid up the back of your thighs, steadying you as his lips began their journey, leaving a trail of fire on your inner thighs. The room seemed to close in around you as you became lost in the sensation of his touch.

“I’ll make it quick.” he murmured, but the smirk on his lips told you he had no intention of rushing. 

He left wet kisses, little bites, tiny scratches from his facial hair growing in since he forgot to shave last night. Or better said, since you got him too busy to have any energy left to shave. 

And then he touched you, right there, right where you were waiting for him to.

He licked at you so slowly, his tongue incredibly soft against your cunt as he swirled it around your folds. It was so wet against you, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

After that short moment when he just tasted you for the sake of wanting to feel your sweetness on his tongue, he roughly pulled your hips flush to his face, his nose pushing into your clit as his tongue found its way into your hole. It was no longer soft. Or delicate. Or careful. He wanted to devour you and see you crumble.

You tightened your legs around his head, trapping him in your hold even though you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

You didn’t speak, too busy trying to breathe as he worked on you. He didn’t speak, not wanting to pull apart from your pussy for one second. He could feel you getting wetter, how everything flowed right into his mouth. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he noticed you were almost there, but needed just that one more push, he slipped two fingers inside you. They slipped in so easily from the way he opened you up so well with his tongue. You were so wet he had no trouble sliding them all the way deep inside you and curling them to hit that spot as his tongue flicked over your clit over, and over, and over. 

You gasped as the pleasure built up, each flick of his tongue sending shivers down your spine. His fingers moved expertly inside you, curling just right to hit that sweet spot that made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets as you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter.

He didn’t let up, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to push you closer to the edge. Your moans filled the room, growing louder as you felt your orgasm approaching. He growled against your skin, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming sensation.

Time lost all meaning as he worshipped your body, each touch, each kiss a testament to his desire. You could feel the tension building inside you, a coil of heat and need that threatened to snap at any moment. 

And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he increased the pace, his fingers moving faster, his tongue flicking over your clit with a relentless rhythm as he pushed you over the edge, sending you spiralling into a blissful oblivion.

He didn’t stop, prolonging your pleasure, milking every last drop from you until you were a shaking, panting mess beneath him. Only then did he slow down, his movements returning to a more gentle state as he helped you come down from your high.

You lay there, utterly spent, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He held you in place as you calmed down, his touch gentle and reassuring as he caressed your legs and stopped them from shaking. 

He climbed back up the bed, gathering you into his arms, holding you close. 

“Now that’s what I call breakfast.” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction.

You laughed softly, nestling into his embrace. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I do.” you admitted, your heart swelling with all the love it held for him. “I really do.”

He kissed you once more before getting up. Soft, lingering just that little bit longer than it should’ve to make sure you tasted yourself on his lips. “I’ll see you tonight.” he said, reluctantly pulling away.

“Can’t wait.” you replied, watching as he adjusted his suit jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. Then, he wiped his chin and mouth with the back of his hand, cleaning off the remnants of you on his face. His eyes met yours, a satisfied glint in them as he finished straightening his tie. The casual intimacy of the moment sent another wave of warmth through you.

As he turned to gather his things, you couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his trousers. Not too obvious, but noticeable if you really looked. You bit your lip, a smile creeping across your face. “Looks like someone’s still excited.” you teased, nodding toward his crotch.

He glanced down, chuckling. “Wanna help me out then?” he joked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

You laughed, the sound light and teasing. “You wish. You’re already running late now, remember?”

He sighed dramatically, giving you a mock-pout. “I can deal with it, I’ll save it for tonight.” he smirked. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Trust me, I’m counting on it.” 

You pulled the comforter tighter around yourself again, “Go!” you urged, even though it was the last thing you wanted. “Before I convince you to stay.”

“You make it very hard to leave, you know that?” he chuckled. 

“Good, because I don’t want it to ever get easy.”

With one last quick kiss, he left, the door clicking softly behind him. You lay back against the pillows, the silence of the room amplifying your thoughts. The day started stretching ahead, each minute, each second a reminder of how much you missed him. It wasn’t normal. To miss him this much after not even an hour apart, but it was more so the thought of having to hide yourselves again. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. When you closed your eyes, you could still feel his presence, a ghost of warmth against your skin.

You took a deep breath, rolling over to his side of the bed. His scent still lingered on the sheets. The minutes ticked by. Eventually, you forced yourself to get up, wrapping the comforter around you as you padded to the kitchen. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the countertops. You busied yourself with making coffee, trying to shake off the melancholy that threatened to settle over you.

You heard the soft padding of paws on the floor. Sock came to keep you company. He was getting so big. You smiled as he approached, his tail held high in greeting.

“Hey, there.” you murmured, bending down to scoop him up. He purred loudly, his body warm and comforting against your chest. You settled into a chair with him in your lap. He kneaded your thighs with his paws, his purring vibrating through you. 

As the coffee machine beeped to signal your cup had finished brewing, you glanced at your phone, the screen lighting up with a new message from him.

“Miss you already. Can’t wait to see you.”

Quickly after that, another text came through, a little brown heart. It was the only one he ever used, because he said it reminded him of Sock’s fur. You smiled like an idiot at your phone as you finally rose to fetch your coffee. 

After finishing your only lecture of the day, you wandered the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. You hadn’t seen him at all, even though you knew he should still be around. You wondered if he was avoiding you on purpose. As you headed towards the exit, you noticed one of the faculty members staring at you. You weren’t sure what he taught, or if he was even a professor, but his gaze lingered longer than it should have. You brushed it off, thinking you were imagining things.

Deciding to walk home since Alex hadn’t given any sign, a car’s horn startled you on your way. Relief washed over you when you saw it was him.

“Missed me?” he said, rolling the window down. “Jump in.”

You quickly got in the car, barely having time to kiss him before he started driving off as soon as you closed the door.

“Woah, there.” you said, bracing yourself.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want people to see.”

“They don’t know your car now, Mr. Turner.” you reminded him.

“Oh fuck, you’re right,” he said, “I keep forgetting.”

“‘Cause you’re so old.” you joked.

“So old, should put me in a geriatric home.” he added.

“I can take good care of you on my own.”

“Oh please, young lady, don’t let me burden you.” he mocked, glancing at you with his eyes scrunched up from the amusement clear on his face.

You settled back into your seat. The city streets blurred past as he drove, the familiar route home bringing a sense of normalcy amidst all the secrecy that you had to settle back into. 

“So, how was your lecture?” he asked, his tone casual but genuinely interested.

“Boring.” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “Yours are so much better.”

“Are they?” he asked, looking back at you and raising his eyebrows. 

“They’re the best.”

“I wonder why?” he said, a smile playing on his lips as he looked at the road ahead. 

“Because you’re my favourite.” you replied, humouring him and what he was hinting at. 

“Mhm, yeah keep going and you might get special treatment.” he joked, leading to you both starting to laugh.

“You didn’t call me like you promised.” you said eventually. Not that it was that big of a deal, but you were looking forward to hearing his voice. 

“I had to attend a meeting with the dean, start of the year stuff.” he explained, his expression softening. “Sorry I couldn’t sneak away.”

“Yeah, I get it. I just missed you.” you admitted, your tone softening.

He reached over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “I missed you too. Trust me, the highlight of my day was thinking about seeing you again.”

“Me too.” you sighed contentedly, letting the warmth of his presence envelop you.

As he pulled into the driveway, he turned off the engine and looked at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now, where were we?”

You grinned, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I think we were about to make up for lost time.”

He leaned over to kiss you, but his phone beeped, interrupting the moment. He sighed, taking it out of his pocket and slumping back in his seat, sighing again.

“What happened?” you asked, catching his hand in yours.

“Just reminding us that we have some event this Friday, for the professors to ‘hang out’” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, come on, you should go, you never go out.” you encouraged.

“I’d rather stay with you.”

“I’ll wait for you at home.”

“Okay.” he said, smiling again.

You both headed up into the flat, and Alex shrugged off his blazer and went to sit down in the living room. Almost immediately, you were greeted by a very excited Sock. Or rather, Alex was greeted. Sock loved him much more than he did you, even though Alex would never say that out loud.

As Sock curled around Alex’s legs, you asked, “Hey, there was this guy in the hallway today, kept looking at me. Tall, glasses, short brown hair. Do you know him?”

Alex’s eyes opened wide as he realised who you were talking about. “Yeah, uhh…He heard us in the bathroom that day.”

“Does he know it’s me?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening.

“I have no idea.” Alex replied, his expression turning serious, but he quickly composed himself. “Don’t worry too much.” he said, waving you over to him. Despite the anxiety that crept up on both of you, his reassuring smile eased your nerves.

“Now, where were we?” he asked again, pulling you down so you were sitting right on top of him.

His hands found their way around your waist, steadying you as you adjusted on his lap. He pulled you tight, your back pressing against his chest, his breath warm on the back of your neck. Slowly, he unbuttoned your shirt, pulling it out from where it was tucked into your skirt. Once it was off, his mouth travelled down your back, only stopping when your bra got in the way. 

Quickly, he discarded it, throwing it to the side. Maybe landing on the couch, maybe on the floor. He didn’t notice, and neither did you. 

“Is this my special treatment?” you asked as you felt his hands creep back to your front, cupping your breasts in each of his palms and rubbing them back and forth over your nipples.

“Mine now.” he said, starting to grind his hips into you. “I have the upper hand here.” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

The sensation of his touch sent shivers down your spine. His fingers kneaded your breasts, each movement eliciting a soft gasp from you. His hips pressed into you with increasing urgency, and you could feel his arousal growing beneath you.

You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, feeling the heat of his body through your skin. His lips continued their journey, trailing kisses down your neck and across your shoulders. 

“Alex.” you breathed out, your voice a mix of need and affection. 

“Yes, love?” he responded, his hands never ceasing their teasing movements.

“Keep the clothes on.” 

He smiled against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. “Okay.” he murmured, his hands sliding lower, teasing the edge of your skirt. “You should take yours off.” he said, his voice husky with anticipation.

You nodded, raising yourself from his lap to push down your skirt and underwear, too eager to delay. As you did, he used the time to unbuckle his belt and work his pants open, pulling his cock out and giving it a quick tug before letting it rest against his stomach. His hand reached for you, pulling you to sit back down on him. 

“Can I open the shirt?” he asked as his hands played with your hair. 

“Yes, but…Keep it on.” you replied.

The sensation of being utterly exposed before him while he remained fully dressed, not even his shoes off, was intoxicating. His fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt, but true to your request, he left it draped over his shoulders. The contrast of your bare skin against the cool fabric heightened your awareness of every touch, every breath. You could practically feel his eyes on you, even though you couldn’t see them, drinking in the sight of your vulnerability, and it sent a thrill through you.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring the revealed skin. The way his clothes rubbed against you, the texture of his shirt, the roughness of his trousers, added an unexpected layer of sensation. It was an exquisite blend of anticipation and fulfilment, each movement drawing you closer together while keeping a tantalising barrier between you.

His lips found your neck again, and you tilted your head to give him better access. The warmth of his breath, the gentle scrape of his teeth, everything felt heightened. 

“Perfect.” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your skin. He adjusted you slightly, positioning you just right before pushing his hips up, meeting you with a slow, deliberate thrust, the mix of his careful control and the roughness of your urgency harmonising with the other.

He allowed you to slowly sink down fully, his hands guiding your hips until you were resting on his thighs. The sensation of him being buried inside you was still overwhelming every time. Every inch of him filled you, stretching you in the most satisfying way. You felt every ridge, every pulse, the connection between you both growing deeper with each passing second.

You could feel his heartbeat in sync with yours, the intimacy of the moment intensifying as you settled onto him. His hands gripped your hips firmly, grounding you while his lips continued to explore your neck and shoulders. The friction of his clothes against your skin added to the sensory overload, a delicious contrast to the heat and softness where your bodies met.

Alex’s breath hitched as he held you there, savouring the feeling of being so intimately joined. The slow movements allowed you to feel him fully, a dance of control and surrender. Each subtle shift of your hips, each slight adjustment you tried to make was met with an increasing tightening of his fingers on you. 

“Don’t move…Just- Just stay like that.” he whispered, his voice strained.

You settled fully back against his chest, his hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist, where you held them in yours. You turned your head to look at him, and saw his eyes were almost closed, trying to hold back and not come inside you before you even started.

“Are you tired?” you asked him, your mouths so close that your breaths got sucked by his.

“No…Maybe a bit…Can I just hold you like this for a while?”

You nodded, and his mouth closed in on the corner of your lips in a gentle kiss. His arms tightened around you. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his steady heartbeat against your back. His hands traced idle patterns on your skin. Every now and then, his fingers would dip lower, teasing the sensitive skin just above your mound, only to retreat and continue their gentle path.

His breathing grew more even, and you could feel his tension easing slightly. He shifted beneath you, and you could feel him shifting inside you as well. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?” he murmured into your ear. 

“Yes.” you whispered back, your own desire mirrored in your voice.

His lips brushed against your neck, placing feather-light kisses along the curve of your shoulder. The sensation was maddening, each touch igniting a fire within you that was hard to contain. You clenched around him involuntarily, drawing a groan from deep within his chest.

“You’re making it very difficult for me to last over here.” he chuckled softly, his breath hot against your skin.

“Good.” you teased, squeezing his hands that were still entwined with yours.

Alex’s hands finally moved with purpose, sliding up to cup your breasts again, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The sharp jolt of pleasure made you arch your back, pressing yourself harder against him. His hips bucked in response, a low curse escaping his lips.

“God, I love you.” he murmured, his voice filled with a raw intensity that took your breath away.

He nudged you gently, signalling for you to pull your legs up. You complied, bringing your knees close to your chest and holding them with your hands. The angle change brought a new stretch as his hands locked onto your hips. He lifted you slightly, allowing himself to move within you. 

The slow rhythm he set was agonisingly perfect, each thrust so minor yet so intense, it felt like he was grinding into you, every inch of him nestled deep inside you. His movements were almost imperceptible, the only sounds being your shared breaths and the racing of your heartbeats. Each time he pushed into you, it felt like he was reaching deeper, touching parts of you that made your toes curl and breath hitch. You could feel the tension building within you, a sweet ache that promised release. 

“Alex.” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He responded with a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips a tender counterpoint. “I’m right here.” he whispered, his voice steady despite the evident strain of his own restraint.

You couldn’t help it, your body responding involuntarily as you clenched around him again. The reaction was immediate, his control breaking.

“Don’t- Fuck-” he swore, his voice strained, a mix of desperation and pleasure. 

The sensation of you tightening around him was too much. He’d been on edge all day, the tension building, the simple thought of this happening making him teeter on the brink ever since he got you in the car. 

It was all too much. The added pressure from the sheer tightness of you around him caused by the position, making him feel every inch of you gripping him, pushed him over. His legs trembled, thighs tensing as he spilled inside you, unable to hold back any longer. 

His orgasm felt like a hot, overwhelming flood taking him over. The intensity of it made him shudder, his breath ragged in your ear, each time his cock pulsed inside you making him shudder underneath. 

As his high subsided, he held you close, his forehead resting against your shoulder for a moment, the aftershocks of his orgasm making him shiver. 

But you still wanted him, so bad. You began moving your hips, a slow grind. Despite his overstimulation, he didn’t stop you.

His breath hitched, and he moaned softly, the mix of pleasure and pain and sensitivity making every movement feel electric. His hands found their way back to your hips, holding you steady as you set the pace, each roll of your hips drawing out pleasure for both of you.

His hand slid between your legs, rubbing messily over your clit in lazy circles to help get you there. The friction was perfect, and you could feel the heat continuing to build rapidly.

“Don’t stop, please.” you managed to gasp, your voice breaking with the intensity of your need.

“I won’t.” he promised, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “I’m right here, love.”

He almost felt dizzy from how good you could make him feel just by being there. He started moving his fingers more precisely, pushing harder onto the sensitive spot until you shook, your legs dropping back down and your body trembling with pleasure. He had to steady you so he could finish you properly, but as you squeezed around him again, he came, again. 

It took him by surprise how quickly his second load started spurting inside you, and it only heightened your own feelings, being so full of him. 

The intensity of his release sent another wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you let out a moan, your body convulsing as the orgasm tore through you. He held you tight, his grip almost bruising as he rode out the pleasure with you, until you were both lost in the exquisite agony of wanting, the sweet torment of being so deeply intertwined.

He gently lifted you up, reluctantly pulling out despite loving the feeling of being inside you. He simply couldn’t take it anymore, afraid his brain would shut off from overstimulation. Maybe he was being dramatic, or maybe the tiredness from going back to work got to him more than he thought.

You could feel his cum dripping out of you, landing on his clothed thigh. “Maybe you should have taken off your clothes.” you said, watching the dark material stain.

“You told me not to.” he replied, his chest rising and falling behind you as he slowly came back to earth.

“They’re full of your spunk now.” you said, your voice just as breathy as his, both of you equally exhausted.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” he muttered.

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, but your body acted on impulse. Your fingers dragged along the wetness gathering on his trousers, picking it up and without thinking twice, you brought them straight to his mouth, resting on his bottom lip. He didn’t say anything, almost lifeless as you brushed them, wetting his lips further, feeling the cracks in his skin. His lips were always dry, but somehow they felt soft whenever he kissed you.

His kisses. You already missed his kisses. You turned awkwardly to kiss him, your tongue darting out instantly to lick his lips. He melted into it, his mouth opening to deepen it almost subconsciously. Mindless. Lazy. The taste of both of you mingling on your tongues.

It became a silent exchange of the overwhelming emotions you both felt. They never subsided, or lessened. It felt just as raw and desperate as the very first time. 

His hands, now free, roamed over your back, pulling you closer as if trying to meld you into himself. Your fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him anchored to you, always desperate for more of his touch.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You smiled, your forehead resting against his.

You kissed him again, slower this time. Time seemed to stretch. Eventually, he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours once more, both of you breathing heavily.

“Let’s get cleaned up.” he suggested, his voice gentle. “Old man needs to sleep.” he joked.

You nodded, feeling a rush of affection for him. “Okay.”

As you moved to get up, his arms tightened around you, holding you close for just a moment longer. “I love you.” he whispered, “A lot.”

“I love you too, a lot.” you replied. 

Friday rolled around, and Alex found himself at the bar with his colleagues after a dinner at an overly fancy restaurant. The choice of such a place seemed almost a way to compensate for something, perhaps to give themselves more importance than they felt they had. The elaborate decor and pricey menu felt like an attempt to elevate their status, to project an image of success and sophistication.

The evening was pleasant enough. It wasn’t that he disliked his colleagues. They were fine company. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he would have rather spent the time with you, or even had you by his side there. But that wasn’t an option.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, he started to feel more relaxed. The alcohol smoothed out the edges of his initial reluctance. It wasn’t so bad after all. He laughed more freely, engaged in conversations, and found himself genuinely enjoying the night. But you were always in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of where he truly wanted to be.

There was a moment of clarity amidst the haze of alcohol where he realised how much he’d missed just being around more people. The camaraderie felt good, almost revitalising. He almost felt guilty for enjoying himself so much, but the simple truth was that it felt nice to let loose and be part of a group. Still, the thought of you lingered, a bittersweet undercurrent to his enjoyment.

Alex sipped his drink, the familiar burn of whiskey a comforting presence as he glanced around the room. His colleagues were in high spirits, laughing and sharing stories from their week. It was a scene of normalcy, something he’d been missing without even realising it. The isolation of your secret relationship had its costs, and tonight highlighted one of them starkly.

Despite the enjoyment, there was an underlying melancholy. The evening’s laughter felt a bit hollow without you to share it with. He wondered how you were spending your night, hoping you weren’t feeling as lonely as he did at times. The guilt of having fun without you gnawed at him, even as he forced himself to smile and participate in the revelry.

By the third drink, the guilt began to fade, replaced by a warm buzz that made everything seem a bit brighter. It felt good, almost too good. The night had taken on a surreal quality. The high ceilings and ambient lighting seemed to pulse with a life of their own, the sounds of clinking glasses and muted conversations creating a symphony of distraction.

Eventually, he went up to the bar to leave his now empty glass and perhaps order another if he was patient enough to wait in the queue. The place somehow got packed in the time between their arrival and now. Fuck it, I’ll get another, he thought. So he waited, elbow propped up on the counter, legs crossed and tapping the floor, waiting for the time to pass.

As he stood there, someone came up to him. Is she the secretary? No, no…Another professor? He knew her, definitely, but in his slightly inebriated state, he couldn’t quite place her. Maybe it was more than just slightly now. She had a warm smile and didn’t greet him, meaning they probably talked before during this little outing. But he couldn’t recall. Somehow she made him feel at ease.

“Enjoying the night?” she said, leaning against the bar beside him. 

“Yeah, it’s been good.” he replied, his usual reserved demeanour softened by the alcohol. “Nice to get out with everyone.”

She laughed. “You always seem so busy. It’s good to see you relaxing for a change.”

They got talking, and despite being more reserved usually, Alex let himself go when he felt comfortable or got a little liquid encouragement. And he felt both right now. He found himself opening up about work, sharing stories and frustrations that he typically kept to himself. She listened attentively, nodding and laughing at the right moments, making him feel heard and appreciated.

The bartender finally approached, and Alex ordered another drink, offering to get one for his newfound companion as well. She accepted, and they clinked glasses before taking a sip, each from their respective one. 

For a while, he allowed himself to forget the complexity of his personal life. The conversation flowed easily, and he even caught himself genuinely laughing at a joke she made. 

Slowly, Alex felt his body go numb, just a bit. His posture slumped slightly, and though there were no empty seats, standing was fine. At first. Without noticing, his head, once perched upright on his hand, started sliding lower, his eyes fighting to stay open at times.

She touched his arm lightly, teasing him, “Getting tired already?” He smiled but didn’t bother to straighten up or flinch from her touch. He felt warm. A contented haze enveloping him. 

“You caught me.” he said, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “It’s been a long week.”

“I can tell.” she replied, her tone playful. 

The softness of her touch, combined with the comfort of their conversation, made him feel quite relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the usual tension he carried, a tension that only you seemed to melt away. Only in your presence. Now, amidst the laughter and the dim bar lights, he found a momentary escape, a brief respite from the secrets.

As the evening wore on, he found himself leaning more into the bar for support, his movements slow and thoughtless. He could feel the warmth of her presence beside him. Even as his thoughts occasionally drifted back to you, he allowed himself to enjoy it. 

Alex could feel her grasp his shoulder, the touch more accentuated now, even through the thick leather of his jacket. He downed the last few sips left in his glass, eyes closing as the liquid hit his throat. He couldn’t taste it anymore.

Before he even got the chance to put his glass down, he felt her lean in closer, her hand messing with the collar of his jacket, or maybe the polo underneath. He couldn’t tell and was afraid to open his eyes. Then he felt her lips on his, pressing against his bottom lip where his mouth hung open slightly. He didn’t really feel it, just the pressure. 

Is she kissing me?

He couldn’t seem to pull away, and he didn’t. He didn’t think. He didn’t pull away. He let her kiss him, and maybe he even kissed her back. He couldn’t feel what he was doing exactly, but he tried to move with her. He probably seemed like a really bad kisser. The alcohol numbed his senses, leaving him disconnected from his actions, but the pressure of her lips brought a strange muddling over his body. 

The feel of her hand on his collar intensified, her fingers playing with the fabric, and he realised she was tugging him closer. He didn’t resist. Her lips were insistent, moving against his with a determination that contrasted sharply with his passive response. The kiss deepened, her tongue brushing against his lips, seeking entry. 

He parted his lips slightly, allowing her to explore, but there was no real engagement on his part. It was as if he were an observer in his own body, noting the sensations without fully experiencing them. Her kiss was fervent, almost desperate, and he could sense the urgency in her touch, but it felt distant, as though it were happening to someone else.

He tried to kiss her back, mimicking her movements, but it was clumsy, lacking the coordination and passion that typically characterised his kisses. His mind was a fog, clouded by the alcohol and the guilt that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. 

Through the haze, a thought pierced through: What am I doing? But the thought was fleeting, buried under the weight of the moment. He couldn’t pull away, didn’t want to break the spell, even though he knew he should.

Her hand slid from his collar to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss further. The intensity of her touch sent a shiver down his spine, momentarily cutting through the numbness. His hands, previously idle at his sides, found their way to her waist, a reflexive gesture that felt foreign and detached.

The kiss felt like it lasted an eternity, each passing second a struggle between giving in and restraint. He could feel her breath mingling with his, her heartbeat quickening against his chest. 

Gradually, he started to taste her on his tongue. A faint, unfamiliar flavour that became more noticeable with each passing moment. It wasn’t you. Fuck, he thought, the realisation hitting him hard. Yet, he didn’t pull back. He was stuck, unable to move, trapped in the moment. He had allowed this to happen, and now he was caught, paralyzed by a mix of guilt and inertia.

As the seconds ticked by, the taste grew more pronounced, a constant reminder that he was kissing someone who wasn’t you. His mind screamed at him to stop, to pull away, but his body wouldn’t comply. It was as if he were a spectator in his own life, watching helplessly as the scene unfolded.

The taste was wrong. It felt alien. He couldn’t shake the thought of you, the memory of your kisses, and how different they were from this. 

Her hands roamed over his shoulders and back, seeking more contact, while his own hands stayed awkwardly at her waist. He could feel her trying to beg for more from him, her eagerness a stark contrast to his own hesitation. The more she pushed, the more he felt himself retreating inwardly, even as his body remained pressed against hers.

In that moment, Alex was overwhelmed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The taste of her, the guilt of betraying you, and the frustration of his own paralysis all swirled together, leaving him disoriented and lost. He knew he had to stop, to pull away and regain control, but the numbness from the alcohol and the weight of his own actions kept him frozen in place.

Finally, she pulled back, her breath heavy, eyes searching his face for a reaction. Alex opened his eyes slowly, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. His heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t know what to say, his mind scrambling for words that wouldn’t come.

“I...I can’t.” he stammered, his voice barely audible above the noise of the bar. “I’m sorry.”

She looked at him, but he didn’t catch the expression on her face. He did feel her step back to give him space. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart and clear his muddled thoughts. The taste of her lingered on his lips, mingling with the bitterness of the whiskey.

Turning away, he made his way through the crowd, his mind in turmoil. The warmth of the alcohol still buzzed in his veins, but the clarity of his guilt cut through the haze. He needed to get out. 

Alex stepped outside, the night air cool against his flushed skin. He thought about calling you but changed his mind, feeling too ashamed and disoriented. He paced mindlessly by the door, until someone bumped into him as they exited the bar. He murmured a ‘sorry’ and shifted aside.

Patting his jacket, he checked his outer pockets, then his inner ones, searching for his cigarettes. Finally, he found the pack. He hadn’t quit, despite his attempts. Strawberry-flavoured air just didn't work on him. He struggled to light one, swearing quietly as the door opened again.

This time, someone approached him intentionally. Alex looked up and saw it was the guy you’d asked him about a few days ago. The one from the bathroom incident. Great.

“Was she the one who you got busy with in the bathroom, Turner?” the man asked, without any ill intent necessarily, just a crude attempt at starting a conversation.

Alex wasn’t in the right frame of mind. “No.” He replied, stern and harsh, the words coming out meaner than he intended. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, the smoke filling his lungs and momentarily calming his nerves. The guy raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the curt response.

“Hey, no need to bite my head off. Just making conversation.” He held up his hands in a mock defensive gesture.

Alex exhaled slowly, the smoke swirling around him. “Sorry.” he muttered, not really meaning it but wanting to defuse the situation. His head was spinning. 

The guy frowned, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “So who was it then?”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to quell his irritation. “Would you fuck off, please?” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He instantly regretted his outburst, sighing heavily. “Sorry.” he repeated, his voice softer, wearier.

The guy studied him for a moment, then nodded, stepping back. “Alright, man. Take it easy. Rough night?”

“You could say that.” Alex replied, taking another drag. He thought of you, waiting at home, and the shame washed over him anew.

The guy leaned against the wall, taking a swig from his beer. “I get it. These events can be a bit much sometimes. Need to blow off some steam.”

Alex just nodded, not trusting himself to say more. He was tired, emotionally drained, and the alcohol wasn’t helping to numb the feelings as much as he hoped. He felt raw, exposed, like the night had peeled back layers he wasn’t ready to deal with.

After a moment, the guy spoke again, more cautiously this time. “Look, if you ever need to talk or anything…I’m around. No judgement.”

Alex glanced at him, surprised by the offer. He nodded again, a bit more sincerely this time. “Thanks.” he said quietly.

The guy gave a small smile and pushed off the wall. “Take care, Turner. And maybe get some rest.”

Alex watched him go, feeling a strange mix of relief and discomfort. He took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it away. He needed to go home, to see you, to try and make sense of the mess in his head. Pushing through the haze, he started walking, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could help him find some clarity.

Alex stumbled into the apartment, the door slamming shut behind him. “Fuck.” he murmured under his breath, the echo of the sound and the evening still reverberating in his mind.

You were waiting for him, just as you’d promised.

He saw the bedroom door ajar, dim light from the nightstand lamps seeping through the crack. Shrugging off his jacket, he tried to hang it up but gave up after a few tries, letting it fall wherever. He kicked off his shoes and headed to the bedroom, pushing the door open with his hip as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was too hot. He didn’t want to feel it on his skin anymore.

Then he saw you. Waiting on your knees on the bed, hands on your thighs, clad in the lingerie he bought you once but that you never got to wear because neither of you could be bothered or had enough time to play around.

He blinked, his jaw dropping slightly as he took in the sight, as if making sure he wasn’t seeing things. He was seeing things, but hopefully he wasn’t just imagining them.

“Fuck…me.” he said, dumbfounded, not moving from his place.

“Come and kiss me if you’re not afraid.” you replied.

He hesitated for a moment. The alcohol still buzzed in his veins, making everything feel a bit surreal. Slowly, he stepped forward, his eyes never leaving yours. Each step felt like a mile, his body heavy. 

When he reached the bed, he knelt down, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped your face. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours tentatively, as if afraid you might disappear if he pressed too hard. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle touch, but as the seconds ticked by, it deepened, the pent-up desire spilling over.

You responded eagerly, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders, pulling him closer. The feel of your body against his was intoxicating. His fingers trailed down your sides, feeling the delicate lace of the lingerie, the contrast between the soft fabric and the warmth of your skin.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

“What?” you asked, pulling him up the bed over you, your fingers quickly fiddling with the zipper on his jeans, finding your way inside his boxers and palming him. He moaned, not saying anything else, his face rubbing into your neck as your hand worked on him, getting him hard.

“How drunk are you?” you asked, noticing it took longer than usual to even get a sign of life from his cock.

“Verrry.” he said, rolling the ‘r’ unnecessarily and giggling afterward. The sound was a mix of amusement and embarrassment, making you smile despite the situation. 

His laughter was short-lived, replaced by a low moan as your touch became more insistent. You could feel him hardening in your hand, his body responding to your familiar touch even through the haze of alcohol. He pressed closer, his lips brushing your ear, his breath warm and uneven. 

“Feels so good…” he murmured, his voice slurred. His hands, though shaky, found their way to your hips, pulling you against him as he sought more of the connection he craved. 

Your free hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer for another kiss. This one was hungrier, driven by the need to just feel him. He kissed back with fervour, his body finally catching up to the urgency of his need for you.

As his erection grew in your hand, so did his control, his hands becoming slightly steadier, more purposeful. He pushed his jeans and underwear down with a grunt of frustration, his movements clumsy but determined. You helped him, your own hands eager to feel the heat of his skin against yours.

When he was finally free, he pressed against you, his cock hard and demanding against your thigh. You could feel the dampness of your own arousal on the lace. 

He murmured something, his voice muffled by the way he had his face buried into your skin. You couldn’t make out the words, his quiet voice lost in the moment.

“What did you say?” you asked, your own voice breathless.

“I asked…” he paused, biting gently near your collarbone, the sensation sending shivers through you, “If you’ll ride me.”

His request hung in the air, raw and needy. You nodded, pushing him gently on the bed onto his back. He lay there, looking up at you as you straddled him, feeling the heat of his skin against yours, the hard length of him pressing against you.

“The other way.” he said sheepishly. 

His hair was tousled, cheeks flushed. His lips, slightly parted, were still wet from your earlier kisses, and his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the softness of his eyes.

“Gonna boss me around tonight?” you teased, leaning down and touching the tip of his nose with your finger. His eyes crossed slightly as he tried to follow your finger, and he chuckled when he realised it.

He made a small circular motion with his finger, signalling you to turn around. You smiled, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “You can be the boss.” you said. 

You turned around, shifting your position to face away from him. The new angle allowed him to guide you more easily, and he couldn’t help but admire the view. His hands roamed over your curves, lingering on your hips before sliding down to your ass. It was clear he just wanted to see it while you rode him, evident in the way his fingers gripped you possessively as you slid the fabric covering you to the side and lowered yourself onto him. 

He tried to steady you, his hands staying loosely on your waist as you began to move. The rhythm was slow at first, a tantalising build-up that had you both on edge. He guided your movements with gentle pressure, his fingers digging harder into your flesh as you picked up the pace. 

“Just like that.” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. His hands slid up your back, tracing the curve of your spine and the details of the skimpy bodysuit. 

You leaned forward, your hands gripping his legs for support, giving him better leverage to control the depth and angle of his thrusts. His grip tightened, and he increased the pace, more or less taking over for you, each movement more forceful. 

He tried to sit up slightly, to raise his back from the mattress, but halfway through he couldn’t seem to do it fully. Instead, he brought you down onto him with his grip on your waist. He laughed at his own failed attempt, making you laugh in turn. His laugh was infectious, especially this drunken one. 

His cock was still inside you. Right. He quickly remembered that, guiding you both to the left, laying on his side and lifting your right leg into the air. He tried to hold it but then he also wanted to rub your pussy. And he found he couldn’t do both.

“You hold it.” he asked, guiding your hand to your thigh before moving his own to your front to rub your clit as he pumped his cock into you.

It wasn’t as intense, the angle more difficult to go as deep. But god, it was hot. Incredibly hot. The position allowed for a different kind of intimacy, his fingers working your clit in tandem with his thrusts. Your breath hitched, and your muscles tensed as the pleasure coiled tightly within you.

“Oh god...” you gasped, your voice trembling. He kissed your neck, his lips warm and encouraging against your skin. 

“You let go now.” he whispered.

With his words and the relentless stimulation, you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your hand tightened on your thigh, holding it higher as you rode out the climax. He continued to kiss your neck, murmuring soothing words as you trembled in his arms. The feeling of release was overwhelming, your mind blanking out everything except the sensation of him inside you, his touch guiding you through it. 

You let go of your leg, feeling the tension release as he slipped out of you and lay on his back. Turning around, you saw him jerking his cock, his eyes half-lidded. 

“I wanna come too.” he said, fumbling with his feet, trying to push down his socks. They stubbornly stuck at his heels, and he eventually gave up with a frustrated huff. 

You placed your hand over his, guiding it away as you took over. Your thumb rubbed over the tip of his cock, and he let out a half-gasp, half-moan, his body shuddering at your touch.

“Your mouth…” he murmured, eyes fluttering from the pleasure, trying to focus.

“The boss wants my mouth?” you teased, leaning in closer.

He opened his eyes, a determined glint shining through his haze, fighting to keep them locked onto yours. “Yeah…Boss wants to fuck your mouth.” he chuckled at his own words, his fingers trailing through your hair, guiding you gently but firmly.

You leaned down, your hand still working his shaft, and took him into your mouth. His moan was immediate. He reached down, tangling his fingers in your hair better, guiding you as you moved up and down. 

You took him deeper, feeling the pulsing heat of his erection against your tongue. His grip tightened, and he thrust up into your mouth, the rhythm urgent and demanding. 

“Fuck, just like that.” he breathed, his voice a strained whisper. 

You hollowed your cheeks, increasing the suction. His hips bucked, and you could taste the salty precum on your tongue, a prelude to what was coming. You increased the pace, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth, stroking the base of his cock while your lips and tongue focused on the head.

He was close, you could feel it in the way his body trembled, the way his grip on your hair became almost painfully tight. 

He pulled you off with a ragged groan, his grip on your hair still insistent as he guided you to lie on your back instead. He moved swiftly, straddling your chest and inching up your body until his cock was resting on your chin, still slick with your saliva. 

He pushed his cock back into your mouth, the head sliding past your lips. The angle was different, more demanding, and you had less control. He began to thrust. You tried to open your mouth wider, but your teeth still grazed him occasionally. He didn’t seem to mind, his eyes half-closed, lost in the sensation.

His expression was a mixture of raw need and pleasure, a look that made every bit of discomfort worth it. He was in another dimension, utterly consumed by the moment. You let him use you, relaxing your throat as much as possible, accepting his pace.

Leaning down, he braced himself with his arms on either side of your head, his body looming over you. His thrusts grew more forceful, his breathing harsh and uneven. The bed creaked beneath you, the rhythm of his movements relentless. You felt every inch of him as he drove deeper, his hips snapping forward again and again.

You took it. Took it all, pushing him to the edge, and then he was coming, hot and fast, spilling into your mouth with a broken cry. 

You swallowed, the taste of him filling your senses, and kept going, milking every last drop until he was spent, collapsing back onto the bed with a shuddering sigh. You got up, sitting back on your heels and wiping your mouth, watching as he struggled to catch his breath. 

“Fuck…” he murmured, eyes closed, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “If only you could see how pretty you are for me.”

“Stop it.” you said, adjusting the bodysuit back into place, though you knew it was no use and you’d be taking it off soon. It gave you something to do with your hands, a way to distract yourself from how deeply he affected you.

“Why would I stop?” he asked, rolling over onto his stomach, reaching out to touch you. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your thigh. 

“I’m gonna take a shower.” you said, moving his hand away and shuffling slightly on the bed. 

“Do I have to take a shower too?” he asked, his voice muffled as he buried his face deeper into the sheets. His body sprawled out, looking utterly spent. 

“You probably should. You smell.” you replied, smiling slightly as you glanced back at him. His dishevelled hair and the lazy way he laid across the bed made him look adorably helpless.

He groaned loudly, refusing to move. “But I’m so tired.” His words were a mix of genuine exhaustion and playful whining, as if he was testing just how far he could push his luck with you.

“You can do it in the morning. I’ll put up with it for the night.” you said, adjusting the straps of your bodysuit to straighten them as you prepared to leave the room. 

Just as you were about to step out, he lifted his feet slightly, his voice coming out in a sleepy mumble. “Can you take my socks off, please?” He stretched his legs out, feet dangling in the air.

You chuckled, walking back to the bed. “Seriously?”

“Please.” he repeated, his tone playful but clearly exhausted. His feet wiggled slightly, as if encouraging you to hurry up.

You laughed. “Lazy.”

He grinned, eyes closed again. “Spoiled.”

You bent down, grabbing the edge of his socks and pulling them off one at a time. His feet were warm and a bit sweaty as you gave him a quick rub. He let out a contented sigh, his entire body visibly relaxing.

“There. Happy now?” 

“Very.” he murmured, already half-asleep as he settled deeper into the mattress, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. 

You shook your head, amused, as you finally made your way to the bathroom. The sound of the water running was a welcome distraction, the warmth enveloping you and giving you a moment to yourself. You stepped under the spray, letting it wash over you, cleansing your skin. 

After a while, you turned off the water, wrapping yourself in a towel. As you walked back to the bedroom, you found him exactly where you left him, sprawled out on the bed, his breathing slow and steady.

I can hear her begging me to fuck her, her voice hoarse and desperate. I can almost hear her pleading with me, her body trembling with need. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. If she’s imagining the feel of my cock inside her, filling her up and taking her to new heights of pleasure.

You woke up and saw him still in the same position he fell back asleep in after momentarily waking when you came into bed. His breathing was deep and steady, his face relaxed in slumber. You watched him for a moment, the way his eyelashes fluttered slightly with each exhale, and felt a pang of affection. His hair was tousled, and the sheet barely covered his hips, revealing the curve of his back. 

She’s beneath me, her eyes locked onto mine, her lips parted as she gasps for breath. Bringing her pleasure is one of the best things, a pure, unadulterated joy that courses through me. I would do anything she wanted, anything to hear that sweet sound of her moans, to feel the way her body responds to my touch. Every inch of her is a paradise I want to explore endlessly.

You came back in to check on him at some point, but he was still sleeping. You let him be. He was pretty drunk last night, and it was a Saturday. He could rest a little longer. The room was filled with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. You adjusted the covers slightly, making sure he was comfortable, and smiled to yourself at how peaceful he looked, contrasting sharply with the rawness he showed last night.

Her hands grasp at me, her nails digging into my skin as she pulls me closer. The urgency in her movements, the way she arches her back, pushing herself against me. It drives me wild. I can almost feel her warmth, the way her body clenches around me. It’s a need, a deep, primal urge to give her everything. 

As you two were playing in the living room, Sock somehow made his way into the bedroom and jumped on Alex, right on his ass that was contoured by the sheets from the way he slept on his front with one leg bent up slightly. You took him away and hoped it didn’t wake Alex up. His leg twitched slightly but nothing more. You gently stroked the cat’s fur, whispering soothing words to keep him calm and prevent him from disturbing Al again, like he was some baby you didn’t want to start crying. 

I shift slightly, trying to get closer, to deepen the connection. Her breathy whimpers turn into cries of pleasure, and I can feel the building tension, the climax approaching. I am wholly consumed by her. The need to bring her that pleasure, to be the one who makes her lose control, it's overwhelming. I’d move heaven and earth for her, give up anything just to see her smile, to hear her whisper my name in that tone that sends shivers down my spine. I hold onto that thought, the pure bliss of being everything she needs, of losing myself in her.

You made your way back in bed, sitting at the other end, bored of waiting for him to wake up. You observed him for a while, then tried your chances by gently poking him with your feet, nudging him in the face until he eventually stirred and opened his eyes. His eyelids fluttered, a slow, reluctant motion as if he was trying to hold onto the remnants of his dream. You smiled as he groaned softly, his hand instinctively reaching up to push your foot away, but not with much force.

“Hey.” you said.

He groaned again and buried his face back in his pillow for a moment. “My head is killing me.”

“You were pretty drunk last night.”

“What?”

“You don't remember?” you asked, a slight disappointment in your voice. It would hurt a little if he forgot what happened.

“No. Yes- No, I remember, I remember.” he said, turning over onto his back and grabbing your feet into his hands, placing them on his chest. The warmth of his skin against yours brought a sense of reassurance, and his eyes, though still heavy with sleep, locked onto yours. His thumbs gently stroked the tops of your feet, a silent apology for his initial confusion.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his temple with one hand while keeping the other on your feet. “I remember everything.” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “How could I forget? You were...Incredible.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, the disappointment melting away. “Good.” you replied softly, shifting closer to him. “I was worried you might have been too out of it.”

He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes despite the lingering hangover. “No way. I’d have to be dead to forget a night like that.”

He continued to play with your feet, kissing the soles tenderly, rubbing his thumbs deeper into the arches as if massaging away the remnants of your worry. 

“Seems you haven’t.” you teased, glancing pointedly at the obvious tent in the sheets. His dick was very much awake compared to the rest of him, standing so upright that it was almost comical.

He followed your gaze and then groaned, hiding his face behind your feet. “Oh god.” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. He knew he’d been horny from the dream. Those kinds of dreams were a regular occurrence. But with the headache and the general grogginess, he hadn’t expected his body to respond quite so enthusiastically.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound mingling with his own sheepish chuckle. “That bad, huh?”

He peeked out from behind your feet, giving you a lopsided grin. “Guess I’m more of a morning person than I thought…I was dreaming of you again.” His hand traced small circles on your ankle as he spoke.

You asked him what the dream was about, curiosity sparking in your voice. He hesitated for a moment, the lopsided grin softening as he tried to brush it off. “It’s…I don’t want to bore you with it.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you slid one leg down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. “You could never bore me.” you said, your foot continuing its path until it reached his crotch. You pressed gently, feeling the hardness that had been teasing you both, and his breath hitched slightly at the contact. 

His eyes fluttered shut before they flicked back to yours, the playful glint returning as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, clearly debating whether to keep it to himself or share. “I was dreaming about…Well, let’s just say you were pretty persuasive.” he finally admitted, his voice low, tinged with that mix of embarrassment and arousal that was so undeniably him.

You could feel him twitching further beneath your touch as you continued to press against him. “Tell me more.” you urged, your voice laced with a teasing edge, but beneath that, a genuine interest.

His breath came out in a shaky exhale as your words settled between you, the tension palpable. Without breaking eye contact, he gently reached for your other leg, guiding it down with a deliberate slowness. His hand was firm as he placed your foot beside the first, creating a pressure that made his entire body tense. 

“Persuasive how?” you murmured, your curiosity spiking as you rubbed him through the thin fabric, feeling the pulse of his length under your touch. His breath hitched again, and he let out a quiet groan, eyes fluttering shut as if he were trying to relive the dream he was about to share. 

“You had this way of…convincing me.” he began, his voice rough and unsteady, “Making me want things. Crave them.” His hands moved to your ankles, guiding your feet so they pressed more firmly against him, the heat between your bodies growing, his arousal palpable through the sheet.

His words faltered as you slid your feet with a slow, teasing rhythm, feeling the hardness beneath the fabric shift under your touch. His grip on your ankles tightened slightly, and with a frustrated sigh, he pushed the sheet down, exposing himself fully to you. The air between you seemed to crackle as he guided your feet directly over his cock, the head slick with precum, making the slide smoother. 

You couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles twitched under your touch, his hips subtly bucking up as you stroked him with both feet. It was messy, the coordination awkward, your feet sometimes brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, sending a tickling sensation up your legs that made you both chuckle softly in the midst of it.

But despite the lack of finesse, the sensation was pleasurable, and he was clearly losing himself in it, the words of his dream now coming out in fragmented whispers. “You…you just wouldn’t stop,” he breathed, his voice trembling, “Kept…touching me, like this, making me lose my mind.”

His confession only spurred you on, and you could feel him twitching more urgently under your feet, his precum spilling out over your skin, making the slide even slicker, more desperate. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction at how utterly undone he was becoming. You were addicted to making his body break. 

He groaned, low and deep, his grip on your ankles almost bruising as he tried to control himself, but the tension in his body betrayed how close he was to the edge. The dream he tried to recount was slipping away from him now, replaced by the reality of what was happening between you, his voice lost in the desperate sounds of his breathing, the soft gasps and groans that filled the space around you.

His eyes were half-lidded, the dark pupils blown wide with lust as he looked down at the mess you were making of him. His cock twitched under your feet, leaking more and more as you continued to slide against him. You pressed your toes against the throbbing head of his cock, feeling the way it pulsed beneath you, hot and desperate. His reaction was immediate. His hips jerked up and a strangled moan escaped his lips. 

You kept the pressure steady, your toes teasing the sensitive tip, and that was all it took. The first spurt of hot cum splashed against your skin before coating his belly in thick, white streams. You watched, entranced, as the liquid pooled in the dip of his belly button, the sight oddly intimate, almost mesmerising.

His hands tightened on your ankles as his body continued to jerk with the aftershocks of his orgasm, each spasm sending another small wave of cum spilling over his stomach. His eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back as he tried to catch his breath. 

You eased up the pressure with your toes, letting him come down from the high, your eyes trailing over the mess you’d made of him, the contrast of his flushed skin against the creamy white fluid stark and undeniably arousing. He finally opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours, and there was that vulnerability again in the way he completely surrendered to you. 

His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he looked down at the mess between you. “You really are persuasive.” he murmured, voice rough and full of a satisfied warmth that made your heart flutter.

You couldn’t help but smile back, the sight of him so thoroughly undone by your touch sending a thrill through you. You shifted slightly so that your toes brushed against the last traces of his release, smearing it across his skin as you did. He groaned at the sensation, his hands sliding up to gently pull your legs away from his oversensitive cock. 

You watched him for a moment. The sight of him like this, vulnerable, satisfied, a bit of a mess, stirred something warm in you. But you knew that warmth wouldn’t last long if you let him lie there much longer.

“Get in the shower.” you said gently, your tone leaving no room for argument. 

His grin widened, and he raised an eyebrow at you, clearly recalling the night before when he’d stubbornly refused to shower, claiming he was too tired. “Alright, alright.” he said, his voice still a bit husky as he finally sat up, the movement slow and languid. 

You couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the faint sheen of sweat making his body glisten. He reached for a napkin lying forgotten on the bedside table, wiping away the mess on his stomach with a nonchalant swipe before crumpling the napkin and tossing it aside. 

As he stood up, you noticed how the stretch of his body made him wince slightly, the hangover clearly taking its toll on him, though he didn't seem to mind. His movements were unhurried, almost lazy, and you could tell he was enjoying the afterglow of what had just transpired. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to tame the wild strands, but it did little to help. 

“I’m gonna run to the store.” you said, your voice soft as you began to take off your pyjamas in exchange for a loose dress that had been draped over the chair by the bed, not before cleaning yourself up as well. “Sock’s food is running low.” 

He nodded, distractedly running his fingers through his hair again, his eyes momentarily distant as if lost in thought. Then, as you slipped the dress over your head and smoothed it down, he looked at you. “Can you grab me something to eat?” he asked, his tone hopeful. “Maybe from that bakery down the street from the flower market? The one with the croissants I like?”

You smiled as you made sure the dress was sitting just right, the soft fabric brushing against your skin. “Of course.” you said, stepping up to him. He was still standing by the side of the bed, watching you with that sleepy, satisfied expression. 

You reached up to cup his face, pulling him down for a quick kiss. His lips were warm and soft against yours, lingering just long enough to make you wish you didn’t have to leave. But you knew Sock would be giving you the cold shoulder if you didn’t come back with food soon, and you couldn’t let that happen.

“Don’t take too long in the shower.” you teased as you pulled back, your fingers brushing lightly against the stubble on his jaw. “I’ll be back soon.”

He grinned down at you, his hands sliding around your waist for a brief moment, holding you close. “I won’t.” he promised. “But you should take your time. It looks nice out today.”

Your smile faltered slightly as his words hung in the air, the warmth of the moment tinged with a familiar sadness. You looked up into his eyes, your fingers still resting gently against his jaw, feeling the roughness of the hair beneath your touch. “I wish we could go out together.” you admitted softly. 

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face as he held you a little tighter, his hands warm and steady on your waist. The easy grin from before faded, replaced by something more serious, more bittersweet. He nodded, his eyes searching yours, as if he wished he could change the reality you both had to navigate. 

“I know.” he murmured, his voice low, laced with that quiet frustration that came whenever you talked about this. “I wish we could too.”

You sighed, leaning into him, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his arms around you for just a moment longer. “Maybe one day.”

He nodded again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if he could transfer all the unspoken promises through that single touch. “One day.” he echoed, though his voice held the same mix of hope and resignation that yours did.

You pulled back, your hand sliding from his jaw to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. “In the meantime,” you said, forcing a small smile as you tried to lighten the mood, “I’ll get your croissants, and we can pretend we’re having breakfast together. Since it’s already noon, sleepyhead.”

He chuckled softly. “I’d like that.” he said, his thumb brushing over your waist before he reluctantly let go. 

“I’ll be back soon.” you promised again. 

As you left, you heard the shower start up again behind you, the sound mingling with the quiet that settled over you both. 

He sat down at his desk, the chair creaking softly as he settled in. The sunlight filtering through the blinds did little to warm the chill that had settled over him since the moment you kissed him goodbye. He stared at the pages in front of him, fingers hovering over the pen rest right beside them. 

The moment your lips touched his, the memory of last night came crashing back. The bar. The other woman. The way he’d let her, let himself get too close, too careless. He’d pushed it out of his mind, forgotten it entirely in the warmth of waking up with you. But now, in the solitude of his office, it returned with brutal clarity. 

He could still taste the remnants of the alcohol and the way her lips had brushed against his even though he’d brushed it all away. It felt foreign, wrong, now that he was sober. The guilt gnawed at him, a sharp contrast to the tenderness you had shown him just moments before. How could I let it happen? How could I forget?

His fingers finally moved, but not to grab the pen. Instead, they rubbed at his temples, trying to ease the tension building there. He needed to write it down, to purge it from his mind somehow before you came back. Maybe if he got it out, he could move past it, find a way to forget it again. Or at least a way to keep it from you, to prevent it from tarnishing the delicate balance you both maintained. 

But the memory of her lips, so different from yours, lingered. And with it, the fear that he had crossed a line he could never uncross.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and began writing. Over time, putting pen to paper had become his way of dealing with the mess of emotions inside him, a way to avoid letting them fester until they became too much to bear.

“I’m only as sick as the secrets within

Maybe it’s not so evil as much as it’s hungry  

I’m broken down and hungry for your love  

You’re sewn into my soul  

I’ll keep sleeping and you’ll make me dream of you  

Sometimes a man gets carried away

When he feels he should be having his fun  

Much too blind to see the damage he’s done.”

He read over what he’d just written, feeling the sting of shame and self-loathing rise up. Half of it was an attempt to excuse his own stupidity, a way of justifying what he’d done. Disgusted, he scribbled over most of the lines, tearing into the paper with his pen.

It was then that he noticed the wet patches, the ink beginning to run as tears dripped onto the page. He wiped his eyes, feeling the moisture spreading beneath his fingertips, and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to stop the flood. But it was no use. The tears kept coming, a physical manifestation of the guilt he couldn’t shake, no matter how much he tried to rationalise it.

He kept crying, the tears falling faster now as the reality of his actions sank in. The weight of it was unbearable. How did it come to this? If only he had pushed her away. If only he hadn’t let it happen. If only he had remembered who he was, who he belonged to. The thoughts looped endlessly in his mind, taunting him. 

If she didn’t think of him as single, she wouldn’t have approached him like that in the first place. He cursed himself for not setting boundaries, for not making it clear that he was unavailable, that he was committed to you. But how could he?

He wished the truth could just come out, but the thought of the consequences ate him up. He wished he could just confess and end the torment. But there was a cowardice in him, a deep-seated fear of the unknown, of losing you, of causing you any more unnecessary pain. 

He always did what he thought he should, always acted according to some unwritten script that told him how to behave, what to say, how to keep the peace. But why? Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just be honest, be himself, without worrying about the fallout? He hated the person he had become. The person who let things happen, who didn’t take control, who let his life be dictated by others’ expectations and his own misguided sense of obligation.

The tears continued to flow as he sat there, hunched over the desk, his hands shaking as he gripped the pen. The words on the page blurred together, the ink smudged by his tears, a perfect metaphor for the mess he had made of things. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t undo what had happened. All he could do was sit there and let the guilt eat away at him, piece by piece.

His vision blurred as well as he thought of your face, the trust in your eyes, and the love you had always given him so freely. Why did he have to complicate things when all he wanted was to be with you, to be honest and open, without all the secrets and lies? The weight of it all pressed down on him, making his chest ache with the need to let it out, to unburden himself of this shame that was eating him alive.

You arrived home and the moment you stepped inside something felt off. You were startled by the muffled sounds coming from Alex’s office. Low, anguished cries, punctuated by the occasional thud. Just as confused, Sock was pawing anxiously at the closed door, clearly distressed by the noise. You knocked gently, but no answer came. 

You hesitated for a moment, then quietly pushed the door open. The sight that greeted you made your heart sink. Alex sat with his back to you, dressed in one of his usual striped shirts, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world had settled there. The sound of his crying was even louder now, raw and unfiltered. His head kept rhythmically hitting against the desk, each thud a painful counterpoint to the sobs that racked his body. 

This wasn’t like him. He never resorted to violence, especially not towards you, or anyone else really. He’d never been the type to lash out or break things, but seeing him like this, hurting himself instead, was something you hadn’t expected. You could feel the panic rising in your chest as you stepped closer.

“Al?” you called out, your voice trembling slightly. He didn’t acknowledge you, his body locked in a cycle. You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer comfort.

But he flinched away, his voice choked with tears as he pleaded. “No, don’t touch me…Please.” he sobbed, his words barely intelligible through the pain. “I’ll be fine…I- I’ll explain.”

Your heart broke hearing the desperation in his voice, the struggle to hold onto some semblance of control even as he unravelled in front of you again. You wanted nothing more than to hold him, to tell him it was okay, whatever it was. But his plea for space held you back, leaving you torn between staying by his side and respecting his need to process whatever was tearing him apart.

You sat down on the loveseat across the room, trying to give him the space he asked for but unable to take your eyes off him. You watched as he struggled to settle down, his breathing ragged as he wiped at his eyes with trembling hands. He blew his nose, the sound harsh in the quiet room, before tossing the tissue into the trash along with the crumpled-up papers scattered across his desk. 

Finally, he stood, brushing his hands down his striped shirt, wiping away the last remnants of his tears. When he caught you looking at him, he chuckled, a strained, uncomfortable sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Sorry.” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ll go wash my face and then…Yeah.” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor. He seemed almost embarrassed, as if apologising for letting you see him like this after he’d promised to himself that he wouldn’t let it happen again. And you realised how much he was still trying to protect you, even from his own pain.

You nodded, offering him a small, tentative smile, though your heart ached to see him like this. You didn’t know what was going on, but you could feel the storm brewing just beneath the surface. All you could do was wait for him to be ready to share it with you.

He came back into the room, settling beside you on the loveseat, his hands resting in his lap. He started to tug at the skin around his nails, an anxious habit you recognised. There was a tension in the air as if he was trying to gather the courage to say what was weighing on his mind.

“Remember when I asked you to hate me? On the first night we spent together?” His voice was soft, still shaky.

“Yeah.” you replied, your voice gentle, trying to meet his gaze.

He muttered, “I need you to promise me you won’t hate me now.” as he moved one of his hands over yours, his touch light but desperate for reassurance. “Please don’t hate me.” he said, finally looking at you, his eyes red and puffy from crying, the pain clear in them.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the exhaustion etched into his face, the way his eyes were rimmed with redness, the way they glistened as if he were holding back another wave of tears. 

“I don’t think I could ever hate you…Even if you asked me to.” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in a small attempt to comfort him. 

He took a deep breath, hand still gripping yours tightly. “I kissed someone else last night.” he confessed, his voice barely audible. The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, and you felt the world tilt, your mind scrambling to process what he’d just said. You didn’t know how to react. Whether you wanted to cry, to slap him, or to just...do nothing. It felt surreal, like you were detached from your own emotions, hovering somewhere outside of yourself.

He continued, his words tumbling out, desperate to explain. “One of the women in the group came up to me, and we were talking, I don’t even know what we talked about, and then she…she kissed me. And I…I kissed her back.” His voice cracked on that last word, and you could see the regret etched into every line on his face. “I wish I didn’t, because it wasn’t you, and it didn’t feel right. I don’t even know why I did it, or why I even got that drunk, and-” His voice cracked again, and he paused, his breath hitching as he tried to keep from breaking down, on the verge of tears again. 

“It wasn’t intentional,” he finally said, “I know that sounds so stupid and disgusting, but it just…happened.” his voice wavered, thick with shame. “And I’m tired. I’m so tired of keeping you hidden. It shouldn’t feel foreign when I go out with other people, just because I haven’t in months. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I want to be with you.” He was teetering on the edge of falling apart again, and you could see the strain in his eyes, the way his entire body seemed to tremble. “I want us to be out in the open, to be real. I hate that it feels like we’re living in different worlds sometimes.”

His words tumbled out in a rush, desperate and not knowing what he was going to say next, and you could see him struggling to hold himself together. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His voice was laced with confusion, almost disbelieving, his eyes searching yours for some clarity.

“Yeah...it’s...it’s gonna be okay. I’m okay.” you said, but you could feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to hold them back. You didn’t want to cry, not now, not in front of him, but the emotion was too overwhelming.

“I never wanted to make you cry.” he whispered, his fingers brushing lightly against yours now, the touch so gentle it almost broke you.

You pulled your legs up onto the leather seat, curling up close to his chest, seeking comfort in the warmth of his body. His arm instinctively wrapped around you, holding you tightly. 

“I don’t want to hide either.” you murmured into his chest, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but you knew he heard you. The words were heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, everything you both had been holding back for too long while trying to pretend everything was going to be fine the way it was.

“Okay.” he replied softly, his voice full of quiet resolve as he rested his head gently against yours. 

There was a sense of finality in the word even though this wasn’t the moment to make the change, and he knew it. The air between you was too fragile, the rawness of his confession still too fresh. He didn’t want to push it now, not when the wound was still open and bleeding. And you weren’t ready to make sense of it all either, not yet. 

For now, the silence was enough, the quiet understanding that something had shifted, but not yet settled. The comfort of his arms around you, his head resting gently against yours, was all either of you could manage for the moment. And for now, it would have to be enough.

a/n: And it's almost over...I hope you like it, where I went with the story. I had the idea in mind for quite a while and I finally finished it. I didn't really know at which point to end this part but I feel like it's a good one leading up to the last one.

The bit he "wrote" are lyrics from 'As Sick As The Secrets Within' by Marilyn Manson and 'Lover, You Should've Come Over' by Jeff Buckley (thanks to the anon who brought that song to my attention in an ask)

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[bloodyinkandquill]

Slingshot x Reader

fun fact when i play phighting i only ever play slingshot, specifically cozy shot ive never learned how to play any other phighters so i am only sling, oh onetime on conquer i got 308 points, everyone in the server was dumb founded that i managed to be on point that long, anyways have sling dating hcs!

- You’ll be so honest, you are dating the demonification (personification) of a cat, who can also bake

- Slingshot is an amazing partner, so many things about him contribute to that fact, he bakes as a hobby and profession meaning he always has fresh pastries for you? And he can change recipes to be allergy conscious if need be, with the baking he smells divine due to working with sugar and and fruit all day, if you ever steal any piece of clothing he owns that thing smells like Thieves Rest

- He is a huge cuddle bug, if you aren’t a very touchy person he respects that but if you allow whenever he’s not at work he is clung onto your side like a gods damn koala, he also genuinely purrs (hybrid head canons my beloved), you’re not convinced he isn’t a cat in a demon costume, but if he is then that is the cuddliest cat in the whole Inphinity

- His hair isn’t long per say but it is long enough that he puts it up while working, if you have any experience doing any form of updo he lets you braid or even just put his hair into a ponytail for him, he has a collection of hair ties that go with his uniform apron but that he switches out based on certain factors, it really depends

- When he first introduced you to Shuriken and Vinestaff he warned you and was right as the first thing they did was give you a shovel talk*, you tried to take it seriously but they bickered about it like six times and it was a little hard to focus on their words when they had a classic sibling slap fight in the middle of it, but they did approve of you and eventually got used to seeing you at their apartment, since they’re both very family oriented you were almost an honorary family member, technically your lover was also an honorary family member but he was just considered actual family by the siblings

- You better be ready to be shown Slingshot’s entire collection of fancy expensive shoes (i am not a sneaker head forgive any inaccuracies in this) you also better be ready to take better care of your own shoes, cleaning them regularly, wearing specific ones only for certain terrain, and gods forbid you crease them, he will get a random sense of dread, and when he finds out, woo boy, you’re in trouble

- Unfortunately he does have one drawback, being a baker his hours are horrendous, working late to prep pastries for the next day, and then waking up at the butt crack of dawn to also prep pasties, sure he doesn’t work everyday but seeing as between the three workers he’s the one who handles the baking when he does work it’s a lot of work

- His love language is gift giving, specially baked goods, honestly that shouldn’t be a surprise, he makes someone’s favorite pastries or just what they requested or he’ll even what he thinks they’ll like and gift it to them, you receive so many cookies and brownies, though you can’t complain really as free food is free food, especially when it’s made by your lover

- His dates are usually more low key or low energy, since his job is rather busy and has the aforementioned atrocious hours he prefers more calm dates, a lazy day being couch potatos or ordering take out and doing a puzzle, he prefers those dates to be at your place since his roommates are… loud to say the least

- Slingshot’s not as into big long kisses he prefers little kisses, short little mwahs on the lips or nose is his favorite, if you want to he can do more passionate kisses but he prefers short and sweet ones, since he isn’t as kissy he shows his affection with head bonks and rubbing your hand when he’s holding it

i’m debating being a baker, my main hobby is baking it helps me destress and i do it at least once a week but i dunno, my chronic pain may object to that, anyways hope these were good!

*the act of the family member(s) or close friend(s) of a partner giving a threat to the significant other warning to not hurt them, can be comedic or serious