#permanent :P face

[rui-drawsbox]

INA THE KOBOLD from @razzberrydazz Miku worshipper Tav fanfic

i've only known Ina for less than 12 hours but love her very much

[frnkiebby]

Love his handmade shirts~🎃

[sysig]

Old OC spotlight alert: It’s Nequam! Ft. his girlfriend Ruby (and also Papyrus for funsies lol) (Patreon)

[femmefaggot]

getting this haircut + color (fading notwithstanding) was the best decision ever here is what we have looked like somewhat recently...

sort of in order for the past... year or so ? what the hell

[i2sunric]

MON AMOUR (p.sh)

pairing: husband!sunghoon x reader (f)

summary: after a tiring day spent following your twin children and doing the chores, what could be better than letting your husband take care of you?

warnings: fluff & smut. unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), they have a daughter and a son, creampie, p in v, dirty talk, meandom!hoon, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, making out, kissing, cuddling. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

wc: 3.1k

published: 20th May 2024

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore @bangtancultsposts (one shot) @slut4hee @love13tter @deobitifull @xiaoderrrr @cha0thicpisces @minjaexvz @crimnalseung @skylaly @ensaz008

a/n: based on this ask from anon. hope you don’t mind i changed it a little bit <3 i just love imagining how enha would call their kids (like, in heeseung’s fic, jia 😭😭)

“I want the pink toothbrush!” Your daughter shouted with her high pitched voice, pointing at the toothbrush of the respective colour.

“Alright.” You smiled and handed it to her, “Here you go, Haneul.” 

“And you?” You looked at Haneul’s twin brother, smiling ever so sweetly “I want green.” Yohan answered, his chubby finger pointing at the toothbrush. 

You removed it from the wrapping and handed it to him “Now, brush your teeth, I want them all clean, alright?” 

Both of them nodded and you started filling in the laundry, programming it to function for that night. Spring coming with its perfect weather for the twins to play outside, it also meant your laundry had to work overtime with the amount of mud they get on their clothes.

Turning around, you noticed them arguing over the toothpaste. You shook your head and took it out of Haneul’s hand before she could make a mess and put a little bit on it on both of their toothbrushes. 

Patrolling so that they wouldn’t argue over something silly again, you helped them in their pyjamas and tugged their covers.

With one kiss on each of their foreheads, you whispered “Good night.” And exited their room, hoping none of them woke up for the whole night.

You rested your back against the door, rubbing your temples with a soft sigh. You loved the twins, you had never wished for something as wonderful as them— But it was draining to follow them the whole day and also do all the chores. 

You tried your best not to let it show, Sunghoon surely had it worse, waking up at dawn and coming back later than sunset. It must be so exhausting you didn’t have the heart to complain about your own tiredness.

You walked to the bedroom, opening the door just to widen your eyes when you saw Sunghoon’s figure, removing his blazer meaning he had just come home. 

You smiled “Hey.” You said, closing the door behind your back. 

He raises his eyebrows at the sight of you. “Hey pretty,” Sunghoon murmured, his eyes trailing along the length of your body.

He threw his jacket on the edge of the chair sitting over by his desk, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

“You’re back.” You stated, fighting the urge not to add a ‘finally’ and walked towards him, taking the jacket to fold it better.

He watched as your fingers nimbly folded the jacket, a soft smile appearing on his tired face. 

Sunghoon felt the stress of the day slowly disappear from him when he looked at you. He reached out and took the jacket from your hand, setting it down before pulling you close to him.

“I couldn't stay away from you three any longer.” He mumbled, pressing a soft kiss upon your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head “They kept asking about you.” 

A small laugh escaped his lips and he tightened his arms around your waist in return, “Did they really?” It was rhetorical since he already knew the answer. 

He hadn’t been home early enough to see them for days due to his work and he couldn’t help but feel guilty at the fact. Sunghoon knew that he needed to spend more time at home, with you and his little daughter and son.

You hummed, resting your head on his chest with a small sigh. You had missed the way your bodies mended together, just so perfect for each other.

His warm embrace always made your day better, no batter what hardship you had encountered— He just knew what made you happy.

Noticing that you weren’t saying much as usual, where you would tell him all the things that happened through the day, Sunghoon gently cupped the back of your head, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face.

“You ok, love?” He asked softly, tilting your head up so he could look at you, his eyes scanning your face to search for any sign of discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head “I’m just tired.” You gave him a small smile, not wanting to worry him much. 

He nodded, understanding that you were going through a lot as well, “Don’t apologise,” Sunghoon mumbled, before pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I think we could both benefit from being in bed right now,” He teased lightly, a smirk appearing on his lips “You worked so hard, even ironed all my blazers.”

“Yeah but you take a shower first.” You pointed a threatening finger in his chest “I just changed the sheets.” 

Sunghoon chuckled lowly, “Then come join me,” He winked, gently squeezing your hip as he stepped back towards the bathroom, not letting you take a moment to respond that he was dragging you with him. 

“Hoon…” You murmured, looking back anxiously, despite the bathroom being private, they still might hear you “We need to be quiet.” 

Sunghoon looked over at you with a cocky smile, unbuttoning his shirt slowly “You know I’ll try my hardest.”

You narrowed your eyes “You never do.” 

He smirked back at you as he dropped his shirt to the floor, “You love it though,” He quipped teasingly, watching you as you stood there, watching him unabashedly.

You crossed your arms “The twins might hear us, I’m not sure they’re asleep yet.” 

“I’m sure they are.” He commented, stepping closer to you and pulling you flush to him once again.

“Besides, it’s you who needs to keep quiet, baby.” He mumbled softly as he leaned down to press a trail of kisses along the side of your neck.

You let out a contented sigh, tilting your head back to give him more access.

His hands slipped under the shirt you were wearing, his fingers gliding over the bare skin of your stomach.

Sunghoon pushed you against the counter, his teeth nibbling your collarbone, leaving small, red marks.

His hands squeezing your hips gently to keep you in place.

He was desperate to have you close again after being so busy for days and his body was missing you.

You let your hands wander all over his bare chest, feeling his shaped muscles. The feeling of your hands all over him made him eager and desperate to touch you as well. 

He quickly grabbed the hem of your shirt, bringing it over your head before tossing it to the side. 

Sunghoon let out a small groan when he noticed you weren’t wearing any bra. His hands found your breasts right away, groping them.

You attached your lips to him and as the kiss deepened, his hands started trailing down to your hips once again, his fingers digging into the flesh. 

Sunghoon pulled you even closer, moaning lowly into the kiss as he grinded against you, his desire for friction evident against your body.

You let out a shaky breath and trailed your hand down to palm his clothed bulge. 

His breath hitched and his forehead rested against yours, looking into your eyes as you palmed him. 

His lust-filled gaze locked with your own and his hand moved to grab yours, gently pulling it away.

Sunghoon had a smirk on his lips as he brought your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist. “Not yet, love.”

You looked at him puzzled “Why not?”

“I want to take my time with you tonight,” Sunghoon spoke gently, his eyes burning into yours. 

One of his hands lifted to move strands of your hair and place it behind your ear. “Just because I haven't been home much doesn’t mean I’ve lost any of my skills. Just relax.” He reassured you, wiggling his thick brows.

“Yeah?” You chuckled “How about you show me?”

Sunghoon’s lips stretched up into a mischievous smirk, pulling the elastic from your hair and letting your hair fall down your shoulders.

He pushed his knee up between your legs, his smirk widening at the small gasp he managed to pry from your lips ”That's exactly what I plan on doing,” He replied.

His knee rubbed up against your heat, applying light pressure every now and then just to tease you. He could feel how hot and desperate you were becoming.

When you felt something sharp on your shoulder, you gasped “Sunghoon… No marks.”

He grinned against your skin, “But you love it when I mark you,” He purred into your ear. 

You lightly hit his shoulder “Still, it’s difficult to hide them.”

Sunghoonleaned closer so his lips hovered over yours, the two of you sharing the same breath and exhales.

”I don't want you to hide them, love,” His eyes burning with desire as he looked down at your body. “I want you to wear my marks with pride.”

You nagged “How will I explain to the twins where these marks come from?”

A low chuckle left his lips as he let his head drop down to your shoulder, his nose rubbing against your skin. 

“They’re too young to know,” He mumbled against your neck, “And these are for my eyes only anyways.”

You rolled your eyes at his shameless he was “You’re incredible.”

Sunghoon’s other hand moved to hold your chin gently so you’d look at him, his dark eyes boring into yours.

His leg moved up again, pressing harder and rubbing up against the sensitive spot he knew you’d moan at. 

“Hoon…” You murmured, unable to grind your hips on his thigh with the way he was holding you.

 “Do you know how much I missed this?” He breathed out, his fingers gently caressing your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, his mouth hovering just over yours.

“As much as I did.” You replied and made your lips crash back together, your tongues dancing the ballad of love.

“Please..” You pleaded, feeling your body burn in desire “Sunghoon, please.” 

“Please what, pretty?” Sunghoon asked mockingly, knowing exactly what it was that you wanted, but not giving it to you just yet.

“Stop teasing.” You said desperately “Stop teasing you say?” He grinned, “And just give you what you want?” He murmured before pressing a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear.

“Not tonight, baby. Tonight I want you to take what you’re given and you’ll be grateful for everything I do to you.”

Your body shuddered at his words, just the thought of finally being able to be his all over again made slick pool your panties. You nodded obediently, his husky tone just fuelling your desire.

 “Good girl,” Sunghoon mumbled softly, his hand reaching out to gently pull you forward.

“C'mon, you deserve to unwind after dealing with our babies all by yourself,” He reassured with a warm smile, leading you towards the bedroom.

You walked beside him and laid down on the bed, all bare except for the shorts you were still wearing. You looked up at him with utter lust, your nipples hardening at the sight of his huge bulge poking through his working pants. 

Sunghoon noticed it and massaged your breasts, licking his bottom lip.

Your breath was heavy, your eyes piercing through his body and your pussy aching for his cock.

“I need you.” You whispered “Yeah? Need me that bad?” You nodded, rubbing your thighs together.

Such a sight made his cock twitch in his pants, the fabric becoming more and more tight “Can’t wait anymore, mh?” He said and reached for your pants.

“Lift your hips for me.” He said and you complied, helping him remove them. 

Sunghoon held his body above you, his hands on either side of your head to prevent himself from crushing you. 

His tongue quickly slipped into your mouth once again as he relished in the taste he’d missed so badly.

“I’m going to fuck you,” He kissed your lips, unzipping his pants “I’m going to fuck you so good, put another baby in you.”

He groaned at the memory of your swollen belly, carrying not one but two of his children. The idea of having a third one went straight to his cock.

“Knock me up.” You said, blissful euphoria clouding your senses.

Sunghoon pulled down his boxers and pants, his cock sprung free, angry and pulsating. 

Your hand went down to pump it, wanting to provide him some kind of relief.

He let out a moan, bucking his hips to fuck your fist “Do you want me to prep you?” He asked. 

“No, just fuck me.” You said, impatiently, “Make me yours.”

You didn’t need to say more, Sunghoon pulled your hand away to align himself to your entrance after slipping your panties to the side and then pushed his thick tip inside of you. 

“So wet already.” You moaned out at the stretch, so sweet and painful at the same time until he pushed all of him inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix.

“You feel so good, baby,” He mumbled quietly, his body desperate for more of the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

Sunghoon’s hands gripped your hips as he slowly began to roll his own against your body, setting a slow rhythm for both of you.

You rolled your eyes back, mouth agape as you felt him pull out just to push himself right back into you.

“S-shit baby.” He groaned as he picked up pace “Squeezing my cock so tight.” 

You grasped his forearms, his muscles under your palms “Fuck— Yes.” You moaned, a little too loudly.

“Shh,” He shushed by crashing his lips on your, swallowing your moans “You don’t want Haneul and Yohan to hear you, do you?” 

You shook your head, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. 

Your own hand went down to rub small circles on your clit, bringing yourself even more pleasure.

Sunghoon craved you, your body, your mind, your whole being. He wrapped his hand around your throat and pushed himself deeper, hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. 

“My wife.” He grunted “My gorgeous wife.” 

You hummed, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts “I missed you so much.” You breathed out. 

Sunghoon nodded in understanding, claiming your lips once again “I missed you too, baby.” 

Sunghoon squeezed your nipples, making you moan “I’ll take tomorrow off, fuck the company, just want be with my family.” He snapped, his hips moving more harshly against yours.

You didn’t have the mind to reply to his rumbling, his pace along with the feeling of him was enough to make the knot in your stomach tighten. 

You clenched around him, making him curse under his breath “How come you’re still so tight?” He scoffed mockingly “Pushed out two babies and you feel tighter than before— Shit!” Sunghoon bit down his bottom lip to muffle his moans.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him more down to you “Hoon, I’m gonna cum.” You warned.

“I know, pretty,” Sunghoon panted heavily between moans, his pace even faster as he chased his own end. “Cum for me, yeah?” He mumbled, “Wanna feel you come undone for me.”

You tried to hold it back, wanting the moment and the pleasure your husband brought you to last forever— But it had been a while since you two shared an intimate moment and your body wasn’t used to it as much anymore. 

With one particular deep thrust, you came with a muffled moan, your body squirming and back arched. 

Watching your orgasm sent him over the edge and he came soon after, “Fuck, Fuck.” Groaning heavily as he felt your walls clenching around him. 

He emptied his load inside you, coating your insides with his cum “Take my cum, angel.” Sunghoon twitched inside you “Take it all, good girl.”

As you both tried to come down from your high, he laid on top of you, not caring that he was probably crashing your body. You didn’t care as well when all you wanted was for him to stay close.

One of your hands went to brush his bangs out of his sweaty forehead and you pressed a small kiss on his thick brow. 

Sunghoon chuckled, the aftercare sessions always full of giggle and unspoken affection..

“Will you seriously take tomorrow off?” You asked quietly after a while, unsure whether he was being serious or if he was just too in the moment. 

He chuckled, caressing your cheek with his thumb “I’m the CEO, I decide what I want.” He said proudly. 

You smiled widely, a warm sensation spreading inside your chest “Really?” 

“Really.” He promised, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip “We’ll make a big surprise to the twins and after we take them to kindergarten….” He bucked his hips, his cock still inside your warm pussy, none of you wanting to disconnect your bodies.

He leaned down to whisper inside your ear “I’m going to have you all for myself, fuck you full of my cum until you can’t no more.” 

You kissed him, biting his bottom lip harshly “I’m down.” Sunghoon moaned, pulling you into another make out session, your bodies moving at a slow rhythm.

After cleaning up, you laid down side by side, his big body engulfing yours, warm arms protectively around your waist.

You missed all of it, the smell of his cologne, the warm feeling of the sheets around both your bodies, his soothing presence.

Sunghoon traced small patterns on your back “Stop drawing dicks.” You nagged, chuckling.

He smiled and pressed a featherlight kiss on your head “I’m so lucky to have you.” He took your hand in his, both your rings tingling “And I never tell you enough how grateful I am for our babies.”

You snuggled closer to his chest “I’m so lucky to have you too— I wouldn’t have made it alone.”

“I love you so much.” Sunghoon whispered, his eyes slowly closing, exhaustion overtaking him “I love you more.” You murmured back.

[callsign-datura]

"fuck," simon whispers, a mix of warmth and pain swelling in his chest as you moan his name. pretty body splayed beneath his, your soft unmarred hand planted against his, fingers intertwined as his eyes flickered to the glinting diamond on your finger. his eyes narrow and his brows furrow, twisting his handsome face into something close to a grimace. the sight of the diamond has his chest clenching. you still wore the ring, even after your divorce. "simon-- simon, please," you whisper, in that whiny, pleading tone that he remembers so well. begging him like you did the night you both got married, yet this time, it's been years. you were so close, yet so far. You left him because he was never home, even when he promised and retired. something always had his attention that wasn't you, and he'd regretted it. it felt like his entire life crashed down around him whenever he came home and found the house deathly still. he shakes his head, leaning forward on the hand positioned between your arm and your side, picking up his pace as his hips snap against the back of your thighs and your ass, fat cock plunging into your sopping pussy as you squeezed around him and your mouth curled into an o-shape, your head falling back and giving him space as he buries his face into your neck. he moves one hand to your lower back, lifting you up against his hulking body as he pulls you closer in an attempt to reach deeper. and he does. his tip knocks against your cervix, and when you jolt and grunt, he backs off just a bit, internally cursing himself for causing you any pain. "m'so sorry love," he murmurs, his raspy voice sending shudders through you. truthfully you missed him. truthfully, leaving him left a hole in your chest that you couldn't fill. he felt the same, but something in him wasn't allowing him to come back to you permanently. "s-simon, i need you," you cry, your throat feeling tight as tears sting the corners of your eyes and you lift your hips, trying to stave off the desperation and sorrow with pleasure. "p-please stay this time..." you murmur, but your pleas go heard, but unanswered. his pace increases, and he feathers soft gentle kisses over your throat. kisses of a lover, he thinks, kisses of a lover that he could have been to you. your entire body is hot, and the coil in your stomach grows ever tighter as his pace grows firm. slow, deep rolls of his hips that has the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot so deliciously, the feeling ripping a shaky moan from your throat. your hands find their place in his hair, tugging at the blonde locks and bringing your legs around his waist. your whimpers become pleasured cries and his grunts become shaky curses. "i love you, i love you, i love you," he repeats in your ear, tilting his head and nibbling at the flesh of your shoulders before finding a thicker part of your flesh to bite down on, grunting as he bucks his hips into yours. his cock is so heavy, it makes you feel so full. you missed this feeling.

his hands found the back of your thighs, pushing your legs forward as he lifted up and held the back of your knees to keep you in that position. dark, deep brown eyes rove over you with a mix of love and desire, his gaze lingering on your tits that jiggle with each of his movements before they flicker to meet yours. you look up at him with teary eyes, exhaustion and desperation filling your expression as your nose stings with unexpressed emotion.

his lips curl into what is supposed to be a soft, reassuring smile, but it does nothing. your head falls back and your chest twists, a sniffle breaking from you as you cry out. your orgasm falls over you in a heavy wave, leaving you gasping as tears roll down the sides of your face. he gives you a few moments, his thrusts slowing to a halt, your sorrow making his chest tighten as he leans down to kiss your face, hushing you softly. he didn't need to cum. this was more about you, after all.

exhaustion settles over you, and your eyes grow bleary and your body grows limp. he slowly withdraws from you, pulling a blanket over your tired body. he stands up and pulls his boxers and jeans on, buttoning them and pulling up the zipper as he watches you. his chest grows heavy, and tears sting in his eyes as well. he wants to stay, but he doesn't trust himself enough to just walk into your life again. your begging makes his heart tear in half, and he can still hear it. "s-simon, i need you," and that pathetic shake that comes with it. fuck. he's so fucking stupid. he turns his back on you after pulling his hoodie on-- leaving his shirt on the bed for you when you wake up, but nothing else.

once again, he disappears. the only reason he ever comes back is to remind you that yes, he does still love you, he does still miss you, he still can't live without you. but you don't know that... he never tells you. you always wake up dazed and confused the next day, tears leaving your eyes as you remember his confusing arrival and departure, looking around and finding an item he left behind-- something he does on purpose. you pick it up, clutch it to your chest and sob. you don't understand why he leaves every time. why can't he just stay? he hates himself for hurting your feelings, for mixing up your pretty little head every time he shows up. "why can't you just stay?" you'd text him, and he wouldn't answer.

he doesn't know the answer.

he wishes he could stay, but he doesn't.

and he won't.

[swordgrace]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ jon snow x female northern reader.

SYNOPSIS: you reunite with your beloved childhood friend, jon snow, at the edge of the world. the both of you have changed, but your feelings certainly haven’t.

note: season six jon, follows s6 ep4.

format: one-shot — not requested.

word count: 10.5K (not sorry).

warnings: SMUT (mdni), ramsay bolton warning, friends to lovers, confession of feelings, reunion sex, description of scars, jon is definitely more of a switch, horny reader (valid), lots of groping, making out, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, jon loves to munch, body worship, hair-pulling kink, unprotected sex, p in v sex, lotus position & missionary position, reader is on top and on bottom, light biting & tit sucking, soft ending + aftercare

author’s note: I don’t know where this came from, but I’m glad because I had so much fun with his one! I’m a Jon girlie until the very end <3 I would honestly love to write more of him if you guys enjoy this! thank you so much for the love and support!

𝐀𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲.

Direwolf sigils were replaced with that of flayed men, befitting for the screams that often emerged from the bowels of the Keep or the kennels, where enemies were fed to Ramsay Bolton’s pack of slavering hounds. Old faces that you had grown up with as a girl were gone — removed or slaughtered.

Your father, once loyal to House Stark and to Eddard himself, was strung-up and butchered for all to see, flayed alive by the Bolton men who now controlled Winterfell. You grew numb to the pain, numb to the shifting environment around you. It wasn’t the home that you had grown up in.

When you had caught sight of Sansa Stark in the courtyard, auburn tresses like searing embers against the backdrop of endless gray and snow, tears on her face, you knew that you needed to act.

You hadn’t known Sansa very well, but you did know her brother, Jon Snow. A beloved friend in your youth and teenage years, you had watched him go to the Night’s Watch. Any letters you’d written were likely thrown to the wayside, given the oaths that Men of the Watch swore, but you had longed to see him again.

Sansa recognized your face, no longer that of a young maiden with her head in the clouds. The both of you were women grown, trapped within Winterfell, and you wholly intended on escaping.

Fleeing Winterfell was perilous — dangerous, especially with the winter so biting and icy that it threatened to freeze away your extremities. Aided by Theon Greyjoy, once a captive of Ramsay, the three of you escaped into the harshness of the Northern woodlands.

Much of your time spent was in constant peril, with the looming threat of Bolton hounds nipping at your heels, search parties sent sprawling across the Wolfswood and beyond. Every rustle in the trees, every snap of a twig, distant scream of the wind made your steps quicken.

It was only when your lives were spared by Brienne of Tarth and her squire that you knew you were truly safe.

Castle Black had stood the testament of time, the last line of defense against whatever monsters lurked outside of The Wall. When its massive gates had opened, making way for your caravan, you felt shrewd in the presence of strangers. You hadn’t left Winterfell for much of your life, and only now, the world seemed so much larger.

When you saw Jon Snow again, more a man now than a boy you’d left behind in Winterfell, your heart nearly shriveled up within your chest. Youthfulness had left him, replaced with a permanent twinge of melancholy. A scar circled around his right eye, seemingly newer, and his mound of curled tresses remained tugged into a half-bun.

You stood in Brienne’s shadow, shuddering from the gnawing bite of the cold, feeling it slowly eat away at your bones. Sansa sobbed into her brother’s shoulder — and you couldn’t fault her for it. The viciousness she suffered at the hands of the Boltons was some of the worst cruelties one could imagine.

It was only when you caught Jon’s eye that he felt his breath hitch within his throat, and he felt like a young man again — freshly eight-and-ten, watching as he introduced you to Ghost for the first time. The sound of your curious laughter had filled the courtyard of Winterfell, and he remembered it as if it were yesterday.

You were from a distant dream, somewhere close yet far away, slipping in and out of his thoughts.

The last thing that you wanted was to detract from Sansa’s reunion with her brother, and so you kept quiet, bringing yourself into the shoddy shelter of your cloak. Your visage was icy, stung by the bitter wind of the far North, and your hands ached.

“You are safe here,” Jon murmured, brown hues glistening with appreciation as he looked upon Brienne of Tarth. “I owe you my gratitude for saving my sister. Whatever you need from Castle Black, you’ll have it.” He nodded, finding his gaze drifting towards you, begging for you to look his way.

Perhaps you didn’t recognize him, but that seemed far-fetched. Edd beckoned for Sansa to follow him at Jon’s command, hoping to find warmth in the guest chambers in the Lord Commander’s suite. The burden and duty no longer belonged to him.

Brienne bowed, hand atop the pommel of Oathkeeper, the Valyrian steel sheathed within its scabbard. “I swore an oath to Catelyn Stark that I would keep her daughters safe — and I shall keep it.” She replied, cerulean hues flickering towards you. “Lady Sansa’s escape wouldn’t have been possible without her.”

Jon gazed at you as if you had brought down the sun and stars themselves, moved mountains with will alone. Gods, he missed you terribly. His departure for the Night’s Watch had left a gaping hole in your heart, never to be filled, but seeing him again only seemed to make it ache with something painful.

Wordlessly, your feet carried you before logic could stop you in your tracks, and you flung yourself into Jon’s embrace, feeling his arms wrap around you. Brienne’s countenance glistened with the realization that you knew Jon, and she seemed to steer Podrick away, allowing the both of you some privacy.

“You’re alive,” You whispered into his shoulder, feeling hot tears trickle down your cheeks. Part of you worried that he might’ve perished, but here he stood, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, a man. “It has been so long, Jon Snow.”

He hadn’t been alive days ago — death had claimed him once before.

The scars that littered his body seemed to ache and throb with the mere thought of his own demise, and the anguish of betrayal that came with it. His dark brows furrowed together, visage one of gentle joy as he released you from his grasp. “You look older.” Older in the eyes — not in the face.

You were still just as beautiful, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen — your appearance hadn’t changed, and he hoped that your heart hadn’t, either. Your friendship kept him afloat for many years during his time in Winterfell, living as a Stark. You never cast your judgment upon him for being a bastard — and you never would.

“So do you,” Concern crept into your voice as you looked over his rugged beard and the scar upon his brow. “What happened to you, Jon?” There was so much he wished to tell you — from the Wildlings to the White Walkers, and his death. You could see it in his face — the maturity, the weight of duty, an abundance of stoicism.

“It’s a long story.” Jon huffed, Northern timbre crackled with a bout of faint amusement, lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. He gestured for you to follow him, striding across the courtyard of Castle Black in-search of his own quarters. He no longer held the Lord Commander’s chambers, and for good reason.

The men of Castle Black weren’t accustomed to seeing a woman — it evoked his streak of protectiveness when it came to you. He ensured that he kept close to your side during the lengthy trek to his chambers. Brienne was sworn to Sansa, and Jon knew that she would be well looked-after in the Lady’s stead.

Ascending a flight of rickety wooden steps, Jon led you to his quarters. Smaller, but he preferred his solitude. His brothers had stabbed him, tore away his mantle of Lord-Commander, killed him — as soon as he could, he intended on leaving.

Pushing the door open, you were met with the gust of a raging hearth, warming your brittle bones as you rubbed your hands together, “Gods,” You whispered, immediately moving toward the crackling fire, extending your hands to the flames, eyes closing in satisfaction. “I nearly thought we wouldn’t make it.”

Jon’s brows furrowed together, and he pulled up a wooden stool for you to sit, and so did he, firmly planted at your side like a dutiful guardian. “You’re safe here. I’ll have a bath drawn for you.” Dirt stained your visage, clothes tattered and worn from travel, hem shredded and covered in snow and mud.

Something forlorn reached his eyes, a distant glimmer of melancholy that you immediately recognized. He was still Jon, but something else seemed amiss. You lowered your hands into your lap, basking in the lick of the firelight. “All my life, I longed to see beyond Winterfell. Here I am — and here you are.” Your smile was threadbare.

The both of you had endured unimaginable hardships during your time apart, yet the warmth and fondness of your friendship remained, strong as ever. If Jon told you what all had happened, what he saw, what he went through — he wondered how much of it you would believe.

“Do you remember the night of the feast, when King Robert came to Winterfell?” Jon remembered — he remembered you, most of all. Gods, you looked so beautiful that night, bringing him a heaping plate of foodstuffs from the banquet, keeping him company throughout the night’s festivities.

“Of course,” It was one of the last days you had spent with Jon before he departed for the Night’s Watch. You had a plethora of regrets, and not kissing him that evening was one of them. The opportunity had dangled itself before you, and you never acted on it. “They sheared your face clean. A disservice to you, truly.”

A brief huff of laughter escaped him, lips twitching into a faint smile. “That’s what you chose to remember?” He remarked, planting his forearms against his knees. Admittedly, he chose to remember you — the way your dress clung to you, the vibrancy of your smile, tenderness in your eyes.

Your nose wrinkled in amusement before you waved him aside, a smile stretched across your features — happier this time, full of warmth. “I remember more than just that, but yes. You weren’t so dour, then.”

Jon chuckled, effectively shattering his stoic mask as he looked at you, head canting to one side. “I still was, always sulking about in some corner,” He mused, peering toward the hearth. “The things I’ve seen — the things I’ve been through …” His jaw tightened, and the wound to his heart seemed to ache.

Empathy tugged at your countenance, one that dissipated from something lighthearted to seriousness. You reached out, resting a palm against his bicep. “What happened to you, Jon? You don’t seem the same.” You asked, glancing toward the scar on his face.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you about his death and resurrection — not yet, anyway. It was still too fresh a wound to speak of, left gaping and open, one that would take time to fully heal. “I went beyond The Wall.” Jon stated, as if that would answer all of your questions.

Silence drifted between you both, and you exhaled, brows creasing in contemplation as you looked toward the fire. You let your hands drift closer again, hoping to absorb any lick of heat that you could find. Jon stared at you, unbeknownst to you, studying the intricacies of your visage, the way your tresses framed your face.

Abandoning the rank of Lord-Commander had been a liberating thing. He was done fighting for men who had countered him at every turn, men who slaughtered him. He was unsure of his next course of action, but he wanted you there with him, regardless.

Hunger and famine gnawed at your stomach, chewing you up and spitting you out. Even Jon could hear the violent lurch of your stomach, see the exhaustion etched into your features. He didn’t want to keep you, but he didn’t want to leave you, either.

“You should clean up, join us for supper,” Jon prompted, melting away the tenuous silence. “I’ll see about finding you something proper to wear.” He wanted to continue to reminisce with you, but you deserved a moment of solace, a chance to bathe and warm yourself without his intrusion.

You nodded, offering Jon an amiable smile. “I want us to continue our conversation,” You insisted, your voice soft and tender, a silky resonance. Instead, you reached for his hand, finding the calloused, roughened plane of his palm. “I’ve missed you, Jon.” If he hadn’t realized it by now, then he might’ve been blind.

Jon’s breath hitched within his throat, reduced to a mere boy in your presence. Whatever he thought of at that moment, it was inappropriate — it transcended all bonds of propriety and proper friendship, yet he couldn’t help it. How long had he thought of you? Yearned for you, dreamed of you whenever he was laying on the cold earth somewhere beyond the Wall?

If it weren’t for his uncertainty, he would’ve kissed you then and there.

He never stopped to consider what your life was like now — perhaps you had a husband and a family, a life that had moved on from him, no longer frozen in the time of your youth. Jon always feared that being a bastard would’ve stopped you from courtship, but he knew now that you didn’t care. You never did.

Years of letting yourself toil over Jon Snow had amounted to this — to this unspoken affection that permeated the fringes of your friendship. In his absence, you hadn’t taken a husband, you hadn’t wed. Part of you thought you would become a spinster and live out your days caring for your ailing father.

Tension simmered, sparking to life in the wake of your intertwined hands. “I missed you, too.” His accent seemed deliciously thick, noticeably huskier with the rougher pitch of his tone. Those earthly-brown hues of his bored right into you.

Your stare became doe-like, able to feel his calloused digits, how strong his hands had become, careworn from holding a sword. Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you let your hand recoil, placing it back into your lap. Your fingers curled tightly into your dress.

With a brief clearing of his throat, Jon decided to give you privacy. “I must speak with Sansa,” He murmured, standing up from his stool with an abruptness. His heart thumped madly within his chest, throat becoming thick as he gathered his bearings. “Come to supper when you’re finished.”

“Of course. Thank you, Jon.” You smiled, and he stepped out to give you your solace. His quarters were noticeably smaller yet homely, and you immediately decided to go to the washroom to clean yourself. Endless dirt and grime stained your flesh, making you feel worse than you already did.

As soon as you disrobed, sinking into the steaming-hot waters of the metal tub, you submerged your head beneath, coming up for a gasp of air. You glanced toward the hearth, scrubbing yourself down with a bristle brush and sponge, using the scarce amount of herbs and soap given to you.

You thought of Jon — thought of his hand, the firmness of it, the rough-hewn texture of his skin, the hardened muscle of his bicep beneath your grasp. You thought of the dismal, tempestuous storm of emotions raging war within his gaze when he spoke of being beyond The Wall.

It gave you much to dwell on as you scrubbed away the dirt from your skin, smoothing handfuls of hot water across your face. A simple Northerner’s dress and a furred cloak lay on the chair beside you, something suitable to wear that weren’t your tattered rags.

Sloshing around within the steaming water for a moment longer, you finished cleaning up, feeling the continuous gnaw of hunger strike at your stomach. The air was brusque and still bitter with a noticeable chill, the hearth continuing to roar in spite of being left with little attendance.

Tugging on the coarse, linen dress, you retrieved your boots, having thoroughly cleaned them off of hardened dirt. You let your hair dry by the fireside, swaddled in the cloak given to you by Jon. It swallowed you whole, yet it smelled like him — woodlands and scented smoke, the musk of a battle-hardened man.

By the time you joined the others for dinner, you felt cleaner than you had in some time, liberated from the weight of grime and hard travel. Exhaustion still clung to you like a shroud, but you assumed that a proper meal would make it easier to deal with.

Sansa greeted you with a thin smile, moving aside for you to sit next to her. There was never a fondness you shared between one another in your youth — you were always Jon’s friend, a girl who preferred mucking about in the outdoors and watching him fight with steel instead of any ladylike endeavors.

You had become quite proficient with an embroidery needle, and a dagger. They were one and the same for you at-times.

Jon’s silent admiration of you continued, hues fluttering over your form, now rid of soot and dirt. A warm plate of heaping food sat before you, helpings of potatoes, stewed vegetables, and roasted venison. You ate as if you hadn’t consumed a bite in years, the richness of it filling your belly.

“We are to take Winterfell back from the Boltons,” Sansa stated, her tone resolute and assured. “Do you think that there are still allies in Winterfell who might help our cause?” She inquired, her question directed towards you. You knew Winterfell — you’d been there this whole time.

“If Ramsay hasn’t flayed them all alive, then yes,” You murmured, thinking of your father’s corpse, strung-up on some wooden cross, muscle and flesh peeled away to reveal his bones. You shivered, masking your discomfort through a bite of vegetables. “There are still denizens inside who remember the Starks.”

Tormund Giantsbane, Jon’s ally and the leader of the Wildling forces, noisily bit into a haunch of meat, juices spraying across his ginger beard. Brienne’s discomfort and bewilderment was palpable as she turned away, blonde brows furrowing together.

“Could you find your way back in?” Tormund grunted, and you understood the insinuation of his proposal. If you were to rally those who still supported House Stark to Jon’s cause, staging a coup from the inside, it might assist his chances of taking the Keep.

“I suppose I could, but the Boltons rarely let anyone in or out, save for those bearing the Flayed Man sigil,” Jon seemed visibly apprehensive at Tormund’s suggestion, jaw tightening as he stuck his fork into a piece of meat. “It is dangerous now — one wrong move, and they string you up on the banisters, flay you for all to see.”

Tears glistened within your eyes at the harrowing memory of your father — you watched him be pinned to that post, screaming for mercy, men with knives cutting him apart as if he were a pig for slaughter. You hastily wiped them aside, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

Jon’s gaze never wavered from you whenever you spoke — Sansa could see it, Edd could see it.

“That is the fate that befell my father.” With a sharp exhale, you continued to eat, momentarily meeting Jon’s sullen-eyed stare, full of sympathy for your loss. His condolences were unspoken, but he didn’t have to say the words to convey meaning.

“We will find another way,” Jon murmured, brows knitting together. “You’ve risked enough to save Sansa’s life. I won’t let you risk it again. Out of the question.” There was a finality to his words, wrought with a glaring overprotective nature.

Sansa remembered the day they left your father out to bleed in the courtyard — Ramsay’s sickening smile remained emblazoned in the back of her mind. She reached to squeeze your hand, and you nodded, the both of you returning to the food.

She plucked at hers, turning a piece of meat over along her fork. Edd stifled a brief chuckle through a mouthful of hard rations. “Sorry about the food, m’ladies. It’s not what we’re known for.” He stated.

“That’s alright. There are more important things.” Sansa smiled, but you were in the throes of consuming everything that you could. Foodstuffs had become scarce in Winterfell, especially to those who weren’t Boltons — just residents. You had to scrounge and work for every scrap — this meal was the best you had in ages.

A brother of the Watch entered the Great Hall, carrying a scroll of parchment for Jon, one that was marked by the wax seal of Ramsay Bolton. “For you, Lord Commander.”

“I’m not the Lord Commander anymore.” Jon uttered, yet he took the scroll, anger seething within his eyes when he realized whose sigil held the parchment together. He unraveled it, jaw tightening as he began to read it aloud.

“To the traitorous bastard, Jon Snow, you allowed thousands of Wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind and you have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard — come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon …” Jon trailed off, breath quickening as he looked at Sansa.

Her countenance was one of shock and horror, tears welling within her eyes as she nodded for him to continue reading. The Hall was eerily silent, and you listened, brows furrowing together.

“His direwolf’s skin is on my floor — come and see. I want my bride back. Send her to me bastard, and I will not trouble you and your Wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride North and slaughter every Wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living, you will …” He stopped.

“Go on.” Sansa murmured, but Jon refused, rolling up the parchment with a despondent, rageful expression. He felt it blossom throughout his chest, the very same anger that consumed him when he sentenced his brothers to die.

“It’s just more of the same.” Jon quipped, preparing to tear it asunder, but Sansa reached over to take it from his hands, unraveling the parchment.

“You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister and your Northern bitch. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother — then I will spoon your eyes from your sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” She read, a shudder within her voice.

You shivered, feeling a pang of disgust and fear rattle through you, goosebumps cascading along your spine. Ramsay knew of you — knew that you helped Sansa to escape, and knew of your affiliation with Jon Snow.

“Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Jon grit out through clenched teeth, fists tightening around Ramsay’s missive. He would kill him for what he did — to Sansa, to you, to his brother. He swore it by whatever Gods were willing to listen.

“Roose Bolton is dead — Ramsay killed him. Now, he has our brother — he has Rickon.” Sansa’s voice trembled, but she remained stalwart, even if she knew what a monster Ramsay was. She used to think that Joffrey was the root of all evil — she was wrong.

“We don’t know that.” Jon protested, but Sansa stopped him.

“We do. He has five-thousand men, at least — I overheard him talking about it when he prepared for Stannis’s attack.” She replied, folding her arms together. You felt nothing but admiration for her — sorrow, perhaps, but you admired her strength in the midst of this.

“How many men do we have?” Jon looked to Tormund, desperate for answers, for a shred of something positive. They were lesser in numbers than the Boltons — they would need allies, and they would need them swiftly.

“Ones that can march and fight? Two-thousand.” Tormund replied. They had a Giant — that had to count for at least fifty men, if they were lucky.

“Jon,” You spoke up at long last, finding your voice as you sat soundly at Sansa’s side. “You are the last true son of the Warden of the North. Northern families are loyal, and they will fight for you if you ask it of them.” The gentle encouragement you offered gave him much to think about.

Sansa reached across the table, seizing Jon’s arm. “A monster has taken our home and our brother. We have to go back to Winterfell, to save them both.” She pleaded, auburn brows furrowing together. It was the right course of action — it had been years since a Stark had truly sat in Winterfell.

Jon nodded, determination tempering his anger, and the desire for justice. He remembered wanting to ride North to help Robb’s cause, and he didn’t. Sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened if he did — if his brother might’ve survived. There was no time for inaction, not anymore.

“We will reconvene at first light, to discuss our next move.” He briefly squeezed Sansa’s hand before glancing at you. “You need to rest — both of you.” It wasn’t a request — more of a command, really. You and Sansa had been running from Winterfell for days before Brienne happened across you.

You took your leave, hoping to pray about your father alone before dusk settled in.

𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬.

Brienne had taken Sansa back to her chambers for the evening, and you had gone to the ramparts after finishing your supper.

The death of your father was still an unsightly wound, something that had cut you right to the bone. He was your only family left — the last tether that you had, the last one to truly care for you. It left you with a gaping void of loneliness, one that had only felt healed in Jon’s presence.

Flickering torchlight danced along the wooden bridge that connected two sides of Castle Black, and despite the chill of the air, you remained outside. Rest eluded you, and you knew that you would be up all evening, tarrying around to try and occupy your mind.

Darkening skies twinkled with stars, partially obscured by large wisps of gray clouds, and with it, a light snowfall. The fur-lined cloak you wore kept you warm, shrouded from the gnawing chill as you listened to footsteps resonate from your left side.

The pale shadow of Ghost trotted alongside him, those crimson eyes glowering through the encroaching dusk. The last time you had seen Jon’s direwolf, he was the size of a small dog — now, he was massive, nearly coming up to your shoulder with the tips of his ears.

“What did you feed him?” You mused, kneeling down to greet Ghost as if he were an old friend. You recalled the day that Jon had brought the albino pup home, nothing more than a scraggly runt hidden in his cloak. Ghost nudged your hand, silently asking for a scratch along his ears.

Jon smiled, coming to stand near your side as he peered down into the silent courtyard of Castle Black. It was quiet, save for the occasional soldier scurrying across the dirt or the distant howl of the wind. “He’s much larger than I expected him to be,” He confessed. “Seems he remembers you.”

Ghost whined, ruby eyes studying you intensely, as if he recalled your last meeting. The pale direwolf allowed you to dote on him for a moment longer, padding off to lay outside of Jon’s chambers. You watched him go, a smile spreading across your face.

Your countenance softened at the sight of Jon, tousled curls still tugged into a loose half-bun, a smile toying at either corner of his mouth. “Aren’t you cold?” He questioned, noticing the way your form quivered beneath the cloak he’d given you.

“Quite,” A brief chuckle left you as you wring your hands together, letting them sink into the thick fur that you tugged tighter around you. “I don’t believe that I will be able to sleep tonight, given the circumstances.” You confessed, and he seemed empathetic.

“I don’t sleep much — not anymore.” The night that he had found himself resurrected from the black shroud of death, he did not sleep. Instead, he lay waiting for his brothers to burst through the door, knives drawn, waiting to send him to the cold, hard earth.

Jon slept with Longclaw at his side — he imagined that he’d never feel safe again without it by his hip.

A comfortable silence of understanding drifted between the both of you, and you felt him lean closer, brows furrowing together. “I am sorry about your father,” Jon murmured, knowing what it was like to lose his own. “I am sorry for what they did to him.”

Tears pricked your eyes again, yet you refused to let them fall, jaw tensing before you shook your head. “He is with the Gods now,” You whispered, mustering a threadbare smile despite the melancholy of your talks. “I hope that Ramsay Bolton is not shown any mercy.”

Jon hadn’t heard you speak like that before — so full of pain, an agony in your soft tone that he wished he could rip away from you, place the burden on his shoulders. “We will take back Winterfell — for my family, for yours, for the North. I promise.”

“You’re a good man, Jon.” The two of you remained huddled close together, and you very nearly reached for his hands again, but decided against it. “You always have been, despite what insults you’ve been hurled. They are half the man that you are.”

He was a good man, despite what he thought of himself — an honorable man, the very best of them. His shining qualities were often diminished in the face of being a bastard, and you wished it weren’t so. Jon had long been ostracized for it, even if it was no fault of his own.

Jon hadn’t believed it, that he was truly good. He had done plenty of wrong — broke his vows to the Night’s Watch, killed many men, killed a boy, and for what? What good had come out of it all, other than being sent to an early grave for his actions?

You had always believed in him steadfastly, and he often felt undeserving of your praise. Nonetheless, Jon offered you a forlorn look, smile not reaching his eyes as he bowed his head. “I wish I could believe you.” Through a softly-spoken confession, he turned to face the cutting bite of the Northern winds.

As darkness hovered, the cold beginning to bite at his flesh, Jon gestured toward the doors to his chambers. “It’s getting cold,” Even he had his limits, hardiness tested by the harshness of winter. “Come on.” His hand hovered near the small of your back, sending a shiver down your spine.

The warm sanctuary of his chambers offered you a much-needed relief, hearth roaring beside his bed, lined in countless furs. The furnishings were scarce, and he placed Longclaw at his bedside, never very far from his grasp. An orange glow permeated all it touched, encompassing you in its gentle heat.

Ghost stayed outside, furs able to outlast the encroaching winter. He was the watcher tonight, ensuring that no strangers or brothers disturbed his friend.

You moved to sit against the large, rustic footlocker that sat at the end of his bed, closest to the hearth. The cloak you wore swallowed you whole, allowing you to descend right into the pile of furs, warming your icy flesh. Jon sat beside you, keeping a comfortable distance, one that many might’ve labeled as prudish.

Jon’s lack of subtlety became brazenly clear, dark hues shamelessly fluttering across your face, absorbing the finer details of your form. You had grown into your beauty, and even then, he was at your mercy — you were incomparable in his eyes.

The sting of embarrassment rippled through him, his behavior akin to a young man with an unrequited affection. His one experience with a Wildling woman had been in an effort to feel something, anything — a retaliation against the Night’s Watch.

You were different — you were his friend, a girl he’d known since childhood, now grown into the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. It was as if you reduced him to a mere pup without even trying, unbeknownst to you.

Jon carried a flagon of honeyed mead, the warm liquid churning about within its leather confines. It tasted stale, but it was better than he expected it to be, taking a brief swig. He hoped that it would quell his nerves, but perhaps it was wishful thinking.

“I’ve never been so far away from home before,” You sighed, breaking the comfortable silence with an amiable smile. “I used to always dream of going elsewhere, an adventure away from Winterfell. Now that I’ve gone, I want nothing more than to go back.”

“Has it changed much?” Jon inquired, voice dropping into a husky lull that made you shiver. His tone had become rugged, gruff — that familiar Northern timbre always filled you with a sense of comfort and ease. He hadn’t been to Winterfell in years.

“No,” Your visage grew forlorn, tinged with a peculiar sadness as your lips wavered into a half-frown. “Just those who command it.” The homely stone and Stark banners were all you knew for the longest time — and you hoped that it would be so again.

You wanted to cease dwelling on all things bleak and dreary, and instead, you smiled at Jon, countenance melding into one of genuineness. He caught your eye, features growing unbearably hot beneath the ardor of your gaze. Something passed between the both of you, something that caused you to look away; smitten.

Jon exhaled, taking a swig of the mead before offering it up to you. Liquor wasn’t something he necessarily enjoyed, but it did take some little edge off — for now, anyway. He watched with a faint smile as you took it, giving the cork a brief sniff, nose wrinkling.

Nevertheless, you took a drink, stinging liquid burning your throat on the way down. You sputtered, your expression one of clear distaste as you handed it back to him. “Gods, what is that supposed to be? The Night’s Watch isn’t known for their ale, either.” You huffed.

A huff of laughter tore past his lips, and at last, you could see the glint of his pearlescent teeth, a smile that could melt The Wall itself. “Still can’t handle your drink after all this time?” Jon remarked, corking the flagon of mead as he placed it aside. He didn’t want to drink himself into a stupor with you present.

“There were never any occasions that called for it,” You retorted, a warm playfulness permeating your tone. You leaned forward atop the footlocker, gazing into the flickering flames, its heat basking your visage. “Winterfell wasn’t the same after your family left. Everything seemed so dour, so hopeless.”

Jon hung his head, hands folded together as he contemplated your statement. “Sometimes, I wish I’d never left.” He confessed, tone slipping into something silent, as if he were sharing his greatest sin with the septa. There were times where he missed home — missed what might’ve been.

Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you didn’t hesitate to look at him, hues swimming with a wet sheen. Reminiscing often brought about plenty of sentiments for you, sentiments that you thought you’d buried. “Sometimes I wish that you hadn’t left, either.” You whispered.

None of this felt real.

There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere, a tension that had risen from the lingering flames of a longstanding friendship. Jon felt an unusual swell within his stomach, the onslaught of boyish nerves, yet he pushed them aside for the sake of the moment. It all seemed to feel so right, as if this had been long in the making.

Jon stared at you, absentmindedly tilting closer, enough to where you could feel the heat of his honey-tinged breath fan across your face. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t?” He murmured, hoping that you would confirm whatever it was that he felt, too.

“I am not sure,” Butterflies erupted within the pit of your stomach, hands beginning to reach for one another, even if you hadn’t fully realized it yourself. “I would like to think that I would’ve gained the courage to tell you how I truly felt about you.” There wasn’t an ounce of subtlety present — you knew what you meant, he knew what you meant.

I love you — it was on the tip of his tongue, begging to be released, to let his confession take wing into the open air. He should’ve told you that night of the feast, when you took his hand and told him that you would always defend his honor and his name.

“Jon.” Your voice was nothing more than a saccharine whisper, eyes wide and doe-like, a wordless plea to act on whatever it was he felt. Before you could say another word, Jon’s mouth was on yours, hot and rugged, everything that you imagined it would be.

His calloused hand rose to cup your face, rough pads of his digits tracing across your cheek, your jaw — you felt like velvet, an unblemished plane that had eagerly awaited his touch. Jon had always fantasized about kissing you, and the reality of it far exceeded any expectations he might’ve had.

The sudden intensity of the kiss had grown, as if throwing kindling onto an open flame. You weren’t prepared for it, but you needed more. A moan stirred within your throat as you pressed forward, hands reaching for the front of his leather-studded tunic.

Jon kissed you as if you were the air itself, every breath he drew consuming you, dragging you in until you were intertwined. He seized your waist, rough palm sinking into the coarse material of your dress, nearly shuddering at the feeling of your body beneath his palm.

“I love you,” He uttered against your mouth, forehead briefly bumping into yours as he held you close, the weight of his confession beginning to sink in. “I never wish to be parted from you — from this day, until my last day.” Jon promised, voice rumbling and solemn, knowing that he would keep his vow.

Incredulously, you gazed at him with wide eyes, unable to escape the feeling of complete and utter joy you experienced at his confession. Breathless, you took a moment to compose yourself, gather your bearings before you smiled. “Don’t leave me again, Jon Snow.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Jon murmured, eagerly seeking your mouth again, tugging you in for a heated kiss. Gods, your mouth was so disarmingly soft, pliant and plush against his lips, giving him everything that he ever imagined and so much more.

A gentle, uttered string of breathy ‘I love you’s’ left you over and over again, each kiss ripping the air from your lungs, leaving your heart hammering beneath your breast. You shrugged the cloak aside, letting it pool around you, partially strewn across the footlocker.

Desperation laced your kisses, as if something might threaten to rip you away from the excitement of the moment, or that you might wake up from a distant dream. Jon was lost in your mouth, a grunt blossoming from his chest when he hauled you closer, until no sliver of space remained.

He stood up, bringing you with him, standing atop the sprawling furs of slain stags, closer to the lick of the hearth. It allowed him to better hold you, hands respectfully roaming your body, never allowing himself to slip below your hips. “Wait.” He rasped, removing his mouth from yours.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered, fearing that you had vastly overstepped. This was all somewhat unfamiliar, the territory new and unexpected. You had been with a man before, but it never crossed a certain threshold — you wouldn’t allow it.

“Is this what you want?” Jon questioned, dark brows knitting together as he regarded you with caution, a devotion reserved only for you. He couldn’t continue without hearing the certainty escape your mouth — he hadn’t done this in some time, himself.

Gods, you loved him. There was a lack of hesitation in his movements, but instead, a desire for clarity. He didn’t want you to feel obligated or trapped in some corner — he wanted you to want him. A twinkle of ardor glistened within your warm gaze as you brought your hands together at the nape of his neck.

It’s what you’ve wanted for such a long time — a terribly long time, at that. Everything felt as if you were wading through a dream, one that would shatter at any moment. “Yes,” You whispered, longing to unfasten the leather buckles and straps that held his tunic together. “More than anything.”

Jon’s breath hitched, a subtle noise, desire beginning to blossom throughout his chest. His grasp on you became innately protective and needy, hands gingerly kneading into your curves. He bent down for another kiss, arms caging themselves around you, bringing you into the warm expanse of his chest.

Soft fingertips raked through his dark curls, bringing him to heel as he kissed you, unashamed of his clear desperation. It no longer felt like the ghost of a distant thought — this was a blissful reality. He helped you to remove the bulky leather of his jerkin, but part of him feared fully removing his clothes.

His scars would reveal the abhorrent truth — that he died, brought back to life from the twisted magic of a Fire Priestess. Jon’s hesitation was palpable, especially when your digits sank into the coarse material of his tunic. The leather fell to the wayside, and you were closer to seeing him disrobed.

Jon sluggishly reached for the linen ties that held your dress together, and you gave him a nod, subtly encouraging him to unravel you. As he gently tugged upon the tie, the fabric sagged upon your shoulders, allowing you to push it aside, stepping out of it altogether.

A strangled gasp caught within the depths of his throat, manifesting as a sharp exhale that consumed his ribcage. You were every bit as wonderful as he’d imagined you to be — such fantasies had clung to the fringes of his mind out in the frozen wastelands beyond The Wall.

The plane of your flesh was velvetlike, bathed in the flickering firelight of the hearth, dancing across your body with its incandescent glow. Jon’s jaw visibly tightened, restraining himself from touching you as he pleased. The longer he stood, gawking at your body like some clueless boy, the more emboldened you became.

Careworn digits gingerly wrapped around his vambrace, unfastening the buckles there before you guided his hand to your chest. “There isn’t a need to be bashful,” You whispered, noticing the way his pupils dilated when his calloused palm embraced your pliant breast. “I want you to touch me.” You gently encouraged him.

Jon appeared a touch forlorn, attempting to mask his gnawing fear at the idea of you seeing him. “It’s not you,” His smile was humorless — pensive, even. “Gods, you’re beautiful.” He huffed, hand drifting toward your hip, shuddering at the satiny texture of your skin.

Warmth crept across your spine in the wake of his breathless compliment, prompting you to unfasten his other vambrace. He aimed to distract you, mouth moving toward the spot where your jaw met your neck, beard scratching ragged against your flesh.

He palmed your breast, reveling in the softness of you beneath his rough-hewn hand, tracing along your hip until he squeezed your derrière. Everything about you was plush and inviting, as if you were a goddess incarnate.

Jon’s kiss became hungry, wanton and passionate as his mouth peppered itself along your throat, from your jaw to jugular. He treated you kindly; gracious hands that melded themselves to your form, like a sculptor to his masterpiece.

Saccharine soaps and hints of underlying flora clung to your flesh like a springtime haze, powerful enough to melt this ice he felt. You brought with you such warmth that it threatened to swallow him whole; he delighted in it, letting you shake the frost from his bones.

Lips danced together with a long-repressed passion, now exploding like crackles of fire within a hearth, spontaneous yet heated. You kissed Jon as if he might slip away from you, turning into dust between your fingertips.

A low moan stirred within the depths of your throat when his fingers toyed with your pebbling nipple, prompting you to grip his tresses with an unexpected harshness. You mumbled a sheepish apology, yet he paid little mind to it, dusky hues swirling with an ardent adoration that made your stomach churn.

As your hand drifted to the hem of his worn, linen tunic, he very nearly stopped you — yet, part of him wished for you to see him without a spoken word. Jon’s chest tightened with quickened breaths as you kindly maneuvered the clothing away, and he watched, hues fixated upon your bewildered countenance.

A battlefield — innumerable scars, so fresh that you nearly held your hand over them to stop the bleeding, gouged across his pallid flesh. One that seemed to sting the most rest over his heart, curved and garish, the stroke of a vengeful knife that ended his life.

Wordlessly, you lifted your hand, fingertips tracing across his chest, feather-light and disarmingly gentle; the opposite of the knives that had left their mark. Your brows furrowed together, and you wondered how he could’ve survived something like this — if he survived something like this.

Jon shivered at your embrace, as sweet as the maiden’s grace, caressing him with your resplendent touch. He held you close, arm caging you in, his other hand stroking beneath your breast, above your ribcage. “I didn’t make it,” He rasped, noticing the glimmer of understanding in your eyes. “I’d like to think that the Gods wanted me to see you again.”

His smile warmed you, more than any blazing hearth could, more than that of summertime. A fluttering sensation spread throughout your chest, followed by a hitch in your throat that you stumbled over. “Jon,” You whispered, stroking across his chest with a peculiar tenderness. “I am so sorry.”

It wasn’t the time for condolences — such sentiments could wait. Jon didn’t want your coupling to be soured by what had happened, and instead, he shook his head. His yearning for you trumped that of any sorrow and mulling over death, prompting him to press his mouth against yours once more.

The kiss seemed to convey the unspoken message, his desire to tend to you before discussing the intricacies of his scars. Jon dutifully dipped down to kiss your throat again, and then your collarbone, guiding you towards the fur-laden expanse of his bed.

As you lowered yourself onto your back, Jon kicked his boots aside, crawling across the thick mound of pelts to cover your body with his. You sluggishly spread your legs, allowing him to reside in the space between, palms planted on either side of your head.

Each heated kiss blossomed across your flesh, as he peppered his lips along your shoulder and collarbone, descending toward the valley between your breasts. It was flesh he’d longed to grace, savoring every second spent; his mouth smoothed across the silken flesh beneath your breast.

“Jon,” A sigh of passion tore past your lips, gooseflesh coalescing along your spine as he continued his descent, knowing exactly what he sought. The heat between your thighs sang to him like a siren’s song, and you weren’t about to intercede. “Please, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

The ragged scruff of his beard scratched pleasantly against your skin, the sort of burn that left you aching for more. He kissed across your stomach, inch by agonizing inch, hand reaching back to caress along your calf. It was slow, exploratory — he wanted to learn every curve, every dip and expanse of flesh.

A hazy heat gripped your surroundings, as if everything had become feverish, touched by a fog of warmth that permeated you, sank into him. Doe-eyed hues flickered toward the taut muscle of his back, the blackness of his curly tresses, the scar around his eye.

Planting a kiss against your hip bone, Jon sighed into your thigh, hot breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. His belly churned with an excitable heat, having waited for such a terribly long time to finally have you. He smoothed his calloused palm along your leg, ascending until he held your haunch.

Gods, you were in ruins — Jon hadn’t even placed his mouth upon you, and you writhed in anticipation. No man had been courageous enough to treat you this way, yet Jon lacked hesitation, settling onto his stomach as he bullied his way between your thighs.

Raking hot embers across your cunt, Jon lapped along your slit, eyelashes fluttering at the sound of your euphoric whimpering. He hadn’t heard a sound quite like that before, and from your lips, it was abhorrently sinful.

He sighed your name; reverent, a prayer only spoken between Gods and men — and you are no man. It made you shiver, belly filling with a fire that demanded to be extinguished, soothed only by the sweet laps of your lover’s tongue.

Jon’s mind reeled with the sight of you — flushed with pleasure, visage contorted into a look of complete and utter bliss. He continued without pause, nose brushing across your mound as he buried his tongue into you, greedily lapping at your cunt as if he were a man starved.

Your heart hammered beneath your breast, that of sheer excitement, consuming you like a tidal wave as you brazenly reached for his tresses. Sinking your digits into the crown of his tousled curls, you tugged, showing your appreciation in an unorthodox manner.

“J—Jon!” A strangled moan tore past your mouth, wisps of air being ripped from your lungs. Jon was inherently greedy, consuming you in the way that you deserved, finding his solace between your thighs. His dutiful lapping continued, from the pearl of your cunt to your aching entrance.

Akin to ice against your skin, Jon’s palms glided along your thighs, moving to trace your hips. His mouth was like a wave of fire, beard searing the silky flesh of your legs as you involuntarily squeezed his head. You hadn’t intended to suffocate him, but it was a worthwhile demise, in his perspective.

One hand fisted the furs, digging in until you threatened to rip it apart, hips occasionally jerking and jolting forward into his mouth. He hadn’t tasted something as sweet as you, like a fine stout coating his tongue, leaving him intoxicating; craving more.

His eyes had nearly fluttered shut, half-lidded slits that occasionally flickered to catch a glimpse of your blissful countenance. Your back arched from the furs, seeking his mouth with reckless abandon as he lapped along your cunt, tongue briefly flicking over your clit.

It was as if you’d been struck by lightning, body bristling with a long-repressed pleasure, something that only he could cure. The sensation of his calloused skin against your plane of silk was a satisfying juxtaposition — he never wanted another’s touch again.

Jon burned for you in every way imaginable, a sonorous groan ripping through the depths of his throat as he moved to lap at your cunt again. His ministrations were slow, made to explore and to savor you instead of letting it all become rushed.

Your fingertips brushed across his scalp, untangling his curls from the half-bun he’d placed them into. They fell across his head, dark and somewhat cropped. He groaned at the sensation, feeling you pull and grip his tresses, guiding your hips closer.

Rough-hewn hands gingerly kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thighs, caressing their way up and down in a soothing manner. Jon savored your taste, letting your nectar find its purchase against his chin, glistening along his lips. He kissed your clit, evoking a breathy sigh from you.

It had been such a long time for the both of you, intensified by feelings of a long-seated desire and carnality, friendship transcending all bonds of propriety. Jon felt his cock twitch within his trousers, incessantly throbbing and straining against the thicker material, longing to be inside of you.

A cry of delight tore past your mouth as you involuntarily jolted forward, grinding yourself into his mouth. Jon treated you to a barrage of eager laps of his tongue, from your entrance to the sensitive pearl of your cunt.

Dragging his tongue in languid circles around your clit, he watched as you quivered and moaned, mouth agape, back arched off of the furs. Knowing what path to follow, he showed attention to your neglected pearl, nose buried into the softness of your mound.

“Jon,” You sputtered, thighs molding themselves to either side of his face, feeling the scratch of his beard rake itself against your silky skin. He listened, dutiful and with a burning desire to please you, continuing to lap at your clit. “Gods, don’t stop.” A trembling exhale left you.

It was then that he melded his lips around the aching bud, beginning to suck on your pearl with a pang of vigor. You shuddered, rattling like a leaf as you haplessly tugged on his mane of curls, hips tilting upwards into his mouth. You whined, fisting the furs at your side.

Jon did not relent, feeling the ironclad grip you assumed, knowing that he was bringing you close to your release. White-hot sparks fluttered across your vision, body singing his praises, collarbone glittering with the first inklings of perspiration.

A strangled gasp tore through your throat, followed by a myriad of moans and pleading whimpers, seeking friction against his mouth. Your release was fast approaching, like a tidal wave of heat, flooding across your body with its intensity. Jon’s name emerged from your lips as if it were the only word you knew.

The pinnacle of your release made you feel as if you were floating, legs shaking in the blissful aftermath, feeling Jon lap at your core a few times over. You exhaled, chest heaving from exertion as you loosened your hold upon his tresses.

“You’ll have to let me do that again.” Jon murmured, and that seemed to ensnare your attention. Seven Hells — you would let him do that for as long as he pleased, whenever he liked. He pressed a few soft kisses against the inside of your thigh, crawling up to be near you.

“Whenever you would like, I will never protest.” You mused, gaze sparkling with mirth and adoration, inviting him back to being on top of you. Though, your impulses had other plans, as your palm pressed against his shoulder. “There is something I wanted to try.”

The softness of your suggestion seemed to placate Jon, who felt you push his shoulder until you guided him onto his back, hooking a leg over his lap. Gods, he would’ve stayed like that for an eternity if you asked it of him. As you situated yourself on top of him, Jon sat up enough to reach you, kiss you if he wanted to.

He felt your fingers move towards the laces of his breeches, and he didn’t stop you, observing you in rapturous hunger instead. His breath hitched, mouth moving inward to press a string of hot kisses against the column of your throat.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed about this?” Jon’s confession emerged as a husky sigh, murmured against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. It came as a surprise, a wonderful one, and it only made your hands move in a borderline frenzy.

Freeing his cock from its confines, you moved yourself up upon your knees, aided by his strong, firm hands, coming to rest just below your derrière. The flushed tip of his length nudged against your cunt, prompting you to sigh with passion.

“Jon,” A pleading moan tore past your mouth, mind becoming fuzzy as you attempted to absorb the genuineness of his words. The Northern timbre of his hoarse baritone made you tremble, hands steadying themselves upon his shoulders. “Please.”

In a sluggish descent, he gently lowered you onto his cock, the both of you shivering in-tandem. The low, throaty groan that escaped him made your stomach churn with molten heat, letting you find your own pace. He was bigger than you imagined, filling you perfectly.

Mouths danced together and then clashed again, kiss after kiss of pure ardor, tongues becoming exploratory as you brazenly lapped at his lower lip. It was messy and hot, feverishly so, bringing the both of you to heel as you happily drowned within desire.

Your cunt was tight around him, slick with arousal as you continued to lower yourself, inch by blissful inch until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Jon’s heavy pants fluttered across your throat, mouth pressing near the curve of your jaw.

Jon was captivated by you, inhaling a gust of your soap-laden scent, beard ragged against your soft skin as he continued to kiss along your neck. His hands were resolute in guiding you, rocking you up and down along his cock, chest to chest with you.

Tangled sighs and low, heavy breaths wove together, forming a heated cacophony that filled his chambers with your lewd activities. The feeling of his calloused hands sinking into your plush flesh was mesmerizing, leaving behind a wave of goosebumps that crawled across your skin.

The sensation of his cock filling you completely, nearly kissing your womb, almost made you sob from delight. The friction of your bodies was a delicious thing, with your chest brushing against his, knees squeezing near his waist, hands gripping his shoulders.

A burning sting began to dance along your thighs, the exertion of muscle as you rode him, moving up and down in somewhat rhythmic motions. His cock speared you over and over again, filling you completely before you nearly drew yourself out, and back down again.

“Gods,” You sighed, nails sinking into the muscle of his shoulders, your countenance one of complete and utter pleasure. Leaving behind angry-red crescents against his pale skin, you didn’t want the feeling to end. “Jon, please — don’t stop!” With a simpering moan, your head began to roll back slightly.

Spurred by your softly-spoken praise and breathy sighs, Jon did not relent, hands sinking into your thighs as he guided you against his cock. The angle allowed for friction to blossom, chests bumping together, bodies tangled up within one another.

He kissed his way along your collarbone, bringing you up enough to trap one of your nipples within his mouth. The head of his cock remained pleasantly buried within your cunt, the warming of it making you writhe. He held you steady, greedily kissing at your pert breasts.

One of your hands fisted into his dark curls, tugging on them as if you were attempting to wrangle him into submission. His mouth peppered warm, needy kisses around the valley between your breasts before he let you sink yourself back down, cunt clenching around his cock.

Shameless strings of sinful noises left you in droves, eyes closed in a state of ecstasy. Jon groaned with you, vocalizing his own pleasure as he coaxed you down towards the furs, not wanting to place you there unless you consented.

With a brief bob of your head, you found yourself beneath Jon, his musculature covering you, content between your legs as he hitched one around his hips. The calloused plane of his palm wrapped around your calf, causing you to shiver at the foreign contact.

He could look upon your face, see the way your visage contorted into pure pleasure when he rocked forward, cock burying itself deep into your cunt. His skin was flushed, expression somewhat doe-eyed and awestruck, even if you were too lost to notice.

Your hands moved, one finding its purchase against his bicep, the other on his shoulder as his pace began to intensify. It was a chase, galloping after his release as he bent to kiss you, releasing a grunt into your mouth when you rolled your hips forward.

The wooden frame of his bed began to creak, groaning in protest from the vigor of his ministrations. You didn’t care if he was a touch rougher with you — Gods, you needed him. Heat swirled within your stomach, gnawing at your bones, making your toes curl in delight.

“Jon!” You cried, and that nearly sent him soaring over the edge, cock throbbing inside of you. The friction of your pelvis grinding against him almost made his resolve shatter into two. He lost count of how many times his cock sank into you — it was all blurring together.

The inevitable rush of euphoria reached him when his release came, hot and blistering, making him see stars as he groaned your name. Your nails were digging into his bicep, a gasp emerging from your throat when he thrust into you again.

Ropes of warm spend painted your insides, and he very nearly collapsed on top of you. He had the decency to hold himself afloat, hand tracing along your calf and to the crook of your knee, letting you unhook your leg.

Jon removed himself from you, attempting to gather his breath as he laid at your side, gazing at the dark ceiling above. Your breathing was just as unsteady and erratic as you drifted down from your buzzing high, wiping beads of perspiration from your brow.

Once he recuperated, Jon looked at you, noticing the smile on your face, the unrestrained delight you were experiencing as you rolled over. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured, watching as you began to shamelessly crawl into his arms.

“Quite the opposite,” You hummed, feeling him adjust the furs, drawing them both around you. Despite the feverish pitch of the room, the frost would settle in again soon, especially at the hour of the bat. “Were you jesting when you said you dreamed about this?”

Bewildered, Jon cast his eyes toward you, canting his head to one side. “Of course I was serious,” He huffed, surprised that you would think otherwise. “You were all I could think about, north of The Wall.” His confession was genuine, sweetly-spoken.

“You don’t have to dream about it anymore,” Your voice soothed him, a sound that he had yearned for with a blistering ache. He felt as if you would slip away from him if he let you go. “I won’t leave you.” Your smile was warm enough to melt even the hardiest of frost.

Jon’s lips tugged into a smile, one that you rarely saw beneath the brooding curtain of his visage. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, allowing you to get comfortable against him. The silence that followed allowed for some contemplation, absorbing all of what had transpired.

His scars seemed so fresh when they caught your eye. With a forlornly look, you dragged your fingers over the scar above his heart, feeling him shiver beneath your touch. Your body still felt as if it were caught in some haze, coming down from the blissful aftermath of your coupling.

“If you hadn’t come back …” You trailed off, attempting to refuse to think of some painful reality where Jon perished, but the thought briefly crossed your mind. If he had, none of this would be happening — he wouldn’t be holding you in his arms.

“But I am here,” Jon’s husky timbre shook you to your core as he planted his palm against your cheek, guiding you to look at him. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not leaving you.” It was a promise — insistent, spoken from a man who now fully understood the weight of love, the weight of sacrifice.

You nodded, wordlessly reaching to hold his hand, feeling the arm he had caged around you plant itself against the small of your back. He drew circles there, brows knitting together as he leaned in to kiss you. It was hard and warm, so real — he made sure that you understood exactly what he meant.

Within the warm embrace of his arms, you let your head recline against his chest, feeling him draw you closer, until there was no space left between the both of you. He listened to the steady, shallow sound of your breathing afterwards.

At the edge of the world, he had you — and that was all he would ever need.

[calcifiedunderland]

The Prefect’s Kiss~

—When a Night Raven College’s housewarden falls under the Sleeping Curse, only one person can wake them up.

Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim al-Asim x gn! Reader

Leona, Vil, Idia, Malleus ver.

“Oh! How terrible! Oh woe is me! How could this happen?!”

Crowley wailed at the news, sobbing fake tears beneath his mask. “What will I tell the parents?! The press?! How will I be able to afford vacation- I MEAN funding for my wonderful students?!”

Crewel rolled his eyes. He’d actually feel sorry for the Headmage if he was actually crying tears. The tissue clutched in Crowley’s fist was still dry.

Trein sighed, “this is the antidote recipe for Sleeping Death. Although, the materials are extremely hard to come by.” Crewel scanned the paper, noting the ingredients. “The recipe is possible, although they are quite expensive.” Crowley cringed, “how much will it be?” He screeched at the amount Trein said.

Meanwhile, Crewel muttered to himself. “The only other option is possibly true love’s kiss.” He looked up, “well, I’ll get the ingredients first thing in the-“ He stopped. Where Crowley was standing, was now a few black feathers fluttering down to the carpet. Crewel’s face fell, “oh no…”

In Ramshackle dorm, the Headmage chuckled nervously, sweating. You stared in disbelief, “I… honestly can’t believe that happened?” You were beyond shocked to hear that a Housewarden of all students had been knocked out with Sleeping Death. Crowley nodded wisely, “And I have decided to generously ask you to do the honors!”

“Huh?!” You stared incredulously at the Headmage as he ushered you out the door. He looked cheerful, “ah, aren’t I so gracious? I’m reuniting you with your true love!” You stared at him, jaw dropped, “HUH?!”

Riddle Rosehearts

♥️ The Headmage’s speech about True Love’s Kiss echoed in your head. You’d admitted to your friends that you had just a tiny, itty-bitty crush on your beloved Teapot-Tyrant. You didn’t know if he’d ever like you back, even though Ace swore up and down that Riddle gave you special treatment when you, Ace, and Deuce got into trouble (aka gently scolding you while they got collared and yelled at)

♥️ You didn’t want to give yourself false hope, even though you got butterflies every time Riddle personally waited on you during Unbirthday Parties and offered to tutor you when you didn’t understand something. If only you didn’t look away every time you got flustered, then you see the sweet blush on Riddle’s face and the gentle look he’d give you when you were together.

♥️ Now, you stared at the boy in front of you. Your beloved hothead-redhead looked too peaceful to be under a sleeping curse. You deadpanned at Ace and Deuce. “Explain.”

♥️ Apparently, while the two of them were messing around in the botanical gardens, they dropped some draught into Trey’s strawberry plants. And Trey baked the strawberries into a tart for Riddle. It was just your luck that your two beloved idiots had Sleeping Death as their potion.

You rubbed your temples. Deuce held his head in his hands. “The Housewarden will be so furious,” Ace said in a daze. Cater nodded solemnly, tucking his phone away, “your heads’ll be off quicker than you can say Magicam.”

“And they’ll be permanently off if you don’t leave them now.” Trey’s aura made them bustle out of the room, and Cater flashed you a little kissy face before leaving after Trey. You turned back to Riddle, sitting next to him. You gently cupped his cheek, brushing his bangs away from his face.

Even though you wanted to do it so many times before, thought of kissing him made you nervous. Especially when he could never wake up. Still, you leaned forward.

“Please wake up Riddle, I’ll miss you too much” you begged, before gently pressing your lips against his. You lingered there for a few seconds, before gasping and pulling away when you felt him move. Riddle’s eyes were wide open and staring at you, his face growing red. “P-prefect?! What is the meaning of this?!”

You threw your arms around Riddle, who dazedly hugged you back. Ace and Deuce fell through the door, and Cater and Trey rushed in. Deuce grabbed Ace and forced him down, bowing before Riddle, “we’re sorry, Housewarden! It won’t happen again!” Riddle looked at Trey and Cater in confusion, who explained “you were under the Sleeping Curse thanks to these two.”

You felt Riddle tense under you, and you pulled away. You cupped his cheek gently as he grit his teeth, “deal with them later, ok? Just rest,” you kissed his cheek and Riddle’s anger fizzled out as Ace and Deuce ran out of them room. Cater chuckled as he and Trey left, “we’ll leave you two lovebirds!” He sneakily snapped a photo, with you and Riddle wrapped in each others arms gazing at each other. He dm’ed you the photo, #truelove’skiss #finallythesetwoaretogether #getaroom

Azul Ashengrotto

💜 The Mostro Lounge was still running normally thanks to Jade. It seemed that only him and Floyd knew that Azul was under the Sleeping Curse. The entire dorm might revolt against working if they knew their Housewarden was cursed. The thought made you giggle, despite your growing nervousness of your crush being cursed.

💜 It was a long shot that Azul would like you. After all, more often than not you caused a lot of trouble for him. But still, you supposed you did get more discounts than the average student. And Azul did seem more keen on roping you into contracts, but somehow your end of the ‘deal’ wasn’t as harsh as others…

💜As Jade lead you into Azul’s bedroom, you asked what happened. Somehow, one of his edible mushrooms had been watered with Sleeping Death. They were making new dishes for the menu, and Azul accidentally ate it. You supposed they knew who spilled the potion into Jade’s precious mushrooms - you saw Ace and Deuce being worked to the bone in the kitchens.

💜“I’ll leave you two,” Jade looked worried when you first arrived, but somehow he looked amused as shut the door.

In the watery lighting of Azul’s room, the quietness felt loud as you remembered the Headmage’s words. You had to kiss him. He was your true love. You brushed Azul’s hair from his face, “are you?” You wondered out loud.

For a while, you tried to squash the growing feelings you had for him. But you couldn’t help but get flustered when he smiled so charmingly at you. And the way he’d offer you anything, anything Prefect please accept this, probably in a guilty attempt to ‘repay’ you. But deep down, you knew there was only one way you wanted him to repay you.

Despite yourself, you felt a lump in your throat as you watched Azul sleep. You grit your teeth. “You can put me in any contract you want. Whatever the price for this is, I-I’ll pay it,” you bit your lip, “just wake up, Azul.” And you pressed your lips to his before you could back down.

You couldn’t hear anything over your heartbeat loud in your ears, as you watched his chest move upwards while he breathed in deeply. His eyes snapped open, and immediately he focused on you, albeit blurry. Still, he could recognize you anywhere.

“Prefect?” Azul’s voice was raspy, and he frantically felt the nightstand for his glasses, “wh-what are you doing here?!” Your mouth flopped open but no sound came out. You stared at each other as Azul shoved his glasses on his face while scrambling to sit up. “A-AZUL!” You said too loudly, “you’re awake!” You both probably would’ve stayed there, staring, for the rest of the year when the door slammed open.

“Azuuuul~” Floyd ran in. “Guess ya finally woke up~ ” Jade sauntered in, and you could see relief in his face. “Yes,” Jade smirked at Azul, “it’s a good thing Prefect was here, isn’t it?”

Azul turned pink, and mercifully the twins seemed to think he’d had enough. They looked at each other with a grin, and excused themselves. You found yourself smiling shyly at Azul. “Are you feeling okay?” Azul seemed spaced out, but he snapped back to focus on you. He gulped.

“On account that you’re my… true love,” Azul took a deep breath, “perhaps you’d like to sign a contract now?”

Kalim al-Asim

🧡 The Headmage had barely said anything before Jamil slammed down your door and grabbed your wrist, hauling you straight to Scarabia. You’d never seen Jamil so stressed, ever. Crowley promptly abandoned you, wailing that he had to “go appease the parents.”

🧡 You could at least see why he was upset. The al-Asim’s were no regular family, after all. And neither was Kalim. Still, you couldn’t shake the thought. Bright, bubbly Kalim laying in bed under the Sleeping Curse. It didn’t matter how rich he was, how could someone do that to him?

🧡 Maybe it was because of how everyone at NRC was, but you’d come to appreciate Kalim. It wasn’t a stretch to say you enjoyed his company - whether it was him dragging you out on midnight carpet rides, or out to a party. His smile made the chaos bearable.

🧡 You never hid how happy he made you, especially so during his parties. Kalim always made sure to play your favorite songs, but you never noticed his smile widen when he saw you dance. You always looked so carefree, like a bird in flight. He always beamed when he got you to relax and have fun.

Jamil wasted no time dropping you off at Kalim’s room. “Just… please, I-” He swallowed thickly, before nodding at you. “I’ll leave you be.” He closed the door, and you slowly made your way to Kalim. He was laying among a dozen pillows, the with a few rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains. You sighed and sat next to him.

Scarabia felt downright somber without the sunniness of their Housewarden. Kalim’s usually smiling face was now devoid of any emotion. It bothered you more than you thought, to see Kalim with a neutral expression. You idly twisted a lock of his hair. The air felt thick without him to lighten the mood.

You didn’t want to think about never seeing Kalim again. Ever. “The dorm feels empty without you, Kalim,” you gently stroked his cheek, begging “you have to wake up to make it come back to life.” Softly you kissed him, closing your eyes tightly. You hovered there for a second, and pulled away with a gasp when you felt movement.

Kalim began stretching, still laying on the bed. “Mmh? Prefect?” he sat up with a small yawn, “What are you doing here?” He suddenly gasped, ruby eyes brightening. “Did we have a sleepover?! I totally forgot!”

You burst into laughter, feeling your eyes grow wet. You launched yourself at Kalim, both of you falling back onto the bed. Kalim hugged you back tightly, “Huh? What’s this about? Don’t cry, Prefect - I’m here!”

—————

I finally got some free time so here’s the fic three months late oops

Thanks for reading!!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated, I hope you enjoyed 😄 the rest of the housewardens should be posted soon!

Take care shrimpies~ ✨ calci

[barleyo]

Daddy's Girl.

Step Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: Don't like? Don't read! Either way, READ THE TAGS. I'm starting to get pretty weird on this blog, so expect more stuff like this! A girl has to feed her fetishes, so feel free to tag along with me and enjoy what my sick little mind thinks up. Thanks for reading!

Tags: stepcest, step-dad/step-daughter relationship, cream pie, daddy issues, use of "baby girl" and "daddy's girl," daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), swearing, infidelity, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, LARGE AGE GAP (legal), 2nd person POV

Word count: 2.1k

As far as your mother was concerned, your father was worth less than the sum of his parts. He was fleeting idea, a mere concept in both of your lives ever since you could remember. Sure, you remembered a few odd Christmases with a surplus of gifts, all tagged "from Daddy," and a few daddy-daughter dates here and there, but that wasn't enough to make up for his true absence. 

It wasn't a surprise when your mom eventually left him, scooping you up with her. Just you and her, and the rare postcard that your sperm-donor decided to ship off once a year or so. It was good enough then when it was just you two finding your way in the world, but it went downhill when your mom found a new boy toy. 

Leon.

He wasn't a bad guy, by any means. Wasn't pushy, didn't make you call him "dad" or try to impose his will onto you, but his presence made the absence of your real father that much more obvious. You tried to ignore him for the most part, letting your mom have her little relationship with him to tide her over. 

But then they got married. Leon became a more permanent fixture. That was no bueno. 

You toughened it out, being cordial with him until you finally hit that mark of independence: sweet, sweet 18! The big one-eight, your ticket to freedom! 

Everything was planned out for your big day. Mom and Leon made a cake, presents were given, and all birthday wishes granted, except for one. What you really wanted, was for your dad to show up for just this one day, just this once, to have him and not just his money. 

You could never get that lucky, though, and that thought was cemented in your head when you found yourself waiting for him outside of your house. The driveway was empty, not even your mom's car was out there, she still had to head off to work. The world couldn't pause for a birthday girl, it seemed.

Stepping back inside to the house, you slammed the door behind you, practically throwing yourself onto the leather couch in the living room. The tears started faster than you could contain them, and quite honestly, you didn't want to contain them. It was your party, damn it, and you would cry if you wanted to!

"You okay, kid? I heard the door-"

Fuck. Him.

Leon's heavy footsteps made their way down the stairs, leading to his place in front of you. "(Y/N), are you crying?"

You sucked back a breath of air, steadying yourself as much as you could before speaking. 

"No, 'm not, just-- go, just leave me alone." You let your face drop into your hands, staining your sleeves with tears.

Leon, being just the right amount of pushy, took a steps next to you a placed his hand on your shoulder. "Can we talk about it? I mean, I probably know what it is, but we could- you could say whatever you need to say." His face cringed a bit at his own words, feeling like he was already fucking this up. "No judgement."

You kept your face covered but obliged, knowing that talking about it, even with Leon, would make you feel a little better.

"My dad isn't here. He's been promising for weeks that he'd show, but he isn't here."

"Oh."

Your step-dad bit his lip trying to figure out how to make you feel better. He knew you weren't exactly fond of him, but he felt a twinge of responsibility.

"Fuck 'em," Leon finally decided on. "He's a liar and you don't need him. So, fuck 'em. Why would you want a deadbeat to bring you down on your special day?" 

"Because, he's my dad," you said, like it was the most obvious thing. He was right, of course, but the absence still hurt you.

"No dad would stand up a sweet girl like you on her birthday. You only turn 18 once. A real dad wouldn't miss a birthday this monumental for anything. What's he worth, if he can't keep to his word?"

"I guess nothing." You sat up straighter, trying to make yourself calm down. "D'ya think it's, like, my fault? Why doesn't he want to see me?"

He suddenly got really serious, making his grip on your shoulder firm.

"Not at all. You are a wonderful girl. Your mom thinks so, and so do I. You are brilliantly smart, kind, responsible, sweet, gorgeous-- you're perfect and if that scumbag can't see that, then he's beyond saving." 

He loosened his grip, letting his hand fall down to your lap, a bit close to the crotch of your jeans. You didn't look down, trying to convince yourself it was an accident, but he didn't move his hand either.

His other hand came up to your face, holding your cheek and to your own surprise, you leaned into his hand. His big, calloused, confronting hand.

Fuck him.

Something snapped in you when he leaned in for a kiss. God, it was wrong, so wrong, but you were so conflicted. Is this what a father's love really felt like? Hell if you knew, this was close enough in your book.

"Hmph-! Leon..." You pulled away from the kiss, wiping at your mouth roughly to get rid of the salvia strings connecting the both of you. "This is wrong, this isn't okay, my mom-"

"Is not here." 

He placed another kiss on your lips, this one chaste and sweet, so unlike the passionate one you shared before. 

"Just you and me. I know your dad isn't here, but I am. Let me make up for him, baby." His whispers pricked goosebumps over your body, lighting a fire deep in you. "Let daddy love you. Can I show you?"

His big hand looked nearly comical resting against the small button of your jeans, pawing desperately at them. So, so, so wrong. So fucked up, so not okay, so....

"Yes," you said breathily. "Okay, I-I want you to show me. Just be careful please, 'cause.." you trailed off a bit, feeling the pop of your pants opening. 

Leon yanked them down, tossing them away quickly. "Fuck, that's good," he said, pressing his tongue flatly on your mound through your panties. 

The fabric slowly grew a wet patch that clung to you, getting sticky. He placed a soft kiss on your clothed clit, then rested his head on your soft thigh.

"Anybody ever touch you here?" he asked, running a finger over your pussy. 

You softly shook your head, mumbling out a 'no.'

"Mm, more for daddy, yeah? Gonna make you feel so good," he said, slipping your panties to the slide. His mouth made quick work, tongue already gliding up and down on your clit. 

Your face was already twisting up in pleasure, eyebrows knitting together tightly.

"That's cute," he blew cool air over your cunt, keeping his eyes on your face. "You like it? My mouth all over you like this?"

"Mhm, please- don't stop. I wanna feel it again." 

You reached your hand out to hold his head, wanting to push it down before bringing your hand back nervously.

"That's right, push my head down if you want. 'M here to make you feel good, so you use me. Just a wet mouth for you today, sweet girl."

You nodded eagerly, running your hands through his blond hair and taking taking firm purchase of a section of it. Your hands greedily pushed his face into your cunt. The feeling of his nose rubbing against your clit while his tongue dug into your tight hole made you feel fuzzy inside.

Leon was so vulgar with his noises; he almost enjoyed it more than you were. Slurp after slurp came from his mouth, accompanied by a moan or two while he tried to get himself off by palming himself through his pants. 

The sight of him was just as good as the feeling of him. You had never been taken care of so thoroughly. Leon was opening a whole new world to you, a world where you could be selfish and take, because your daddy would provide, no questions asked.

"Lemme try somethin', yeah, baby?"

He shook your hand off and spat directly on your clit, spreading the fat glob with his fingers. Tight, fast circles were traced over your bud, back and forth. It felt like hypnosis, the way he reeled your body in closer to an orgasm. 

"Daddy, please, 'm gonna cum," you said, face flushing of all color. "Your mouth, want your mouth," you shot out quickly, already obsessed with the feeling of his hot mouth tonguing you down.

He obliged, of course. How could he turn his princess down? Leon's lips again wrapped around your clit, sucking on the bud like it gave him life. 

You came soon after. You seized and convulsed and the feeling of his eyes taking you in made the waves of pleasure crash down that much harder over your body. 

"If he knew what a sweet fucking pussy you had," Leon said, licking a final stripe over it, "he'd never wanna leave."

"Wha--?"

"I said," Leon pulled away from your pussy, lifting his head to your ear, "that even your dad would wanna be tongue deep in your sweet, tight cunt. But it's all mine, isn't it?"

The sound of his belt unbuckling made you wetter, if that was possible, but it also sent a sense of realization through you.

You had your pussy in your step dad's mouth. And you liked it. And now, you would let him fuck you. And you would love it. 

"I know you're a virgin, but fuck, baby, you're so tight." His voice was grumbly and strained while he tried to push into you. "Maybe I need to eat you up a little more," he teased.

"No, I need you inside, wanna feel it now." You let yourself go completely. Here you were, whining like a brat while Leon's fat cock stretched you. The pain with sharp, but immediately worth it. He fit inside perfectly, easily hitting your sensitive spots with a few thrusts.

He hissed, feeling you clamp down on his length. "Shh, come on, gotta get used to it baby. Don't want me to cum too quick, do you?"

"Yes, I do," you whined, desperate to know for certain that you were making him feel good too. 

Leon's laugh softly rang in your ears. "No, I wanna make it worth your time. Wish I could take you all night long," he muttered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. 

He swallowed all of your moans, slipping his tongue into your mouth while he rocked into you. He tried to find a rhythm, but he was too lost in pleasure to be neat about it. 

He'd fuck you nice and orderly another day, but for now? He just wanted to feel you gush around him, and feel your cunt get sloppy while he took you.

Your breathless moans caught his attention. He found the angle that made you get oldest and stuck with it, lifting your hips up with his hands so he could piston into your g-spot.

"Oh my god, right there! That feels-- oh my god."

"I know, baby," he said, thumbs digging into your hipbones. "Feels good f'me too. You're so good for daddy."

Your heart, and cunt, pounded the more he spoke. You were close and you knew it, you just needed him to keep talking you through it. "I am?"

"Yes, baby, you're perfect. Daddy's perfect little princess, taking my cock so good." His cock twitched, so he clenched his jaw, refusing to cum before you did. "You know what good girls get to do?"

"Hmph?" Your face was red and hot, mouth hanging open while he continued to fuck into your spongey walls.

"They cum hard on daddy's cock. Can you do that for me? Cum all on me?" He traced his hand over your cheek, letting his thumb land on your bottom lip while he egged you on.

Your body had never reacted faster, immediately creaming on his length. Your hole milked him, each contraction gripping his length and sucking the cum right out of him. 

Leon let a shaky breath out before pulling out of you, scooping the mixture of your cum in his fingers. He rubbed it between two fingers for a moment and popped it into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

You came down from your own high and looked over at him, feeling guilt pull at your chest.

"Leon."

"Hm?"

"What about mom? She's gonna freak if she ever finds out. Did we fuck up? What's gonna--"

"Hey," he said, shushing you with his finger over your lips. "She's not gonna find out and she doesn't need to know. I might be married to her, and I get why you're stressed, but what we have is different."

He pulled his finger off of your mouth and pressed a kiss to your forehead cheekily. "You're daddy's girl. That makes you special."

[inklore]

does it feel good?

— qimir x f!reader

premise: he is your beginning, the whole reason you have made peace with the darkness inside your head, and you know someday he may become your end. whether by his saber or by him finally consuming completely. you welcome both.

contents: established master x acolyte dynamics, shared force bond, unprotected p in v, foreplay, light choking, biting, scars and burn marks mentioned, death, teasing, over stimulation | wc: 2.7k+

note: i love that we all saw the water scene and went yeah that's for the smut writers. glad we are collectively going insane over this man.

The moons paint the water in a shimmering light that bathes its surface in sapphire that fades to the deepest of blacks the longer you stare into it. The waves that hit against the ragged stones are like a siren call to your aching body. 

Your muscles are still tight and coiled from earlier. Your molars grind together when you lift your arms to pull off your ruined and stained clothes. A burning sensation felt through your body as the fabric covering your torso moved against every burn, cut, and bruise you had acquired tonight. 

You didn’t stop by a reflective surface to check how many battle scars you’d earned. Badges of honor. More wounds worn like metals placed on your neck by a pleased master. Wounds, he’ll help you heal, stitch up, seal with the press of his palm to the tattered skin—stolen supplies from planets you can’t remember the name of with faces you can only remember the dead eyes of, used on the ones that don’t close up right.

The moonlight makes them look less serious. The illumination colored the dried blood and tissue into something misty. Almost tantalizing to the eye. Unlike the light of day, where you’re sure it will look less glamorizing. The ugly truth of the way your skin is going to bubble up and mold over to protect itself once the healing process begins is less glaring in this hue. 

Your toe dips into the water. It’s always warmer than you think it to be. Always welcoming you in like it’s been waiting for you to return. Waiting to wash away the grim and blood that seemed more permanent on your skin than your own flesh. 

You wade at the edge for a bit, pushing around the water with your feet. The water wading at your ankles. 

The ringing hasn’t stopped. 

It rarely does until you’ve closed your eyes and settled it. Until your body is less taut, muscles released from the on switch of fight. The power inside your veins thrumming like a wasp trying to free itself from the tissue of your bones. 

As if it had gotten stuck in there and couldn’t find its way out. Refusing to settle down or leave until you’ve maimed, avenged, and proved yourself—leaving your body and muscles in their current state. 

You’re not worried about something being in the water. If there were, you would have been able to feel it. Sense it’s beating heart and the danger of allowing it to keep beating. You’re alone as you walk further into the water, sinking into it’s depths until your body is completely engulfed. Your neck and head the only things going untouched. 

The freshly made badges on your skin burn when you scrub your thumb along the edges of them. Specks of dried blood float along the surface of the water before they’re lost to the darkness below. 

Amongst the ringing in your head, you can hear the screams of anger that tore from your lungs when the Jedi had gotten the upper hand. The green of his saber leaving red against your skin. Making your moves turn from confident to something rage fueled. 

Somewhere among the ringing, you know his scream is in there. Amongst the many cries for help and cracking bones. 

They always linger. Always hold on like a power pack to your dark side. 

You know your body won’t fully relax until you’ve stopped the ringing, though. You didn’t believe in blessings or curses. Bad fortune or good. Everyone’s life ended the same way. If you did believe in the farce, you would think the ringing that goes from the base of your skull to the drums of your ears was a curse. 

A quiet mind is a blessing. 

The buzz of the force within you too heady when you're in the throes of battle. War. Darkness. It’s always been like that. Even before him. 

It’s only gotten worse with him beside you. Like the bond the two of you had opened too much too deep and you feel everything more clearly. More unfortunately. 

He taught you how to silence it. To reign it in after the adrenaline and pace of your heart slowed. 

There were still things you had to learn. Things you were kept from knowing by your old master, the one who only saw one way to wield your power. A cowardly excuse for a master whose burial you wish you could have witnessed. 

It’s aggravating, almost. Anger inducing for sure. 

Someone not believing you are capable of knowing the truth about the power you wield. It’s criminal to not allow someone to be their true self all because of a set of rules that only benefited one group of people. One way of living, when there were so many. 

Your aggravation has faded by now. The anger is still there and buzzes through you. But you no longer feel like a part of you has been held back. Stunted and aching like your chest had for years—as if a rock had found itself in the base of your heart and took up rent there—until Qimir showed you the way. 

Your true self. 

Your full potential and all you were capable of. 

All that had been inside of you, held back for so long. 

Filling your lungs with air, you sink yourself under the water and hold yourself there. Eyes closing as you center yourself. Slow the wasp in your marrow to something dull. Stop the ringing in your ears until all you can hear is the hum of the water hitting the rock above the surface. 

Just you and the force. 

Just you and the water. 

Until you feel him. 

Until he’s there inside your mind.

Until you feel a hand at the base of your skull, fingertips brushing at the nape of your neck to let you know he’s not just in your head. He’s beside you.

Your eyes meet once you’ve filled your lungs with air again, and you wipe the water droplets from your lids. 

You watch him splash water against his neck, running the palm of his hand along the dirt and grime that clings to his skin. Cleaning himself of any traces of the deaths the two of you have left in your wake tonight. 

His calm demeanor always pulls you back from the edge. Always brings a calmness to your blood. To the beating of your heart. Even when shit has gone haywire, his demeanor never switches up. Never slips into something that could be labeled as sloppy or driven by anything other than who he truly is. What he’s made of. 

His calm seeping through your shared bond until you have no choice but to relax.

The handful of times you’ve seen that calmness turn into something animalistic, it’s made you envious, on the same hand, it’s made the space between your thighs burn. 

“You did well tonight.” 

“The smell of my burning flesh still clinging to my senses says differently.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement, “you did well.” He repeats. Ducks his head forward to wet his hair. His fingers running through the strands, droplets falling down his face. Your eyes follow them all the way down the column of his neck to his chiseled collar bones. 

It doesn’t take one wielding the force to know what your mind is projecting. Doesn’t matter that the two of you share a part of your brain. The thoughts of past nights spent together, Qimir teaching you the ways desire can be wielded and used to your advantage—or disadvantage, depending on how you look at it. 

Your face turns from him. Eyes moving up to the moon. 

Trying to hold back your thoughts the way he taught you. Even if it is futile against him.

“How do you feel?” 

Has the ringing stopped, Is what he’s really asking. Do you need another lesson? Are you still weakened by that ailment? That curse? 

Except he wouldn’t be as dramatic as that. Not with this. Not ever. Especially when it came to your power. Your capabilities. The perfect little acolyte he’s trained you to be. 

“Fine.” Your answer clipped, honest. Because you are fine, and your stubbornness will not allow you to let this turn into another lesson about you not being able to be as calm and collected as he is. No shadows of doubt lingering over who he truly is. His purpose. His wants. His desires. His darkness. 

He’s always been able to read right through you, though. Even without taking up space in your being. The force has little to do with that fact. 

You were never afraid of the darkness that lived inside of you. Never afraid of the power you could wield and the lives you could take. 

The only time you’ve felt true fear is being seen. 

Accepted. 

The potential to let someone of importance down and not withhold your end of a deal you’ve inked your name in blood just to be beside. To prove yourself to someone who’s your equal. Another half of your very being.

His face shows nothing but that calm amusement when he wades behind you. His fingers moving against your skin in an act to rid you of the spots of dirt you’ve missed on your neck and shoulders. 

Swallowing hard when his fingers scrape against past scars, he lingers there for a beat. Running the pad of them against the raised skin. A whisper in your head. 

You heal beautifully.

It’s a softness you’d never thought him to be capable of when you found out who he truly was. The man behind the mask. Even if the unmasking had been done unintentionally. 

It’s not softness you feel from his touch, though. No, his touch eases the strain in your muscles, only to gather itself in your belly. Your body burning with anticipation, knowing how this goes. 

How you’re rewarded when you impress him. 

When you do as you are told, your master is ever the generous one. 

“You’ve proven yourself tonight.” His lips brush against the tip of your spine, “killing without a weapon, not stopping until you were the last one standing. Freeing yourself from the ones who held you back for so long.” Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his mouth presses down on that same spot at the beginning of your spine. 

A hand snaking around your throat, his palm wet and warm against your collarbones as he pulls your neck at just the right angle to have you looking at him. 

“Did it feel good?” 

“Yes.” You swallow, wrap your fingers around his wrist. “It always does.” You whisper, your eyes flashing down to the upturn of his lips. 

His nose runs along your cheek to your temple, his eyes closed, inhaling you. “I can always smell it. When you let yourself become one with the darkness. Right before you take a life.” His thumb runs a circle against the vein, which tells him the pace of your heart has picked up. As if he’d need it to know, as if the two of you don’t share something that links you completely to the other. “It still lingers. It’s distracting.” 

It’s not a question, but you nod. Your eyes flutter when he pushes his hips forward, and the hardness of his cock moves against your ass. 

He doesn’t ask permission, the two of you knowing you’re past such kindnesses, when his hand cups your mound. He knows what your body needs right now. What it wants, what it’s expecting. He can feel it too. His index and middle fingers spread your pussy, giving him access to that pleasure point on your body that only he knows how to stroke just right to have you pliant and singing for him. 

As if you were not already devoted to him. As if he were not your reason for being.

He’s your beginning, and you have no doubt he will be your end if it comes to it. 

The pad of his finger circles your clit in that slow way that lets you know he’s going to take his time with you. Going to drain every last bit of strain and tightness from your muscles, pushing that buzz between your legs and making him the only sound in your head—until he thinks you have had enough. 

Until your reward is good enough for him to be satisfied with how you took it. Until he knows your mind is back where it needs to be—here, with him. 

His mouth meets the hand at your throat, his teeth sinking into the parts his fingers aren’t pressing into. “You’re everything I could have hoped for.” His tongue laps against your pulse.

Perfect.

You may never know if he actually means the words; you can only feel what he allows you to feel through your shared connection. He’s better at blocking than you. But he knows you need to hear these praises. Knows how good and pliable it will make you. His words stoke the fire inside your soul that burns through your darkness. That allows you to become completely consumed by him and the desire to be on this side. 

Of being free. 

What he does allow you to feel lets you know there is some truth somewhere in there. You can feel it in how hard his cock thrusts against your ass when your body pushes back into him. You can feel it in the way his thoughts stream through your mind. 

So obedient.

Your cunt’s so greedy for me.

You’re mine.

The skin on your fingers stings from gripping the rocks in front of you. The pain you should feel from the heel of your palm digging into the jagged stones, lost in the haze of pleasure consuming your body. 

Qimir consuming every last part of your being. 

Taking over every dark corner of your mind and not letting you feel or hear anything but him.

Your moans become more shaky, your chest heaving as you pant and curse. The weight of the finger on your clit grows heavier, faster, deliriously good the more you near your orgasm. 

Your lips are moving in inaudible words. Words he understands, making him grin against your jaw. 

“You want my cock tonight?” You know he’s read your mind, or rather, your body. Know he can feel what you desire and crave. What your minds begging him for. “Hmm, do you think you’re deserving of that big of a prize? You spill a little blood, and suddenly you’re greedy.” He hums, “you did well. Do you think you deserve it, though? No?” 

Heat burns your cheeks; his chuckle makes you sob into the night air. The stubbornness to please and be as perfect as your counterpart wants you to be is not in favor of the mounting pressure that’s building in your pussy right now. 

“I already think you’re perfect; don’t push it.” His foot pushes easily at your ankles. Your thighs spread enough for the head of his cock to press against your entrance and thrust inside. 

“Mmm,” you whine at the stretch. Your eyes fluttering closed at your swollen walls being filled. Walls that tighten around him as he sets a fast pace. Matching the rhythm and stroke of his fingers. Sending your body on an overwhelming precipice of a carnal need to come. 

The heaviness of his breath as he says your name against your skin—the quick flashes of the pleasure he feels from being inside of you—is what finally sends you over the edge. 

Your orgasm rocking through you like a storm. Your body shaking against him, walls fluttering and squeezing around his cock, making him groan. Your throat raw and scratchy from the noise that’s pulled up from your lungs when everything in your body is set completely aflame. 

Your hand falling from the rocks, and pressing your nails into his wrist, trying to pull his hand from between your thighs. The over-stimulation of his finger moving against your clit even after your orgasm has passed makes you cry out and ripple the water around the two of you as you squirm. 

The tip of his cock hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. That falters your fight against his torment. 

“You can do better than one. You deserve it, don’t you?”

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

thanksgiving with jason todd, except you are the one getting stuffed ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

jason todd smut

size difference jason! x reader

mentions of breeding kink and bondage

it was thanksgiving time, and though jason wasn’t a big fan of having your whole family come together as he was a selfish bastard who wanted to keep you all to himself. “come on, it’ll be so fun,” you beamed, trying to keep the energy high. though, clearly jason wasn’t looking forward to it with a permanent frown plastered on his face. you rolled your eyes, grabbing his hands, “come on, we get to talk and catch up with family and also eat great food,” you nudged him playfully, his frown only making you grin even more.

he snaked his strong arms around you, “there’s only one meal i want,”he grinned mischievously , kissing your neck. you playfully swatted him, “don’t, the guests will be here in just over an hour.” you narrowed your eyes as a warning, though the blush on your cheeks said otherwise. his grip around your waist tightened, pulling you back into his muscular chest. “come on, you need to relax from all your cooking,” he snuggled deeper into your neck. “you could help me relax by helping me clean up,” you grumbled as you pushed away from his embrace to wipe the countertop.

“i’ll be quick, i promise” he whispered into your ear, nibbling it. “can help you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours yeah?” he grinned, you couldn’t even protest at that, because you’ve been working so hard on preparing this thanksgiving dinner making it perfect, and jason working to get his mind off seeing family meant no sex for two weeks. whilst it sounded like a normal amount of time, it really wasn’t for you two, whilst he worked in the garage for long hours, you had your fingers shoved up your cunt pretending it was his. even dry humping his pillow with his scent.

“better be quick,” you glared, though the smile on your face said otherwise. jason and lifted you on the countertop, bending you over it. “wait, not the countertop we would need to cle-“ a harsh smack on your ass stoped you mid sentence, “i told you i’ll make it quick, stop worrying and let me fuck you like a slut.”

you couldn’t help but to shiver when you felt him pushing up your dress where it laid like a bundle of mess around your stomach. he then pushed your tiny thong to the side, not wasting a second as he slipped a finger inside. “fuck, you are already soaked,” you didn’t even need to turn to see the wicked grin he had on his face, god his tone was already smug enough. “you were so against this, but yet you are soaked, maybe i should just let you be hm?” his fingers pulled away from your tight cunt and, you whined shaking your head. “p-please jay,” you pouted.

he let out a low chuckle, before shoving his thick fingers back in, knuckles keep, bullying your tight cunt. “already dripping hm?” he cooed, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it harshly. “n-need you jay,” you whimpered, you didn’t need his fingers or tongue. you needed his dick. “i know baby,“ he groaned, you could hear him unbuckling his belt, however you didn’t hear it drop to the floor. instead jason flipped you over, your back on the counter whilst he pushed your knees up to your chest, after shoving your dress above your tits. you mentally thanked yourself for picking a dress that was thin.

“would you let me tie you up baby?” you nodded eagerly, you felt him tie your wrists above your head, the belt not letting you budge. jason had ripped your thong, before shoving it into your mouth, tasting your own arousal. he fisted his own cock, it’s tip slightly pink and already leaking with precum. you whined wiggling your body on the counter top, “patience,” he grumbled smacking his fat cock on your pussy.

he didn’t even waste a minute before shoving it in you, the sheer size making your eyes tear up. his thrusts were deep, his large hands squeezing where he was. “you feel me there baby? you take me so well and deep,” he groaned. it wasn’t long before a white thick ring was formed on the base of his cock, “how about i stuff you up round with my kids?”

“bet you would like that with how much you love family events,” his grip almost bruising. you nodded eagerly, god you always wanted to start a family with him and being fucked dumb didn’t help. “p-please jay,” you whined. with your hands tied above you, you had no choice but you just let him take you, without having any grip on him. “fill me up,” you plead.

his grunts filled the room, you were getting closer and closer to your edge. “c-close” you mumbled, your breaths ragged and unsteady. “you know one thing i’m grateful for?” he whispered, “how well your pussy takes me, it doesn’t matter when, what time it is, she’s always so welcoming.”

“what are you grateful for sweet thing?” he asked, wiping the hair that was stuck to your forehead. “m-mph” whined, you couldn’t even think let alone think what you were grateful for. “come on, say something. i’m sure a girl as prim and proper as you wouldn’t be an ungrateful brat.”

you couldn’t form words, as a result you babbled a response. he shook his head in response, “no. only good girls get to come, and good girls will tell me what they are grateful for in a sentence.” you rolled your eyes at that comment. “y-you,” you mumbled, “i-i’m grateful for you jay,” you were so close, so so close but you knew jason could take it away from you in just a second.

“there we go, wasn’t that hard hm?” he teased, before finally letting you come. god you squeezed him so hard he also came with you, filling you up just how you wanted. “all relaxed now hm?” he grinned seeing your post orgasm glow, gently he unwrapped your wrists from the belt, and putting you upright on the counter. “can’t wait to see this little belly all round plump,” he grinned squeezing the soft flesh. you were limp, completely fucked dumb and the only response you could give was a dumb fucked smile.

[ervotica]

i just saw someone talk about pornstar!patrick and my third eye opened up

shut up i’ll die actually

warnings; smut, 18+, fem!reader, pornstar!patrick, p in v sex, allusions to reader being eaten out, patrick is hot <3

a/n; i’m insane for this actually. pls send more pornstar!patrick asks i’ll beg for them 🥹

this is him <3

thinking of a self made pornstar!patrick, started off making solo videos of him jerking off in the dirty backseat of his car. utterly surprised when viewers couldn’t get enough of him and he earned enough money to make a living off of making porn of himself.

he starts inviting other men, women - anyone who shows interest in him and his videos - to shoot with him, and soon he has a plethora of people lining up for a chance to fuck him, even if it’s on camera.

he bypasses the entire queue when he catches wind of you, a soft little thing with a mean streak he so desperately wants to explore, and he’s running straight to your messages to set a date.

he pays for your transport and your stay — a five star hotel that is far more expensive than anywhere you’ve been in your entire life.

it doesn’t feel orchestrated when the camera starts filming. it doesn’t feel like an act as he works you up with his hot breath over your cunt and two thick fingers that sink into your weeping hole. it doesn’t feel fake when you bury your fingers into his hair and tug, relishing in the way he moans and ruts his hips into the plush bed beneath you.

and it certainly doesn’t feel fake when he makes you cum harder than you ever have before.

his viewers all envy you, want to be you, when he folds your legs to your chest and feeds you his cock inch by inch. it’s a tight fit, that’s for sure, but you’ve never felt more full, more stretched in your life, and you fucking love it.

the way the head of his cock, a visceral red, notches against your entrance as he sinks in in in, further than you thought possible until the weeping slit burrows against your cervix, the way you keen and clutch at his shoulders as he murmurs praises because you’re being so good, baby, just a little more now.

he’s barely one thrust in before you’re cumming around him with a shudder and a cry, and it’s stronger than anything you’ve ever felt in your life, so easy the way he takes you apart because he’s already memorised your cunt, already knows how to fuck it.

and he’s hooking his arms beneath the dip of your spine, dragging you up to meet his hot mouth in a greedy kiss, all tongues and teeth and fire and passion, and that paired with the way he’s fucking you - the filthy roll of his hips that never slows, never stops - is enough to have you cumming round him again.

he fucks like he’s in love with you and he hates you all at once, spears you open on his cock and keeps you spread out beneath him, teases and taunts until you growl with frustration and claw at him. it makes him laugh, a low, gravelly sound against your lips as he concedes and pistons his hips into you with more fervour than before.

once you’re well and truly fucked out, you crawl between his legs and wrap your mouth around him, and he’s sure he meets god.

and then the camera comes off, and a switch flips in him as he watches you laying on the bed, breathing heavily, eyes closed, a sleepy smile on your face.

patrick zweig might just be in love.

the video skyrockets in views and profits, climbing straight to the most popular he’s ever made. viewers beg him to keep you as a permanent fixture within his channel. and, well, who would he be if he didn’t give the people what they want?

-

challengers taglist; @diorrfairy @igotmajordaddyissues @xotwod-jade @imbabycowboy @cloudnitee @hobocatton

[quarterlifekitty]

Promethean

fuckboy!Soap x Shy!Reader x Ghost (college!au) p.2 here’s part 1

Uhh warning soap isn’t in this chapter and reader isn’t acting very shy rn lol

Simon managed to drag you, shocked and still on shaky legs, into his surprisingly clean car and across town to a little cafe. The guy with eye bags behind the counter starts making his order as soon as he comes in the door— must be a regular.

At the counter he points to a couple of items in the display case, before prompting you— you stutter out your go-to, and Simon whips out a beat-up debit card before you can think to pull out your wallet.

The largest size of earl grey almost looks normal in his large hand, a plate of pastries in his other mitt. You grab your own drink and follow where he tilts his head in gesture.

When you sit, he pushes the plate towards you. Like he’s dropping a fresh kill at your doorstep—a courting gift. Eat. Be provided for, sensitive doe. You pick up a danish, if only to ease the clench of his fist on the table. He pulls the black surgical mask down to sip his tea in a way that’s almost hilariously delicate given his permanent scowl.

You couldn’t have sat in silence for more than 10 minutes. But it feels like a lot longer.

“Simon. What are we doing here?” You probe quietly. Saying his name when you’ve never actually been introduced to each other feels wrong. Like you’ve stolen a piece of him that he hasn’t given freely.

“He never takes you out,” he grunts. As if that explains anything.

“It’s not… what we have isn’t like that.”

——

Simon chews on your overly diplomatic response for a minute. That’s what it must be, chewing— why else would he grind his teeth together when his tongue is still wet with his favorite soothing beverage?

You’re kind. Kinder than the mutt deserves.

“But you want it to be.” He says it with an almost biblical level of finality. Your pastry making the plate clink against the table as you drop it back down.

“What would you know about what I want?”

“You’re an easy read. S’how y’got yourself in this situation. Soap’s not exactly a rocket scientist when it comes to chattin’ up birds, you’re jus’ an open book.”

Simon shamelessly stares at your lips as they quirk in anger— so unused to vitriol. It’s gorgeous.

“So he’s using me. I know. Is that what this was about? Taking me on a pity date to let me down gently? Or did you just wanna see if you could have a go as well?”

Seeing you like this. It’s something else. He’s seen you mope around so many times, silently begging for crumbs that will never be tossed your way. It’s even harder to pull his gaze from you, now that you’re hissing. He wants to dig his teeth into your heart shoulder and rip out the bruise Johnny left you with.

Soap is his best friend.

“He’s a dickhead. You don’t need him. You’ll find something better.”

Simon has never been what he would call “something better”. Not in any sense. But this might be the first time he’s wanted to be.

“I won’t,” you say with the lower half of your face hidden by the sipping of your drink. As if it’s quenched your fire, and all that leaves you is vapor. “I’m not… the type.”

He gets it. Really, he does. He’s not the type either— or so he’s thought. You’re making him wonder if he’s imagined that about himself— the same way you’ve clearly imagined it about yourself.

“What’s the rest of your day look like?”

“…Nothing set in stone.” The not that it’s any of your fucking business goes unspoken, but is plain to see in the air between you.

“Lemme take you around. On a date. Be mine for today. If y’hate it, I’ll drop you back at yours and the next time you come round, I’ll mind my business and keep the door closed.” Well, that’s the most you’ve ever heard him say in one go. And it begs a question.

“What happens if I like it? You’ll fuck me in a different room of the same frat house?” Your unimpressed look makes him feel ravenous. She-wolf is threatening to turn her eyes from the display. Rejection. Not an option. “Or maybe you’ll ask me to go steady,” you huff under your breath like it’s a bad joke.

“If y’like it, then you’ll stay mine, and y’won’t fuckin’ want for anything. You’re supposed to be worshipped, not begging for scraps at a mutt’s door.”

He really didn’t mean to say it like that. He meant to bite his tongue. He’s trying not to think of how hot it would be if his intensity scared you into pissing yourself. He’s trying not to let himself show through the lines. It’s not working. Any of it.

The venomous bile that spills from behind his teeth reminds him that his eloquence is just one of many reasons why he’s single. Why he should be muzzled instead of kept. He doesn’t know why he’s taking it upon himself to do this. Selfishness, maybe. There’s plenty of better men he could’ve put up to the task, easy. The man who wants to feel blood on the back of his throat makes a terrible savior.

He feels like he can see your pupils dilate. You pick up your danish again and take a bite. You hold it out for him to try. It’s a test. You don’t think someone with eyes like his can handle doing cutesy, saccharine things. Like what couples do. That must be it.

He tries not to think of his teeth going past the flakey flesh of the pastry and sinking into your fingers. When his tongue meets the butter between the layers, he tries not to think of the salt sweet flavor of your sweat and tears. A seed from the blackberry jam gets thoughtlessly crushed between his molars— he hopes the bitterness will suddenly wake him up and he won’t be a beast crying for love at the heart of the world anymore.

It doesn’t.

[i2sunric]

HOLD YOUR BREATH (s.jy)

pairing: detective!jake x reader (f)

summary: not having seen your husband’s face in two days, you decide to bring him dinner and check up on him— sleep deprived and stressed, he can’t help but get a taste of you.

warnings: 1960s au. mentions of murder, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), pussy eating, pussy drunk jake (r we even surprised), semi-public sex, choking, p in v, jake is a detective, jake wears glasses, sex on desk, dirty talking, pet names (baby, love, darling), wall sex, breeding kink, cream pie, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

wc: 3.7k

published: 11th June 2024

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore @bangtancultsposts s @shawnyle (oneshot) @kirinaa08 @immelissaaa @skzenhalove @anittamaxwynnn @honeybunnee @cherlv

a/n: based on this ask from anon! sorry if it took me a while to prepare it, hope you like it tho <3 please LIKE & REBLOG!

Being a detective in the 60s wasn’t easy at all. With all the danger occurring and newly killers all walking around, trying to take lives as if they were useless, you couldn’t help but bite your nails as you waited for Jake at home.

But being a detective’s wife was even more difficult. The constant dread fuelling your heart until it was too heavy to carry.

One late Friday night, you were sitting by the kitchen table all alone. The warm June air hitting your skin since you left your window open, watching as the sun was beginning to set.

You had already deep cleaned the whole apartment, probably not even a single crumb of dust was left.

Then, you rearranged the books on the shelves.

In the morning, alphabetically and in the afternoon from the oldest to the newest. Ridiculous.

Utterly bored, you had even painted your nails of a weird shade of green that matched your favourite blouse-skirt set.

You weren’t even being dramatic, given the fact that your only company hadn’t shown his face at home for two days.

Date a detective, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

It was everything but fun or entertaining, since you spent most of the time alone, due to his crazy schedules.

But you loved Sim Jake too dearly to even consider confronting him about it.

You heard a few stories about old ladies’ nieces at the hair salon you worked who got forced into marriage and you were so glad it hadn’t happened to you.

Because you knew it, bet your heart on it that Jake would always choose you first.

You glanced at the clock that ticked half past seven and like the perfect wife you were, you began to wonder if Jake was even taking care of himself. Had he eaten enough? Had he even eaten at all?

So, rolling up your sleeves, you cooked a delicious meal to bring him to his workplace. Inside the small lunch box was some warm miso soup and vegetables for his big, sexy brain.

Repressing the shiver that ran through your spine when you stepped out of your house and immediately spotted a ‘Missing Person’ sign, you started walking down the familiar road. You just thanked the sun was still high enough to bring some natural source of light.

You reached his office when it was dark already, having walked almost one hour away. Cursing the heels you forced yourself to wear even as your feet screamed for help, you knocked on the door.

The new detective Jake introduced you at a dinner showed up, bright smile and innocence plastered on his face “Hello! Miss Sim.”

You smiled back “Good evening, Mister Kim.” Sunoo stepped aside from the door “Looking for Detective Sim?”

You hummed as you took in the sight of the very dark hallway “Third door on the left, is that right?”

Sunoo nodded happily, “You remembered.” He then placed one hand on the side of his mouth to whisper “But I warn you, he’s not in the brightest mood.”

Oh goodness. “Thank you for the information.” You said as you walked away, to the door that led to your husband’s office.

Softly knocking on the door, you waited for his response, and when his grumpy “What?” From the other side, you decided to open the door.

And there your husband was, his hair sticking to every direction while his glasses almost fell down his nose bridge.

Jake was playing billiards, leaning against the table as he desperately tried to get in the ball. A simple task that seemed not to work for him, since he looked so distressed.

A cigar balanced between his upper and bottom lip, its smoke lingering in the air.

When his chocolate brown eyes finally settled on your figure, they softened in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“Y/N.” Jake breathed out, placing down the pool stick on the table and walking towards you as you closed the door “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you dinner.” You raised the lunch box in your hand, smiling “Figured you might need it.”

His brows knitted, a frown appearing on his face “You walked here all alone?” He glanced at the clock that ticked nine already “It’s dangerous, baby.” Don’t let yourself be fooled by the sweet nickname, his tone was low and rather pissed.

Being in contact with crime most of his day, Jake grew very protective of you, and directly imposed that you wouldn’t go out without him — or any male friend — after six pm.

You shook your head and let out a small sigh “I’m here, aren’t I?” You said as you walked towards his desk to place down the lunch box.

“Besides, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You tilted your head, resting your back on the table “Haven’t you missed me?”

“Christ, Y/N.” He walked toward you right away, closing the space you had put “I missed you like crazy.”

He dropped his head low and sighed tiredly “But there has been another murder and we can’t figure out who the culprit is. I’m in deep-sea here.”

You gently cupped his cheek in your small palm and rubbed your thumb “Maybe you should take a break?” You suggested “Working too hard fries your brain.”

Jake nodded “Maybe I should.” He murmured and looked behind his shoulders “Wand to play pool?”

You grimaced “You know I can’t play that game.” His lips twitched into a smile wrapping a strong arm around your waist. "I could teach you." He told you, lowering his head and brushing his lips against your ear.

You placed your hands with your newly polished nails on his clothed chest, right under his shoulders "I'm afraid I'm a lost case at this game, even for the greatest detective in town."

Jake chuckled lowly and tilted his head to press his lips against your own, sliding a hand downward to grip your thigh. He parted his lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth and tilting you backwards in between his body and the desk.

Jake took the opportunity to grip your thigh and spread it apart, too eager to even care about having a make out session first. He slipped his hand under your skirt and groaned when he felt your folds right under his fingers.

"Goodness, you didn't seem to be wearing anything." Jake mumbled against your lips before trailing his own down your jawline and to your neck.

His fingers pressed against your core and he groaned lowly, sliding his fingers across your entrance.

You let out a quiet gasp at the feeling and let out a small chuckle before his fingers delved deeper inside of you, moving in and out of your wetness while kissing across your jawline.

"You seem quite needy already, love." He mumbled with his gravelly voice. You grasped the back of his head and rested your forehead on his, your eyes never leaving his.

He kissed the tip of your nose, such a gentle gesture in contrast to the filthy thing he was doing to your body, the sound of your slickness pooling down your thighs and on his wrist filled the room— until it was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Cursing under his breath for not having locked the door when you first came in, and not having foreshadowed his fingers deep inside you, he pressed a finger on his lips to shush you. “Who is it?” He then asked.

“Detective Sim?” Someone’s voice came from the other side “The captain wants to speak with you, sir.”

He was about to turn the doorknob when Jake said “Busy at the moment.”

The other detective stepped back from the door but didn’t walk away. “It’s important.” He said bluntly.

You thought that at those words, Jake would leave you there on the table and go doing his job, instead he curled his finger inside of you, making you press a hand on your mouth to middle a moan.

“You can tell me from there.” The detective began speaking and Jake looked down at you, his eyes darkened as he continued to move his fingers in a circular motion inside of you. "Keep quiet, mh?" He whispered to you, his tone smug.

You let out a shaky breath and grasped his forearm, doing your best to not let out any noise.

He let out a low chuckle, curling his fingers again to draw a moan from you. "Shh, you have to be quiet." He whispered and the detective continued to speak.

Not like you could focus on what he was saying with the way his fingers worked you closer to the edge.

“About the murder cases we were working on…” The detective said, “I have an update.”

Jake tilted his head at the mention of the case and kept his fingers moving inside you. "And what is the update?" He called out, not letting up his movements at all.

You couldn’t take it anymore and tried to remove his wrist, "Detective Park found a similarity with the other two murders, seems like the culprit puts a small signature."

Jake ignored your piss-poor attempt to stop him as he continued to talk to the detective with a nonchalant tone.

"What sort of signature?" He questioned, a smirk on his lips while he continued his movements with a particular curling of his fingers.

Your legs shook as he kept hitting your sweet spot “He cuts the ring finger's nail of all the victims." The detective informed him.

Upon hearing the information Jake's eyes widened slightly before moving his sight back down to you. His fingers continued their ministrations, drawing more tremors from your body though his mind was working at the new information revealed to him.

Not hearing any reaction from the inside, Jake’s colleague added “Detective park said to find him when you aren't... busy?” He cleared his throat and for a second you thought he guessed what was happening “I'll tell him you'll talk to him later?"

Your husband hummed lowly as he thought back to the information, continuing to work his fingers in and out of you as if it helped him think. "Yes, I will come talk to him after." He told the detective with a steady voice, his eyes taking in your expression while his gaze darkened.

With the dismissal, the person’s steps went away until they completely disappeared. Jake smirked and moved his fingers faster, curling on your g-spot.

He lowered his head, pressing his lips against the side of your neck and up to your earlobe. "Just a little more, love." He whispered in your ear.

You moaned shakily, now finally able to let it out. You wrapped one arm around his neck to steady yourself as the other rested behind you.

You clenched around his two digits, the knot in your stomach tightening.

Jake let out a soft growl in your ear, his fingers curling against your sweet spot. "Not yet, wait." He demanded.

“W-what?” You frowned, unable to stop the euphoria creeping in “Why?”

Jake smirked against your ear "I'm not done with you yet, love." he mumbled huskily before taking your lobe in his mouth and sucking on it.

His fingers worked you until another moan nearly escaped your lips and he took that opportunity to capture them in his own "Quiet, you don't want anyone to hear you being a noisy little thing, do you?"

You shook your head as you threw it back, your hair dangling in the air and eyes squeezing. You bucked your hips to meet his hand, his palm rubbing against your clit.

Jake titled his head at the sight, looking ever so gorgeous. He added a third digit inside of you, but it stretched you so good to the point of pain. You couldn’t help but whimper out loud.

Jake chuckled at your reaction and his tongue delved between your lips when you whined, muffling your sounds. "Shh, you're being too loud, baby." He bit your bottom lip.

You clenched around his digits, walls taking them in “T-too much.” You murmured.

He hummed lowly and slowed his pace slightly, bringing one arm to grip your waist again. "You can handle it, can't you, baby?" Hequestioned as his fingers began to curl against your sensitive spot to ease your discomfort.

At the feeling, so full and good, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head “T-there.” You moaned helplessly “Keep going.”

“Be quiet for me.” He demeaned and curled his fingers at a speed you weren’t even sure was possible.

You looked down at where your bodies collided and couldn’t help but let out a moan, your slickness was pooling down his wrist onto the floor, making a whole mess.

Jake followed your gaze and smirked at the sight, “You like this? Mh?”

You nodded “Yes, Jake.” Your eyes were half lidded as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten “Like it. So good.”

Jake titled your chin up to meet his dark eyes and raised a brow, your walls sucking his digits in “Are you close, baby?”

Like the expert of your body that he was, he knew all the signs to pick up. “Yes— I’m so—“ You couldn’t even finish your sentence, that one particular curl on the spongy wall made your body shake in release.

Jake’s arms wrapped around you, holding your body against his as you quaked, “Good girl." He mumbled in your ear, his fingers continuing their work until you came down from your high.

He pressed a soft kiss to your jawline, his fingers slowly pulling out of and he smirked as they came out slick with your release. "You were so good for me, darling." he mumbled against your ear.

He pulled his fingers to his mouth and sucked them, he hummed “Love the taste of you.”

Jake gently gave your arm a light squeeze before moving you to the side. You watched him through puzzled eyes until you saw him pushing on the floor all of his files.

“Baby?” You asked and he only replied with a smile. He pressed his lips against your neck, sucking and biting on the soft flesh while he moved his hands to the back of your thighs.

“Now..." He mumbled as his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up.

You widened your eyes when you noticed how he placed you on the desk and rested your thighs on his shoulders, kneeling in front of you “There we go.”

“J-jake?” You asked, looking down at him. He winked at you “Just relax." He mumbled softly as his lips began to trail across your thighs.

Your body twitched at the feeling, his featherlight kisses sending waves of pleasure.

Jake trailed his lips up until they were close to your core, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin.

“Wait.” You tried to stop him by pressing one hand on his hair. “You haven’t been touched yet.”

He chuckled again, looking back up at you from his position in between your legs. "Don’t worry about me, love. This is about you." He whispered, blowing on your pussy.

You rolled your eyes back and Jake took the opportunity to swipe his tongue slowly on your core, tasting your juices and your previous cum.

“Oh, Lord.” You moaned out, grasping his hair into your hand, knuckles almost white.

He hummed as the taste of you hit his tongue, drawing a low groan from him.

Your breath grew heavy, slowly guiding his head to lick in the spots you were the most sensitive.

“You taste wonderful, love.” He whispered, sucking on your clit.

You unconsciously bucked your hips, not in control of your body anymore as it succumbed to the pleasure.

Jake chuckled and pressed a hand on your hip, pinning it down to keep you from moving while his tongue continued circles against your sensitive spot. "Stay still for me, darling." He mumbled, continuing his movements.

You arched your back and grasped his hair and he could tell that you were already close to the edge.

So, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in your entrance, making you moan out as the warm and spongy feeling made your whole mind black out.

His eyes never left your expression as he watched you closely. He was enjoying making you squirm, moaning out his name.

And just like thunder crashing, your body shuddered while you squirted right on Jake’s face.

You widened your eyes, unable to stop the overwhelming feeling of pleasure as you basically screamed-moaned. At that point, you were sure even people on the streets knew what you two were up to.

However, Jake seemed very content with it. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his suit. “Pussy so good, makes my day better.” Your liquid was dripping down his glasses and jaw.

“I made a mess.” You whispered, propping yourself up on your elbows “And?” Jake raised a brow, pulling your chin in a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue “I love your messes.”

“I want to help you.” You stated, palming his angry hard-on “You already made me cum twice.”

“We don’t have protections.” He murmured, kissing your lips once, then twice “I don’t want inconveniences to happen.”

The thought of him breeding you made your mind fill with primal urges, but you tried to negotiate “You can pull out.”

Jake shook his head, resting it on your shoulder “I don’t have self control when it comes to you.” He kissed your clothed shoulder.

“A blow?” You questioned, caressing the little hair he had behind his head. Jake chuckled again, “I’m too rough and I don’t want to ruin your cute attire.”

His gaze travelled down to your hand that helped you hold yourself up and smiled “You put nail polish on? It suits you.”

How he managed to make your heart flutter after literally having you shake, you weren’t sure. Maybe he had a talent.

“I wanted to be pretty for you.” You chuckled, “Can’t ruin your reputation.”

No matter how much Jake tried to talk you out of sex in his office, the way he was slowly rutting his hips on your inner thigh gave him away.

He occasionally let out small hums in between his words, and you knew damn well he must be feeling so pained.

So, you slowly climbed down the desk and looked at him. He showed you a nice smile, oblivious to the contorted plants you had in mind. His lips dropped into a frown at the same moment your skirt dropped to your ankles.

“Y/N?” He asked, raising a brow as you began to unbutton your blouse, showing your silk bra.

If Jake had one weakness apart from eating you out, then it was your boobs. He loved them, worshipped them day and night.

His eyes darkened at such sight, walking towards you right away and pushing you against the wall.

“You drive me insane.” He whispered, unzipping his pants and letting them drop to the floor “You fuck my head.”

You watched him with excitement bubbling your stomach, he gripped your bare thigh and raised your leg until it was around his waist.

You looked down at his hard cock, pressing against your stomach “Watch me stretch this pussy out.” He said as he aligned himself with your entrance and thrusted inside of you.

You were so wet and sensitive, your skin burning against his. Jake gripped your ass so tight it would surely leave a mark by the next day, he rutted his hips inside of you at a fast speed.

“I don’t think I’ll last long.” He warned, “I feel you much better without a condom.”

You clenched around his length as his admission, making him groan. He pulled you into a heated kiss as he kept moving his hips, desperately chasing the relief he longed for.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, grip on your skin painful “Fuck, you were made for me.”

With one skilled hand, he undid your bra and palmed your breasts, his tip hitting your cervix, making you moan.

Jake lowered his head onto your chest and began sucking on your nipple, circling his tongue around it “Ah, Yes!” You chanted out.

Without missing a beat, Jake changed tit and did the same thing to the other.

“So deep.” You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as the familiar feeling of euphoria reached you for the third time “So good.”

“Yes baby,” He grunted, one hand sneaking up to wrap around your neck “You’re so good for me, so good.”

The sudden loss of air made you clench around him, your walls hugging his cock, sucking him in.

“Fuck— Stop clenching like that.” He huffed, squeezing his eyes just like you did “I’m already so close.”

“I don’t want you to pull out.” You placed one hand on his cheeks, brown eyes boring into yours “What?”

“I want you to cum inside of me.” A rather deep thrust “Your babies, I want them, I don’t care.”

“Oh goodness.” Jake grunted, his hips moving almost manically “You’ll be the death of me.”

You pulled him into a kiss which wasn’t exactly one, you two were just moaning and breathing into each other’s mouths.

“Are you sure, love?” He asked, drops of sweat coating his forehead, his bangs sticking to it “We can’t undo this.”

“I’m so sure.” You moaned out “Cum inside of me.”

At those words, Jake shot his load deep inside of you, filling you up with his warm seed.

You whimpered, grasping his forearm when the orgasm hit you as well, making you clench around him.

He held you against the wall, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

You smiled and removed one bang from his eye, caressing his cheek with your thumb “This was the craziest shit I’ve ever done.”

You slowly rocked your hips, needing to feel him more, needing his cum to stay inside of you.

Jake groaned and rested his forehead on yours “Damn baby, if this is how it’ll end up every time you visit, I hope you do it more often.”

[d-z20]

Hers and Hers Alone

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: Agatha Harkness’s possessive nature burns brighter than ever when she claims you, not just with her words but with her magic. In the charged intimacy of her study, the line between dominance and devotion blurs, leaving no doubt that you belong entirely to her.

-OR-

She marks you with a magic tattoo cause you're oblivious to people flirting with you

Warnings: Possessive Agatha, reader is an idiot when it comes to flirting, magical marking, jealousy/obsession, claiming trope, slight angst, kind of dark romance is implied (at least their relationship is in my head), some dom/sub dynamics, reader gets called a good girl

Words: 1.9k

A/N: FuckMarvelEveryoneLives AU :P I errrr had carried this fic into the smut but then realised the request didn't ask for it so I guess what happened will just stay in my head :))

AO3 | Masterlist

Agatha Harkness always gets what she wants.

That’s the first thing you learnt when you fell into her orbit—her sharp eyes, her wicked smirk, the way her presence alone felt like it could strip you bare. It wasn’t just her power that made her dangerous; it was her confidence, the knowledge that she could claim you with nothing more than a look. And claim you, she did.

Tonight, that claim becomes permanent.

It starts earlier in the evening, though you’re far too oblivious to notice. Another witch—a newcomer to your coven—has been lingering a little too close, her compliments flowing like honey, her hand brushing yours just a bit too often. You think nothing of it, laughing at her jokes and responding with your usual warmth, but Agatha sees it all. She sits across the room, her wine glass in hand, her gaze locked on you with an intensity that sends lesser witches scattering. It’s subtle at first—the narrowing of her eyes, the slight tilt of her head—but as the other witch leans in and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, Agatha’s smile falters, replaced by something far sharper.

Jen sidles up beside her, an amused glint in her eye as she tracks Agatha’s gaze. “You’re going to set the room on fire if you keep glaring like that,” she says dryly.

“Perhaps,” Agatha mutters, her tone deceptively smooth. “But how could anyone blame me?" Her gaze flicks briefly to Jen before settling back on you.

Jen’s laughter is soft, a knowing sound that holds no pity. “She’s not doing anything. It’s you who sees it as a challenge.”

“A challenge easily won,” Agatha snaps, her irritation slipping through. Still, she doesn’t move. Not yet. She knows you too well to make a scene in public. No, this required precision.

—

The air buzzes with conversation, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows that dance across the stone walls and when you finally turn toward her, your face brightens at the sight of her. You weave through everybody, the scent of burning herbs mingling with the faint tang of red wine, excusing yourself with a polite smile and a brief touch of hands that only fuel Agatha’s determination. By the time you reach her, she has composed herself into a picture of calm.

“You’re being antisocial again,” you tease lightly, tilting your head to study her. “Should I be worried?”

“Hardly,” she replies smoothly, though her voice dips into a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “Although perhaps you should.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Agatha steps closer, her fingers brushing your wrist lightly. The contact sparks against your skin, her magic coiling beneath the surface. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you feel the weight of her presence settle over you like a velvet cloak.

“You’ve been quite generous with your attention tonight,” she says softly, her voice carrying an edge that makes your heart skip. “Perhaps too generous.”

Your brows furrowed. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” She laughs low and dangerous. “No, darling. Jealousy is for those who doubt their place. I know exactly where I stand. Do you?”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, and then Agatha’s fingers trail up your arm, her touch deliberate and slow, leaving behind a faint, smouldering heat. The air between you thickens, charged with her magic and something even more primal. Her breath brushes your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t understand yet,” she whispers, her tone laced with a dark promise. “But you will.”

“Come with me,” she commands, making your pulse race.

Agatha doesn’t speak as she pulls you down the hallway, her grip firm but not painful, though there’s no mistaking the fire in her movements. You trail after her, a little breathless from trying to keep up, still half-confused about what’s gotten into her. It’s not until she shoves open the door to her study and drags you inside that she finally stops, turning to face you. The door clicks shut behind you with a wave of her hand, the air in the room thickening, charged with something electric and unrelenting.

“Agatha—” you start, but her sharp look cuts you off.

“Do you enjoy parading yourself like that?” she asks, her voice deceptively soft as she steps closer. “Letting them think they have the right to touch what’s mine?” The words cut like a knife, her tone equal parts petal and thorn, daring you to challenge her claim.

Her words sting, but there’s a flicker of defiance in your chest. You didn’t think you’d done anything wrong, yet the weight of her gaze makes you second-guess yourself. “What? She was just being nice."

“Nice.” Agatha repeats, a dark chuckle escaping her lips as she closes the distance between you. “That wasn’t ‘nice,’ darling. She was flirting. And you…" Agatha pauses, her jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—not doubt, exactly, but something close. Vulnerability that is quickly buried under her usual sharpness. “You’re far too sweet to see it.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die in your throat as her thumb brushes your bottom lip, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter. “You’re mine,” she says softly, almost like a warning, her eyes darkening as she leans in. “You can laugh and smile at the others all you want,” she continues, her voice like silk laced with steel. “But they’ll never know you the way I do. They’ll never touch you like this.”

Your breath hitches; your body already betraying you as heat pools in your stomach. Agatha’s hands move to your shoulders, steady and deliberate as she turns you around to face the desk. You feel the press of her body against your back, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in. “Don’t move,” she murmurs, the command dripping with authority.

You stand still, barely daring to breathe, though your mind races. The weight of her gaze, the heat of her power, wraps around you like an unrelenting grip. A thrill courses through your chest—half fear, half longing—as you realise what she’s about to do. This is more than a claim; it’s a declaration, a tether, and deep down, you’re not sure if you’d ever want to break free.

 Agatha brushes her fingers down the column of your throat and across your collarbone before stopping over your chest. Her touch is gentle, but the power swirling from her is anything but. 

“Right here,” she murmurs, her voice a dark velvet caress. Her fingers brush over your chest, leaving a tingling trail of magic in their wake. “This is where my claim belongs—above your heart, so no one ever forgets who it beats for.”

A surge of violet magic blooms from her palm, tendrils of shimmering light twisting and curling as they seep into your skin. It’s not just energy—it’s alive, sparking and crackling like a storm contained within your chest. Heat rushes through you, both foreign and familiar, as if her power is carving itself into your very being.

You gasp, your body arching instinctively as Agatha mumbles soft incantations under her breath. When she pulls her hand away, your heart is racing, and you feel it—a faint, lingering hum where her magic settled.

“Look,” she instructs, her voice soft yet commanding. 

There, etched into your skin in delicate, curling lines of violet, are Agatha’s initials. It’s an ancient and commanding mark, pulsing faintly with magic. You feel it thrum in time with your heartbeat, as though Agatha herself has left a piece of her soul imprinted onto you. 

You blink, lips parted in surprise, but before you can speak, Agatha’s fingers ghost over the mark. The second she touches it, a wave of pleasure rushes through you, leaving you trembling as a choked gasp escapes your throat.

“Sensitive, isn’t it?” She murmurs, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Maybe now you’ll remember who owns you.”

You shiver under her touch, the magic from the mark sparking with every deliberate brush of her fingers. She leans in close, her voice a low purr against your ear. “And if you ever let anyone get that close again, I’ll make sure you cannot walk for days, darling. Do you understand?”

You swallow hard, nodding wordlessly, and Agatha hums approvingly. “Good girl.”

Agatha’s approval drips like honey into your veins, the warmth of her magic lingering just beneath your skin. Your body betrays you completely—breath shaky, pulse fluttering, and heat pooling low in your stomach. Every brush of her fingers near the freshly marked skin pulls a soft gasp from your lips, and you can feel her smile against your ear.

“Sensitive already,” she husks with dark amusement, the words sending a fresh shiver down your spine. Her fingertips ghost over the mark again, just enough to make your knees buckle, and you clutch at the edge of the desk for support. “Such a pretty reaction. I could play with you like this for hours, you know. Watch you squirm. Hear you beg.”

"Agatha,” you breathe, her name tumbling from your lips in a desperate mix of frustration and longing.

She tsks softly, her free hand trailing down your side, gripping your hip firmly enough to hold you in place. “Do you feel it yet?” she asks softly, tilting your chin up to force your gaze on her. “The way you need me now?” Her voice drops lower, the teasing edge softening into something deeper, more possessive. “That mark isn’t just to ward off wandering hands, love. It’s a tether. A reminder of exactly who you belong to.”

You can only nod, unable to find your voice as the thrum of magic beneath your skin grows more insistent. The mark feels alive—Agatha’s initials pulsing faintly, like they’re echoing your own heartbeat. The sensation deepens when she leans closer, her lips just grazing the sensitive skin below your jaw, and you let out a shaky whimper before you can stop yourself.

“That’s it,” Agatha whispers against your neck, her breath sending another ripple of arousal through you. Her lips curl into a smirk as she presses a kiss there, followed by a deliberate flick of her tongue. “You’re already so desperate. My mark is working beautifully.”

Her hand trails down the front of your body, teasing but never quite satisfying the ache that’s grown unbearable. “I could make you cum just by touching it,” she continues, her voice like velvet as she strokes a single finger lightly over the mark once more. The pleasure spikes instantly—so sharp and overwhelming that your head falls back with a gasp, your thighs pressing together in a feeble attempt for relief.

Agatha pulls back just enough to watch the way you tremble, utterly at her mercy. “Tell me, darling. Do you understand now? Do you know who you belong to?”

“Yes,” you manage, the word escaping in a breathless, desperate whisper.

Her smirk widens. “Say it.”

“You, Agatha,” you murmur, your voice shaking. “I belong to you.”

“Good girl,” she hums, her voice softer now, almost tender. Her fingers trace the edge of the mark, drawing a shuddering breath from your lips. “You wear it beautifully,” she murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss just above the sigil. Her magic lingers there, warm and possessive, as she cups your cheek with a rare gentleness. “Mine,” she whispers again, more for herself than you.

-----

I just need to take a moment to appreciate the way Kathryn looks at the camera in the gif used at the start... the woman is staring into my soul and ughhhh the piercingssssss 😩😩😩

-----

Taglist: @danveration @aceday @alwaysharmony

[bonbonly]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙖𝙨𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙞𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙨, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙨 ✶ the lights, cameras and props aren't enough to hide your mistakes when you've angered a few of your associates ; this follows my hollywood!au and as always 18+, minors dni! ✶ drivers involved: carlos sainz jr., charles leclerc, max verstappen, lewis hamilton, nico rosberg, jenson button, fernando alonso, daniel ricciardo, sebastian vettel ✶ warnings: smutttt, p in v, breeding kink, slapping, cunnilingus, blowjobs, spanking hehehe

🎥 producer!carlos sainz jr.

"famed actress (y/n) (l/n) criticizes Sainz 55's production company... i'm not here to be second..." carlos reads through the headline of the front page, before throwing the newspaper at your face. you flinch and turn your head to the side, breath shaking as you continue to bounce on his cock. your arms are tied behind you with his belt, the leather bound so tight that you swear it might be cutting off circulation. your mouth is stuffed with your panties, the lovely mascara you had bought was now running down your cheek; like delicate rivers streaming across the globe as he put it. he shifts in his seat, causing you to let out a muffled cry as the tip of his cock pushes further into you. his hands are behind his head, a grin on his face as he sees you all helpless and vulnerable like this. just like when you first came to his office asking for him to make you a star.

"after everything we've been through, cariño, this is how you'll repay me? wanting to leave?" he laughs, a coldness in his voice that cuts into your skin. goosebumps trail your body as he gently blows on your hardened nipples, begging for his attention. when you pause just a bit from riding him, he rolls the newspaper and smacks your ass, sending you forward onto his chest. he won't touch you nor help you. instead he bucks his hips forward, relishing in your cries. he can hear your muffled apologies, and he merely shakes his head, "from the top, mi vida, for an award winning actress, you sure are terrible at delivering a good performance for me to enjoy. come on, make me cum before i decide to throw you out, permanently."

you roll your hips, nodding your head as you continue, your thighs burning from exertion.

🎥 actor!daniel ricciardo

"that was my scene, you know that was my scene," daniel hisses into your ear, fingers deep inside you in your trailer. you gasp out loud, gripping onto his shoulders as he continues his relentless assault, waiting for you to cum for the third time. you moan, mouth open wide as he spits into your mouth, grabbing your chin so you can stare into his eyes, "this is my big chance to get back on the big screen. i'm not letting you ruin that for me."

perhaps wanting to outperform him in front of the cameras was a mistake. you do recall seeing the cameraman flinch a bit. you did great, you always did but they could see daniel ready to pounce on you as soon as the director yelled cut. now you're in your trailer, being shoved down onto all fours. he grabs his phone and props it on the table as he slips off his shirt. "we'll see who's better now, cunt" and he brings his head down, eating you out from behind. his tongue slips into your dripping pussy with ease, smiling as you're mewling and shaking. fuck, as much as you hated him for always trying to get in your spotlight, you couldn't let this opportunity pass. you might even help him get a few more roles if he could make you squirt all over his body.

🎥 actor!max verstappen

"ok, i made my sister win those oscars, what are you going to do about it, hm?" max scoffs, leaning against the wall during the afterparty. you snarl at him, smacking him across his face.

"i would've won. i would've won all these years had you not been busy screwing me over like this," you watch him stumble backwards, your handprint blooming on his face. his expression of shock turns into one of anger and he grabs you, dragging you off to the bathroom. once inside, he bunches your dress up and bends you over the counter, laughing as he sees your pussy gaping for him. "schatje, i didn't know your pussy was this sweet, waiting so patiently... crying for me to fill you up."

you're screaming as his cock buries to the hilt inside of you, slapping your ass hard so that every time you sat down, you'd only be reminded of him. he licked his lips, bringing your back to his chest as his pace became faster, "oh fuck, maybe if you became my personal little slut, i'll try talking to the association to give you all the awards next year."

you smile at his words, "fuck... i can get behind that."

"maybe though... it's a maybe. maybe i might change my mind, and fuck this pretty pussy of yours raw, fill you with my cum again and again until the media comes to know of our future child," and despite his words, you're clenching around his cock because you always loved a little thrill in your life.

🎥 producer!lewis hamilton

"how ungrateful of a whore do you have to be?" lewis laughs, watching you on your knees as you suck his cock. you bob your head around his throbbing member, the sinful noises you have to offer fueling him as he grabs the back of your head and shoves you deeper down. "fuck, you sound gorgeous."

he can see you smile through the deed. he looks up to see your offer to switch to his production company for a year. an interesting contract, he knows you'll renew it if you're successful with him. especially if you're worshipping his cock like this. he grabs his phone, and takes a few pictures of you. he even records his cock ramming into your swollen cunt, your tits bouncing as he fucks you raw against his desk.

"rec-recording for oh!" you arch your back, cumming once more before whining as he continued to fuck you, "recording for memories?"

"you could say that," lewis grins, his thumb hovering over carlos's contract. if you were willing to go against carlos's back to contact him again and again, despite all the times he rejected your offers, then how loyal would you even be when you signed with him? you're extremely talented, though, he'd be a fool not to sign you. your cunt was also pure heaven.

🎥 actor!charles leclerc

"how inexperienced do you think i am?" charles scoffs, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. you're on set of a film with him, already getting off on bad terms because you couldn't stand the fact that this newbie was receiving more attention than you. it was a sex scene, one you signed up for because this was just normal for you. only difference was that in this makeshift room with no light at all spare an artificial moon outside the window, charles was fucking you for real. no fake socks, no skin color underwear. he had shoved those panties to the side a long time ago and rubbed your clit hard right before the director yelled action. method acting, that's what the assistants on set whispered before leaving.

"you think i don't know anything, isn't that right mon ange?" he whispers, low enough so that no sound system can pick up his words, it's only meant for you. you gulp, trying your best to make your moans seem fake. the bed's creaking beneath you, tears in your eyes with how good he's fucking you. you shake your head, words failing to come out because now you're arching your back, your nipples brushing against his chin and he smirks, taking the opportunity to lean closer and wrap his mouth around your areolas, flicking his tongue around as you're squirming underneath him.

"oh fuck!" you whisper, silently screaming to the side where the cameras cannot see you, "i cannot believe you..."

"meet me in my trailer after, i'll prove to you that i'm not just some stupid rookie with a pretty face," he nibbles at the shell of your ear, and you bite down onto his shoulder as you're cumming around his relentless cock. the poor set crew had a lot to clean up after this scene.

🎥 director!sebastian vettel

"no, no, no!" sebastian yelled out, rolling his eyes. you'd messed up the take for the 50th time. "schatz, what's going on? what's wrong with you?"

he hops off his chair and walks over to you with a frown on his face, "you usually get these in one take! are you not feeling well?" he places the back of his hand on your forehead, and you shrug your shoulders,

"just not feeling it today," and that makes his face harden. so in your trailer, he's sitting on a chair, your legs in the air as he contorts your body so that your face is against the ground, he lets the blood rush down to your pretty little head for a few seconds before pulling you back up onto his lap. clothes are long gone, he's mouthing the fat of your tits,

"i have a schedule, i have days to finish this film and if you're going to be a brat," he pauses, slapping your face gently so that you get the idea, "on your knees now. right now. you can't say your lines? make that fucking mouth useful then, du hure."

🎥retired scriptwriter!nico rosberg

"you keep coming back here, acting like i'm going to... oh fuck," nico groans out loud, watching you spread your legs out for him. you were always such a tease. even before he quit the industry, you always tried to coax him into a quickie before the ceremony would start. nico falls to his knees, crawling over to you on the bed. he grabs a pen and bites the cap off, spitting it to the distance before biting the insides of your thighs. you yelp in surprise, giggling as a hand comes to tangle in his hair and he glances up at you with hooded eyes and half a smile.

"i guess i could write a script for you," he murmurs, licking your clit rapidly as you buck your hips against his mouth. he wraps his lips around your puffy folds, tugging and sucking before writing all around your cunt and on your thighs. the feeling of the pen's tip alongside his tongue lapping up the gummy walls inside you makes you let out a wanton moan, body arching as you chase after your release. the pen dips further into your skin, the small dose of pain sending your mind into a dizzy mess he shoves the pen to the side and lets his fingers scissor inside your juicy cunt.

when you wake up the next morning with his cum leaking, you also finally see what he's written all over you: my pretty little dumb slut. you're already grabbing the pen to write all over his bare chest.

🎥 film critic!jenson button

"oh," jenson pouts mockingly as he sees you crying, "oh did my words hurt miss princess's feelings?" he grabs your jaw and tilts your head to look at him, "well too fucking bad. you want to insult my intelligence to the press? you want to see me replaced? darling, if it isn't me writing these film reviews, which other journalist's cock is going to have that cunt sinking down on them, hm?"

and before you can answer, his grip tightens, "if it isn't me, i will personally see to it that each review i write is worse than the one before, i have credibility sweetheart. you want to ruin my reputation? i can go one step further."

you knew fighting with him was pointless, but there was a bit of fun in it. up until now, it seems that he really was at his last straw with you. he throws you over his shoulder, shutting and locking the door to his office before throwing you onto his swivel chair. he rips your clothes off like a madman, a hand around your throat as he squeezes gently and soon his hard cock is sliding along your wet folds that yearn just for him to stretch you out. "i should take a photo of you right now and send it to the press. they'd love to see another dumb whore on the front pages."

"i...i'll have you photographed as well," you hiss, bucking your hips to see if his cock will finally slide inside you. he smacks his member a couple times against your cunt, loving the way you're begging for him to fill you up.

"go ahead, i have nothing left to lose. you do that, and there'll be permanent evidence of our affair. you don't do that, i'll still make sure there's evidence," and as you tilt your head in confusion, he lets out a laugh, "going to fill you up with my cum and see if a baby will put you in your place."

he fills you up in one thrust, watching the way your eyes widen as you moan out loud.

🎥 retired actor!fernando alonso

"what do you mean you no longer want to take acting lessons with me?" fernando roars, crossing his arms. his princess, his sweet girl was wanting to cut ties with him? seriously? he worked so hard to bring you to the actress that you are today, giving you all the skills and talent in the world! the reason you were so big now and praised for your performances was because of him! he helped you!

and now you wanted to leave him because some young actor named... what was it? charles? or was it max? or was it even daniel? who even knew anymore!?! but you were being wrapped around SOMEONE'S finger. no, no, this wouldn't do. your stubbornness had its limits, and he was for sure going to make you regret trying to leave him. he has you over his lap, smacking your ass as he makes you count.

every time you hiccupped and forgot to count through the tears, he makes you restart. by the time your ass is covered in his handprints and the tears are now loud sobs, he flips you over and lets you bury your face in his neck. "come on, mi princesa, you cannot leave me, after all i've done! i thought you liked our private lessons!"

"i do, i do! i'm sorry, no one treats me good as you do," you whine, kissing him. he caresses your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. he lets you show your forgiveness by letting him fuck you as much he wants for the night! you don't know how many times you've cummed, but the more he thrusts into you, the louder you wail. you feel like you're on heaven, his big hands groping your tits, slapping them as his hips snap faster and faster each time. you're screaming as you squirt all over his cock, laughing half-way through with how good you feel. you're unaware that as soon as he's done with you, he's going to pull a few strings to make sure his princess doesn't pull out another move like this again. he's your mentor after all, he's doing what's best for you!

got more ideas/requests/questions for my hollywood!au? send them in!