#omg i can't feel my foot

[grilledkatniss]

You know I just KNOW Taylor is a side part girly at her core. It's just a fact. Can dodge the controversy all she wants by not explicitly siding with either front and avoiding issuing any fashion statements in that regard, sticking to her trade mark bangs but

We know her heart. She's a proper millennial through and through.

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[tonycries]

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) - G.S.

Synopsis. In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, FWḂ! Gojo, slight Sukuna x reader, rough VERY jealous séx, Satoru goes feraI omg, unprotected, FWḂ-to-lovers, thígh riding, fíngering, creampíe, overstím, spítting, implied thréesome, he’s a bit mean and possessive, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. Heheh, hoping y’all have a lovely week coming up <3

“-n’ there’s this really great café downtown with those cupcakes you like-”

“Toru.”

“-I’ll get ya some for that kick you need after a lecture with Yaga. Speaking of Yaga-”

“Toru-”

“-he’s the one in need of a kick. I swear, that man gave me a B on my presentation just because I caught him in the middle of his interpretive dance routine-”

“Satoru!”

At this, Satoru pauses in the middle of buckling up his jeans to throw a grave nod your way. “I know, right?” Promptly sauntering over to pick up his t-shirt from where it had been thrown onto your bedroom floor, “It gave me nightmares for a few days, too. Which is why we should go to that café tomorrow and then…”

You roll your eyes - partially out of frustration, partially out of necessity to rip your stare away from those sculpted shoulders on display. Decorated in angry, red scratches running down, down, down. Somehow, you manage to grit out, “Satoru I have a uh- date.”

And ah, was it a sight to behold - because, perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc on this planet, he’s stunned into silence. 

Still very groggy from sleep, still very sinfully shirtless standing at the foot of your bed. His kiss-bitten lips fall slack as you plow on, “And it’s just- I can’t make it tomorrow night because he invited me to his party.” 

Party? This was the first time you canceled one of your…appointments with your friend-with-benefits - and it was for some party? Satoru could do parties, too - much better ones than this loser, he’s sure. Ones that would actually warrant you bailing on him.

Shaking away the strange thoughts ringing in his mind, he spits, “Who?” Just about all he could get out now. 

Whoever he was - it was true about the parties. Why would you want to waste any time going to something like that when Satoru was the one known for them on campus. Him and Suku-

“It’s Sukuna.”

“Oh.”

---

It was stupid - it was ridiculous. And you don’t know why Sukuna ever agreed to this scheme, but here you were, glued to his side like his favorite lil’ plaything for the night. 

“What?” you shout for the nth time tonight, scooting closer on the couch. And you see his lips move, yet, to your frustration - despite being seated so flush against you - no sound comes out of them. 

Whatever they say about Sukuna and Satoru’s parties were true - and then some. Because right now, it was so loud you could barely hear yourself think, let alone whatever Sukuna was talking about. Heaving out a sigh, you get ready to give up and suggest joining the thrumming dance floor - before, a large, soft hand glides down to your waist. 

Fingers digging into the plush of your hips as Sukuna yanks you easily to plop down onto his waiting lap. Thighs strong and steady underneath yours, meeting your surprised gaze with his smug one, “This better?”

His hot breath fans the shell of your ear, sending traitorous shivers running along your spine - all the way down to where Sukuna was resting hand right above where your tight dress was hiking up. 

Involuntarily, you find yourself nodding along, “Y-yeah. Much better.”

“Good.”

Fuck, you could feel each and every rumble of his broad chest against yours as he continues the conversation like nothing happened. The faint tap! tap! tap! of Sukuna’s fingers drumming on your squirming hips to the beat of the pounding music. 

And it’s really hard to forget where you are, yet it hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact - when his dark eyes widen at something over your shoulders. The steady beat of his fingers halting abruptly, “Oh?”

You knew what that look meant - knew who it meant. Because, really, there was only ever one person that could command as much attention in such a hazy, packed campus party.

Dipping your head, you hastily ask, “Is he looking over at us?”

To which Sukuna finally tears his gaze away, amusement and something else so dark swirling behind his gaze when he grabs the back of your throat. Whispering against the skin, “More than looking, pretty. Satoru’s planning my funeral and dancing on my grave already.” Moving up, voice dropping to a low, low whisper, “All according to plan, of course. N’ I think…” You jolt as he bites down on your earlobe, hard. “-that we should give him a lil’ show, hm?”

You bite back a soft moan, palms smoothing over Sukuna’s pecs to steady yourself. “And just what did you have in mind?”

“A little bit of this.” he grins, eyes flickering over behind you. “A little bit of that. And some of-” Sukuna chuckles at the way you’re so responsive underneath his touch, bucking when he gives your ass a tight squeeze. Tracing right up, up, up the middle of your spine, “-this.” Lips just inches away from yours now, close. “And you get him as a new boyfriend, and I get killed for taking what I can’t have.”

You feel something soft - fleeting. 

And then immediately Sukuna’s pulling away, those lips that were just barely one yours curling up into such a sly smirk, “Yo, Satoru.”

You stiffen at the name - and the burning hole being stared into your back right now - whipping your head around to be met face-to-face with a towering Satoru. Brows furrowed, biceps rippling when he crosses his arms, lips drawn tight as he hisses through his teeth, “Seems the two of you are having a lot of fun.”

Oh, were you thankful for Sukuna’s sharp mouth right about now. Because while you’re still sitting there with your mouth stupidly agape, he muses, “Mhm, a lot of fun.” Thumbing your face back towards him, “Isn’t that right, pretty?”

Fuck, those were fighting words, ones that had Satoru looming closer - practically sandwiching you between the two men.

“I’m sure she can speak for herself.” he snaps back, slender fingers circling your wrist. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“I dunno, Toru.” And, well, maybe you were an idiot. Maybe you were a mastermind, because you only bat your lashes up at Satoru so deceivingly innocently. “Kuna here-” relishing in the way he flinches at the nickname, “-was jus’ telling me how great of a boyfriend he’d be. Right?”

The other man nods, “Since this pretty lil’ thing is single, thought I might as well take a shot.”

“Please.” Satoru was pulling you closer against him now, irritated huffs prickling waves of goosebumps across your skin. Words venomous, “Some boyfriend he’d be. I’m sure he’d do nothing other than give you weak dick and bore you to death.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Right, because yours is so much better?”

“You really think you have what it takes to satisfy this lil’ minx?”

Both men were gritting their teeth, trapping you between them. People were starting to stare now - some even pulling their phones out to start recording in case of a fight. And before the argument could escalate until that point, you catch Sukuna’s eye. Cutting off whatever next retort was on the tip of his tongue with a short, subtle shake of your head. 

“Well then…” he instead purrs, grinning as if he was in on some inside joke between the two of you - on purpose, of course, just to watch Satoru’s eyes grow harder. “Guess if I’m ‘boring her to death’ then you-” Sukuna gives you a little push, nudging you towards Satoru’s chest. “-can teach her all about fun.”

Before you can react, two strong arms are looping your waist, helping you stand up - and pulling you clean off of Sukuna’s lap. 

You’re hit with Satoru’s expensive, heady cologne - and his chest against your back, rock-hard, chest thumping wildly. You blink up at that uncharacteristically clenched jaw, “Toru?”

Now, you’ve seen him moody, you’ve seen him irritated - but never to this extent. Positively fuming, teeth grit, jolting at the mere sound of your voice as if his whole body was hit with a wave of electricity. Like some hidden, primal part of himself was being poked so dangerously awake when you softly intertwine your fingers with his. All gentle against his almost bruising hold, you question, “Are you alri-”

You don’t get to finish the question, because all it takes is another slow, leering grin flashed at you from Sukuna before Satoru mutters, gravelly. “Excuse us, then. I must have a talk with my woman.”

Starting to walk in long, fast strides upstairs - with you all stumbling and trying to keep up behind him. 

Urgent. Dangerous.

“Extra room’s unlocked, you two!” you hear Sukuna call out after the both of you. And the last sight you see of him is when he mouths a silent “You’re welcome.”. One hand flashing you a thumbs up, the other adjusting the crotch of his pants. “Have fun.”

Satoru only clicks his tongue, moving very purposefully towards where Sukuna’s bedroom was instead.

“Woah- Toru, slow down.” you yelp, out of breath at his ruthless pace. But of course, since this is Satoru, he won’t have it any way other than stopping immediately in his tracks. Turning briefly around to you - only to wrap two arms around your waist, throwing you so easily over his shoulder like some ragdoll. Large palms tugging down the hem of your ass as he continues walking. “Y-you’re so-”

So what? Mean? Jealous? Playing right into your hands?

You don’t even know - nor do you really care, because Satoru finally reaches his destination.

“Fuck- here.” he spits.

Slam!

The door is flung open so hard it almost rattles off its hinges - and you aren’t faring any better. Because no sooner has Satoru stepped inside, he’s throwing you onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

The mattress dips as he slowly makes his way up to you, your legs quiver at how much he just looked like a man starved - eyes half-lidded and crazed, hair ruffled. Having finally found a full meal in years. Darkly eyeing down the way you’re splayed out like such a slut on the mattress, dress hiking up with each bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“So-” Satoru’s fingers reach out to lazily unbuckle the straps of your heels. Lingering much more than necessary. “-got anything to say?”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a delighted grin while his hands dance up your thigh to fiddle with that garter you knew he’d love. Slow. Agonizingly slow. Cocking your head in faux-confusion, “Hmm, like what?”

“Oh I dunno.” Satoru muses, saccharine sweet. And oh you could tell by his tone that he didn’t like that - didn’t want to like it. Running his fingers feather-light all the way down your legs to fling that useless garter onto the floor. “How about a ‘oh I’m so sorry, Toru, for bailing on you and acting like such a slut with the biggest asshole on campus jus’ to rile you up.’” 

You bristle at his mockingly high tone, oh yeah, your plan worked - hell, maybe too well. 

Teeth clenched, you hiss, “Well what are you gonna do about it, Toru?” Jutting your chin in defiance, “You’re not even my boyfriend. Maybe he jus’ fucks me better than you.”

“Say that again.”

Fuck, it takes you a second to even recognise his voice as your familiar friend-with-benefits. So jagged and raw. 

And yet, you’re still running your mouth - so close to his. Too close. “Maybe he jus’ fucks me be-”

Now, usually you were the one that’d shut up Satoru mid-sentence - this time, however, he’s the one crashing his lips against yours. Swallowing the rest of that sentence in such a messy clash of teeth, and spit, and desperation. 

Pulling ever-so-slightly on your glossy lower lip with his teeth, “Say it again, sweetheart.”

Oh, you knew you shouldn’t. Not one bit. But you do it anyway, letting out a muffled, “He f-”

And again. And again and again and-

Each and every time Satoru’s kissing away your mean little words, a large hang coming up around your throat to thumb apart your lips further. “Open.” he hisses against your mouth, so angry. 

It’s as if on autopilot when you do, bruised lips sagging open. Leaving the perfect lil’ opening for Satoru to spit onto your lolling tongue, once. Twice. Thrice. Until your bleary eyes are snapping open, whining against Satoru’s iron-hold fist when you pathetically try to pull away in embarrassment.

Because shit, let it be known that Gojo Satoru has perfect aim - except for when it comes to you. Letting the steady strip of spit splatter against the side of your mouth, gliding his thumb to smear it all over your lips.

“How cute.” Satoru coos, eyes hooded. He gives your pouty mouth a final, chaste peck, sucking softly on your bottom lip. Chuckling, “Makin’ me almost forget you were locking lips with some other bitch earlier.”

And Satoru has the audacity to laugh - laugh - hoarse, and humorless at the way your jaw drops open in disbelief. Humming into your throat, “Yer right, though, m’not your boyfriend.” He leaves little bite marks down your racing pulse, your collarbone, your tits spilling out of your sinful dress. Eyes just devouring you through his long lashes, “But that doesn’t make you any less mine.”

Sitting back on the mattress, all it takes him is a simple tug on your hips to seat you so prettily on his lap. Your legs trembling around his thick thighs, gasping at the feeling of something so rock-hard right under your clothed pussy. 

“Since ya like riding thighs so much, sweetheart-” Bunching your dress up at your hips, gripping your waist - tight. “-let’s see how you like mine.”

“What- oh ngh- fuck-” you’re gasping when he just starts dragging your sloppy hips down his thigh. Long, harsh movements that don’t even ease you into it. 

“Shit.” Satoru groans at the feeling of your cunt drooling, seeping into his skin already. He’s angling his head to spy on the heavenly view - hooking a finger around your drenched panties. “This damn thing is-” Pulling - tearing. “-in the way.”

You’re gasping when Satoru pulls back to look at you with a content grin, dangling the flimsy fabric around his finger like a badge of honor. “You’re- ngh- buying me a new one.”

“Oh, anything for you.” he’s grazing his teeth along your earlobe, fingers finding their way back on your hips to grind them on his thigh, back and forth. Up and down up and down up and- “Or is that what you wanted me to say?”

And shit Satoru is so mean with the way he gives your ass a sharp smack! Pulling your whiny face closer, grinning sternly against your lips. “Why don’t you ask that new boytoy of yours to buy you some, huh?” 

“B-but-”

“B-b-but-” he mocks, bouncing his knees up and down to get you to slide your cunt down his long thighs faster. Puffy folds spreading so shamefully open - so shamefully good. “You were so happy being such a slut for him before, right?” Just goading on your poor self to huff and puff in a way that made his cock twitch wildly. “So why are you here? With me?”

You’re stubbornly keeping your lips sealed shut to keep yourself from crying out - and oh, Satoru didn’t like that. Almost as much as he didn’t like seeing you giving those beautiful heart-eyes at some other bastard.

“Oh? Playing shy now?” Smack! “What happened to the slut from earlier, huh?” Bouncing his knee faster. The pads of his long fingers sting into your skin, sure to leave bruises for him to admire later - and for some people to take note of. Pulling - drawing your cunt to hump him like a bitch in heat. “Tha’s alright, pretty. I get it.” 

And Satoru - mean, mean Satoru - waits until your features soften in relief, almost letting out a sigh - before dipping a hand down to brush a thumb at your pretty clit. Hard. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to bring her out.”

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, nails digging into Satoru’s shoulders when he starts to draw frenzied, methodical little circles on your throbbing clit. “S’too- good- oh my god-”

“‘Toru’ works jus’ fine, sweetheart.” 

But oh for how confident Satoru was talking you into insanity, he can’t help but gape in wonder down below him, awe-struck with how sloppy you were. He could see you sweet sweet juices trailing down his palm, that glossy sheen on his thigh. “You’re so dripping wet, pretty. Who’re you this wet for? Me or-” Satoru’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, turning your head to the adjacent wall, where Sukuna had a framed photograph of himself - because of course he did. “-him?”

Fuck, Satoru can’t even be mad at the way he feels your cunt clench in surprise - because the feeling is so heavenly. His pretty girl, getting off on just his thigh.

Hips stuttering as you move faster - sloppier. So, so filthily all the way from around his knee just till where you could feel the curve of his massive erection. 

He doesn’t even have to move your hips for you anymore - you’re moving as if on instinct at this point. And it makes him smirk, “Heh, such a slutty lil’ thing aren’t ya? Gettin’ off on my thigh?” Feeling you push your hips down hard - so hard. Pelvis desperately trying to hit all your sweet spots, “N’ who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a whimpering “Y-you.”

But, of course, that wasn’t enough. And Satoru’s only quirking his fingers just enough on your clit to make you cry out loud. “Yeah tha’s more like it. Louder now - who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

“You-”

“N’ who got you this fucking wet?”

You cry out when Satoru angles his leg up ever-so-slightly to watch gravity slide you faster down his thigh. Clit catching so fucking obscenely along the fabric of his pants. Ruthless.

“F-fuck you, Toru!”

“Mhmmm, thought so.” His hot tongue darts out to catch those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the unforgiving stimulation. Muscled thighs burning lightly now - faster -  fingers so erratic. Only getting even more so. “Cuz you’re mine aren’t ya?”

You cum so hard - violent, even - that you don’t realize when you are. Just that you’re letting out a broken sob of Satoru’s name while he toys so relentlessly with your clit through your high.

Flashes of white in your vision, your heartbeat in your ears. So good that you’re almost tearing apart his button-up to shreds, hips jerky and sensitive as you your sloppy cunt gushes all over Satoru’s thigh. And, fuck, you’ve never felt so much like such a slut than when you look down to catch the glossy coating all over it. 

One that Satoru swipes thumb at - pooling the syrupy slick on his fingerpad before bringing up to his pretty pink lips and-

Pop! 

“Mmm.” He groans, muffled. “Fuck, you’re so sweet - could taste you forever.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste, “Almost makes me forget that you didn’t answer my last question.”

And you don’t know what you’re reeling more from - the way that Satoru throws you around so easily, pushing you back until you’re splayed out against the plush mattress, shaky legs on his shoulders, arms around his neck. Or from the realization that shit, you’d been too busy losing your absolute sanity to answer his question. 

“I- I didn’t hear.” you make up an excuse, heels digging into the muscles of Satoru’s shoulders now. “I’m yours, Tor-”

“Now now, don’t try that with me, sweetheart.” Satoru cuts off your flurry of apologies, kissing softly at the ankle beside his neck while he pulls off your dress and bra. You didn’t need those, anyway. “Guess I just hafta prove it to ya, right?”

And fuck was he well and fully intent on proving it to you. Because the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s peeling down his drenched pants - and those unnecessary boxers right along with it, too. 

Satoru hisses when his painfully hard erection smacks against those toned abs, smearing precum in a small, filthy little pool. So so angry with the need to be inside your tight pussy - to prove to you from the inside out that you were his. 

“Ya like what you see?” he notices your fixed stare at his cock. Greedily following the precum beading at his fat, red head, making its way between Satoru’s prominent veins. To those tufts of white way down, down, down- “Hey there.” You’re startled out of your little reverie by two wet fingers being snapped in your face, “As flattered as I am, this is actually my favorite part.”

And fuck you could see why it was.

Because it felt so sinful to watch with bated breath at the way Satoru fists his swollen cock, gliding his weeping tip between your swollen folds. Letting your pretty pussy slobber all over him. Up and down. Again. And again. Teasing. 

“P-please, Toru-” you whine around the fifth time he’s “accidentally” nudging at your poor clit. Hips bucking up in need for more more more- “Enough teasing, jus’ wan’ you ngh- inside me.”

To Satoru, no sweeter words have been spoken. But he still manages to curl his lips into a leering smirk at your fucked-out, needy self. “Funny. Coming from someone who shit- pretty, you’re pussy’s trynna suck me up - who couldn’t wait to bail on me tonight for some other hah- jerk.” He presses his thick tip down on your clit, on purpose. “Would’ve fucked you ngh- real nicely, tonight, y’know? What a shame.” 

You can only watch when he draws his hips back, lining up right with your sloppy hole. “What a shame m’gonna ah- fuck you like the slut you are right now.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - to your snug cunt, to your fucking lungs it felt like. 

“Oh- oh fuck, Toru-” you keen, back arching off the bed at the stretch. Satoru’s girth was rubbing up against your gummy walls and stretching them out so good. All the way until all you could feel was the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing cock pushing between your legs. “God, s’too big-”

“No no no, you don’t get to say that.” Satoru spits into your open mouth, hips jutting forward like some animal in short, shallow grinds to bully himself deeper. “You don’t get to fuck- ngh- act all coy when you brought this upon yourself.” His words come out faster - more slurred. Falling out faster and faster as his hips do, “Not when you decided t-to act like a lil’ slut hah- n’ guess what?”

Whether it was a rhetorical question or not - you weren’t sure. All you know is that you’re mewling up tearily at such a feral Satoru, “W-what?”

To which he only smiles against your lips, hips suddenly going still. Dangerously still. “N’ that means m’gonna fuck you like one.”

Before you can even react, he’s pushing in all in one go. Fuck, it never got easier even after so long. 

“Oh- fuck I can’t take it- all-” you cry helplessly as he keeps pushing past that first ring of resistance. The curve of his cock massaging all those hidden sweet spots inside while he keeps splitting you apart deeper and deeper - not daring to even slow down. Not until Satoru’s well satisfied with the kiss of your bruised cervix against his thick head ,heavy balls smacking against your marked-up ass. 

“See? Knew you could take it, you always do.”

And then he’s moving - not with the slow, persistent determination from before, no. Satoru was so animalistic, bouncing you unapologetically on the mattress. 

Hands keeping your hips still to let him ram his entire cock inside your tight pussy. Over and over and-

“Still don’t think you’re not- fuck- mine, sweetheart?” Satoru runs a hand through his hair to see you better, to drink in the sight of your puffy folds bulging around his cock. Struggling to take in each mean thrust, “Because this seems ngh- reeeeal convincing that you are.”

You scrunch your brows in a pathetic plea, “I-I am yours, Toru- ngh-”

But he only brings his ear closer, “What was th-that? Didn’t hah- hear you-” Hands pushing apart your legs until they burned at the stretch. Until you were so shamefully on display for him, “You hah- need more convincing? Oh, I see.”

“I don’t! Oh- T-ngh”

It’s all you can do to let out teary, broken moans when Satoru rolls his hips harder. So carefully practiced with the way he locates your sweet spot easily. 

“Yeah? You hah- like that?” he groans, words punctuated by a deep, harsh thrust. All hitting the bulls-eye each and every time. “Like me f-fuckin’ you like you’re mine?”

At this point, you’re scrambling at the damp sheets, the headrest, Satoru’s shoulders - just anything and everything to hold onto whatever’s left of your sanity - which seemed to be slipping away with each press of Satoru’s head against your g-spot. 

But it still wasn’t enough.

Languidly, he brings a hand over to pinch your ravaged clit between two fingers. Having you whine so prettily with each roll of his fingertips. “Answer the question, pretty.”

“Yes!” you gasp, feet kicking at the sheer overstimulation. “I love it- ngh shit shit shit- I love it, Toru- love it so much.”

Shit, you might’ve just broken him.

Because while you may have thought that this answer would calm your Satoru down a bit - it only made him snap. Eyes widening, hips stuttering, swollen lips falling into such a fucked-out oh! - he looked like an absolute wreck.

Letting out a low, throaty groan of, “Oh fuck, you’re gonna be the ngh- death of me.” With this, he’s pressing his sweaty forehead onto yours, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs that match his merciless cadence. “Wish they could fuck- see you like this.” Ramming inside you harder - meaner. Giving your clit a light smack! before he starts playing with it once more. “I’d ah- fuck you in front of all those losers that think they have a chance just to show off how good you are f’me. Because you’re fuck fuck fuck- my good girl, right?”

You nod as much as you can, head just spinning with each brush of Satoru’s dick against your sensitive spots. Fingers twirling at your clit just as dizzyingly. Letting your slick glisten all over his wrist - his painfully squeezing balls - all the way up to his abs with how hard he was fucking into your tight pussy.

The both of you were getting so sloppy now. No care or concern for the party still raging on outside, not when your gummy walls were sucking up Satoru’s aching cock like that. 

“No one ngh- can fuck you like this.” Satoru sucks on your lower lip. Ragged, like it pained him to keep talking, but he couldn’t stop anyway. “No one.” Milking you harder and harder like he was high off your sweet moans. More desperate - depraved. “Cuz m’yours.”

And he repeats that - into your lips, into your forehead, down your neck - over and over while you cum so fucking hard all on his swollen cock. Plushy walls squeezing so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your high.

Ripping out strangled, raspy groans with each clench of your slutty cunt, “N’ you’re mine.” You think your vision gets hazy through your climax, and the only thing you can hear are those obscene squelches and Satoru’s voice. Like a mantra, “You’re mine- you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine- fuck you’re mine.”

Not straying too far behind, Satoru cums and he thinks he sees the pearly gates of heaven - with you, such an angel. 

So sweetly whining into his ear when he’s painting your walls white, pumping rope after rope of thick, hot cum into your awaiting pussy.

Blinking back his vision only to eye the way it overspills, dribbling down your slit with each harsh ram of his hips. 

“Wan’ go again-” Satoru groans. Only fucking his seed deeper and deeper and oh- he didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think he could stop with the way you were bringing out each and every single last drop like it was delicious. “F-fuck I needa go again. Swee-”

SLAM!

“Woah, seems the two of you are having a looota fun.”

Still not pulling out, both you and Satoru scramble to cover yourselves up with Sukuna’s now-soaked sheets. Well, mainly cover you up, for Satoru had no shame in staring the other man down. Scoffing out, “The fuck are you fuck- don’ squeeze me so hard, pretty- the fuck are you here for?”

“It’s my room, n’ I had a feeling you’d be here.” Sukuna lets the door shut so agonizingly slow, flashing the two of you a lazy, devilish grin. “Besides - this is my date, after all.”

A/N. Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[hoseoksluna]

LITTLE JUICE | JJK

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut, pwp

rating: 18+

summary: when you get insecure about being constantly needy for your boyfriend, jungkook shows you that it's okay.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: the plot is TEENY TINYYYY in this one, pure filth, mirror sex, dd/lg, little space, new roles for the wine universe omg, jungkook is a caretaker, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, dry humping, they're so in love it's sickening, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), fingering, squirting, daddy issues, heavy dom/sub dynamics, handjob, penetrative sex without condom, cowgirl, plushies used in a sexual situation.

luna's note: i'm so sorry i couldn't get this out for you on xmas day since i was so sick, but let this be a gift for the new year! i missed writing smut sooooo much, and i can't wait to get back to it starting january. this was so fun omg. i missed wine sm. my daddy issues be daddy issuing so this has something new in it, i'm super excited abt it!! i hope you like this and that you enjoy reading. make sure to let me know what you think in my ask box!! mommy luna is baaaaackkkkkkk. HAPPY NEW YEARRRRR. <3 (one day early but i felt like saying it idc) BIG MWAH.

luna's necessary side note: i missed u all so damn much wtf. OH, AND HAPPY BDAY TAEHYUNGGGGGG.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

The mirrors, lining the walls, are nearly all fogged up once you take a step inside the vast rehearsal room. A certain mellow, yet familiar song led you towards the right door—one that made your ears perk up in curiosity because it reminded you of something you’d heard a long time ago, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Not until you rearranged your bobas into the crook of your elbow and slid open the door. 

The stuffiness of the room only added to the sensual aura of the song, and your legs nearly gave out on you. 

No BS by Chris Brown.

The song that started it all.

Jungkook, clothed in black from head to toe, seems to be locked in his own world as he moves his body in the center of the room, his chest and feet hitting each beat without a singular mistake or a misstep. And when the chorus of the song flows in, his whole figure follows suit. It rolls into the rhythm like the slowest, most passionate wave of the sea that splits in the middle and begins to course down your sternum. Your cheeks darken with a feverish tint. You feel every inch of his movements inside you as if he were there, and when Jungkook spins and sinks to his knees, propping only one Nike-shod foot on the floor, and he hip-thrusts before he continues those rippling motions to the last beats, the muscles of your thighs quiver on reflex and your dampened private parts flutter.

You did not expect to see that when you texted Jungkook you were going to visit him just because you finished work early and you could get boba before your favorite shop closed. You feel as though you just got blessed twice. 

TGIF, indeed. Never in your life had you ever thought you’d celebrate the work week ending like you are right now—with two bobas in your arm, cooling your heated skin, and with your eyes witnessing erotically angelic artistry in a humid room. And with your sensitive parts outright dripping, too, because the song ends, enveloping the room in a silence that welcomes in Jungkook’s heavy breathing as he slumps back onto his back, his chest lifting and falling in the air. 

You feel fuzzily faint. He made you wet in record time and he hasn’t even touched you. Nor has he looked at you. 

Instinctively, your hand grasps your mango boba and you press it against the side of your face. Smile to yourself as a lightbulb flicks to life in your mind. 

Leaving behind your purse, you take both of the delightful treats and walk over to him. His eyes are closed as he’s absolutely unaware of your presence, your steps soft and sly. His round, sweat-splotched nose puffs out hard breaths that move through you and you coo to yourself silently before you place both of your feet on either side of him. You squat down, careful not to let your bum touch his lap, and you get his boba ready, placing your own on the ground. And with the loudest roar you can muster, you press the drink to his glistening cheek. 

He yelps. His fear-filled eyes fly open, his hands quick to catch you as you tumble down on him in reaction, your lungs submerging the room in your obscenely loud giggles. Tears of laughter cloud your vision, preventing you from seeing the horror twisting his face, but the little you saw was enough to douse your body in extraordinary elation. The tapioca inside the long cup swirls as it swims ferociously in the thick, violet liquid, mimicking the roundness and the blackness of his pupils with utmost perfection. 

You swipe a finger under your eye, speckles of your glitter smearing its pad. You lean down, your laughter subdued as it slowly fades out, and you can see the horror smoothing out and transforming, seamlessly, into a relieved adoration that taps against your heart. You kiss him with the boba now cooling your cheek as well. Leave behind a hard peck on his perspiration-coated mouth that makes him softly hum into this physical exchange of love, and just before you draw away, he breathes out against you with his nose. And that doesn’t just tap on your heart, it knocks on it most warmly. 

You love him so much. Too much. So much that the simplest of his body and human reactions make you feel things. Things that normal girls don’t normally feel. 

Good thing you’re not a normal girl. 

You’re a messed up girl. And you’re a girl in love. Have been for the past year. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” 

Your mouth widens into a pleased grin, and the light bulb that shone in a bright yellow melts into a warm, dusky pink tinge that floods your spine—only because he squeezes the dip of your waist that you’ve been working hard at carving out. A new thing you’ve implemented into your daily routine after you’ve gotten a new job that doesn’t allow you to fuck him all day long like you used to. The sex has gotten even better with time as the wine of his love ripened and matured. To such an extent that you found yourself craving it more than you had in those times when you were just seeing him for sex. Two rounds aren’t enough for you—and you remember well that after two rounds you were usually too exhausted to even keep your eyes open. Now, because you have matured too, your vessel for his love and his liquid stars has grown, needing more to feel satisfied to the fullest. The new job kept you away from him, the long hours teased you. So much that your bathroom breaks were too frequent and obvious and you spent them locked in a bathroom stall with one hand in your panties and your other holding your phone to your ear while Jungkook guided you, his hand, too, in his pants, locked in the same place on the other side of the line, whispering encouraging, lewd instructions that sent you shaking over the edge in mere minutes. 

Instructions that got him in trouble at his workplace, hence why he had to come up with a solution. Because your thirst was never quenched in minutes. His voice was too pretty, and too soft. 

Gym five times a week for you, dance lessons for him, physical distance for the both of you. A perfect solution for a perfect problem. All that sexual frustration was released during those exercises filled with delicious pain and you went to work the next day free of that carnal lust swishing in your veins. You focused on your work, and you didn’t have to take long bathroom breaks. You didn’t even need a spare pair of panties in your purse anymore.

It worked—and it’s completely crazy to you that all it took for you to break your public purity streak was seeing him dance like that. 

You sit up and with your swift movement, the squelching sound of your cunt rubbing up against your juices sounds out across the room. Your cheeks heat up with a different shade of red as embarrassment runs down your spine, especially as Jungkook’s brows twitch upwards and his eyes widen, his large hands lowering down a little, following the curve of your figure that leads to his favorite part of you. 

Your hips. 

A blush scatters upon his cheeks, too. He heard it. 

He calls out your name, sweeping his tongue across his abruptly dry and chapped bottom lip. Your name, not princess, not baby. Your government name without any embellishment of adoration. 

You’re in trouble. 

Your embarrassment pinches you at the two dimples on the small of your back. “Y-yeah?” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, but he pauses for a moment. As if he could sense where the emotion touched you, his long and warm fingers find its icy traces that it left behind while still keeping the crooks of his thumb anchored on your hip bones. 

“Did you get wet for me?” 

A shiver cascades down the slender column of your back, a visible one for his eyes to see that coax out his softness for you, evident in the roundness of his bottom lip that he juts out, triggering your unprecedented shyness. What a drastic shift of dynamic in your relationship you perceive this to be. All along, for a year long, the atmosphere of your shared love has been nothing but an environment of safety, where you could unfold your sexuality as naturally and confidently as you wanted to without an ounce of coyness. Introduce an unyielding desire and a well-meaning solution for it into the equation and watch the change bloom. 

For some reason, you’re reminded of his past, now distant, liking of a certain degradation kink that once grew like vines across your intimate relations with him. The memories travel along your veins—the vulgar pet names, the calling out, the rough handling—and crest at your core, moistening the center of your panties even more as your walls pull in. And the way Jungkook takes that bottom lip between his teeth divulges to you quite clearly that he feels it. 

Which is a bad thing because you can’t lie about it. 

But… you can’t divert his attention from it. 

You slosh his drink in your hand. “I got you your favorite,” you chirp, the boba twirling beneath your hand while his identical pupils remain unmoving, unblinking, fixed on you. You manage a smile, but its staticness crumbles as soon as you realize that Jungkook isn’t really influenced by your change of topic. “Taro boba. I got a milk one, too. Mango. You wan—”

His hands descend down to your thighs, squeezing, halting the tide of your words, the progression of your trick. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your skirt and before you know it, he lifts you just a little bit to maneuver you and make you sit on the shaft of his semi. A low gasp gushes out of your throat as well as a leak of your dew not only onto the fabric of your underwear but onto the material that now clings to his manhood. 

He twitches, hardening beneath your pussy, and gooseflesh pricks your skin. 

“Mango? You always get Taro with me.” 

The glitter from your eye make-up that you smeared across his cheek during your kiss twinkles underneath the dimmed light and he doesn’t guide your hips to move against him. No, he rolls his own—ever so slowly, ever so discreetly. His hands merely hold you down, but nothing about it is forceful. Subdued pleasure springs up your sternum, pooling in your head, making you woozy as quickly as if he were pouring booze down your throat. And when he heightens the pressure enough that he twitches again, you recognize he’s doing the same move that is a part of the choreo he was practicing. 

Your heart hammers against your chest. Your nipples pebble against your cotton top, and Jungkook’s eyes fly to them, catching and taking in their aroused state, perhaps even coaxing it out of them. 

A sigh leaves his mouth. He fists the hem of your skirt, dipping his head into the current of the pleasure he’s giving both of you, and so do you. 

You just can’t help it; you can’t fight it. When your toe touches the surface of the wine of your shared love, nothing can keep you from taking a dip. And the same applies to Jungkook, too. In this case, he’s dripping in red, having slipped entirely into the current, one arm out of the water, fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling you into the water. 

And something about his desire lessens your strange coyness. His lack of solution offering brings down the stigma, setting you free. And you missed him. You missed him terribly. Haven’t felt his dick in five fucking days. 

You place your hands on top of his. 

A small fire begins to burn within the snug blackness of his eyes. All of a sudden, the noises he stifled come out in soft, almost inaudible growls that cause your clit to throb and your nails to dig half-moons into the skin of his hands. A green light from you for him to enjoy this—and he does. Jungkook throws his head back, his pretty chin pointing to the ceiling, and his big chest heaves. 

It is only at this moment that his eyes leave yours just to bask in this forbidden pleasure. 

Anyone could walk in—the doors aren’t locked, nor are they shut at all. Anyone could think the practice room is available for personal use, without a single soul present. And anyone could see you riding the horsey because the sight of him lost in the vivacity of it all forces you most carnally to give him more. 

You hump him. 

“My friend got it the other day and she said it was delicious,” you breathe out, speaking of your unordinary choice of boba. The movements of your hips are small, minuscule, but hard enough that his knuckles get painted with a shade of ivory that sprinkle your chest with little shocks of joy and pride. A thick vein bulges on the side of his throat as Jungkook tries his best not to let out the entirety of his noises that his body is brimming with—and for that very reason, you grab his hands and place them very brattily on your perked, full breasts. “I wanted to try it and see for myself.” 

This feels good. This feels like the time before you got older and greedy. And the feeling is validated when Jungkook whisks his eyes back at you and grapples your tits, squeezing them so hard that it’s you who bites their bottom lip until you nearly draw blood, your body set on fire with a blue desire that kisses his big hands with such roughness that he whimpers. 

But the moment is ruined all too soon. 

A myriad of high-pitched voices is carried through the thick air, accompanied by giggles. You gasp, looking behind you, and before you know it, you’re up on your feet and Jungkook’s unopened boba is knocked to the side, now rolling sideways towards the mirror. 

You go to fetch it, but a strong hand on your arm prevents you from doing so. You spring back to your place in front of him and you glance up at him in confusion just to see him frowning down at you. 

Sweat drips down his temple. The tips of his brows almost meet in the middle, but swim away and relax at the sight of your puzzlement. The voices grow louder, your breath hitches in your throat and Jungkook’s hand lifts and pets down the back of your head, awakening the butterflies in your tummy as if he’s done it for the first time in your life. 

A yearning to kiss him consumes you. 

“Stay here,” Jungkook murmurs, keeping his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. “If they see us like this, they’ll walk away.” 

You nod, understanding if you were to do as you wished, the girls would’ve taken it as a sign to enter the room and perhaps mingle. But if they see you stuck in an intimate moment like this, they quietly and quickly leave without any unnecessary fuss. 

Smart man. 

“I’m also so fucking hard that I can’t even hide it,” he continues, lowering his tone even more. It penetrates you, making your clit thrum, and as your grin blossoms, so does a romantic shade of blush across your cheeks. You envelop your arms around his torso, propping your chin on his chest, radiate your love up to him, and Jungkook smiles down at you. “As per usual.” 

He kisses your forehead, lingering there for a beat longer before he lifts his head and focuses his gaze at the situation at the door. You don’t care much because you dwell on the hot and cold sensation he left in his wake from the warmth of his mouth and the iciness of his lip ring—something you’ll never get used to and something that will always ruin your panties. 

“They’re gone.” 

And so is he. Off to shut the door and lock it, peeking through the little rectangular window to check if anyone is around. Once the coast is clear, you sense him behind you as you bend to pick up his knocked off boba and you stumble upon his gaze in the mirror as soon as you straighten your spine. 

A hungry look is wrung into his features. 

The corners of his eyes droop in arousal, narrowed as they are. His pupils are blacker than the tapioca in your hands. His teeth nibble on his bottom lip impatiently and you flutter all over, taking in his state and his large stature towering above you. You could melt into him and never be found again, hidden in the crevices of his body that you still believe are there for you. Hidden forever, safe and sound. 

He’s delicious through and through—and it’s been five days since you last had a taste of him. 

Five torturous days. 

“You must be thirsty after all that dancing,” you say, breathless and thirsty yourself. His chest heaves, colliding into your back, and all those soft crevices of him touching you brings you back into that ravenous, greedy state you can’t get out of so easily. Dangerous, he is. Utterly, utterly dangerous. Erasing your clean streak like that. “Let me open it for you.” 

You go to turn around and fetch his straw from your purse, but he doesn’t let you. He encages you where you are by a mere placement of his hand on your hip, fingers back to gripping the fabric of your skirt. He can rip it off if he likes—he can buy you a new one and make your heart elated anytime. 

The idea hardens your nipples, making a show for him all over again. 

He pushes you flush against him, earning a sultry gasp from you. The fingers that gripped your skirt elongate across your mound while the other graze your chin, elevating it a little, ensuring a strong eye contact. 

You flutter. Can’t take it anymore. He has to take you home and fuck the shit out of you before you— 

“I am thirsty,” he purrs, his lips borderline touching yours. “But for something other than bubble tea. Care to guess what it is?” 

Your breath lodges in your throat. You know well what he means, but out of habit and out of personal pleasure you pretend to be dumb. You want to hear him say it—you want him to be as detailed as he was during those naughty afternoon phone calls that got him in trouble with his boss, who told him off for having long work breaks. You want him, his filthy mouth and even filthier, condescending manners. 

You want the old times—and for the sake of your desire, you remain silent. Twist your brows in feigned confusion. Widen your eyes a little. Puff out your cheeks. 

Your adorableness makes him twitch against your hip. Jungkook sucks in a breath. Takes the hand that caressed your chin and glides it down your neck, your chest, your stomach that flexes under his touch until he winds up at the waistband of your skirt. There he stops and he tilts his head to the side, sweeping his tongue along the pillow of his bottom lip. 

“What I want,” he starts, his breathing quickening. “Is the little juice that is in here.” He skims the pads of his fingers down your mound, beneath the hem of your skirt and along the sopping surface of your clothed feminine flesh. You mewl, your hips instinctively riding his fingers, following the sailing, back and forth motion. Your adorableness deepens with the influence of the sudden pleasure by the way it scrunches up your features and Jungkook whimpers again, stopping his motions when he feels you timidly soak his fingers. “I want it so bad that I can’t go one more minute without it.” 

You glance down more to see how big of a mess you’re making on his hand, but as attuned as he is to his role, brought about by his arousal, Jungkook takes your breath away with his following actions. 

He moves you closer to the mirror. Bunches up your skirt even higher so you have a perfect view of your panties, which have a large wet spot in the middle. Little rivulets of your juices flow out of their confines and down your inner thighs, proceeding to make a puddle on the hardwood floors beneath your feet. Jungkook’s fingers are shiny in the light, coated in your lustfulness, and he drifts them up and down that stain—over your swollen clit and sensitive lips. 

“See? Here. This little wet princess part of you is what I crave.”

And just like that, owing to his words, you flourish into the little girl you haven’t been safely dwelling in for months, sliding into that role as easily, tenderly and meekly as if you were slipping your feet into your fluffy slippers. You regress, beautifully, making sweet little noises into his neck as you go to hide in there, poking his drink into his hand, silently telling him to take it while you rub your sticky thighs together, eager to get the uncomfortable throbbing feeling away. And he does, solid in his own caretaker role, sinking down onto his knees, placing the drink on the floor against the mirror. But he remains there, looking up at you, eyes big and round, yet still steady, sure, mature and irrevocably dependable. And you sense those eyes to be telling you to take your panties off and give the Daddy what he craves. 

You hook your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear and drag it down past the middle of your thighs, letting him handle the rest, but you catch his eyes watering ever so gently—and the discovery causes your heart to skip a beat. He’s taken in the role you’ve slipped into, having watched it happen in real time in all its glory, and perhaps he’s nostalgic, or perhaps he’s just euphoric, but he takes the time to bask in it all. 

And he kisses the cotton fabric of your panties first before he kisses the soft flesh of your thigh. Drags it down. Lets it pool in his hands at your ankles. Peeks up at you. 

“The way you willingly give yourself over to me never fails to mesmerize me,” he purrs, pressing another kiss to your thigh without taking his eyes off of you. Your stomach jumps, energy-charged butterflies scurrying to the front of your stomach in longing to kiss him, too. “You’ve been feeling bad about being needy for me. Worked hard for weeks to be a good girl, but what you don’t know, princess, is that you were a good girl even when you called me up at work asking for me,” he continues, lips brushing against your skin with every pronounced vowel. He edges around your knee and begins to pepper gentle, wet kisses there. Your mouth falls open—and you discover this place is a spot of more sensitivity than your neck. You double over, grabbing a tight hold of his tousled, yet soft hair, and Jungkook moans against you. “And you’re a good girl right now for giving yourself over to me, even when you’re so careful about being horny for me in public.” 

Your body forces out the same kind of noises, so tender and pained, your heart rapidly kicking against your ribcage. Your arousal is heightened by his words carrying such devastating praise, even when the most inert core of you aches for such different debauchery—the very opposite of what he’s giving you. 

You leak for him, nonetheless. 

Unable to take it anymore, Jungkook cradles your ankles and carefully rids you of your ruined panties, half-stuffing them into the front pocket of his jeans. A tiny bit of the pink fabric sticks out of it and the sight intoxicates you, pulling you deeper into your little space. Even more so when he finishes his praise because he wasn’t done yet. Not quite. 

“And to see you be little for me so prettily again after such a long time,” he husks, spreading your legs far apart enough to see that gleaming rivulet make its way down the inner of your thigh. “That makes me the happiest man in the world, princess. I missed you. God, I missed you.” 

Jungkook leans in and, with his tongue flat against your inner thigh, he collects the little juice you leak for him. He moans at the taste, but the sound is broken by a cry marked by yearning for more. He doesn’t stop there—he delves immediately, without sparing a second, into your lap with such a verve that your back crashes against the still fogged up mirror. His mouth seizes your clit, making kissing sounds as he laps and sucks at it with a hunger that could never be replicated in the arts. You grip his hair tighter for support, almost sliding down the mirror while struggling to contain your noises, the pleasure permeating every inch of your body that is ultimately submitted to him. The pressure of the delight he’s giving you deepens when he places one of your thighs on his shoulder, helping you take it while he continues to moan into your pussy and eat her like she deserves. 

But you can’t take it. Not at all. Not when he begins to flick his tongue on your clit in a way that he does. 

Your foot slips, but Jungkook is in control. He makes sure you land on your bum safely and painlessly, not once ripping his mouth off your cunt. His eyes continue to be steady, fixed on you, narrowed into such thin, alluring slits that it hastens your sweet release. You hiccup as you take little breaths, overwhelmed by it all. Your cheeks burn, and the fire spreads down your limbs, leaping over to your boyfriend at work, who glows with a rosy tint. Jungkook pulls away a little bit, dripping in arousal and perspiration, and he allows you to see his technique in all its glory. 

The tip of his tongue stimulates your engorged clit with rapid, hard flicks. 

Your orgasm inches closer and closer. Jungkook pushes your legs all the way back until you’re a squished mochi that he can’t get enough of, and when he puts a bigger pressure on your little bud, it is your absolute undoing. 

Closer and closer, the orgasm takes over you completely. From the top of your head to your little toes that flex in your sneakers, you begin to shake uncontrollably as the highest level of the delight bursts upon your body. Jungkook’s noises grow in volume simultaneously, enraptured as he is by the view of his created paradise unfolding over you—and he never stops looking at you. 

Not even as you come down from your high. 

Not even as he, with your little juice dripping down his chin, turns you around and stacks one of your feet on the mirror while he keeps the other leg back with his hand. His limbs surround you, and as you blink through the blinding fog of your orgasm, you realize that you accidentally managed to match your shoes with his. High Nike dunks, black. The ones he got for you as well when he bought a pair for himself. 

Your hole clenches in the mirror. A stream of your little juice makes a larger puddle on the floor beneath you. 

“Look at you dripping for me, fuck.” 

Hooking your leg over his right limb, he strums your entire feminine flesh with the four of his fingers, the squelching and squeaking sounds of your pussy pulling a tortured groan out of him as if he hadn’t gotten a taste of you a mere minute ago. His other hand sneaks to your tits to feel them up, stopping at your pebbled nipple, which he fondles as he breathes against you, inhaling your scent. Your hips buckle, your drenched seashell sensitive from his feast, and Jungkook lets out a pleased chuckle. 

“My pretty little pussy. Always so sensitive from all my love, huh?” 

You nod, meeting his gaze in the mirror, and Jungkook grins before he places a fat, rewarding kiss to your cheek, the two of his fingers, middle and ring, one of them adorned with that white Miffy plastic ring, starting a series of circles on your clit. 

Your hips buckle again, the pleasure soft yet dizzying, overwhelming your senses. Jungkook tightens his grip around you, squeezing your breast. 

“Whose pussy is this, princess?” 

In the middle of it all, a light bulb flicks to life once again in your woozy mind. And a pleased smile, just like his, begins to grow on your mouth. But Jungkook is impatient and you’re not responding fast enough for his taste, so he lifts his soaked fingers and uses them to grip your mouth. 

There it is. 

“I asked you a question. Whose pussy is this?” 

You’d bite your lip if he weren’t squishing your cheeks together, but your satisfied smile reaches your eyes, crinkling them. That causes him to relax his hold and give you a chance to give him the answer he seeks. 

Little does he know you’re about to manipulate him into giving you the sin that you desire. 

“This slutty little pussy is yours. Yours and no one else’s, Dada.” 

His brows twitch and light unrolls across his face, softening his features in a way you’ve never seen before. He curses, momentarily rolls his eyes back, and he plunges his wet fingers into his mouth before he seizes your mouth in a compulsive kiss that thoroughly shuts off your brain. You taste yourself on his tongue, and you comprehend he licked off his fingers and didn’t swallow only so you could get the treat he had himself—because he busies his fingers by burying them inside your fleshy heat. 

And he fucks you hard and doesn’t stop even when you begin to make intense little noises into his mouth. 

You struggle to kiss him back when he curls his fingers and pistons into you with rapid jerks from this angle. His other hand tugs your top upwards, finds its way into the cups of your bra just so he could pinch and rub your nipple in the way that you like. And when his tongue flicks against yours and his mouth purses softly against yours before he deepens the kiss, your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly that you’re as surprised as him once you come apart all over not just his hand, but the mirror, too. 

You splatter it with your little juice and even then, Jungkook doesn’t stop. Growling with heavy breaths, he strums your clit as fast as he can until there’s nothing left you can give to him. 

You slump against him, high on the complexity of yours and his aphrodisiac love. Specks of your glitter—your small shooting stars gravitate down to your flushed cheeks, and then his fingers are in your mouth, traveling far down and deep until you grace him with the sound he likes. You gag around them and he nods, pleased, smirking. 

“Good girl. Your slutty little juice tastes good, doesn’t it, baby?” he asks, and your stomach springs, your drunken feelings intensified by the fact you finally got what you yearned for. “Your mouth makes me fucking crazy. Dada, slutty pussy. I’m gonna lose my mind.” 

You mewl, your eyes heavy, but you want more—you want his cock, and he can feel it, he knows it. He knows it when he pulls out his fingers and kisses you as if the world was meant to end in the next minute. He knows it because he withdraws and he tells you. 

“Dada’s gonna fuck that slutty little pussy of his, hm?” Jungkook murmurs, and then his zipper is down, and just like the old times—he doesn’t rid himself of his clothes and gives you a brand new world with his strokes just the way he is. 

Fully clothed, with his hard drooling cock poking out of his unzipped jeans. 

He presses you against your wet juices on the mirror, spitting on his hand and lubricating the tip of his manhood. He enters you and you gasp, fogging up the mirror with your breath, and the hand that holds your head steady against the mirror buries into your hair while the other wraps around your hip. He sheathes himself inside you slowly whilst your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of finally being stretched out by him and once he bottoms out, it’s over. 

Your life is over.

“Dada’s pussy always so tight.” 

He pounds into you religiously—creating a new order for this brand new world. Hard, merciless strokes that scramble your brain and turn it into a mush. Your ass ripples with each collision and his noises melt into yours, a hymn for the utopia he’s fucking you into. And then he’s lifting you from the mirror and keeping you flush to himself, staring at you in the reflection while your tits spill out from your bra, bouncing, and Jungkook can’t get enough. Both of his hands drag down your straps, freeing your breasts, and he’s groping them, pinching your nipples without ever stopping the entrancing snapping of his hips. 

“Pretty princess getting fucked. Look at you. So pretty and all mine.” 

And then his Miffy-adorned finger is back on your clit, rubbing hard circles, and your personal world is finished—because your pleasure is his ultimate undoing. 

The smacking of skin quietens and his hips begin to roll—a languid, staccato version of his choreo that got you all needy and wet but an hour ago. Jungkook whimpers into your ear how much he loves you, over and over again, as he stuffs you full of his cum, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your swollen little clit until you come all over his twitching cock. 

And he doesn’t pull away. 

He holds you like this, panting into your neck, his grip still tight, still evoking a sense of safety you won’t find anywhere else. Your drowsy eyelids flit, consider yourself well-spent, and the thought begins to sing a celebratory song in your chest—because all that hard work paid off. 

You’re no longer greedy; you’re gratified after the first round. 

Jungkook kisses the nape of your neck. “We should go before Bunny and Vinny start wondering where we are.” 

The song wraps around your heart, which dissolves at his words. Jungkook pulls himself out of you, but you swivel around and throw your arms around him, catching him off guard. His still erect and wet length brushes against your thigh—and the contact makes you quiver in his arms.

“I feel good,” you explain into his ear. “I don’t need more.” 

Jungkook chuckles. Wants to look at your face and he smooths your hair back, grinning at you. “I’m proud of you, princess, but look,” he says, glancing down. You follow his gaze down and perceive he’s talking about his private parts. “I’m still hard.” 

His cock twitches at his words and twitches once more at the sound of your giggles—happy, happy giggles because the stigma behind your neediness withers and completely disappears, never to be found again, only because Jungkook isn’t embarrassed or afraid to show you he needs more. Your chest becomes light, light enough that you think you grew a pair of wings to fly around the room with.

“Gym, Gguk. You have to hit the gym more often,” you joke, knowing his work out schedule transcends beyond the five days you spend at the place. 

The corner of his mouth curls as mischief twinkles in his eyes, divulging to you that he likes the way you challenge him. 

“Oh yeah?” he questions, lifting his arm, pulling back the oversized sleeve of his T-shirt to flex his biceps. Your cheeks heat up at the strong mountains that appear and your hand can’t help but to knead it. “These aren’t big enough for you, huh?” 

You scoff and shush him at the same time, leaning over to plant a singular kiss to his muscles. Jungkook uses the opportunity to hide you in his embrace and you both sputter into laughs and giggles. He pecks your hair, but something interrupts your sweet moment. 

“Look at the mess you made,” he says, pointing at the mirror, and you gasp when you turn around. 

An imprint of the side of your face is left behind on the reflection. Foundation, mascara and glitter amidst the little pearls and rivulets of your juices. You worry what you look like now if your make-up is smeared to this extent, but it soon is washed away from your mind when Jungkook crawls forward and makes a heart on the wetness of your slick. 

He takes a picture of it and then he cleans it off with his gym towel. The floor, too. 

At home, you fuck him hard for it. 

With his Taro boba in his arm, Vinny on his chest and Bunny in the crook of his other arm, you ride him until your thighs burn and he resembles the prettiest rose you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Having come more than enough on his cock, you jerk him off while you flick your tongue on his tip, and he moans, flushes and convulses until he spills all over your hand and his stomach. Ropes of him cum reach the plushies, too, as he can’t stop coming and, growing feignedly jealous, you swallow him, longing for him to drip down your throat. 

He comes so much that your belly is full and he’s as gratified as you were in the practice room. 

And after a quick shower, you both drift off to your brand new world unexpectedly, the events of the day having exhausted you enough that you fall asleep within the next heartbeat. Vinny and Bunny tumble on in the washing machine while you and Jungkook dance in the new paradise, having stepped into the role of parents having a date without the kids. No stress, no stigma—just the freedom of being loved right. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[simpjaes]

ELABORATE ON OBSESSED!WORSHIP THE GROUND YOU WALK ON!HOUSEHUSBAND JAKE PLEASE!!!!!! MY MIND IS GONNA EXPLODE – byeol

i'll be the husband jake plug no worries. warnings: jake is suppppppppperrrrrrrr needy omg.

It's normal, natural to him to do these things.

You're so tired after a long day, he gets it. the days feel longer to him sometimes though, despite your tired feet and aching back. You're his wife, he needs you.

So what if he's unemployed? He's employed to you. Will do anything for you. everything for you. happily and willingly, with so much love in his eyes every single fucking time he hears that lock on the door click open.

Time to reiterate. He needs you.

It's been weeks. He gets it. Stress, big promotion you're going for or something. He can't say he cares too much lately due to the neglect he's been dealing with.

After all the cleaning, he massages you, bathes you, tucks you in, kisses you gently, and doesn't dare ask for more from you. After all, you're expected to do so much, from so many people. Not him. Not ever. Until now. He's a man. For three days now he's been trying to remind you. Trying all sorts of subtle tricks. Some blatant ones too. Generous groping that goes rejected. A few heavy makeouts dwindling to a pop kiss and a tired "goodnight." More subtle ones, where he simply tries to dress well for you, clean far better than usual, make your favorite foods. He knows it's not because you don't want him but...you're so stressed. He could kill two birds with one stone if you'd just... "Baby." He had said last night, sinking under the blankets and prying your legs apart. "Just rest, this is all i need." He continued, implying that he would be perfectly happy helping you relax with some bedtime head. You had closed your legs on him, pinching your brows together with the same stressed out face. All day today, his brows have been equally knitted together. Stressed. Fucking horny. Is it cringe for him to do this? Yes. Does he care? No. Fuck no. And so, you come home just like any other day to the smell of dinner. It's sweet smelling, which is an indication that your husband wants something. Never does he serve dessert for dinner, but tonight feels like a welcome change because everything else just started not only feeling, but tasting too mundane. You were more surprised when you werent greeted by Jake at the door. He didn't take your things, or slide your jacket off of you. Which, that's fine. You don't need him to wait on you hand and foot. He just tends to like doing that for you anyway... You search in curiosity for him, following the sound of clanking pots and pans. The sound would give you a headache if it weren't for the image of him as you enter the kitchen. There he is. Hair pinned back with one of your headbands, apron on... only an apron. Cock lending quite a large tent as he turns to you. You know he's trying to smile genuinely, but you see a hint of pain behind his eyes. Desperate pain. Almost like he's begging you for something. Anything. And he is begging. Only when he drops to his knees and looks up at you with those eyes do you recognize how terribly you've been neglecting him. So much so that you didn't even let him eat you out, which wouldn't have expected anything on your part aside from an orgasm. This moment feels almost emasculating for him, you can imagine. Like you've deprived him of everything he needs from you in order to maintain order in this household. Arguably, you have deprived him. You can tell by how big his cock looks peeking from the hem of the apron, and those sad glassy eyes looking at you as if this is a last resort. "Baby, ple-" Jake starts to plead on the floor, the dessert he was cooking long forgotten. You're speechless at the image, finally feeling a tingle between your legs for the first time in months. You feel so apologetic alongside the tingle, realizing how much suffering he must have gone through to be doing this. After all, there's no way in hell you could have satiated this need within you without him. How he's managed to do it all this time is beyond you. ''Jake," You interrupt him, dropping your hands to his cheeks and tilting his face further up to you. "What do you need?" You see those glassy eyes become more tearful, probably from happiness by now. No words and no apologies need to be said at this moment. He sees your realization, and understands the lack of seeing to his needs to an extent. But this... this can't happen again. Nothing is to be said after that when Jake immediately goes for your pants, missing the taste of you so badly. He was right in knowing that even just the smell of you could satiate him. And it does, his cock heavy and leaking just from the sensation of the apron rubbing against him paired with the scent of your pussy that has been long neglected.

And he devours you, getting off at least twice there on the kitchen floor with his palm desperately working himself to each high. You could tell he didn't want you to feel like you needed to do anything for him but...let him. God, fuck, you feel so guilty.

So you make up for it. Right here, sliding down on him raw, letting the mess he's made of himself make a mess of you too.

"Baby, wait-" Jake chokes, working against his words by helping you slide down on him entirely. "Fuck, you're-"

"Shh." You sigh deeply, realizing how much you needed this too. "Just keep going," He does. Fucking you so desperately that you believe he cums in you at least twice from you adjusting alone, messing your thighs with sticky fluids, the kitchen floor, and himself. So much of it, you're so full of it already. Plan B isn't such a difficult thing to buy anyway. Especially after he chooses to keep fucking you, as if he worries he'll never get to do it again.

[parkerluvsu]

Boyfriend Art going to a boys night out and getting drunk and Patrick calling you to go get your boyfriend because he's been talking about you the whole time and talking about how much he is in love with you and all and when you go back home things lead to a hot makeout session while he's telling how much he's so lucky to be your boyfriend and how he is so obsessed with you

this is so cute omg.. i need bf art in my life so bad!!!

all you wanted was a chill night in, no parties, no loud neighbors, and no hangovers. when art said that patrick invited him to a frat party on the other side of campus, sitting at the foot of your bed with puppy dog eyes, you couldn't say no. but, you made him promise not to come back too drunk or too late. art agreed, letting patrick drag him to the party around 10.

it was almost 1 now, and you were cuddled up in your blankets binge watching your favorite show when you felt your phone vibrate from under the mountain of fuzzy fabric. patricks caller id flashed on the screen as you accepted the call.

"patrick? what's up, are you guys okay?"

"hey um.. art got pretty wasted tonight.. he got a hold of some pink whitney and you know how he gets so.."

you sigh, shaking your head, before you hear some rustling on the other end of the line.

"'s this her?" you hear a little hiccup from the voice you now recognize as arts. "'m sorry baby i didn't know it was g'nna get m' drunk.." another hiccup "feels like the room is spinning.." another rustle.

"yeah well.. you heard him.. can you come pick him up? ill send you our location"

you agree to drive over, pulling on one of arts old hoodies and driving over as quick as you can. pulling up at the frat house, you see a scattering of red solo cups on the lawn, along with some beer cans. you wait in your car for a minute before you see patrick helping art down the front steps, and you open your door when patrick helps strap art in. patrick pokes his head through the window, "again, sorry about this, he just kept asking for you.." patrick sighs, looking at art, whose gaze is fixed only on you. arts watery blue eyes look at you like you've hung the stars themselves, and it isn't even only because he's drunk, he looks at you that way always.

the drive home is quiet, with arts occasional hiccups disrupting the silence. art leans over when you're at a stoplight, the red lights illuminating his face, "'m really sorry.. i didn't wan' you to be angry at me" he says, pouting at you as you continue the drive home. you shake your head, "im not mad at you art, i just always want you to be safe okay? i don't want to have to worry about you so much.." art hangs his head and nods, falling quiet again.

by the time you arrive at your dorm, arts still hiccuping, stumbling over his own feet as you usher him into your room, not keen of waking anyone up at the early hour of the morning. art flops onto your bed, his head bouncing on your pillow, the movement causing a groan to erupt from his lips.

you root around in your drawers, trying to find an old pair of his boxers and a shirt. suddenly, you feel a pair of hands wrap around your waist, a head presses against your neck and you feel a sigh of warm air against you. "art.. go sit on the bed" you sigh, pulling some clothes out for him. art presses wet kisses along your shoulder, nuzzling his nose into your skin. "'m sorry.. please f'give me.. didn't mean to make you angry" he whines, squeezing your waist. you shake you head, turning around in his arms, "im not angry art.. please go sit down so you can change.." you sigh, breaking away from his arms and leading him to the bed. art sits on the edge of the bed, his alcohol-muddled brain causing him to stare off into space. you tap art's arms, silently asking him to raise them, pulling his stained shirt off of his body with ease.

you can't deny it.. any anger that was in your body when you drove art home is gone now, seeing his slightly messy hair and pale skin glowing in the moonlight only makes you want to take care of him more. once his shirt is off you hand him an older t-shirt he left at your place, watching him put it on before handing him some pajama pants. you get art situated in bed, walking to the kitchen and filling up a glass of water and walking back.

art looks up at you blearily, tucked into the corner of your bed and where it meets the wall. you slide into bed next to him, feeling his body slump into yours once again, his face smushed into your shoulder. his hiccups have gone now, just soft breaths against your skin. it's completely silent, until art takes a sharp breath in. "i- i don' think patrick told you but everyone at the party was so annoyed with me.. couldn't stop talking about you.." that catches your attention, making your heart thump in your chest. "i swear patrick wanted to kill me, i know he's just jealous though.." you can't help but fall for the bait, "whys he jealous?" you ask. art presses closer to you, his nose almost touching yours, "cuz you're perfect.. 'n sweet 'n amazing.." he presses a small peck on your lips for each word, a tipsy smile emerging on his face. his smile is infectious, and you can't help but kiss him back, smiling against his lips, "is that so?" you add. he huffs against you, letting you take the lead against his clumsy lips. you can still taste the sweet liquor on his lips, almost making you feel intoxicated yourself. art leans into you more, placing his hands on your knees and moving further. "'s true.. 'm fuckin' obsessed with you.." he groans out, now growing more confident in his movements.

you let the kiss grow more heated until you feel arts hands starting to creep under your shirt, and you pull away slowly, letting a string of drool connect you. art blinks at you, confused. "why'd you stop?" he practically pouts. "you're drunk art, you know i love you but you gotta sleep this off" you say, sweeping a thumb on his cheek. as if on cue, art yawns, only proving your point. he slumps into bed, pulling up a blanket from the foot of your bed. "fine.. but we continue this tomorrow, yeah?" he asks, one last request before falling asleep. "sure, sure art" you reply, running your fingers through his soft blond hair. you're sure art won't remember all of this in the morning, but you sure as hell won't let him forget it <3

[lizzyiii]

Hey girl hey. Hope you are still alive and life is treating you well. Just checking in.

you're so sweet for this omg. so ive graduated from high school, have this whole summer, but I can't really enjoy it since a broke girl's got to work. got my very first job and it's sooo draining, but I've got to get that bag

Sevenmas

pairing | aemond x wife!reader

word count | 9.2k words

summary | amid the haunting ruins of harrenhal, aemond's pregnant wife senses the looming threat of alys rivers, a witch whose presence fuels her nightmares and aemond's growing distance.

determined to protect her husband and unborn child, she delves into the secrets of warding magic, reclaiming her bond with aemond as she invites him back into her bed and vows to stand against the witch’s dark influence.

tags | 18+ (MDNI), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy, magic, fluff, soft aemond, hubby aemond

a/n | it's summer, the heat is evident, yet I've only been at work or home. I needdd to leave my house!

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

My Dearest Babe,

It has been a full moon since your father and I arrived at these dreary halls of Harrenhal. It is bleak here, cold and damp, and the walls seem to hold the whispers of the dead.

I have not known a single night’s rest since we set foot in this cursed place. My sleep grew all the more restless when your father saw fit to move me into a separate chamber.

Harrenhal weighs heavily upon him. It has changed him in ways I cannot yet understand. He walks the halls as if hunted, and I see the shadows of his unrest in his eyes.

Each night, his dreams twist into dark things—visions that wrench him from sleep, leaving him gasping as though clawing his way back to wakefulness. He grows ever more volatile, as if the very stones of Harrenhal press upon his mind, threatening to drive him to madness.

One night, he woke from a nightmare so violent, I feared for him. I reached out to calm him, but he struck out, not knowing it was I. I do not hold it against him—he was deep within whatever horror plagued him.

But he looked upon the bruise on my wrist with such anguish, fearing for my health and yours. It was then he resolved to put me in another room, to shield us both from his torments.

Yet, my sleep has only worsened since he made this change. This keep holds no comfort, only shadows and sighs, and I feel that something - someone - wicked watches us, waiting.

The sixth day of Sevenmas dawned in Harrenhal, a day to honor the Crone, she who carried the lantern of wisdom and foresight. How you longed for that guidance now, caught in the maze of cold stone walls and shadows that seemed to stretch into eternity.

The ancient keep, with its crumbling towers and halls seeped in ghosts of past horrors, gnawed at your spirit with every passing hour.

The days bled together, each as gray and listless as the last. Time itself felt suspended, and there was little to fill it but your prayers to the Seven and the slow, meticulous pull of thread and needle.

Embroidery was meant to calm the mind, but here it became another way for your thoughts to spiral into dark corners. How could you not let them when the halls echoed with whispers not your own and the air felt thick, laden with something unseen yet suffocating?

Your husband, Aemond, the prince with a fire in his blood and the shadow of the conqueror in his step, had become a stranger cloaked in duty.

Since Rhaenyra had laid siege to King's Landing, his days were consumed with strategy, flame-bright eyes scanning maps and murmuring with commanders until dawn kissed the horizon.

You would catch glimpses of him, his presence fierce and distant, a sword poised to strike. And still, there was one tether left—he would always return to break his fast with you, no matter the hour, as if the morning meal was a sacred pact he refused to break.

This shared ritual was a brief light in the gloom, a moment where his brow would smooth, and he would offer a small nod, as if to say, I am still here.

Yet even then, the weight of Harrenhal seemed to press upon him, creasing the corner of his eye and stealing the little warmth from his voice.

You wished for the strength of the Crone’s wisdom, to find words that could soothe whatever haunted him, whatever pulled him into those long, silent stretches where he barely met your gaze.

And so, with the sun’s first pale rays stretching over the stone battlements, you whispered a prayer to the Crone. Let me see what he cannot. Let me guard us in ways unseen.

There was another shadow cast over your time at Harrenhal, one that gnawed at your peace like a hound at a bone. Within the first week of your arrival, an attempt on Aemond’s life had been made, a sloppy affair that left more questions than answers.

Yet the mere notion of betrayal and blood sharpened Aemond’s already fierce nature into something perilously close to madness.

In his rage and paranoia, he swept through Harrenhal like a storm, burning and executing every male Strong—lords and bastards alike, sparing none.

The aftermath left the keep haunted by its own silence, populated mostly by women and children who dared not cross his path. Yet among the survivors, there was one who set your skin crawling like no other: Alys Rivers, the bastard daughter of Lionel Strong.

Her gaze, dark and knowing, seemed to pierce through you whenever it drifted your way. The keep’s old women, those who lingered in the kitchens and halls, were full of whispers, speaking in hushed tones about Alys and the tales that clung to her like a shroud.

They claimed she was a wet nurse with no babes of her own, that her cradle stayed empty because she offered her children to dark gods, drawing power from their sacrifices.

The word witch passed between toothless mouths with reverence and fear, a name that conjured images of blood and whispered spells in the dead of night.

You would catch Alys watching Aemond from the shadowed corners of the great hall, her green eyes glistening like the polished scales of a serpent.

There was something about the way she looked at him, a gaze that lingered too long, with a subtle curl to her lips that suggested she saw beyond what others did. Each time, a cold knot formed in your stomach, winding tighter with each day.

Aemond, for his part, seemed oblivious—or perhaps unwilling—to acknowledge her attention. He stalked the halls of Harrenhal like a restless dragon, his eyes always aflame with thoughts of war and vengeance.

But you, kept to the fringes and left with little to occupy your time, had learned to listen. You had overheard more than once the old wives’ tales, how the stones of Harrenhal bore witness to strange sights in the dark of night.

The morning light struggled to filter through the narrow, soot-streaked windows of Harrenhal’s great hall, casting long, somber shadows across the cold stone floor.

You sat at the grand table, an expanse of dark oak that seemed almost too vast with just the two of you seated at its head.

The hall’s emptiness swallowed the small noises of clinking silver and the rustle of fabric, leaving only the low crackle of a distant fire to break the silence.

You glanced at Aemond, his face severe and sharp as ever, eyes narrowed and distant as he picked at the bread before him. His hair, pale as moonlight, spilled over his shoulders, catching the dim glow of morning like polished silver.

You traced the line of his jaw with your gaze, noting the tautness there, the slight twitch that spoke of restless thoughts.

In truth, you did not know this man well—your husband, your prince, and yet a stranger in so many ways.

It had only been moons since you first met, and within days, the marriage vows were spoken, the ink on the alliance barely dry before you found yourself bound to him in name and in fate.

Your father’s fleet had been your dowry, a formidable power that the Greens could not afford to spurn. You understood your role, the politics and power that tethered you to Aemond, but understanding him was another matter entirely.

His silences were as deep and dark as the Blackwater, and he carried an anger that smoldered beneath his skin, an unquenchable flame that whispered of vengeance and old wounds.

But despite the cold armor of his demeanor, Aemond had never raised his voice nor his hand to you. He moved with a kind of carefulness in your presence, a restraint that bordered on gentleness.

He treated you with a respect that was rare among men of power, where wives were often little more than pawns on a board.

And though it was likely due to the child you carried beneath your heart, it kindled a small warmth within you to think that he had not left you behind when he marched to Harrenhal.

Instead, he had commanded that you come with him, a choice that puzzled you even as it comforted you.

Harrenhal was a desolate place, steeped in old, cracked stone and a history that groaned beneath every step. You despised it, with its drafty halls and the air that always seemed to taste of ashes.

Yet sitting here, across from Aemond as the thin light etched sharp lines across his face, you felt a reluctant flicker of gratitude.

The silence between you was not companionable, but it was not cruel either. It was a space where the two of you existed, tethered by duty and an unspoken understanding.

Your gaze lifted from your untouched plate to meet his. “You barely ate anything,” you ventured softly, the words almost swallowed by the great hall’s vastness.

Aemond’s eye flickered to you, just a moment of acknowledgment, before drifting back to the distant, unfocused point beyond the hall’s great hearth. “I have much on my mind,” he replied, his voice low and guarded, as always.

You lowered your gaze, the golden glint of your cup catching the flicker of the fire as you turned it in your hands. “Today is the day of the Crone,” you murmured, the soft words drifting into the vast emptiness of the hall.

Aemond’s eye settled on you again, this time with a sharper intensity, as if he were trying to read the thoughts that played behind your eyes. The violet of his gaze, stark and unyielding, seemed to see through flesh and bone.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks but pushed on, lifting your head with a tentative, almost sheepish smile.

“I have been holding small celebratory suppers in my chambers for each of the Seven,” you said, the words trembling on the cusp of hope. “Perhaps you would join me tonight?”

Aemond’s expression remained inscrutable, carved from the same marble as the gods whose names you spoke. He was silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he measured the request. You held your breath, bracing for the sting of rejection, but after a moment, he inclined his head with a slow, deliberate nod.

“I shall see if I am free to attend later, wife,” he replied, each syllable precise, as if spoken under a watchful eye.

A smile unfurled across your face, a small, fragile bloom that brightened the somber air. You nodded, your gratitude silent but deeply felt, and returned your attention to the meal before you.

The hall fell back into its familiar hush, but the silence seemed gentler, softened by the promise—no matter how uncertain—that he might sit with you as the evening drew near.

Throughout the day, you moved with a purpose that had been absent for some time. Excitement flickered within you, casting a rare warmth over the bleakness of Harrenhal’s cold stone walls.

You spent more time preparing yourself than you had in weeks, choosing a gown of deep violet, the color rich and regal, one you knew would match Aemond’s eye.

Your hands worked carefully as you braided your hair, fingers weaving strands with practiced precision. You wound the braids into a half-up style, securing them with thin silver pins, and threaded small pearls between the coils, their soft luster catching the waning light that seeped through the chamber’s narrow window slits.

As the sun dipped lower, you prepared the chamber for supper, eager to cast away the dreariness of Harrenhal’s stone embrace. The table, though small, was set with care.

You placed a modest arrangement of primroses at its center, their pale petals lending a touch of softness to the somber room.

Candles, thick and tapered, were placed with a meticulous eye, their wicks waiting to be lit and offer a warm glow that would banish the shadows lurking in the corners.

Tonight was meant to honor the Crone, a day of wisdom and reflection, yet you could not help but hope for something more—a chance to share a moment, however fleeting, with the man you called husband.

The hours had been long since you’d known any touch of intimacy, any whisper of companionship. The prospect of Aemond joining you, even for a brief supper, was enough to make your heart beat with anticipation.

Time stretched on, heavy and unyielding, as you sat alone at the small table in your chambers, a solitary figure in a room filled with muted light. The food before you, once steaming and fragrant, had grown cold, the sheen of oil on the meats congealing in the chill air.

The candles you had lit earlier had burned down to stubs, their light dwindling as shadows crept up the walls.

The fire in the hearth, once crackling with warmth, had reduced itself to a bed of glowing embers, the last vestiges of heat sputtering as they surrendered to the draft that snaked through the stones.

Your heart, which had quickened with hope earlier in the day, now felt leaden with disappointment. The silence pressed in around you, each passing moment a reminder that Aemond would not come. The anticipation that had kept your spirits aloft now left a hollow ache in its absence.

Pushing your untouched plate away, you rose from the table, your movements deliberate as anger stirred in your chest. It was not the hot, reckless kind, but the slow-burning indignation that came when expectation was met with silence.

You wrapped your cloak around your shoulders and slipped into the dim corridor, determined to find him, to seek an answer rather than stew in this quiet, stinging rejection.

Harrenhal’s halls were a maze of stone and shadow, empty and vast, with only the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the cold. The castle held a thousand whispered secrets, and tonight, it seemed eager to keep its prince among them.

You turned corners and climbed staircases, the flicker of dying torches casting your shadow long against the walls, until the familiar paths grew strange and your resolve wavered.

Finally, as you entered a lesser hall that stretched toward a wing of old chambers, you spotted movement—a maidservant carrying linens, her head bent as if afraid to be seen. Relief mixed with frustration as you quickened your step.

“Excuse me,” you called out, your voice sharper than intended.

The servant started, nearly dropping her burden before bowing her head hastily, eyes fixed to the floor. It was a common sight in Harrenhal, the way they kept their gaze averted in your presence.

Word of your husband’s fierce reputation as Prince Regent and Kinslayer had traveled swiftly, and it seemed they feared that to slight you was to invite his wrath upon them.

With a lifted chin and a tone that brooked no disobedience, you asked, “Where is my husband?”

Before the maid could stammer out an answer, another voice cut through the dim hallway—a voice that chilled the blood in your veins and haunted your sleep with its whispers.

“I fear the prince is still occupied in the council chamber, my lady,” said Alys Rivers, her tone smooth and deceptively courteous, like the edge of a blade.

You turned slowly, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but a knowing smirk pulled at her lips as she regarded you, taking in the sight of your tense shoulders, the protective way your hand drifted instinctively to your rounded stomach.

There was no warmth in her expression, only the sly amusement of a cat toying with a bird that dared to stray too far from its nest.

Your nostrils flared, and you straightened your back, eyes narrowing as you corrected her in a low, simmering murmur, “Princess.”

Alys tilted her head, feigning surprise, though her eyes betrayed nothing but a cold mirth. “Pardon me,” she said, her gaze sliding deliberately to your abdomen before flicking back up to meet yours, daring you to react.

“I am not your lady,” you hissed, “I am your princess.”

With a final, steely glare, you turned on your heel, the folds of your violet gown sweeping the floor as you made your way back through the shadowed hallways, heart pounding beneath your ribs.

The silence of Harrenhal enveloped you once more, and you did not pause until you reached the safety of your chambers, locking the door behind you and pressing your back against the cool, unyielding wood.

The echo of Alys’s smirk lingered in your mind, but you would not let her see your fear. Not tonight. Not ever.

A scream ripped from your throat, raw and primal, as the pain surged through you, tearing its way up your spine and scattering your senses. It felt as though your very body was being split apart, the agony sharper and deeper than any blade.

“Keep pushing, my princess; the babe is almost here,” urged the midwife, her voice steady but relentless.

You clenched your jaw, wanting to curse her, to scream at her to hold her tongue, but the pain stole all words from you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

It was a torment that came in relentless waves, each cresting higher than the last, only to drag you under when you thought you could surface for air. The burning, the stretching—unbearable, blinding.

“I cannot,” you sobbed, tears mingling with the sweat that drenched your brow. “Please… I can't,” you pleaded, your voice broken and desperate.

The pain surged again, stealing the air from your lungs, and then you felt it—a firm, familiar hand pressed gently to your cheek. Through the haze of pain, you turned your head, and your vision cleared just enough to see the sharp lines of Aemond’s face.

His single violet eye was intent, fierce, a rare expression of vulnerability breaking through his stoic mask. Relief, so profound it was nearly painful, swelled in your chest.

“Aemond,” you gasped, his name a lifeline, an anchor in the storm.

Husbands were not meant to be present for the birth, tradition forbade it. But he was there, and you did not care for any rule or rite that would keep him away.

“Just a few more pushes, my love,” he murmured, his voice low, a thread of steel woven through the gentleness.

You nodded weakly, mustering what remained of your strength. A deep groan escaped you as you pushed once more, the room spinning around you. The midwife’s voice rose above the roaring in your ears.

“The babe is crowning, my lady.”

But the tone was wrong. Too familiar, too cold. Alarm jolted you to consciousness, and you struggled to prop yourself on trembling elbows. Your eyes darted to the space at the foot of the birthing bed, and dread coiled tight in your gut.

There, in the dim light of the chamber, knelt Alys Rivers. Her dark hair framed eyes as green and sharp as glass, eyes that glimmered with a knowing, malevolent gleam. A smile curled at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze.

“No, no!” you screamed, panic twisting your voice. “Get away from me!”

With a surge of fear-driven strength, you tried to kick her away, your limbs thrashing wildly, but Aemond’s hands clamped down on you, firm and unyielding. “Calm yourself,” he commanded, his voice cool, steady as stone.

Alys turned her gaze up to him, a shadow of mock sympathy curving her lips. “You must choose, my prince,” she intoned, each word dripping with false solemnity. “The babe, or your wife.”

A sob wrenched from your chest as you felt your breath come in sharp, shallow gasps. “No. No!” The pain was drowned beneath the torrent of fear that flooded you.

Desperately, you looked up at Aemond, seeking the warmth, the fierce protection that once resided in his eye. But what you found was a gaze distant and unreadable, as though he stood apart, watching from some cold, unreachable place. His jaw tightened. “Save the babe.”

Time seemed to fracture around you. His words, so final, crashed over you like a wave of ice. Your eyes widened, disbelieving, as rough handmaids or shadows, you could not tell—pressed you back, holding you firm as you struggled.

“Let me go! Let me go!” you screamed, your voice raw with betrayal and terror, limbs straining against the iron grip that pinned you.

Pain cleaved through you, and you felt the weight of the babe shift within. But your focus broke as Alys moved, no longer at the foot of the bed but gliding closer, the flicker of torchlight catching on the edge of a cruel, glinting blade.

The chamber seemed to darken around her, the faint cries of the midwives fading into an ominous silence. And all you could see were those green eyes, bearing down on you like a curse whispered in the dark.

You jolted upright, heart pounding and breath ragged, the remnants of your nightmare clinging to your skin like a shroud. A trembling hand reached up to brush the tears from your cheeks, the dampness proof of the terror that had gripped you in sleep.

Your eyes drifted down, catching the soft curve of your swollen belly under the covers, rising and falling with your shallow breaths. A shaky sigh escaped your lips, a bitter mix of relief and unease.

The babe was still safe within you—at least for now. You pressed your palm over it, as if to reassure yourself of its presence.

Beyond the thin light filtering through the shuttered window, the sky remained cloaked in the indigo of night.

The stillness told you it was not yet dawn, that liminal time when dreams and waking often blurred. But sleep would not find you again; not after that vision, nor for many nights to come, you were sure.

The memory of Aemond's cold, detached gaze as he spoke words that sealed your fate in your dream clung to you. It pierced deeper than any blade, a wound festering with fear and doubt.

Yet you forced yourself to swallow the sharp sting of betrayal, directing your thoughts toward another source of your unease—Alys Rivers.

The whispers, the eyes that followed, the dark air that seemed to shift when she was near. Your fears, your husband’s torment, the sense of something wicked gnawing at Harrenhal’s bones—it all traced back to her.

Resolve steeled your spine. You pushed back the covers and rose, the weight of your pregnancy making the motion slower, more deliberate.

Wrapping yourself in a heavy fur cloak, you reached for the candelabra on the nightstand. Its small flame sputtered in protest before catching steady, casting long shadows that danced upon the walls.

The corridors of Harrenhal, once alive with whispered conversations and the hurried footfalls of servants, now loomed around you in cold, watchful silence. The draft that crept through the ancient stones nipped at your cheeks and sent a shiver down your spine.

Clutching the fur tighter against your body, you moved forward, the warm light in your grasp flickering as it met the draft.

The silence was thick, broken only by the soft rustle of your cloak and the creak of old floorboards beneath your weight.

At last, you reached the great doors of the library, their dark wood carved with sigils long forgotten and gnarled from centuries of use. Setting the candelabra down, you pushed against one of the doors, muscles straining with the effort.

It groaned open, the sound reverberating through the stillness and sending a cold gust rushing past you. Picking up the candelabra, you stepped inside and let the heavy door drift shut behind you with a thud.

The scent of old parchment and dust surrounded you, familiar and oddly comforting. Shelves stretched high, towering sentinels filled with the stories of old and the wisdom of those long gone.

On other nights, you would have lost yourself in the tales that wove through these tomes—myths and sagas that spoke of courage and triumph. But tonight, solace was not what you sought.

You moved through the rows with purpose, eyes scanning the spines until they found those few volumes that hinted at the arcane.

The lore of witches, their dark arts, the means by which they could twist men’s dreams and cloud their minds—it all lay within reach, hidden among dusty pages that no one dared speak of.

You placed the candelabra down, its light casting a golden glow that flickered across the cracked leather and faded titles.

With trembling hands, you opened the first book, its binding stiff with age. The parchment crackled as you turned the pages, your eyes drinking in the inked words.

If there was any way to guard yourself, to protect Aemond from the shadows that had seeped into your lives, you would find it here. No longer would you be haunted by that witch’s knowing gaze or the dread that coiled tight in your belly.

With each turn of the page, the flickering glow of the candelabra cast dancing shapes upon the stone walls, warding off the chill that seeped through Harrenhal’s blackened stones.

The words spoke of charms and tokens, of age-old rituals whispered by the smallfolk who feared the unseen.

Marking doors with protective sigils or crosses to ward off malevolent forces. The purifying strength of salt, said to bar dark spirits and their ilk. Rowan wood, revered for its protective properties, best used when tied with crimson thread to seal its potency.

The hours crept by, measured by the slow guttering of candle wax. You read, forgetting the passage of time as the nightmare’s claws loosened their grip on your heart.

Knowledge was your weapon now, and you wielded it with the silent promise that neither you nor Aemond would fall victim to powers unknown.

The day’s first light spilled through the high, narrow windows, a pale and hesitant glow that bled into the room and painted the bookshelves in muted gold.

It was the day of the Stranger, seldom celebrated, yet you paid it no heed. Lost in the pages, you missed the bells that tolled the hour and forgot the warmth of your usual morning meal shared with Aemond.

When at last you closed the final volume, a resolve settled in your chest, resolute and unyielding. You would need these items—symbols of protection—and that meant venturing beyond the castle’s shadowed halls and out into the market.

The fur-lined cloak wrapped snug around you, guarding against the bitter drafts that swept through the corridors as you made your way back to your chambers.

As you reached the windows, a rare sight unfolded before your eyes—snow, soft and unrelenting, blanketing the bleak spires of Harrenhal.

Snow was a rarity in King’s Landing, seldom seen during your girlhood there. For a moment, untouched by fear or doubt, you felt the stir of childish wonder rise within you.

Three knights of the Kingsguard, their white cloaks pristine even in the snow, flanked you as you ventured to the market. The square bustled despite the cold, vendors calling out their wares with voices hoarse from the chill. Your list of protective items, hastily scrawled in the early hours, guided your every step.

Surprisingly, the rowan wood was easy to find, its branches bundled tightly with red thread as per custom.

Charms of polished crystal and talismans wrought from iron and bronze were procured with little effort, their sellers eager to part with them for a handful of silver stags.

The murmured blessings from the old crones at their stalls made the hair on the back of your neck prickle, but you pressed on, their eyes shadowed with both reverence and suspicion.

By the time the sun began its descent, casting a gilded glow over the snow-draped stones of Harrenhal, your arms were laden with your newfound protections. You returned to your chambers with purpose, setting to work immediately.

With meticulous care, you bound the red thread around the twigs of rowan wood and placed them above each entrance.

Salt, precious and fine, was spread across the thresholds, each grain catching the firelight like scattered stars.

With charcoal from your writing desk, you etched intricate symbols—wards against dark magics—onto the cold, unyielding stone walls.

But it was not just your own safety you sought to secure. For Aemond, you had combed the market for a piece both practical and protective. After much haggling, you procured a leather eyepatch, supple and black, unmarred by wear.

Returning to your chamber, you carefully stitched shards of black tourmaline into its edge, each piece glinting with a subtle, protective gleam. Your needlework was steady, each pull of the thread imbued with silent prayers.

Lost in your task, you barely noted the soft knock at your door or the maidservant who entered, setting a tray of supper on the table near the hearth.

The aroma of roasted fowl and warm bread wafted through the chamber, but your focus remained fixed.

As you worked by the fire's glow, the shadows that had haunted your waking hours seemed to lessen, replaced by the steady rhythm of thread and needle, and the quiet resolve that this time, you would be ready.

You were so absorbed in your needlework, fingers deftly stitching the dark crystals onto a supple leather patch, that the sudden clearing of a throat startled you. Your gaze snapped up, eyes wide with surprise as they met the cool, familiar face of Aemond Targaryen.

“Husband,” you said, breathless as you hastily hid the finished eye patch beneath a velvet pillow. Rising to your feet, you inclined your head, though your heart thudded with residual tension.

He stood tall and imposing in the dim glow, the silver-white of his hair catching the light like a crown. For a moment, the room felt smaller, as if the walls themselves pressed in with the weight of his presence.

“What brings you here?” you asked, voice touched with confusion and a hint of sharpness. Exhaustion dulled your sense of propriety, leaving the question more pointed than intended.

Aemond’s lone violet eye narrowed, an unreadable glimmer within its depths. “To have supper with you,” he replied, as if such a thing were the most natural answer in the realm.

Your eyes flickered to the table, where two silver plates now sat, the steam rising lazily from the dishes set by the silent servant moments before.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and sighed, murmuring, “I believe my invitation was for yesterday.”

A shadow of regret crossed his face, so brief that another might have missed it, but you saw. As you moved past him to take your seat, you caught the soft murmur that slipped from his lips, “I deserved that.”

Aemond followed and took his place across from you, the creak of the chair echoing in the quiet chamber. For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearthfire. His gaze settled on you, sharp and searching.

“I have not seen you at all today,” he said at last, the words carrying a hint of something that might have been longing, tempered by pride.

Your eyes dropped to your hands, fingers fiddling absently with the edge of your gown. Remorse pricked at your heart—you had broken your shared morning ritual, the one part of the day reserved just for the two of you.

“I was very busy,” you replied softly, the excuse feeling thin on your tongue.

Aemond’s expression remained unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. “I heard. Visits to the market square,” he said.

You hesitated, holding back the details of the charms, the salt, the ancient warding sigils you had traced with trembling hands. He would only deem you foolish or worse, mad.

“I needed fresh air.”

His eye narrowed, a flicker of displeasure passing over his sharp features. “It is too dangerous for one in your condition to wander beyond these walls,” he said, the admonishment clear, though his tone held an undercurrent of concern.

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with defiance. “That is why I took three of your White Cloaks,” you retorted, the fire in your voice matching the spark in his eye.

For a heartbeat, the tension crackled between you, the weight of unsaid words pressing down like a heavy cloak. Then, Aemond’s lips quirked, almost imperceptibly, as if some silent battle had been waged and resolved within him.

“Good,” he said at last, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You are no fool, wife.”

The tautness in the room eased, and though unspoken, an accord was reached.

Aemond leaned forward, and placed a carved wooden box on the table between you. “I’ve brought you something,” he said, his voice a measured calm, yet there was an undercurrent of something softer. “An apology for last night.”

Your brows knit together, skepticism clear in your eyes. “My forgiveness cannot be bought with trinkets, husband,” you said, your tone edged with defiance. Yet even as you spoke, curiosity stirred within you.

One of his silver brows arched at your remark, and a small smile ghosted his lips. “Let us see if it is worthy,” you murmured, reluctant to give ground but unable to hide the intrigue that tugged at you.

With a careful hand, Aemond lifted the lid of the box, revealing a necklace of silver and sapphire. The deep blue stone glimmered like the sea under moonlight, capturing the room’s faint candle glow.

Your breath stilled for a moment, eyes tracing the intricate work of the silver links, each carved to mimic dragon scales.

Your fingertips brushed over the gem, the cool surface grounding you as warmth bloomed in your chest. Unbidden, a soft smile tugged at your lips, an expression so rare that even you felt its presence.

“Thank you, husband,” you whispered, your voice softened by genuine gratitude.

Aemond’s face shifted, pride flickering across his sharp features. There was something triumphant in his half-smirk that you could not allow him to savor unchallenged. You rose from your seat, skirts rustling as you moved.

“I, too, have a gift for you,” you said, your tone now light with a note of playfulness.

“Oh?” he replied, one silver eyebrow lifting in surprise, though the glint in his lone violet eye revealed his interest.

“Mm,” you hummed, stepping to the chaise where a small cushion lay. Your fingers slipped beneath it, retrieving the item hidden there. Turning back to him, a touch of shyness colored your expression, a rare sight that softened the lines of your face.

With both hands, you presented him with an eye patch, the black leather supple and embroidered with fine strands of broken tourmaline crystals, catching the dim light with a subtle shimmer.

Aemond took it, surprise giving way to careful scrutiny. His fingers traced the delicate work, the weight of the crystals and their arrangement thoughtful.

“Black tourmaline,” you said quietly, watching his gaze flick between you and the patch. “It is said to have powerful protective qualities.”

You hesitated, unwilling to speak of how it was also believed to ward against dark energies and unseen dangers—of how it might shield him from threats both known and hidden.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Aemond’s mouth quirked into a faint smile, rare and genuine. “Thank you, wife. 'Tis a very thoughtful gift,” he said, voice low and sincere.

A moment passed, and you froze in silent shock as Aemond reached up to remove the eye patch he wore. Of course, you had seen what lay beneath—the striking sapphire set into the hollow of his missing eye—but Aemond was never keen on showing it.

In King’s Landing, he would only take it off moments before sleep and replace it the moment he awoke.

Before he could put on the new eye patch, you placed a hand over his arm. “You know you don’t have to wear it around me, yes? I have no issue with it, and you should not either.”

Aemond stared at you for a long moment, his nostrils flaring slightly. For a heartbeat, you feared you had overstepped, but then he nodded, leaving both eye patches on the table.

A small, victorious smile touched your lips as you felt the weight of this unspoken understanding between you. “Allow me to have the maids bring us some dessert,” you said, the tension lifting.

Aemond nodded, his gaze lingering on you as you turned to the doors.

Stepping into the corridor, you quickly found a maid and requested something sweet to be brought to your chambers. When you returned, your heart faltered at the sight before you. Aemond stood at your desk, his tall frame hunched slightly as he leaned over an open book—your journal.

Panic surged within you, and you strode forward, slamming the book shut with a sharp motion. “What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice sharper than intended, eyes wide with both shock and alarm.

Aemond straightened, holding the closed journal in his hand. His expression was unreadable, though his eye bore into you with quiet intensity. “What is this?” he asked evenly, tilting the book slightly for emphasis.

“My private journal,” you answered quickly, reaching for it, but he lifted it just out of your grasp, his superior height giving him the advantage. “Give it back, husband. It is mine.”

Aemond’s voice was steady but carried an undertone of something raw, almost fragile. “Then why,” he began, his eye fixed on you, ignoring your protests, “do you write to our babe?” There was an ache in his tone, a depth of emotion he hadn’t yet voiced.

The question caught you unprepared, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your skirts, and your shoulders sagged as you avoided his penetrating gaze. “In case,” you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.

“In case of what?” he pressed, his voice low and edged with a demand for understanding.

His gaze bore into you, unrelenting, as though he could uncover your secrets by sheer will. Unable to face him, you closed your eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “In case I’m not there,” you admitted at last, the words barely audible, like a confession carried on the wind.

Aemond’s brows drew together, confusion shadowing his features. “What do you mean if you’re not—” He stopped mid-sentence, his breath catching as realization dawned. The tension in his posture shifted, his shoulders falling ever so slightly. “…There.”

His sharp features softened, a rare vulnerability settling over his face. “Women do survive the childbed,” he murmured, his voice gentler now, as though he feared the weight of his words might shatter you.

“Not every time,” you countered, your tone edged with resignation. “And there’s also… that choice.” Your voice broke on the last word, and you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire. Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, Aemond reached out and cupped your cheek.

His touch was warm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he tilted your face toward him, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“There can be more babes,” he said softly, his words a promise etched with fierce determination, “but there is only one you.”

His eye, a storm of violet and sapphire, held yours with such intensity that you felt as though he was laying his very soul bare. A tear escaped and traced down your cheek, but Aemond caught it with his thumb, his touch steady, grounding you in the moment.

“I would not choose otherwise,” he said firmly, the weight of his vow lingering in the air between you. “Not for all the heirs in the realm.”

Your lips trembled as you whispered, “You swear?”

“I swear it,” he replied, his voice low and resolute. “I will not lose my wife.”

The ache in your chest eased slightly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a shield. You placed your hand over his, pressing it gently against your cheek.

With a soft breath, you tilted your head upward, letting your lips meet his in a gentle caress. The kiss was tender at first, a quiet exchange of affection that carried the weight of your unspoken fears and his unyielding promise.

Aemond responded eagerly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours as his hand slid from your cheek to cradle the nape of your neck.

His other hand found your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer, as if the mere thought of distance was unbearable. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entrance, and you granted it willingly.

As his tongue met yours, the kiss deepened, a slow, fervent dance that sent warmth coursing through your veins. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten in response, his fingers digging into the fabric of your gown.

Your hands moved up his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle beneath his tunic, before curling into the fabric as if to anchor yourself.

The world around you faded, leaving only the press of his body against yours, the taste of him on your lips, and the heat that built between you like the fire crackling in the hearth.

When the kiss broke, it was with a reluctance that lingered in the air between you. Your breaths came in shallow pants as you gazed up at him through hooded lashes, the corners of your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“My love,” you purred, your voice sultry and laced with affection, “you’ve left me wanting… again.”

Aemond’s gaze darkened, the stormy hue of his violet eye smoldering with barely restrained desire. “Have I now?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then it seems I must remedy that, wife.”

You guided his hands lower, to the swell of your belly, then further down to the hem of your nightgown. “Will you show me how much you desire me?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper. “Make me forget everything but the feel of you inside me...”

A low growl rumbled in Aemond's throat as his hands moved beneath your gown, fingers tracing the curves of your swollen belly before dipping lower to find the damp heat of your core.

“You have no idea how often I dreamt of this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Of burying myself deep within you, feeling your walls clench around me...”

With a swift motion, he lifted the hem of your nightgown and pulled it over your head, throwing it aside, revealing your naked form.

His gaze devoured every inch of you, from the full breasts that rose and fell with each ragged breath, to the soft, rounded hips and the glistening folds of your sex.

“Tell me what you want, my queen,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire.

A shiver ran through you at Aemond's bold appraisal, your nipples hardening into tight peaks as his hungry gaze seared your skin. You reached for the fastenings of his breeches, your fingers fumbling with urgency to free his straining erection.

“I want you,” you murmured, your voice low, thick with a desire that lingered like a soft melody in the air. Your eyes never left his, the depth of your longing laid bare in the way your breath hitched.

Aemond’s violet gaze darkened, the flicker of a smirk ghosting his lips. His head tilted ever so slightly, a predator’s grace, as though savoring your words before acting upon them.

You took a step back, your movements slow and deliberate, your footsteps light against the floor as you inched toward the bed. The flicker of the firelight cast a warm glow across the room, the shadows dancing across the carved posts of the bed.

As you reached its edge, you let yourself fall gracefully onto the soft mattress, your body sinking into the luxurious furs and silks. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gazed at him through lowered lashes, a sly smile curving your lips.

“You beckon me so boldly,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet drawl, the faintest edge of amusement laced within it. “Have a care, wife, for I am not a man to resist such temptation.”

Aemond watched, transfixed, as you sank onto the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight. His cock throbbed in time with his racing heart, the tip already glistening with precum.

He shed his clothes the rest of the way, letting them fall carelessly to the floor as he stalked towards you, muscles rippling with each step. By the time he reached the bed, he was fully erect, his shaft jutting proudly from a nest of silver curls.

Lying beside you, he reached out to cup your breast, thumbing the sensitive peak before leaning in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss.

His free hand trailed over your round stomach, pausing to tease the edge of your slit before delving deeper, fingers probing your slick folds.

“You're so wet for me already.”

You gasped into the kiss as Aemond's fingers found your entrance, your hips bucking instinctively to meet his touch. “Please,” you whimpered, breaking away from his mouth to gaze up at him with pleading eyes. “I need you inside me. Fill me up, make me yours again.”

As if sensing your desperation, Aemond positioned himself between your thighs, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your opening. With a deep groan, he thrust forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke.

You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure-pain crashed over you. It took a moment for your body to adjust, to relax and welcome the thick length filling you so completely.

Aemond's breath hitched as he bottomed out inside you, your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. For a moment, he simply savored the exquisite sensation, reveling in the tight heat enveloping his throbbing cock.

Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a relentless pace.

The bed frame creaked ominously beneath the force of his thrusts, but Aemond paid it no mind, lost in the primal rhythm of rutting his mate.

“Yes, just like that,” he growled, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. “Take my cock, my queen.”

You wrapped your legs around Aemond's waist, heels digging into his firm behind as he pounded into you with wild abandon.

Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, your inner walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning shaft.

“Aemond!” You wailed, your nails raking down his back as you met his ferocious pace.

The obscene slap of flesh against flesh filled the room, punctuated by my wanton cries and Aemond's guttural grunts. You could feel the pressure building within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap.

Suddenly, you were hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name as your cunt clenched rhythmically around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

Aemond's eye rolled back in his head as your velvet sheath spasmed around him, your climax triggering his own. With a hoarse groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came undone, his seed erupting in thick, pulsing jets.

He continued to thrust through the aftershocks, prolonging your shared bliss until he was spent, collapsing beside you with a grunt. For a long moment, the two of you lay entwined, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

The chamber was awash with the warmth of the firelight and the quiet hum of your contentment. As you lay entwined, your bodies barely a breath apart, your gaze lingered on Aemond’s face.

His sharp features, so often hardened by duty and war, were softened now, his violet eye fixed on you with a tenderness rarely seen.

Your noses brushed lightly, a quiet intimacy, as his hand rested possessively over your waist while yours splayed across his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart.

Almost as if drawn by a spell, he leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to your lips, a gesture so gentle it felt like a whispered promise. When he pulled away, he settled back onto the pillow beside you, his arm still wrapped protectively around you.

You shifted, nestling closer, your head finding solace in the crook of his neck. Your hand lay over his heart, its steady rise and fall a soothing cadence that began to lull you into slumber.

His breathing slowed, each exhale a soft brush against your hair, and soon, the quiet comfort of his presence drew you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

But the peace did not last.

You jolted awake, startled by the sudden thrashing of Aemond’s body beside you. His face, so serene moments ago, was now contorted in anguish, his brow slick with sweat.

His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, and his hands clenched the sheets as if warding off some unseen terror.

Your heart clenched at the sight. He had spoken little of his nightmares, but you knew they haunted him—a torment born of battles fought, losses endured, and burdens carried.

Pushing yourself up, you moved with as much haste as your swollen belly would allow, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you only slightly.

Grabbing the robe draped over the chair, you wrapped it around yourself, its soft fabric barely warding off the chill of the room as you padded toward the small table where you had placed your new goods.

Your hands rummaged through the items with purpose, your fingers finally curling around a small vial. You held it up, peering at its contents even in the dim light. The faint, familiar scent already began to calm your racing heart.

Lavender oil.

You returned to the bed, the vial clutched firmly in your grasp. As you sat beside him, Aemond's thrashing began to subside, though his breaths were still ragged, and his jaw clenched tightly.

Carefully, you uncorked the vial, the soothing aroma of lavender wafting into the room. You poured a small amount onto your hands, warming the oil between your palms before leaning over him.

With gentle, deliberate movements, you began to anoint his temples, your touch light yet firm as you traced small, calming circles.

The oil left a faint sheen on his skin, its scent filling the space between you. "Aemond," you whispered softly, your voice low and steady, a tether pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare.

His breathing began to slow, the tension in his body easing under your ministrations. You moved to his wrists, massaging the oil into his pulse points, your hands steady despite the ache blooming in your lower back.

“You are safe,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “I am here.”

You whispered a silent prayer under your breath, invoking the gods for protection and peace. Your gaze stayed fixed on him, your heart clenching as you watched his features begin to soften, the tension melting away.

You held your breath, waiting. When his form finally stilled, his breathing evening out, you let out a soft sigh of relief. The lavender and your quiet vigil had worked.

Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, and you slid back into bed beside him, pulling the covers over the both of you. But just as you were about to lay your head against Aemond’s chest, you froze.

A chill ran down your spine, and the hairs on your arms stood on end as an inexplicable sensation swept over you.

You were being watched.

Your eyes darted to the chamber doors, which you now noticed were slightly ajar. Beyond them, barely visible in the darkness, you caught the faint glimmer of glowing green eyes.

Your heart raced, a primal fear coursing through you. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with an unseen presence.

But you steadied yourself, your breathing slowing as you reminded yourself of the protections you had set in place earlier that day.

You had taken every precaution, warding the chamber with runes and incantations, ensuring that no ill intent could cross its threshold. Alys Rivers might wield her strange gifts, but she would not claim Aemond—not without a fight.

With a courage you hadn’t known you possessed, you tightened your arms around Aemond’s sleeping form, drawing strength from the warmth of his body against yours. Lifting your chin, you stared directly into the glowing eyes, refusing to show weakness.

“I won’t let you have him,” you whispered fiercely, your voice a low, steady vow. “Not without a fight, witch.”

For a moment, the air seemed to hold its breath. The green eyes lingered for a moment longer, unblinking and cold, before retreating into the darkness.

Only when the oppressive feeling lifted did you allow yourself to exhale. A trembling sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your head, nestling into Aemond’s chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear, became a soothing rhythm, lulling you out of your fear.

As the night enveloped you once more, you clung to him, your resolve unshaken. Whatever forces sought to disturb your peace, you would face them.

For Aemond, for your babe, for the family you were building together—you would fight.

Hope You Enjoyed!

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

genuinely tweaking over your OlderBF! Bruce headcannons omg. do you have any more Older BF! Bruce thoughts to spare? (I adore you and your writing <3)

I alwaysss have more Bruce thoughts to spare. I think this man takes over my mind more than my boyfriend does (not complaining :) )

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne (Part 2)

Sensitive content: Brief mention of kidnapping and stalking

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is so utterly devoted to you. This man is at your side and obeying your every will as often as he can. You saw a pretty dress you wanted in a shop window? It's laying on the foot of your shared bed when you come home. You need attention after an argument? He's cancelling his work meetings, if he can, to spend a bit of time with you.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who underestimates just how loud and angry he can get. There is never a moment where he isn't stressed, even when he's with you. And, as much as he tries to hold back, he loses his temper so easily with you.

"Im just saying, Im concerned, alright-?" You start, arms crossed over your chest as you take a seat on the edge of your lavish shared bed.

"What, that Im cheating?" He snaps back almost immediately, head whipping around to face you as he stops pacing. In all honesty, he regrets it as soon as he sees the look in your eyes, but he's far to stubborn to ever admit that.

"Bruce, you know that's not what I mean." You respond softly, choosing not to further escalate the situation by simply laying back on the bed and picking up your book from the nightstand. "You come home every night covered in bruises and disappear out of nowhere, so forgive your girlfriend for worrying about you."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who would rather you think that he's cheating on you than spilling his guts about being Batman. It absolutely kills him inside every single time you get misty eyed askinf if he's cheating, but he knows better than to risk your safety with the burden of knowledge.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, god forbid, if you were ever to get kidnapped due to his line of work would push you away for good. All of your stuff would be packed away before you could even calm down for the situation. He wouldn't give you a proper goodbye, either. It would be too risky for him to ever be near you again.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who would absolutely develop a nasty habit of stalking you after a separation like that. He tells himself that it's to ensure your safety when he watches you walked into your favorite coffee shop every morning, but he's having a hard time convincing himself.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who knows just how unloveable he makes himself. Every woman he has ever been with has either been put in danger because of him or left. He doesn't think he could go through something like that with you, so he instinctively pushes you away like he always has with everybody else.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, despite what he told himself about keeping his distance, finds himself knocking on your apartment door late at night. In his hands are a bottle of wine, your favorite flowers, and gold sheet-covered chocolates.

"Im sorry." His eyes are filled with utter guilt as he glances at your exhausted features. Bruce didnt even give you a chance to process that it was him at the door before he started throwing out apologies.

And the most you can really do for a moment is just look at him, your eyes not entirely focused as you stare out into space a little. "Thought you told me to stay away." You mutter softly, trying to blink the physical and mental exhaustion away.

"I..." How could he even deny that? He did, in fact, tell you to stay as far away as possible for your own safety. "I know." He continues after a moment or two. "But I'm selfish... I can't stay away. I... I want to explain a few things to you, if you'd consider letting me in.

Of course, you caved.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who can't bring himself to look you in the eyes as he explains himself and his nightly activities as Batman. He feels so guilty about ever putting you in danger in the first place, but he can't bring himself to stay away like he eventually learned to with Selina.

"I was scared." His quiet, honest response when you ask why he never chose to tell you about his double life. You want to be mad, you really do, but his fingers in your hair as he holds you against his chest after a few glasses of wine was just too good to resist.

"And you think I wasn't?" You ask softly, craning your neck to look up at him a lottle better. "I could handle the thought of you with other girls, Bruce..." You whisper, leaning your head back onto his shoulder. "But you have no idea how worried sick I was seeing those bruises every night. You have absolutely no idea how worried I was that they had gotten to you, too, when they took me."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who lets himself get a little tipsy that night with you, which is rare because he always finds excuses not to drink to stay in peak physical condition for his duties. Neither of you drank enough to be intoxicated, but just enough for everything to feel warm and fuzzy. And enough for you to forgive him.

"So sorry, gorgeous..." He mutters between slow, lingering kisses. Despite seeming so brooding and tough, his lips are absolutely divine and you missed them more than you'd ever admit.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who ends up getting a little frisky when he's drinking. His hands are almost everywhere, no matter where you are. You were honestly thanking god that it was just the two of you relaxing in your apartment. Hell, he practically had you seeing god with how well he fucked.

"I love you so much..." His eyes are closed as his hips slowly slot into yours yet again, face buried into your shoulder. Normally, you'd be begging for a bit of a quicker and brutal pace, but everything was just too sweet to want anything else. The prolonged sliding of his cock into your weeping hole allowed for you to feel absolutely everything, including his utter adoration and love for you.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who tries to keep you away from the paparazzi as much as possible after the kidnapping. Sure, he hated the prying eyes of tabloids trying to disect your relationship before, but he was just so much more paranoid and anxious afterwards. He barely lets you out of Wayne Manor without him or somebody else in the family.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who still struggles to communicate with you, even after he's told the truth about his vigilantism. He often finds himseld lying to you without even noticing it, even about the little things like how many thugs he took down on last night's patrol. But he tries to work on it, he really does. He's started writing things down on scrap pieces of paper or notebokks that he found himself being dishonest about.

Masterlist

[sturnsmadl]

loverboy!matt headcannons!

loverboy!matt who buys you your favourite chocolate everytime he goes to the store.

loverboy!matt who is always randomly posting you.

loverboy!matt who gives you a new bouquet of flowers each week.

"i got you your favourite, tulips!"

loverboy!matt who only follows you on all socials.

"why do i need to follow them back? i only have eyes for you."

"she's your mother matt."

loverboy!matt who admires you as u speak.

loverboy!matt who refuses to argue with you.

"yep..your right. sorry princess."

loverboy!matt who constantly picks you up late at night.

"what? i missed you."

"at 2am matt?"

loverboy!matt who refuses to sleep unless he knows your okay.

"why aren't you answering??" "hello?" "are you okay?"

"i was in the shower. im fine."

loverboy!matt who always suprises you with picnic dates.

loverboy!matt who feels horrible when he accidently hurts you.

"omg- im so sorry baby! do you need anything??"

"u stepped on my foot..you didnt stab me.."

loverboy!matt who gets you a care hamper when your sick or on your period.

"aww thank you..you really didn't have to.."

"its the least i can i do."

loverboy!matt who follows you around like a dog.

"matt im going to the fridge"

"crazy. me too!"

loverboy!matt who can't control his smile when he sees you.

loverboy!matt who only has slow and soft sex with you.

"fuck..so tight for me.."

loverboy!matt who's favourite holiday is your birthday.

"happy birthday!!"

"thank you..what is going on.."

"you're having a party!"

loverboy!matt who can look at you and know how your feeling.

loverboy!matt who finally proposes after planning it for so long.

"will you marry me?"

"wait..seriously..?"

loverboy!matt who sobs at the wedding seeing you walk down the aisle.

"your so pretty.."

loverboy!matt who gets a tattoo to remember the day you became his wife.

loverboy!matt who can't leave you alone for a minute.

"matt im showering!"

"just let me in pleaseeee!"

loverboy!matt who knows you struggle to show your feelings well.

"hey...whats wrong?"

"i dont know.."

"okay..shh..your okay."

taglist! @bellaonthelow @muchloveforhacker @moonk1ss3d @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @fratbrochrisgf @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chrisss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa

[reiderwriter]

😝 brain rot from my character ai scenario… the team goes out to a bar to celebrate and you wear a tiny little dress (just to rile him up obvi) but you also end up attracting a lot of male attentionand he gets SO jealous and protective of you he’s like sitting off to the side just watching you flirt with everyone and the team is like “he looks like hes gonna explode wtf” and then the SMUT HES ALL “they can’t have you, you’re all mine” “you really like all the attention huh? i’ll give you what you wanted” OMG it’s making me crazy i hope i described it good enough 🥰🥰

A/N: Is it really a reiderwriter smut if I don't have to clarify that 'I got carried away' at some point in the authors note? No, it is not. Thank you for the request. My brain is now equally rotted, oops.

Warnings: complaints, dirty talk, semi public sexual activity, partial voyeurism, fingering, hard/rough sex.

You weren't even dating.

Which made the situation even more frustrating for Spencer, and even more exciting for you. 

You'd always flirted with the man a lot, had been told multiple times to knock it off even after getting a little too close for comfort on a case. 

But you couldn't really blame yourself on that one. You'd had to do a quick takedown at a dive bar, and you'd been tasked with pretending to be a touchy couple at the bar to block the back entrance at the staff entrance. 

You'd draped yourself all over him, allowing yourself to get closer than you'd ever been before. 

If you'd just happened to let your hands fall down to his crotch, it was pure coincidence. So was giving his obviously erect length a few strokes through his jeans as he sat staring at you like you were his last meal and he was back in prison. 

Emily had to pull you aside after that one personally. 

You knew she was protective of Spencer, seeing him as a little brother, but it seemed like she was more protective of you at that moment. 

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” She'd asked, waiting carefully for your answer before she said anything more. 

Two could play at that game. “What is this concerning?” 

“With Spencer.” 

“I'm not sure what you mean, Emily.”

“Yes, you do. Listen, I don't care what you get up to in your personal life, but Spencer has a way of making others feel very�� seen. He can get protective and pushy. And I just want to know you're ready for that, and you're not going to let it affect your work.”

“Is Spencer having the same talk?” 

She laughed at that. 

“Spencer? No. I already know it's going to affect his work, because it has since you joined our team. He still gets his job done, but I know where his priorities would lie if there were an emergency.” 

You'd shivered at that and excused yourself. 

If he was that obsessed with you, why had he not told you? Stepped over that line from friends to more than that?

You needed to force the issue, and you had the perfect opportunity when Penelope invited you out for drinks. 

“Y/N! Don't go, it's Friday night, we-” she said gesturing wildly to the team gathered around you, “are going to a bar. No, you can't rain check either.” 

“Can I at least get changed first?” 

“You need to get changed. We're going to a nice bar, Y/N.” Running off again to grab the rest of your team members and force their attendance, you grinned after Penelope. 

It was time to see exactly how focused on you Spencer Reid was.

And how willing he was to let you slip through his fingers.

An hour later, you were stepping out of your taxi, pulling your skirt down as you did. The short black dress had a terrible habit of pulling up your thighs to flash your underwear at anyone in a 10 foot radius. Usually, that bothered you, but tonight, you planned on using it to your advantage. 

After all, you'd left out the underwear tonight for a reason. 

Pulling your jacket around you tighter, you pushed the door to the bar open and scanned the room for your team members. 

“Y/N, over here!” Tara called you over, nursing a beer. Luke sat next to her, Penelope on his other side, and Matt on hers and completing the group was Spencer Reid. 

“Where are JJ and Emily?” You asked, doing your very best to ignore Spencer as you sat down next to him, practically falling into his warmth. You sat so close to him. 

“At the bar. Emily is convinced she can flirt her way to a free drink, and JJ is convinced she cannot. The girl she's working on now has to be 22 at most, so it could honestly go either way.” Penelope answered, and you felt Spencer shift slightly beside you. 

“Speak of the devil,” Luke said as the two women approached. 

“Well? What's the result?” You grinned up at them, letting your head fall back against Spencer’s shoulder as you gently rested your hand on his thigh. He sat silently for a minute, not moving and just taking in the conversation. 

“I've still got it.” Emily grinned triumphantly. 

“Maybe I should give it a try. There are a few hot male bartenders tonight. Who knows, I might score more than just a drink.” 

Spencer choked on the drink he was sipping as you spoke quickly, a few knowing looks passing between every other person at the table. You'd have to be blind to miss it. Or Spencer. 

“Spencer, are you okay? You should be careful, I wouldn't want you to choke. That's how I want to end my night, but it's not for everyone.” That one earned you a few snickers from the others and a glare from the man himself. 

“I'm fine, thank you, Y/N.” He smiled down at you and gave your knee a friendly tap that turned slightly less friendly as he pushed it further up your leg. 

The others had since averted their attentions, moving their conversation onto other things, but you and Spencer were still stuck in each other's orbits. 

Your heart beat faster until you were sure it could be seen, raw and fit to burst out of your chest. His fingertips brushed your hem. He was seconds away from realising that you were going to get the attention you wanted that night. 

Slipping just an inch up the hem, he twitched almost imperceptibly as he searched for your panty line, brows knitting when he couldn't find it. 

“What's wrong, Spencer? Searching for something that isn't there?” You enjoyed watching his frown deepen as he registered your words, but you enjoyed it even more when you gently pushed his hand away as you stood. 

“Well, I need a drink. Let's hope I can recreate your success, Emily.” You said, finally pushing off your jacket. The dress may have been short, but it was also low cut, burning the candle at both ends as your breasts threatened to spill over with any particularly deep breath. 

“Sweet lord in heaven! You didn't come to play tonight.” Penelope exclaimed, practically applauding your body as you twirled for her and showed off the form fitting dress, giggling all the way. 

“You said it was a nice bar, Penelope. I'm hoping there are also some very nice men here, too.” With a wink, you turned on your heel and strode to the bar, making sure your hips swung seductively with every step. 

You couldn't immediately give in and turn to see if he was watching you when you got to the bar, though, not willing to give him the satisfaction. You were doing it all for him, but you still didn't want him to know that.

It didn't take long for men to swarm you. They came one at a time, and you entertained them each as you waited for your unnecessarily complex cocktail order to be prepared. 

In the 7 minutes you'd been away from the table, you'd been approached by three separate men. They all tried lines on you, gave you their numbers and tried their best to woo you, but with Spencer’s eyes burning across your body as you leaned against the bar, you really couldn't have cared less. 

Still, you leaned in, giggled in the appropriate places, and took the numbers, knowing they'd never be called.

When your cocktail was finally ready, and the last one offered to fund it for you  You finally felt a hand at your back. 

“That won't be necessary, thank you.” Spencer ended the conversation, handing his own card over to the bartender as he kept his hand on your back, his body crowding yours. 

The man walked away in defeat, and you turned on him, sipping your drink as you refused to move away.

“Now why ruin all my fun, Spencer?” 

“You're really enjoying all this attention, huh?” He said, pushing your hair behind your ear as he leaned closer to you, his next word a whisper against your skin.

“I can see your pussy from all the way back there,” he said, tugging down your skirt slightly. You weren't surprised though  simply taking another sip and maintaining eye contact. 

“I know.” His hand, having slipped up to your waist, tightened as his gaze dropped to your lips. 

“You want everyone to see your dripping cunt? Want to let all the men here take a turn trying to catch your attention so they can slip in?” His voice was low, practically a growl as he licked his lips.

“No. I wanted to see how long it'd take you to come over and do it. By my count, that was eight minutes, correct?” 

“Good girl. Just remember that you're mine. I'm not letting anyone else have you.” Giving your face a gentle stroke, he let it trail down your body, subtly cupping and squeezing your chest on the way down. 

“All of a sudden, I feel very tired, Spencer. Take me home.” He wasted no time, grabbing your hand and gathering you up, your jacket and bag collected from the desk as he gave minimal answers to the others as you departed. To their credit, they asked minimal questions. 

The cold air hit you hard as you pushed the doors open again, but Spencer was unperturbed, pulling you over to his car silently, a strong hand on your shoulder helping you into the passenger's seat.

You dare not talk the entire drive to his apartment, so sure that any word from you would have him turning immediately to deposit you right back at the bar. 

He didn't, though, but he also didn't look at you or touch you. You sat squirming at the heavy atmosphere, suddenly desperate to know exactly what thoughts were trapped inside Spencer’s impressive brain. 

“We're here.” He announced, pulling up quickly and cutting the engine, climbing out in a hurry. 

You fumbled with your own seat belt as he pulled your door open, catching you up in his arms as he closed the door behind you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as your arms wrapped around his neck, letting him carry you up the stairs to his apartment.

His lips didn't meet yours until the door was firmly closed and locked behind you, and even then, he didn't immediately dive in. He out you down, and a touch of disappointment flooded your body as he completely entangled himself from you. 

It dissipated completely when his hand wrapped around your throat. 

“Let me be clear, Y/N. You are mine. If you want attention, I will give it to you. If you want to choke on something, I'm more than happy to provide it. If you want to dress like a little whore, go ahead, but don't forget who your sweet little cunt belongs to.” His fingers tightened with each word as you gasped for air, back resting on the nearest wall as his body pressed up along your own. 

“Do you understand?” He asked, and you nodded repeatedly, fast and desperate. 

“Good. Now, ass up on the bed. I'll meet you there.” You practically sprinted to the room in question, slinking up onto the bed. He said ass up, but you hesitated slightly as he quietly shut the bedroom door behind you, just long enough to earn a slap on your ass as he finally returned to your side. 

“You have to listen, Y/N. You wanted this, so you have to listen nicely.” 

“I'm sorry, Spencer, it won't happen aga-” He stole the end of your sentence as he slipped his fingers into you, gently working the two longest ones up into a frenzy as he finger fucked you. 

“Sorry, what was that? I don't think I quite caught your words.” You could only moan in reply as you buried your head in his pillows, ass pressing back into his fingers to help him get deeper.

“So needy. Look at this little black dress. You knew this was going to happen, right?” A third finger slipped inside you, and you screamed out in pleasure as he continued using you.

“Burying your head isn't going to work, Y/N. Your cunt is answering for you.” 

You heard the rattle of his belt unbuckling as his fingers finally slipped out, the emptiness only a relief for a second before his cock was hitting deep inside of you. 

Thoughts escaped you as you finally got what you'd been begging for for weeks. His every frustration was pounded into you as he tugged at your hair, pulling your torso up so he could hit even deeper. 

Pulling back your head with a hand on your throat he laid a barrage of kisses across your upper back and shoulders, making sure to bite and suck and nip as his spare hand toyed with your nipples, pinching and pulling. 

In a second, you reached your climax, not having the breath left in you to let him know before you tightened on his shaft and let your body fall limp under his hands. 

“I'm going to mop up our cum with this dress, Y/N, and then I'm going to make you put it back on.” With a final grunt, he pulled out, jerking his cock through his release as he shot his load right over your pussy lips. 

He collapsed on top of you, and you finally gave up your last bit of strength beneath him, enjoying the pressure of his weight pushing down on you again. 

“Thank god that worked,” you gasped, catching your breath. You smiled as he flipped you over and pulled the dress off your head, true to his word. 

“What worked, Y/N?” 

“This. You don't know the lengths I'd have gone to to get you yo finally fuck me if this hadn't worked.” 

“But suddenly, I'm curious, and I have all the time in the world.” You laughed lightly but snuggled into his chest again, meaning to sleep. 

“Unless you want to get dressed again now…?” 

[byunpum]

Back to you | Part 1

Pair: Jake(human and avatar) x Neytiri x Human reader (trio couple)

Warning: None, i think kinda sad. More in future, maybe soft-smut in the future.

Note: I'm still alive after disappearing for 1 month. Ahh omg, it's been so long, I'm so sorry. A lot of things have happened, more good than bad. But we're back…and as I had posted. Here I bring you this story, based on my mini-series 'mama's boy'. Here I share with you how our characters are paired up. I hope you like it, and let me know what you think and if I should continue with the mini-series. Love ya <3

+Read 'Mama's boy' HERE+

AVATAR MASTERLIST| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (final)

You were feeling uncomfortable in the metal chair, which was placed next to the bonding machine, which allowed humans to use their avatars. Since the routine expedition, Jake had not returned. Everyone knew he was alive, but where was he? No one knew. Grace had asked you as a favor to monitor him until he returned. You weren't complaining, but you had avoided having any contact with Jake. He reminded you of things…Not even 20 minutes had passed, when the machine made a noise indicating that it would open. You get up from the chair as quickly as you can, to assist Jake. You help him open the lid, finding a confused, sweaty Jake with a stupid grin that made your heart pound. “You won't believe where I am?” says Jake, as you let out a big sigh and shift your gaze to Grace.

“Oh my god…you're back!!!” shouts grace from her desk. Coming towards you, she was already releasing a machine to take jake's blood pressure. “Grace…I'm in” says Jake, the man was lying on his shoulders. He was still a little weak, you force him to drink water from a bottle. Taking his chin to make him open his mouth. While grace looks at him with confusion. “What?” grace continues to work on adjusting the machine on his arm. Jake had been so many hours without using his body, he could pass out at any moment. “Yes…they accepted me. I'm inside their home” jake, looks at you. “You're in the tree home?” you ask. You watch as he nods his face quickly. Grace takes jake's face in her hands, and gives him a warm smile. “I can't believe it…are you serious?!!!” grace was shocked. They had tried to get in, but it was impossible. “I'm with a girl…ahhh netyy ahhh” jake tries to remember and pronounce the name correctly of the girl who is supposed to help him adjust. “Neytiri?” you speak softly, but loud enough for jake to hear you. “Yes her” jake speaks up.

Grace looks at you quickly and she can see the sadness in your gaze. You change your face and mood, moving away from Jake, helping him to put his weight down. Turning away from them, you bump into norm who had approached you moments before. “Are you okay?” norm asks, touching your shoulder, but you push him away. Walking as fast as you could away from them, you wanted to get out of there. You felt short of breath and were wiping away tears hiding your emotion. She was fine. It had been so long since you had heard from her. On the other side a group of friends are confused, “What's wrong with her, did I say something wrong?” asks Jake, looking at Grace. The woman was still looking towards the exit, sighing deeply. “It's a long story…come on out of there you need to rest and tell me everything” says grace, helping Jake into his wheelchair.

Lunchtime came quickly, and the entire team was gathered in the dining room eating dinner. The group of scientists were very excited and focused on every word that came out of Jake's mouth. It had been so long since they had been able to have a connection with the Omaticaya clan. Even grace was giving him their undivided attention. Meanwhile you and norm were standing a little away from the group, eating the disgusting food. You couldn't help but laugh at the look on norm's face, you could tell he was very upset. You kicked his foot a little, “hey get that face away” you scolded him, but you saw how he snapped with his teeth. “I can't stand this… it's a very unfair” norm says. “Unfair?” you ask, as you put a mouthful of food in your mouth. “Yes, Tom has been studying for 3 years and I've been studying for over 6 years…and where am I? sitting here, doing nothing. In fact, if anyone in the whole RDA deserved to be with the omaticaya clan, it's you. You've been in pandora all your life…you're part of the clan” speaks norm annoyed, seeing how you interrupt him with your index finger. “Ah ah was…past!!!” you speak, lowering your gaze for a moment. Some memories come to your head, yes, it was very true what norm said, you were once part of the omaticaya clan…but it's been so long. Maybe… they have forgotten about you. “Norm…I understand your discomfort, but there's nothing we can do, the pretty boy was lucky to be accepted” you joke, seeing Norm's disgusted face. “Jake pretty boy?!!!! You have to be crazy” you laugh loudly, looking at the group of scientists who were still harassing jake. “Well…you were tom's girlfriend, that says a lot about you” Norm says, now he was the one laughing at you. “We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend…we just spent a few nights together” you speak up, laughing with your friend.

While you and Norm were still laughing, for a moment you see Jake look at you and give you a smile. You return it, seeing how jake makes a help signal with his hands. You laugh even harder, but you feel Norm pinch you “don't be fooled by the enemy” says Norm “Norm let me go!!!” you roll your eyes back. Norm could sometimes be very very annoying. But you were used to it, he had always been like that.

You remember when norm and tom came to pandora. Just for their studies, and you were the first to meet them. From then on… you had grown very fond of them. When the news that tom had been killed reached your ears, you were heartbroken, again…but you got over it little by little. But with the new member of the group, it wasn't very easy. Since Jake had arrived, he hadn't taken his interest in you, and to make things worse for you. Grace had delegated all responsibility for Jake's avatar to you, so if anything happened to him it was your fault. And the last thing you wanted was for a $20 million dollar avatar to happen to him, or else the RDA was going to kill you.

After the meal, and when everyone was about to go to their respective rooms. Norm had gone ahead walking as fast as he could through the cold corridors of the RDA. You were walking more calmly, plus you wanted to meet Jake. You felt you owed him an apology for leaving him alone. By pure chance you find him, you see that he was talking something with Quaritch. You look at him with concern, if you knew one thing, it was that quaritch never had good intentions, if he wasn't given anything in return. When you see both men stop talking, you decide to approach jake. “Hello” you speak softly, catching the man's attention. Jake turns around, with a small smile. Lifting his gaze. “I'm all ears” jake says. You had barely spoken to jake since he arrived, so you were a little nervous. “One question…ahh where did you leave my avatar?” you ask. “Your avatar? It's in a safe place” jake says. “Yeah, but what safe place?” you wanted him to be more literal, because his concept of safety might be very different from yours. “I'm sleeping in some kind of giant leaf…ahh I don't remember” jake speaks up, shuffling his hair.there was a short silence between the two of you, but you decide to speak. “You're in the big tree?” you speak. Jake can see your eyes light up for a moment. “Yes…that. There I am” jake can see you kneel down in front of him, and move much closer. Placing your hands on his knees. As if whatever you were going to ask him, you didn't want anyone else to hear. “And how did you see everything? Is everyone okay?” you ask. “Yeah…normal, there's only one who seems to be a bother and he's warrior…I don't remember his name” jake says and can see how you smile softly. “That's tsu'tey” you speak. “That same one, do you know him?” jake gets closer to your face, and you quickly push him away. “Ahh thank you for answering me…see you tomorrow” you get up quickly, and leave quickly. Before you continue walking to your room, you stop “By the way…sorry for leaving you alone when you wake up, next time I'll take better care of you” you apologize, and turn to continue on your way.

Jake stood there confused, he thought you looked kind of strange. But cute…very cute. He could understand his brother now. Laughing to himself, he started on his way to his room. Although he must admit that he found it even stranger, that you knew the name of that navi. It was assumed that only people who have an avatar have had contact with the Omaticayas, and he understands that not all of them have. How did you know that?

The next day came quickly, and Jake had almost no time to wake up…because he had to get up early. Wiping his eyes, he was already sitting on the edge of the connection machine. “Good morning” you hummed, approaching him. You had a cup of coffee in your hands, offering it to him with some vitamins. “Good morning gorgeous” jake chuckles, as he can as norm makes a dirty face. “Here…you'll need this” you hand him the stuff. “And this?” jake asks. “It's some vitamins that will help your body not collapse from not eating all day and a coffee” you speak, as you practically force jake to take it all. Grace approaches you, accompanied by Norm. “Well, here's the information,” says Grace, showing Jake a screen. On it was all of neytiri's information. You come to Jake's side, looking at the screen with a warm smile. “Please don't disrespect her….y do not be a jerk” norm speaks, giving jake a dirty look. “You're just upset because I'm the one going on a date with the leader's daughter” jake says in a mocking voice. Grace rolls her eyes and tells you to take care of hooking Jake up. As jake lies down, you approach him. “ Advice…don't try to flirt with neytiri” you speak up. Watching as jake raises an eyebrow, and laughs a little. “There you go…and how do you know that?” he speaks. You now give him a big smile, but one of sarcasm. “I know why I say that” you speak, as you turn away from jake. “You should listen to her,” Grace shouts from the distance. “Good luck…soldier” you speak, being the last face jake saw to wake up in his avatar body.

And yes, jake should take your advice, you knew neytiri more than anyone. And yes you were hating the fact that he could be with her. It had been so many years since you last saw her, you didn't even get to say goodbye…nothing. The last time you saw Neytiri was when that tragedy happened at school. You sigh a little, as you begin to prepare the week's paperwork. But your thoughts are interrupted when you feel grace sit down next to you. “I have good news… a new project is coming out tomorrow,” says Grace. You look at her curiously. “Project?” you ask. Grace's face ascends. “Yes…we need to be closer to the clan, a place we are safe, but we can still get on with the project 'jakesully” says grace, watching you laugh. “I was able to convince the RDA idiots to have a bunker, where we can have a team, a small lab. i'm counting on you, right?” grace looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for your answer. “Can I refuse?” you speak, feeling Grace hug you and press a kiss to your hair. “It'll be for the best… we'll have a great time, no personal space” grace jokes, as you groan loudly.

And as if by magic, within a week you were in the bunker in the middle of the jungle. Norm, grace, judy, jake and you. Although judy came and went from time to time to get everything you needed. Even though she used to get away so often, she was part of the team. You adjusted too quickly, it seemed to be comfortable. And the comfort you felt around Jake was increasing too, and very quickly. This seemed to be nice for grace, she liked to see you happy and excited about something or someone…it had been a long time since she had seen you like this. Watching from afar, as you wiped jake's face with a wet rag. “I'm not a baby” says Jake, as you wipe his eyes. While you hold your face with both hands. “Yeah but you're barely taking care of yourself…I know your avatar body is amazing, but you're here” you touch his chest and feel his heart. “Can you feel it moving? It's that fast for you “ jake jokes, watching you laugh and turn away from him. “That was the worst thing you've said so far” norm complains from behind you, as he sips his coffee.

You liked it when jake would go back to his body in the afternoon, and do his video documentaries. And you could listen to everything he had learned, plus he would also tell you everything he had done with neytiri. “It's just that it's hard to use the bow…it's” Jake would explain with his hands, you could see the frustration in his eyes and gestures. Neytiri could be very rude at times, but that was the way it was and he had to learn. “The trick is to put pressure on the back arm” you move, and show him the pose. “And boom…done” you joke. Jake shakes his head to the side, watching as you continue to explain how he should do things. Just like neytiri was doing, they were explaining almost identically. Jake leans forward and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. Tucking it behind your ear. “Thank you” you speak timidly, now pulling away. “Thank you for helping me” jake says.

Since you had gotten closer to him, he had improved so much with the lessons with neytiri. If she told him something, he would ask you as soon as he returned to his human body. And you answered him without hesitation, sometimes he didn't understand how you knew so much about the clan. Only grace and a few avatars were supposed to have had contact with the clan, norm could know some things. But you were an expert. And your advice is really paying off. Now jake was in his avatar body, he was holding the bow again, and he remembered what you had said to him. “Neytiri was asking you to put strength in your arms, so you will be more accurate in your shooting” jake remembered your words, he adjusted his stance. Neytiri was approaching him, but stopped short. When she noticed Jake's stance, she stood watching him. Seeing how the shot was perfect. “Well done” says neytiri, watching as jake smiles at her. She was wondering how he had improved overnight. But if she could tell, it was the technique jake was using…it was very similar to yours. Neytiri tries to distract herself and keeps walking towards the prey.

For a moment during the day, the two of them had sat down in a nice quiet meadow to eat something to eat…neytiri was minding her own business eating her food. But she could feel jake's gaze, he might change his gaze once or twice. But he would look back at her. “ What are you looking at so much?” speaks neytiri without taking her eyes off her fruit. Jake remains thoughtful for a moment. “That necklace around your neck” jake points to the woven necklace neytiri had around her neck, she touches it while looking at it warmly. “What is it?” jake asks, but he thinks he knows the answer. The reason he's asking is because the night before, when he came over to fix your hair. He could see you had that same necklace, he wanted to believe it was something grace gave you. But today he noticed the same one on Neytiri and was surprised. They were identical. “This…” neytiri holds her necklace tightly. “This is a memory of her” neytiri says, she stops eating for a moment. She could look thoughtful, like she was remembering someone. “Her?” asks jake. Neytiri looks at him slowly, you could see her little teary eyes. But she gets up suddenly, “Come on…we have a lot of things to do” says neytiri. Jake stands up behind her, and catches her hand to stop her for a second. “Neytiri…are you okay?” the boy asks. Neytiri squeezes jake's hand for a moment, looking down and taking a deep breath. “Yes,” she says. Starting to walk to a new route, but Jake could tell how she didn't let go of his grip and continued to hold his hand tightly. Jake didn't refuse at any point, neytiri is not very affectionate to say the least, and the fact that she was still holding his hand. It meant that she needs him right now.

That same afternoon, when jake and neytiri came home from training, they had lunch with the whole clan. And lay down to rest in their respective places, neytiri waited a few minutes to carefully lift her head and see if jake had finally fallen asleep. She had her home with her parents, being still single, neytiri could live with her parents. But right now, she had the task of training and taking care of Jake. So she had to be wherever he was. Neytiri notices how Jake is asleep. Getting up from her hammock, to walk carefully in the branches. Leaving the resting area, running carefully to her ikran. “sense…come on” says neytiri, climbing into her ikran quickly. flying away from the familiar tree, she hopes no one was following her, because she was heading to a place she only knew about.

Not far away, there was a very tall tree. Too tall to be anything but scary for anyone to come and interrupt. Neytiri leads Seze to a giant branch, which had a beautiful view of the jungle of Pandora. Neytiri climbs down from the ikran, stroking the creature's head, stretching a little. To approach the tree trunk, picking up a small bag. Now to sit on the edge of the branch. She sighs a little, looking at the scenery. Opening the bag, and taking out of it a piece of paper. Very carefully she unfolds it and laughs to see what was drawn on it.

A cute doodle drawing…on it were two girls. Neytiri laughs to herself, as she touches the paper wistfully. “I hope you never forget me…my Y/N” Neytiri speaks softly. Hugging the paper carefully, this was the only thing I had of you.

What do you think? should I continue? btw, If you want to be tagged, let me know.<3

[yoyomomiko]

I actually love your hcs so much your writing is scrumptious frfr, anywayyy

what about some Daisuke Christmas (or Valentine’s Day, or user bday or smth, idk SOME special day) hcs? :3

Pairings: Daisuke x F!reader (gender not mentioned but that's what I had in mind while writing this)

HC: Christmas and Valentine's Day with Daisuke!!

Warnings: a bit boring and cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(A/N): Tysm!!!🔥🔥 I love Daisuke so much and I just feel like Jimmy should've died before even setting foot on the Tulpar, just my opinion <3 -> m.list

★CHRISTMAS

Okay so this man is gonna be all giddy like a little kid

If you're on the Tulpar he'll feel so bad and disappointed because like... What can he gift you??😔

He's still gonna find a way to offer you something, just anything really. He hopes you like it, but doesn't expect you to do so, since the Tulpar has limited resources so you can't really just wrap anything up and call it a present.

He doesn't expect you to give him something either, because he understands there's not much you can offer around the ship.

BUT if you do manage to somehow gift him ANYTHING, he will gladly take it.

He's gonna suggest giving something to the rest of the crew too!

HE'S the one who would gather the crew together and he's gonna have a gift ready for each one of them.

You and Swansea WILL have the best presents out of everyone🙌

IF you're on land? Oh, man you're gonna get EVERYTHING you've wanted this year.

Daisuke is so sweet he's gonna get you sooo many things, might even save up to give you jewelry if you like it!!

It doesn't matter if what you want is expensive, he'll manage somehow

IF HE WANTED TO HE WOULD🗣️🗣️

Since you're on land he fully expects you to give him something, so prepare

It could be a hand crafted gift that barely hangs on a thread and he'll STILL treasure it and keep it in his room as a trophy.

If it's something he's wanted for a long time he might break down crying😀

Enough with the presents, let's get onto decorations

SO we all know there's not much stuff to do aboard the Tulpar, BUT Daisuke WILL craft something together with you just to give a bit of Christmas vibes instead of the same dull hallways...

He's gonna want a Christmas tree so bad😔

IF you're on land, prepare to have the most lit up house ever

He's gonna go ALL OUT because according to him "It's not Christmas everyday" so you gotta make the most of it

Christmas lights, ornaments (even handmade ones, it feels more special that way), a big Christmas tree to make up for the time he was on the ship... Pretty much everything you can think of

He's so excited about it too😋

OMG BAKES COOKIES WITH YOU

Probably Christmas tree shaped, depends on the mood

He's probably average at baking, but if you're silly with it he's also gonna be silly with it and make the kitchen a MESS

And you both will clean it up together because like I said in my other posts, he includes you in everything☺️

Lowkey I feel like if you guys are on land he'd want to spend Christmas with Swansea too, maybe even Anya

But they probably won't be able to visit so oh well😢

★VALENTINE'S DAY

Unfortunately, if you're on the Tulpar, there might be some problems.

Again, limited resources😔

But Daisuke still tries, maybe he'll get creative and craft you a little gift with hearts everywhere!!

I mentioned in another post that he likes passing notes with you, so just imagine him pulling out a cute note with "Happy Valentine's Day!" with hearts and little doodles of you everywhere

Swansea probably gets so tired of you two being all lovey dovey the whole day, but he understands it's special and as long as you're both happy🤷‍♀️

At night he's gonna cuddle with you and apologize for the day being so boring, promising you that once you're back home you two will have the best Valentine's Day ever

In case you're on land...

Prepare to probably bawl your eyes out

He's just sooo cute and sweet

He'll plan this all out, and make this day better than any other.

Daisuke will buy you the biggest bouquet of flowers he could find, they're also your favourite and the wrapping is your favourite color😍

Not only that, he's gonna buy you the basic teddy bear. EXCEPT, it's like, two times your size. It's so big and cuddly🥺

He's gonna buy you chocolates, your favourite again!! Heart shaped box take it out leave it

He might search on google "cute gifts for valentine's day"

And he's gonna make you one of those cute crafted stuff with a list of everything he loves about you (and it's like 6 feet long with small handwriting), it's gonna be sooo cute😫

DAISUKE WILL SOOO TAKE YOU OUT TO DINNER SOMEWHERE YOU LIKE

If you're not big on public places he's gonna take you to an empty area where the two of you can stargaze (as if you're not tired of seeing stars) or just enjoy a beautiful view, exchanging stories or just cute talk <33

He's so cheesy he might make a petal trail to your bed with candles and all🤭

Just be careful you two might burn something, I mean it's Daisuke we're talking about

And after all that he's gonna run you two a bath, but GUESS WHAT, it's also gonna have candles all around😣

After that, you two head to bed, completely exhausted since you just had like, the BEST day ever

And you two cuddle while drifting to sleep🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

★yoyomiko ★miko

[v6quewrlds]

sub!joe PLEASE OMG

SUB!JOE 🗣️🗣️🗣️

You sat cross-legged in your plush bed, the crisp white pages of your book fluttering as the soft hums of a song escaped your lips. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting warm shadows across the walls. You had been waiting patiently in anticipation of your nightly ritual of cuddles and quiet whispers before sleep claimed you both.

You heard the door to Joe's office creak open, and then he stumbled into your bedroom, his six-foot-four frame slightly hunched from the weight of the day's activities. He shuffled over to the bed, his dirty blonde hair sticking up at odd angles from where he'd run his hands through it in frustration.

You put down your book and patted the empty space beside you. "You look exhausted," you said with a gentle smile. You watched as Joe climbed into the bed, his muscular body sinking into the mattress with a contented sigh. His breath was warm against your skin and his hand found its way to your waist. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the tension in his muscles slowly unravel as you began to stroke his hair.

"Long day?" you inquired, your voice soft and soothing.

"Yeah, just going over some game footage," Joe murmured, his eyes drifting shut. "Couldn't get my head around a few plays."

You kissed the top of his head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Joe took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against you. "Nah, I just need to clear my mind." He paused, his hand moving to the crotch of his sweatpants, adjusting himself with a wince. "But, I'm also... you know."

You knew that look, the way his eyes searched for yours in the semi-darkness, the way his cheeks flushed slightly under your gaze. "Oh?" you said, your voice filled with playful curiosity.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his voice slightly embarrassed. "It's just... I can't sleep like this."

You leaned back, placed your book on the bedside table, and switched off the lamp. The room was plunged into darkness, but the moon's soft glow filtered through the blinds, casting a silver ribbon across the floor. "Do you want me to take care of it?" you asked, your voice a soft hum.

He nodded eagerly, his eyes closing in anticipation. You reached for the drawer next to the bed. Inside, you found the small bottle of lube you two kept for such occasions. You popped the cap and coated your palm, pressing your palms together, warming the lube.

"Pull your pants down, baby, let me make you comfortable," you whispered. Joe's breath hitched as he complied, rolling onto his back before his sweatpants slid down to expose his hard cock, standing pink and proud against his stomach.

Your hands were gentle but firm as you wrapped them around him to spread the lube. His eyes remained closed as you began to work him with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Your fingers danced along the shaft, teasing the sensitive skin with just the right amount of pressure.

"Is this okay?" you asked, your voice a low murmur that fell on Joe's tired ears.

"Mmhmm," Joe mumbled, his eyes still shut tight as he succumbed to the sensation of your warm hands.

"Just relax, let me take care of you," you whispered into Joe's ear, your breath hot and sweet. You leaned down and kissed his cheek. Joe's eyes fluttered open to meet yours, and you could see the exhaustion in them, the need for release. He nodded, his head rolling back onto your shoulder as he allowed his body to go limp, giving you full control.

"You're doing so good, baby," you cooed, your voice a gentle wind against his ear. "Just let go, I got you."

"Oh, baby, more, please," Joe moaned, his voice a whiny rasp against the silence of the room.

Your heart raced in time with Joe's hips. You felt his body coil tightly, his muscles straining against your touch. He was so close, so deliciously close. His hips began to falter, his moans began to strangle as they attempted to escape his throat. He opened his baby blues to watch your hand work his cock, his eyes glazing over with the pleasure you brought him.

"Gonna—fuck—baby, ‘m gonna come," Joe whimpered, his voice shaking with desperation. You watched the play of emotions across his face: the tightening of his jaw, the flutter of his eyelashes, the way his mouth formed silent words of ecstasy.

"There you go, baby, come for me," you encouraged. You picked up the pace, your hand moving in a blur as you brought him closer and closer to the crest of release. "Let it out. You earned it."

With a thin moan, Joe's body spasmed, and warmth flooded your hand. He bucked his hips upward, his cock jerking in your grasp as he reached his climax. You stroked him through it, your grip firm but gentle, your thumb circling the sensitive spot beneath the head of his cock. His eyes squeezed shut, and he let out a long, shuddering sigh as he came down from the peak.

You took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, spent and satisfied against you. His chest heaved with each deep breath, the moonlight casting a silver glow across his pale skin. You leaned over to kiss him, your lips lingering on his in a soft, tender press. "Good boy," you whispered. His eyes fluttered open to meet yours, a lazy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His entire body blushed a flustered pink.

[astrologylunadream]

How Your Person Would Describe You🍨🗣💭 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hey it's Lunadream🖤 In this reading you will find how your person would talk about you/describe you to others.

Omg and I just realized my current number of follows is 888 so powerful energy up in here. (thank you all so much for that💞) hope you find your message🌸

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of that beautiful person on your mind, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling drawn to~💭

Pile 1🧁

Pile 2🍨

Pile 3🐈‍⬛

Pile 4👛

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 👀

Pile 1🧁

Sign energy: Water, Fancy, Hair, Avoidance, Options, Chiron, Pisces, 8th house, Vertex, Mercury,🙅‍♂️🏚🟧🧖‍♀️

🖤Your person's energy: I'm sensing that this is an emotional individual, even if they don't show it. They might be more serious to others, but they have feelings themselves. Dominant energy of Pisces, Scorpio, Virgo and Gemini, for some of you pisces mercury or chiron conjunct mercury is significant. I feel like they have a closed off demeanor and some people may expect them to be cold or in a bad mood. This person likely changes their hair a lot, could be drastically like the color. Their hair may be very attractive to you😍 Your person may often avoid things they aren't ready for, not necessarily indecisive but just very avoidant. This could be because they have been through a lot of damage in the past, they have a lot of emotions built up and they have been hurt with others words.😥 They may not enjoy classy events or that could be a regular thing for them that they can't stand. Because I'm picking up for some of you this person is higher class. The color orange may be significant. For some of you this person is avoiding you, I'm hearing they're running out of options take what resonates whatever that means for you. You have a deep attraction and infatuation with this person, but I'm getting that they are more so reserved when it comes to intimate relationships. So they push back a bit if you approach them, They're a heavy thinker and may expect issues to occur if they get involved in a romantic connection. They get lost in their thoughts sometimes, but they have a really aesthetic voice.💗

💬How they would describe you: Energy, Mindfulness, Decay, Lilith, Tears, Fire, 1st house, 2nd house, Virgo, Pluto, 🟩🫂🥱🎸 Okay so your person would describe you as someone who has a very bright and youthful vibe to them, and there's a spark of determination in your eyes. They would say you also have a witty and sharp mind, they feel as if you outsmart them. They're kind of jealous of you for it. But they think you are too hard on yourselves, and it tears them apart on the inside. Maybe you judge yourself too hard? They would say they want to give you good vibes and recharge your happiness.🤗 When you enter the room, your energy just radiates to them. I feel like they would tell others how sweet you are.💓 They would like to say you seem really smart, actually. They bet many people are jealous of your abilities. To be honest, they would say the way your mind works scares them a little, but it also makes you very attractive.😳 they would feel like your words could pierce into their soul, and get kind of intimidated. They don't know for sure, but something about you is just captivating. They would describe you as someone you would want to hug, especially when you're feeling down or low on energy. That you have a strong approach to the world, and put your best foot forward. They don't know what to expect from you at the moment, not exactly warmed up to you yet. Your person might need more time to analyze you, and see what you're truly all about.🔍🩷

💌Messages from your person: You need me now, They know, We were meant to be, Again and again, Let me adore you (How sweet🥺💞) Extra cards: Abandonment, Soft spot, Tight, Vent, Love song

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🩷

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the cupcake emoji~🧁 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🌸

Pile 2🍨

Sign energy: Outfit, Harm, Swim, Closed, Fake smile, Uranus, Venus, 9th house, 1st house, Jupiter, 🎭🦴👰‍♀️💭

🖤Your person's energy: For this pile I am sensing someone physically bigger, they have an outward vibe to them. I feel like your person just fills the room with their aura, they could be charismatic or seem that way to you. Dominant signs are Aquarius, Taurus, Libra, Sagittarius, Aries and Pisces energy. They dress very individually, I'm hearing no one in your circle dresses the way they do. It's definitely something thay catches your eye, they have a very specific style that's unique and fresh😎 Your person may be very drawn to foreigners especially females from a different background from them, maybe they wish to marry someone from a different country or language?💍🫢 Your person has a pretty smile, they smile a lot and many people adore their smile. Swimming could be a hobby for them or maybe their field of work for some of you. I feel like this person puts on a social face, they could be really good at hiding their emotions. You may imagine yourself with this person a lot, but they get a lot of female attention.👀 Physically they are attractive and well dressed. Your person is very social, they may not necessarily want to be but since they recieve so much attention it is hard to avoid.💬💫 For some of you this person is more of an introvert with a lot of friends. Your person has a very broad selection of clothing styles, they like trying out new things. Very expirimental person, they also have great bone structure I'm hearing.💪

💬How they would describe you: Rise, Surface, Focus, Queen, Danger, Uranus, Aries, Jupiter, 5th house, 9th house,👸⬜️🧣🙃 Ohh okay this is very interesting, so your person would describe you as someone very attractive😆 It's not like they're flirting about it but they do see you as someone very romantically magnetic, you have charms about you that they think many people would adore. So your person would also describe you as a unique and empowered person, but I definitely think if you asked them what they think of you the first thing that comes to mind would be your physical traits🫦♨️ Yesss your person would think that first when it comes to you. But also they would say you have a lot of drive and determination for enhancing your experiences in life, they would say you are fun-loving and unpredictable.❤️‍🔥 Also that you put a lot into your love life, some of you may want to date around and explore your possible romantic adventures and your person sees that as a part of your personality and who you are. They would describe you as a creative and entertaining person to be around, someone who knows how to enjoy themselves.🥳 You are a huge focus to this person too omg, they're really interested in you I'm hearing. They would say that they're curious and you, and willing to see what you're about. They also would say that you're a little wild and untamed, but also untouchable in a powerful way.👑💗 Your person would see you as your own queen/king, someone with a sense of self worth and achievement.👏

💌Messages from your person: Stop thinking about me, I'm so into you, Whatever works for you, Anything for you, I'm desperate (Omg whaaat😢💞) Extra cards: Last, Creativity, Hate, Medication, Alice in wonderland

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🩷

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the sundae emoji~🍨 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🌸

Pile 3🐈‍⬛

Sign energy: Long, Girlfriend, Perfect, Intellectual, Reach out, Cancer, Mars, South node, Saturn, North node,💆‍♀️♎️😭🧩

🖤Your person's energy: Oh so someone is definitely on their toes in this connection, like holding onto it so much😫✊️ Prominent signs are Cancer, Aries, Scorpio, Capricorn and Aquarius. Libra may be significant, that is the sign of relationships too.😮💞 Your person has a very soft energy to them, but also very capable like they are not a helpless or dependent kind of person. This relationship could feel somewhat out of reach to you or them, like there is just so much going on right now for you both. You may view them as an ideal romantic partner, or they have many traits you want in a lover. Definitely a more feminine and sweeter energy.💌🌸 Some of my pile 3's are dating this person, because I'm definitely getting this mutual loving and romantic interest from both sides. You may be madly in love with this person or they may be madly in love with you.😍 The intimacy from them could be the best you have had if you've been intimate with them. Your person is so caring for you though, like they want to protect you and give you comfort and love.🫂😇🥰 Your person is quite smart too, they are clever and think things through. Someone in this connection is trying to reach out or has been for a while, not giving up I'm hearing.😢 My pile 3's and their person are so cute togetherrr. They just fit with you in every way, feeling like your other half. The perfect boyfriend/girlfriend I'm hearing, it is likely this is the person you will start a family/share a home with!!

💬How they would describe you: Decision, Fashion, Surrender, Bedroom, Punish, Sun, Lilith, 1st house, 4th house, 12th house,👥️❤️‍🩹😘💭 Wow I was not expecting this, my pile 3's your person is just omg🥵 They would describe you as well dressed and hot, like you look good in your clothes😳 They would see you as someone more submissive and delicate, especially if you two are alone together. Your person would call you cute and hot at the same time (other things too I won't go into all that in this reading😭). They would say that you're good at like choosing the best options for yourself, lol maybe they think you made a good decision by choosing them?😂 Haha that's cute and I feel like your person would say you know right from wrong pretty well, you have a good sense of justice. But omg they would say you are physically attractive like they want to pin you down that's how attractive you are to this person🫣❤️‍🔥 Your person would say you're like home to them, a safe place for them to turn to. They want to punish you in a romantic sense (only if you want that I'm getting), I'll leave it to Interpretation but yeah a lot of intimate descriptions about you🔞 They would call you a dreamy and spiritual person and they really like that about you too. You are someone soft and so lovable to them, they would say you are theirs omg. They love the way you dress, you are someone they want to hug and hold aww. They would say you're someone they think about a lot, omg I'm hearing "this is the person I love" like that is how they would describe you my pile 3's!!🥰💗

💌Messages from your person: Let's listen to music together, Thinking of you, Anything for you, Keep going, With you. (So much thinking of you lol so sweet🥺💖) Extra cards: Poker face, Throne, Extreme, Alice in wonderland, Cold (Maybe some of you guys are somewhere where the temperatures are really low rn since it's winter during this reading.❄️)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🩷

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the black cat emoji~🐈‍⬛ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🌸

Pile 4👛

Sign energy: Love song, Surprise, Desperation, Bad habit, Gossip, Juno, Mercury, 8th house, Taurus, Mars, ♀️💄🤦‍♂️🫱

🖤Your person's energy: Okay there is a lot of talk centered around this person, my pile 4's your person is on many people's minds I'm getting.💭👀!! There are main energies of Gemini, Virgo, Scorpio, Taurus and Aries. I feel like this person is kinda like a forbidden fruit to you guys, like you shouldn't take the bite but you're really tempted. Maybe they're said to be bad or dangerous, like you may just get this vibe from them that's like bad news. Your person may wear makeup or you tend to wear a lot around them.💋💄 Omg I feel like your person is the type that others think they are wearing makeup even when they aren't, their bare face is really attractive to you.😳 You may have a habit of falling back into this connection, there is definitely a cycle happening with this person. Particularly feminines are talking about your person a lot, and masculines are like talking bad about them that's what I'm picking up on. There may be gossip about you and this person, I think a lot of people are jealous of your person and the way they think and communicate themselves in a powerful and magnetic way.🖤 You may be desperate to talk to them, some of you want to marry this person. I can definitely feel that they are tired of what everyone is saying about them, there may be some gossip going around about you too. Your person is actually really genuine, if they like you they won't be fickle about it. They may be very honest or direct in their romantic relationships. Also they don't like gossip and rumors I'm hearing.

💬How they would describe you: Happiness, You, Dating, Worthy, Warm, Lilith, 12th house, Cancer, Aquarius, 1st house,💥🤫🗿🤤 So they would describe you as someone they care about omg🥺🩷 You make them happy and feel safe. They would say you are a good friend (maybe some of you are friends with this person) and also good to your friends. They would say you radiate a warm caring energy, some of my pile 4's are dating this person on the low🫢🗣 Your person would say you have the most comforting hugs, so warm and loving. They would describe you as a very spiritual and intuitive person, diving into the darkest depths of unknown and somewhat taboo or strange topics. Your appearance is comforting and sweet to them, and they would say you are so worthy of their time and love.💗 They would call you a unique and soft individual, something about you is so special to them. They would say you are someone they want to date, and stay with for a long time.😍💋 Your person would also say you confuse them in many ways too haha, you have a mysterious allure they can't seem to figure out.🧠✨️ Your person would describe you as friendly and sweet. They would say they can count on you with whatever they need, because you're reliable to them. Your presence alone would make them feel safe and at ease, omg you really just make their day I'm hearing.☀️ They could probably list a thousand positive traits of yours, that's how much they enjoy your existence lol. I just love your person's opinion on you guys, it's so supportive and loving😭💖

💌Messages from your person: You're ready for me, My one and only, Please don't love anyone else, Why so serious? I knew you would feel this way. (For some of you in this pile, this person definitely knows how you feel about them!! Any of my pile 4's date this person?😘 Cuz like they know you love them🤣🤣) Extra cards: Comfort, Escape, Locked, Money, Habits

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🩷

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the handbag emoji~👛 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🌸

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

[fluff-n-cookies]

Thinking about yandad Dabi and his child who's now around 9-11 years old. Your writing has absolutely captivated me <3

Dabi starts getting more possessive, more protective, and certainly more assertive. He's your dad, after all—you HAVE to listen to him, no? It's too dangerous to go outside without him keeping an eye on you, you're still so tiny and fragile. He'll be damned if his kid steps foot out of the apartment without his say so, no ifs or buts.

After a long day of setting people on fire and committing various crimes, Dabi just wants to scoop you up into a bone-crushing hug and plop down onto the couch to snuggle his baby, paying no mind to your complaints.

While he's soft and affectionate towards you, it's a completely different story when it comes to others. Dabi is ruthless and aggressive, destroying anyone and anything that may try to take you away–much less harm you. It doesn't matter how small, Dabi will turn it into ashes without remorse. If you somehow figure out about his actions and try to make a run for it? He'd be crushed, obviously–Dabi can't stand the thought of you fearing him. Rest assured, he'd track you down and bring you back home, suffering you in cuddles while scolding you. He's your dad–you need to listen to him.

(Btw sorry about how long this became didn't realize I was ranting)

omg hi???? thank you for gracing me with this masterpiece??? wtf???? (lovingly)

For those who don't know, this post is related to these

Pt 1, Pt 2

and this is all so fucking true. I plan on making a longer fic on this (sorry to say that I haven't drafted it yet, I'm working on overhaul posts)

but he's so paranoid, so utterly terrified 24/7, he dead bolts all the doors and windows at night and only lets you go outside between 11 AM and 5PM unless it's for school.

speaking of which, he hates them for giving his baby so much homework and taking away from their time together buuttt he genuinely believes you need to get your education, don't skip out on highschool like he did.

and he does this thing, this god awful thing, after dinner, after your daily shower, and after getting you all nice and snuggly for bed and into your cat pajamas. he'll do this thing where he'll hold you tight to his chest while he flicks through the news channel.

now normally this would be fine, perfectly fine, if I weren't for the fact he either goes to true crime channels where they display the horrific acts of villains (himself included) live. he tells you that the world is a horrifying place, that that's how he burned himself, how painful it was, the scorching flames. he doesn't mean to traumatize you, it's just to warn you!

either that, or he'll go to news channels covering endeavor's problems, scandals, recent missions, interviews. please don't ask who that strange man with eyes like yours is. he'll hold you tighter and say in the lightest voice possible. "he's a bad man, don't you dare go near him, he'll hurt you like he hurt me."

don't say anything else after that.

he's just tired, so tired, and you're there, right when he gets home after running "errands". you're his reminder of what he's working towards, this future with no heroes and no pain that he's trying to build. the revenge he longs for and the aftermath where you thrive. really, you're the reason he gets up in the morning these days, the reason he stopped smoking in the house, the reason why there's no more beer in the fridge, only tenderly made lunches that he makes every Sunday to prepare for the week.

you're like this stress ball, this hit of Serotonin and Dopamine and what not. every time you smile he can feel his heart clenching. when he looks at you, he sees the boy he once used to be, happy. you're so happy, so pure.

he refuses to let you go out much, his reasoning being that the world's a terrible place. when you ask what's his job, what he does at "work" every day, he only chuckles.

"Oh baby, I'm trying to makes this world a better place, my job is to try and stop all the bad things from happening. I'm a type of... Freedom fighter, really."

and he so, so, so so so so so so sweet to you. you have never known Dabi, ruthless arsonist and serial killer. you have never known Touya, a boy lost in his own insanity and deprivation of paternal love. both are vicious, people, downright insane. one's a criminal the other's incapable of ever recovering from his own madness and fury.

the only person you know is your Dad, Dad's a nice guy, he plays doll house and dress up with you and watches cartoons with you every morning before school. he lets you wear his jacket when you're cold and left yours at school in your cubby, and he takes you out for donuts or ice cream monthly. sure, he doesn't have money, he can't buy you that many toys and sometimes they turn the light off because he missed too many bills, but he loves you. that's all you need to know.

Dad is a kind person, he's not Dabi or Touya, he's definitely not a hero. he's your dad.

And Dad does the best job of gas-lighting you to hell and back. you want to go outside after 5 or before 11? welp, he's not coming with you, sorry honey, maybe tomorrow. what do you mean you'll go anyway? the boogeyman'll get you! (it's him, he's the boogeyman, he knows you won't last a second out in the real world with your loving father's help and he's going to exploit it the moment you start to show independence.)

but it's very unlikely that Dabi would ever even get the chance to do this when you're 9-11 years old, you know why? because you'll be in Endeavor's custody by then. I refuse to elaborate since then I'll be spoiling the plot of Part 3 and I don't want that.

P.S. you wanna be tagged?

[kingkat12]

mistletoe (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, dumbification, mature themes, manipulation, toxic relationship, sorta uncomfortable oops, is Roman using his powers or not?, angsty fluff

summary: one week of repeated quarrels brew down to a heated conversation at a Christmas party... will Roman be able to convince you he knows what's best for you?

word count: 1,536

a/n: hey again!<33 i wanted something cute and Christmas-y, but damn... this is far away from that. I doubt Roman likes Christmas at all anyway, so I couldn't bring myself to write something fluffy omg. read at your own discretion, love u<33 merry christmas!!!

"... You hung it up there on purpose,"

"I didn't," Roman said, smirking down at me as he pointed at the mistletoe above us. Evil man, cornering me in the doorway to the empty kitchen. "This is fate. You have to kiss me now."

Under any other circumstance, I would've been a blushing mess. I might've indulged the banter, I might've already dragged him down to my level and kissed him, but alas-- I didn't have it in me. Not after we had been bickering for a whole week. "Since when were you an avid participant in tradition?" I snarked, crossing my arms over my chest as I glared up at my tall boyfriend. "You hate everything else, but this mistletoe-stuff is acceptable to you?"

Roman rolled his eyes, snapping out of his feigned indulgence. "You're being difficult,"

"And you're yet to apologize!"

"Come on!" Roman let out a big huff, pointing at the sweater he had been forced to wear to this party hosted by my friends; the theme was ugly Christmas sweaters, and I bought him one that was just perfect. Seeing the big, bad Roman Godfrey in a reindeer sweater with a red nose that lit up when you booped it was a consolation prize after our quarrels this week. "Look at the shit I do for you, okay? Now stop giving me grief and kiss me!"

Had I not been wearing heels, I would've probably stomped my foot like a toddler-- "No! I'm still mad at you!" 

"For what?" he snapped, his green gaze narrowing with his next words; "For that thing I said about your friends?"

What a stupid question. "Obviously!" 

Roman let out a patronizing laugh as he rolled his eyes, reaching up to touch the mistletoe above us in the doorway. "They do suck,"

"They do not!" 

"They come up with humiliating Christmas sweater parties, and on top of that, they suck,"

Fucking hell. Dating Roman was impossible at times. I glanced around, making sure no one was around to hear this conversation-- I doubted my friends would be happy to hear this coming out of his mouth. "And you think I'm the biggest fan of Peter?" I hissed, turning to face my boyfriend again. "He keeps reciting Romeo and Juliet and claiming he wrote the passages! He's crazy too!"

That seemed to strike a nerve with Roman; "Hey!"

"Hey right back at you!" 

"At least he's nice!"

"My friends are nice too!--"

"No, they suck!" Roman leaned down to my level; he scanned the annoyed look on my face as he took a step forward, forcing my back up against the doorframe. "You know they hate me, right?" he said, lowering his voice. 

My eyes rounded out, feeling my breath get stuck in my chest. "They don't," I tried not to sound so meek, but it turned out to be impossible. I couldn't bring myself to raise my voice at Roman now that he was so close, now that his breath was falling hot against my cheek. 

He tilted his head to the side, sending me the condescending look I knew all too well. "You're so naive," he whispered. "They talk shit about me, and they talk shit about you. Do you know why I've been so pissed at you all week? It's because you can't stand up for yourself when it comes to those bitches!"

I didn't want to hear it. I really, really didn't. "Roman--"

"They walk all over you, do you not see it?!"

Angry tears were welling up in my eyes; "Stop it!--"

"You think I want you to be around people like that? Don't you think I want what's best for you?"

"You don't know what's best for me!" I hissed, deciding to get back up in his face. Roman was pissing me off more and more by the minute. "You control every other aspect of my life, and I let you, but not this one! My friends are my territory, and I need to have some autonomy here!" 

It was true-- I liked turning my brain off around Roman. I liked that he had money, that he drove me everywhere, that he paid someone else to get my homework done, that he paid for my manicures, because why should I not allow myself the luxury? He got off on it, anyway. It drove him absolutely mad, gave him a high to doll me up and parade me around. So yes, I allowed him control of almost every part of my life, but not this one. I had to be able to make one good choice, no? Or was my brain already too far gone, too fried by pleasantries to function?

Roman's green eyes narrowed as he glared down at me. He let out a sharp breath, visibly growing angrier by the second. However, he contained it with bitten-down words; "And you know why you're so happy to give me control? Because deep down, you're aware that you make bad choices," 

"I don't!--"

"You do," 

Every piece of my self-worth was crumbling at his feet. I let it all sink in, and allowed myself to chew and process the truth he was serving me; Roman was painfully right. I had never been the best at making any choice of any sort. I wasn't sure why my lower lip was quivering with my next quiet words; "But... I like my friends," 

Roman sighed, eyes softening at the sight of me. "I know," he cooed, reaching forward to stroke his thumb across my cheek. "But I'll find you some new ones, okay? Let me deal with it for you."

I didn't want to fight anymore. Didn't want to fight this-- Roman's eventual occupation of my whole life, and his need to conquer every piece of me. There was something about the spark in the green of his eyes, the hidden fire behind his innocent, sweet words that I innately liked, anyway.

Roman made me feel dumb. 

So unbelievably brainless.

... Because maybe I was?

I let my inner monologue die out, go into static noise, as Roman's hand went into the hair at the nape of my neck. He twisted his fingers harshly into my locks as he grinned against my lips-- He had won. Fucking Napoleon. "I'm gonna take such good care of you," he cooed. "You don't ever have to see any of these people again, I'll make sure you don't."

Maybe that was for the best?

Roman knew better than me, anyway. Roman was smart. 

I was nothing compared to him.

Nothing. 

Roman's eyes sparkled with glee at the sight of the wreck he had made out of me. Finally, after one week of planting seeds of doubt in my mind, he had gotten through to my psyche. "What do you say we get out of here, hm?"

I nodded, trying not to hiss as his fist in my hair tightened. Now, I couldn't move-- I was forced to look straight into his eyes, unable to escape his gaze. 

"Gonna fuck you real nice for being such a good girl," Roman whispered, brushing his bottom lip against mine as I let out a shaky breath. "How many times do you want to cum tonight? I'll do it all for you, don't be shy."

I so desperately hoped no one was hearing this conversation. However, it hit me that it didn't matter; I wouldn't see these people again. Roman would make sure of that. "Two?" I tried, not sure what to answer. He got so intense sometimes, it made me weak at the knees with discomfort.

Roman tsked, grinning; "I think we can shoot higher. Let's say three,"

Who was I to deny myself such pleasure? "Okay," I breathed, feeling my cheeks turn a light shade of pink. Nonetheless, I made a point out of getting up on my tippytoes to get closer to his face. "Roman?"

He seemed as amused as ever; "Yeah?"

"Did you still want that kiss?"

Roman glanced up at the mistletoe, momentarily letting out a short laugh. I was sure he had forgotten about it. "You bet," Roman murmured, glancing back down at me before leaning down, nudging my nose with his as an invitation. 

I smiled as joy coursed through my veins-- I knew I was in good hands. Roman knew how to take care of me properly, much better than I ever could myself. 

It took me about a second before I realized I was leaning in.

Two seconds to realize Roman's soft lips were on mine with the gentlest touch known to man. 

And three to realize I was the luckiest girl in the world. 

Someone who kisses like this couldn't ever want anything bad to happen to me, right? His motives couldn't be selfish-- no, that was impossible. Roman's kisses were merely touches of utter love, kisses to ease me, disarm me, and push me into the right path of submission. Every brush of the soft pillows of his lips against mine was the equivalent of a verbal confession of love. 

As I pulled him closer, mentally thanking the person who hung up the mistletoe here, I saw red lights shine through my closed lids-- I smiled into the kiss, realizing we had set off the red reindeer nose of his sweater. 

This is what I was made for. 

This was who I was made for. 

Roman-- only Roman.