#praying so hard that I did him justice

[oorangesoda]

In return for the masterpiece that was @podsvante ‘s take on Callum, I present their absolute cutie patootie of a cowboy, Evan

Idk about you, but I would trust him with my drink in the club :)

[lina-lovebug]

Pretty Boy

Warnings!!: oral - both fem and male receiving, fingering, teasing, praise

Kurt Wagner was a saint.

He prayed daily for his own sins. He didn’t believe in telling someone he would be praying for them because he had no business in their privacy. To be honest, Kurt didn’t much like to hear the shameless and endless berating against those who did not follow the book of God.

Kurt Wagner took a vow.

He took a vow of celibacy, believing himself to be restrained and would wait until he was wed to give himself to whom he loved. But if he’s being honest with himself, he took such a vow because he never thought he’d get married. 

“Look at me,” he’d say, “who would want to devote their life to someone who looks like me?”

You did.

You called Kurt Wagner “the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen”, and from then on, he knew he was fucked.

You showed up like the sun, shining and unexpectedly beautiful. So stunning that Kurt never thought you’d look twice at him.

Let alone be underneath him.

Kurt wanted to do you justice. He pressed his lips against yours with desperation, like a dehydrated man having his first drink of water. It was sloppy at first, because all he wanted to do was touch you. His hands carved out each curve of your skin, memorizing it in his mind like a beautiful painting.

His tail trailed up your dress, which you wore specifically for him. It was his shade of blue, and allowed him a glimpse at your lace underwear when you bent over. You had been teasing the poor boy all day with subtle touches and even trailing his own hand up your dress, teasing your inner thigh underneath the dinner table.

“Kurt. . .” you pleaded, begging for him to touch you. But you made it quite difficult for him today, seeing as he had a raging hard on at dinner and couldn’t get up.

He’d make you beg for it.

“Hmm?” He hummed teasingly against your skin, tracking hot kisses down your neck.

“Kurt, touch me.”

His tail laced itself around your underwear, tugging it down your leg with such slowness that you knew he was doing it on purpose.

“I need you,” your voice was breathless as he brushed his canines against your pulse point.

“Need what, mein schatz? Use your words,” he encouraged softly, gently biting down on your neck whilst grinding his hard on against your sopping wet core.

“Your finger. Please,” his three fingers weren’t normal or human sized, but thicker.

Thick enough to make you wonder how good it could make you feel.

With your underwear at your ankles, his hand began to venture downwards whilst continuing to mark you with his mouth. He had made several impressions upon your neck already, but craved more. He wanted your entire body to be decorated in hickies because they’d remind him that you chose him.

He hissed quietly as he felt you, “Bei Gott, (Y/N). . .all this for me, my love?” You were soaking wet and he dipped a finger inside. You lulled your head back gently, savoring the feeling of his thick and long finger.

Never in a million years did you think Kurt would be such a tease.

He went achingly slow, savoring your walls around his singular digit as it slid in and out with ease. But he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

Which was where his predicament lied.

He didn’t want to break his vow to God. 

So, he’d compromise.

By making you cum in every other way possible.

But god damn, did he want to press his cock inside of you and watch as you two became one.

“Faster, Kurt,” you gasped, and he did as you wished. Working his slender finger into you, seeking out your g-spot whilst his other finger began to gently circle your clit. Your eyes widened gently, hips bucking upwards involuntarily and earning a deep chuckle from Kurt.

“Look at you,” he whispered in awe, “so pretty.”

You mewled at his words, and Kurt watched your pretty pussy before taking his thumb off of your clit. And replaced it with his tongue.

“Kurt!” You gasped unexpectedly, one hand coming down to tangle in his hair. He smirked against you, his tongue tracing circles around your clit before gently taking it into his mouth. You further clenched around his finger, getting closer to that sweet release. 

“Taste so sweet, liebling,” he practically moaned against your clit, sucking on it gently whilst working his finger further inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” you cursed, thighs encapsulating his head but he fucking loved it. Your plush thighs around his head, legs quivering with the need for an orgasm made him harder.

If that was even possible.

“So close,” he purred, “cum. Cum on my finger. Let me taste you.”

With a few more pushes and his sweet tongue, you released with a weak cry. He still worked his finger inside of you, drawing out your orgasm and leaving you panting against the bed. He pulled his finger out slowly, licking it in view of your eyes.

That’s when you saw it.

He was straining against his pants, pre-cum soaking the front.

“Kurt,” you whimpered softly, sitting forward. He looked down at you, confused momentarily.

“Are you alri-agh!”

He was extremely sensitive. Once your hand gently wrapped around his cock through his sweats, his eyes shut and his hand wrapped around your wrist as a low moan released.

“You-you don’t have to,” he said. He didn’t care if he had to go jack off later. Well, he did but he knew his vows. 

“But I want to,” you pressed, “you made me feel so good. Let me make you cum, baby.”

He was putty in your hands at that point. That small plea paired with your begging eyes led him to sitting on the bed whilst you got on your knees, and he swore this sight was better than the Heavens itself.

His cock sprang free, gently hitting his stomach and he watched as you looked at it. He felt nervous, wondering if maybe you thought it-

A startled moan left his mouth as you dragged your tongue along his shaft. His hands gripped the sheets below him, his citrine eyes staring down at you. 

You further pressed on, your lips around his tip and you soon realized just how much he needed this. How much he deserved this. You slowly bob your head, taking him in inch at a time. Your warm mouth alone made him feel like he was already close.

“Zu gut,” he whimpered softly. You pulled back momentarily, deciding to tease him.

“What was that? Use your words, baby."

A strangled moan escaped him as you fully took his cock into your mouth. His hands gripped the sheets tighter, refusing to lay a hand on your pretty head. He didn’t want to make you gag or choke on accident, but he was using every ounce of self restraint.

“Just-just like that, (Y/N),” he was embarrassed but you savoured those precious little sounds coming from him. They were whimpers and soft moans, which encouraged you to deep throat him.

His tail flicked wildly on the bed, twitching every so often when you took him deep.

His eyes rolled back gently, but he didn’t want them to. He wanted to look at your pretty face, your eyes as you graciously took care of him.

“Close, baby?” You questioned, pulling away momentarily. He nodded eagerly, and you laced your hand with his. You licked his tip before taking him back into your mouth, and his hips bucked forward. You gagged slightly at the sudden jump, but it only made you want him more because he was enjoying this so much.

He felt it building, and fast. 

“So nah dran. . .” he gasped, his German sounding babbled, “I-I’m close.”

His hand clenched around yours, squeezing as his tail twitched wildly. You felt him cumming quickly, and kept him inside your mouth. He came soon with a weak cry of your name, panting slightly as his cum filled your mouth.

You swallowed, not complaining because his sounds and facial expressions were enough.

“Thank you, mein schatz,” he breathed out, his eyes practically glowing as he wiped your hair from your face.

“I’d do it everyday if it means you keep making pretty sounds,” you responded, earning a purple hue on his cheeks.

But he didn’t oppose.

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

Orion Pax (TFO) x Cybertronian!Reader

Ay, Orion Pax - making my heart sigh and also make me want to smack the back of your helm. Nonetheless, you have my heart at your servo. (๑>؂•̀๑) Gender Neutral Cybertronian Reader!

WARNING: Spoilers from the movie (Transformers One 2024). First love, angst, fluff. Meh, didn't felt too sure with this one but I hope y'all like it!

You and D-16 have grown to become Orion's saviours when he is being chased by the guards.

You worked at the mines as well, and Orion was always the bot to bright your shifts. If he was not getting in trouble or being a little menace to his best friend, he was with you.

He always tries to make you laugh or have a conversation with you before Elita pulls him away from distracting you.

He shares with you his wish to help not only the miners, but also every single cybertronian about the whole energon situation. And that makes your spark buzz with warm feelings.

"Wanna become our hero, Orion?"

"I just want to help... buuut I wouldn't mind becoming your hero!"

"Orion, get back to work!"

Orion Pax always felt his spark twirl whenever he saw you work ("(Y/N) always works so hard!"), when he sees you help someone. ("Maybe the guards could learn a thing or two about (Y/N)...") - D-16 always groans about how annoying Orion is as he never shut ups about you.

When the race day arrived, Orion had to constantly remind himself of his own plan, but he was slightly angry at himself since the opportunity to sit by your side and have fun was going to be sacrificed for this time.

Of course... losing in such a humiliating way actually made him want to become stardust. But he remained positive - and even more when Sentinel Prime told him and D-16 they inspired the miners! The idea of having inspired you made him nearly squeal.

... Aaand now, whenever the picture of your faceplate comes to his mind Orion is worried - when he is thrown into the lower levels with D-16 has him wondering if you are okay. And when he and his friends find out the true? His worry only grows.

In the whole journey you become a light of hope for him - to keep pushing and running, to go back to Iacon and reveal the true to bring his people justice and for you, too.

And believe me when I tell you - when he is back at Iacon, he hugs you as if he hasn't seen you in years. "(Y/N)!" He says, happy, as you hug him back in surprise and smile, in awe at how changed he looked.

Such a soft smile he gave you as he held you, your optics and his staring at each other. And let's not talk about how his speech made you and your friends find a new hope and will to fight for your rights and what it was correct.

On the whole plan to stop Sentinel, Orion prayed for Primus for you to be safe and sound.

The moment Orion Pax managed to push Sentinel out of the way and be the one to recieve D-16's canon firing, he felt pain - but not only from having half his body blown away, but for having heard your cry of despair as you had witnessed his murder.

In the pain of having seen his once best friend let him go to die, Orion Pax can only think on everything he did, on his friends, his people... You.

"Primus... that's how I am leaving them? With... the sight of my death? Leaving them... to cry?"

But despair doesn't remain, as Orion comes back as Optimus Prime and fights against Megatron - for his planet, for his people, to be able to bring justice and live another day with you.

When everything is done and Megatron is vanished with his new found followers, he finds himself hugging you closely, letting you cry in his hold as he thanks Primus for giving him a chance to see you again.

"Please - please, never leave again!" You sob, grateful for having him back in your arms.

"My spark will always call back for you, (Y/N) - I'll never leave you again."

Hehe, listening to My Clematis (from Alien Stage) as I was writing the part of Orion's death and Optimus' rebirth was something wild.

(★ ω ★) Vhaos out!

[theinfinitedivides]

how many. how many more f*cking people are going to have to die before you understand that you cannot tear someone's f*cking life and career apart like f*cking vultures. you cannot drag their name through the mud like that like you do not have a f*cking conscience.

19 hours. 19 f*cking hours being interrogated over drug use that had already come back negative from the NFS weeks beforehand, 19 f*cking hours based on the testimony of a woman who brought this case to the police in the first place to blackmail him. she is the only evidence they have they built this case entirely around what she told them. he told you, in turn, that he was innocent, had only taken sleeping pills, asked for a polygraph test to be done on the woman and himself to verify who was telling the truth, and i'm not saying that you should have just blindly believed him since that's not your f*cking job but my God you could have given him the chance. all he needed was the f*cking chance.

and the f*cked up thing is now that he's gone it isn't going to change anything, not really. we've been here before. we lost Hara bc of the aftermath of that court case, we lost Sulli bc of the harassment and cyberbullying, we lost Choi Jin Sil all the way back in 2008 bc of the same. there are literal sex offenders and rapists still active getting jobs but we're too concerned about who might be doing drugs. who we can charge with having had a little weed, who we can parade around as a public spectacle, as an example for the justice system, all while your government (and the ones before it) continue to fail to make good on the promises it's made to its citizens. are you satisfied? are you happy with yourselves, that you managed to bring another celebrity down, (allegedly) leaked his private phone calls about his marriage and potential affair, came up with witty comments and names to call him when the case continued to spiral out of control? can you breathe easy now?

i hope none of you sleep well at night. i hope when you close your eyes you see him. i hope you live with the knowledge that he went off the edge of that proverbial cliff bc of you, yes, you, the one hiding behind the keyboard, striking the death blow with your words, reaching for anything you could find for a quick headline in the papers. i hope guilt always follows you, down to the time it is time to go in your grave. i hope it f*cks you over, even then. i hope the 'friend' who told him to just pay the blackmailer—even if what she would tell the police might not be true—bc it would 'ruin his career if it got out' is haunted by the way he paid, and paid, and kept on paying. and i hope that if there is another life, another timeline, just different enough from ours, and he is there, that he will never meet you. that life will be kinder to him, in these years, gentler. that if he chooses to do it all again, with his humble beginnings in theatre, join the industry, get married, have children—that he will not have to make the choice that he did, when it came down to it. that he will see a way out, and take it, that someone will tell him that he needs to hold on, that there will be a 'hwaiting' waiting at the end of the tunnel. i hope that God, or fate, or whoever it is over there, will smile, and smile, and have pity. i hope it will be better. if there is not, then, i hope on this side he will find peace. whatever peace he can find. whatever peace can be afforded him.

they f*cking killed him.

[mochifiction]

I’m totally not back for some Late Night Transformers One discourse…who said that…I wanna address something I’ve seen in some of the feedback for the film that, I don’t know, irks me…? One of these things is the fact that “Orion is an asshole” or “immature and stupid” and therefore people don’t like him. I don’t know how to say this, but…he’s like that in a lot of continuities. Orion, in most variants, is a smartass. He has a mouth which gets him both a platform and also in trouble. He also has a habit of seeing short-term solutions to long-term issues. These are things that have existed for a long time, and I think those who have been calling him unlikeable or an ass haven’t seen his variants in the source material. People who also expected him to be a data clerk and throwing a fit about the fact that he’s not also need to realize that it’s a COMIC FRANCHISE. You won’t get the same story every time, and to expect a new continuity to fall back on the sole continuity YOU want is honestly insane. If we regurgitate the same narrative over and over again, the franchise loses originality. Audiences for other franchises have also voiced disdain when their favorite pieces of media get repetitive. This is also a reminder to people that Orion Pax and Optimus do not have the same exact personalities. That’s the whole point and why some people grieve Orion’s absence. To expect him to be the likable gentle giant we know as Optimus Prime right away is an impossible demand to be met. Not only that, but this isn’t even the film relying on one version of Orion, but a mosaic of them all.

I also saw people saying D-16 switched on Orion way too quickly. I’d also argue here that other continuities did similar behavioral changes. In Aligned, Megatronus literally turns his back on him and abandons him at the Council meeting. The behavior is shockingly abrupt, which hurts Orion because he didn’t understand what he could have possibly done wrong. I’d also argue that, in this film, you see multiple times where D-16 is irritated with Orion’s sense of almost immature and irresponsible justice. It’s subtle but then leads to a quick snap. The behavioral change is supposed to be jarring. You’re supposed to feel like it comes out of nowhere.

I am half asleep writing this so I can make another in-depth post when I’m more alive, but I just wanted to remind people they only had an hour and forty minutes to display how a civil war occurs. That’s very hard to do as someone who studies and writes about revolutions and anti-colonial resistance. With the time they had, it was a good job. I only pray people read the source material before giving CinemaSins-esque critiques as well. No Transformers film is perfect. This one definitely wasn’t trying to be.

[lovexjoe]

PENPALS Part 2

You and Armando talked every single day for 2 months straight until he asked you to visit. He didn’t want to make you feel rushed and always want to reassure you that he just genuinely enjoys your company. Falling for you along the way was a bonus. You were such a smart girl, graduating nursing school soon and going on to bigger and better things. He questioned sometimes if he was worthy enough for you. He also questioned if you had twisted parts to you as well cause who would really try to message a criminal like him.

You agreed to seeing him along with bringing him a special gift. He was in Central Florida aka Tampa. You headed inside the prison going through the check ins and pat downs. You didn’t have time to change your nurse scrubs so you sucked it up. The guard lets you know where he’s sitting at waiting for you. He was in a decent prison, one that actually lets you see and touch your loved ones under surveillance of course. You were nervous. You saw him from the doorway and it’s like you two were connected because he looked up from his hands to you.

“Hey handsome,” You give him your beautiful smile and he swore he could probably melt in his seat right there. He pulls you in for a hug. His arms were strong, you felt his muscles under the orange jumpsuit and it made your stomach do a flip.

“Thank you for coming mami. Tell me how was your day” he holds your hand and was completely absorbed with hearing about your life on the outside world. You were graduating soon and you’re most likely moving to Miami since most of your family is down there. He was happy for you, but sad that these visits will come to an end.

After chatting it up for an hour, it was time to say your goodbyes. You slipped him his gift and he gives you a smirk having a bit of a inkling of what it could be.

He pulls you in for another hug.

“Please take care of yourself ….” You worry about him. You noticed the busted knuckles he had probably from getting into fights.

“I’ll do my best.” You stood there looking into each others eyes and Armando couldn’t help himself any longer. He pulls you in for a kiss and you were in fact…. in love with a criminal. The guards lead you out and you couldn’t help the smile on your face. You got it bad and so did he.

The video chats didn’t do him justice he was beyond handsome….and a killer.

The visit was definitely the highlight of your day. His hands felt so good around your waist. You knew he’d enjoy those Polaroids during night hours. The feeling of his lips still linger on yours. When you got home you sent him a message that he could wake up to in the morning.

“I can’t even explain how happy I was to see you. Armando I’m falling for you”

You press send and immediately closed your laptop and placed it as far away from you as possible. You know when you send a risky text and you chuck your phone across the room? Yea try a risky email to a prisoner who won’t see it for another 10 hours.

Armando went back to his cell a happy man. He took the Polaroids out of his pocket and immediately he smiled. You truly were everything he could dream of. These pictures were simple pics of you that you took while out and then one…..one definitely caught his attention. You were in a black lingerie set, judging the way your scrubs fit you he knew you looked amazing underneath. This Polaroid confirmed it. It was hard to rub one out in prison when you’re surrounded by men, but tonight….you were the only thing on his mind. The only thing that brought him pleasure.

*2 weeks later*

Armando didn’t answer your messages at all. Every time you called to speak with him they said he wasn’t taking any calls or visits. You were worried something happened to him, but what if he simply just didn’t want to speak to you? You were already in Miami with your family, but you would make the drive just to see him again. You prayed for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The very next day after the visit Armando was attacked in prison due to him knowing who McGrath was. He wasn’t allowed access to anything. He yearned to hear your voice. He was losing his mind. He kept your polaroids on him because he looks at them when he needs some hope. After two weeks Mike and Marcus convinced Rita to get Armando transferred to Miami and that brings them to the current time.

“Alright let’s make this quick y’all my daughter just graduated nursing school and she’s back home” Marcus said cheerfully

“You excited to see Y/N or you excited to land and get some skittles?” Mike joked

Armando stood there trying to process what the fuck he just heard.

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

@armandosbabymama @dyttomori @bbyplutosblog @vergilnelosparda @believeinthefireflies95 @ebsmind @hopetookourvibe @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @poppetbaby02 @bitchyglittersuit @marley1773

[am3ricanpsycho420]

Cas/reader

Comfort, cuteness and Cas getting the love he deserves

The past couple of weeks have been rough to say the least. Being a Winchester was always like this but this week was particularly hard. This was your first day where you could just relax and sleep all day and eat all the food you wanted. You, Sam and Dean all spent the day lounging around and you loved it, but as much as it was nice there was something missing. That something or rather someone was Castiel. You couldn’t imagine how he felt right now. You knew he felt responsible for the fall and he wasn’t going to take that lightly. For the first time in days you finally sat down, staring at the floor praying to cas for a visit.

“cas I don’t know if you can hear me but please if you can come see me. I know you are hurt and I want to help, I want to be there for you, please just come and see me” you said sighing heavily at the end of your prayer.

Surprisingly you heard that familiar swoosh of wings. Looking up you saw Cas with a bloody lip, scrapes on his face and his hair a mess. Still in his typical trench coat and tie, you smiled softly at him. Without even saying anything you stood up and hugged him.

“I’m so sorry Cas” you mumbled into his neck, your hand going up to his hair to stroke through it. Taking a steph back so you could see his face you put your hands on both sides of his face. “before you can say anything I can’t imagine how you feel and I want to be here for you, please don’t turn me away” you plead with him before he can start.

“I love you y/n”

“I love you too Cas”

Grabbing his hand you lead him over to your bed. Turning him around and helping him take his coat and tie off. “can I take this off” you pointed to his shirt, He nodded, pulling your hand up to the top button. As the buttons came undone you kissed lightly down his chest. Showing him the love he deserves, as you pushed his shirt off his shoulders he seemed uncomfortable.

“Cas what’s wrong? I want to help you”

“My wings are in a lot of pain right now, I dont pull them out a lot and haven’t shown them to many people, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable” he confessed while avoiding eye contact.

“I’m so sorry Cas, if you’re open to it you can show me, I love you and everything about you. If I can help with this I want to”

“Okay just close your eyes while I get them out” doing as he says you adjust away from him and close your eyes.

“Okay you can look now” turning back around you opened your eyes and smiled brightly “Cas, oh my god, they are beautiful” you told him softly. His wings are a beautiful black, and smooth feathers. You had never seen anyone look so beautiful before.

situating yourself so that you are behind him you start massaging his shoulders. Putting your hands on his shoulders, rubbing your thumbs on his upper back. You move your hands to the top of his wings just lightly brushing them, as you do that he tips his head back and groans.

“that feels really good y/n” he said while his breathing got steadily heavier.

“Good, you deserve everything good in the world Cas” you lean forward to kiss his neck lightly while simultaneously moving your hands to rake your hands through his soft wings.

“You are going to get through this, I promise, I will always be here for you my angel” you say before you kiss him softly.

——————

Hiii, I hope you guys like this and I hope I did it justice. Please let me know what you think and any edits/suggestions you have. @marunene thank you for the suggestion<333

[recklesssturniolo]

can you write something w sub!matt x fem reader :)

Video Games - M.S

Sub!Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader (as per request, ily anon I’m praying I did this justice)

Matt’s been playing video games and you’re getting bored and decide to do something with the time you had.

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

Matt’s been streaming for a couple hours now, and as the minutes passed you continued to get even more bored.

“Mattttt come on let’s do something” you whined, already having complained to him about being bored.

“Last game baby I promise, come sit on my lap and watch” he replies, eyes not moving away from the screen.

You got up from his bed, but just as you were about to sit on his lap a better idea came into your mind. You continue to be walk over but instead of sitting down start kissing his neck, in the exact spots you knew he liked, causing him to slightly tilt his head.

“I - what are you doing?” He asks.

“Nothing, don’t worry just keep playing” you reply, hiding the smirk that formed on your face.

Crawling under his desk - which earned you a raised eyebrow look from Matt, you sat and looked up at him briefly. Taking in how beautiful he looked. Slowly you brought your hands up and started caressing his thigh, immediately his eyes snapped down to you. Continuing this you began palming him through his pants, already able to feel his boner. At this, Matt’s hips buckled slightly, already wanting more, trying to force himself to focus on the game.

“Y/N” he whined out.

“Yes?” You replied

“Please” he states.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me?” You ask.

“Yes, yes I’ll be so good for you, anything” he begs.

You could see his bulge basically begging to be let out, knowing he was aching for your touch, you pulled down his pants and boxers. You spat on your hand and slowly began stroking his dick, continuing for a couple minutes. As you heard him let out a couple soft groans, while continuously trying to properly play the video game.

“Please” He breathes out.

“Please what hm?” You smirked back.

“Use your mouth, please I want to watch how well you take my dick in your mouth” he said, throwing his head back and slightly jerking his hips upwards.

“Are you going to be a good boy and stay quiet? We wouldn’t want your friends to hear you would we?” You reply.

“I promise I’ll be quiet, just please, I need your mouth” he whines back, the pre-cum more than obvious on his tip.

And with that, you lick up from the base before kissing right on the tip. Starting to swirl your tongue around. You look up at him to see him staring right back at you, letting a moan fall from his lips.

“Matty, your friends are going to hear you. You don’t want me to stop do you?” You say.

“No please don’t stop I’ll be quiet, I promise. It feels so good, god you look so good” He replies in a whisper.

You look up at him, seeing him begging you for more, pure bliss on his face before replying “Then be good, play your game and be quiet” Getting a nod followed by an almost silent whine from him in response.

You deepen his cock into your mouth, fasten your pace and letting it slowly hit the back of your throat. You can feel him twitch, and notice his legs slightly trembling. His hips started to slowly thrust upwards as he tried so hard to focus on his game, and to stay quiet - which he felt was nearly impossible with the amount of pleasure you were giving him. You could hear him desperately trying to click the right buttons on his controller. He couldn’t get over how hot you looked sucking him off, and all he wanted to do was watch you, at this point his friends hearing him was the last thing on his mind, but he did as you told him too, trying his hardest not to make a sound.

“You’re being such a good boy” You say in between breaths.

“Always for you” He whispers back.

“Does my good boy want to come?” You reply.

“I, yes - fuck oh my god” was all he could muster out.

You knew he was close. You could tell by how he was biting down on his lip harder, his legs trembling more than before, and his almost complete inability to focus on the game in front of him. Within a couple of minutes you watched as his eyes squeezed shut, and he grabbed the back of your head, pushing you further down. Ripping off his headset, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay quiet. Following that you felt a warm liquid in your mouth.

Several groans left Matt’s mouth as you continued sucking his dick.

“I - holy fuck Y/N, that was amazing, you’re fucking amazing” He said to you, his body slowly calming down as he came down from his high.

“You’re always such a good boy for me baby” You smirked up at him, wiping your mouth.

“I don’t think you understand what you to do me” He replied, while simultaneously pulling you up towards him, “can you, can you ride me? I want to feel you cum around my dick”

“Do you think you deserve that Matty?”

[arjwrites]

Hi there! Found your account through a moot and wanted to maybe request a Sam x nephilim!reader where he finds out that she had been keeping that she was a nephilim a secret to try and protect him, but the truth comes out when they're on a hunt together? Maybe with established relationship?

Heaven Hellbent- Sam Winchester x Nephilim!Reader

Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. Part 1 of the series!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: F!reader! Canon-level violence and language!

A/N: THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE ON THIS! I literally loved this request so much but really desperately wanted to do it justice, so it took me a little while. Seriously, this was one of my most re-written fics so far. I really wanted to finally get something out to you, but I have a lot more to write on this topic so I AM MAKING IT A SERIES!! This is a bit out of canon context but I really really hope you still enjoy, thank you again for such an amazing prompt and for your patience!

Ever since you had come into Sam's life, things felt lighter. You were this warm, radiating presence that had wrapped itself around every facet of his life. Sometimes, when you lay together late at night, when he would trace your body with his fingers and plant soft kisses on your forehead, he would silently pray- he still did that from time to time- addressing God, fate, the universe, or sometimes simply to whom it may concern, thanking anyone he could for the miracle of you. 

You were one of the most skilled hunters Sam had ever encountered. It felt like even having your presence on a hunt was an asset- when you were around, cases were solved quicker, monsters went down easier, and everyone walked away with far fewer injuries. He expressed this to you once, in your early years together.

“It just feels like everything clicks when you’re around. How is it that you make everything so easy?” He had asked you, eyes so full of admiration and innocence. Sweet, clueless Sammy. 

“Hmm, I must be a pretty serious good luck charm then, sweetheart. Better keep me around,” you had purred, eliminating the space that separated you in a sensual attempt to change the subject. 

Sam chuckled. “I like to think of you as our little guardian angel. My little angel.” Sam ducked down, meeting your lips with a soft, open-mouthed kiss, but not before his words sent a pang of anxiety through your body. It took a moment for you to reciprocate Sam’s kiss- you had to focus all your energy on keeping the lump that had formed in your throat from spilling to the surface.

Hiding your true identity from Sam was the hardest thing you had ever done, and yet the easiest choice you had ever made. You had been with him for years and had watched him and Dean go through so many horrible things. There were so many times you had wished you could step in- so many nightmares that could have been avoided if you had used your powers. But being a nephilim, you couldn’t. Because if you had, you would’ve had Heaven hellbent on your trail. And not just yours- anyone you had ever known or loved. Just the knowledge of your existence was a ticking time bomb, and the last thing you wanted to do was put yet another target on either Winchester’s back. 

It wasn’t without hard work that you had gone unnoticed this long. Keeping under the radar had been much easier before you had met Sam. You had spent more years than you could count traveling, reading, learning, anything to fill your seemingly endless time. You didn’t use your powers, didn’t meddle in matters of Heaven or Hell, you just kept a low profile. That was, until you crossed paths with two of the highest profiles out there- Sam and Dean Winchester.

Falling in love with Sam was the last thing you had ever planned to do. But the more time you spent with him, the more you were drawn to him. You marveled at the fact that anyone could meet him and not fall in love- a man so inherently good, so kind, practically an angel in his own right. Sometimes, it felt as though there were three forces that worked to keep you alive- your soul, your grace, and your love for Sam Winchester, all three intertwined, braided together to tether you to the Earth. 

So you stayed. You fought alongside Sam and Dean through every battle they faced. You did everything you could, finding ways to use your powers that would go undetected- by heaven and by the Winchesters. You could weaken demons and cast protection towards the boys, speed their healing subtly so that they wouldn’t notice. But there would be times when it would be far too dangerous to even let a glimpse of your powers show. Those were times that you would watch in agony as the man you loved faced horrors beyond your imagination. And those were the times you swore to protect him whenever you possibly could. 

Sometimes, however, things wouldn’t go to plan. You and the Winchesters were hunting a demon that had been causing trouble in a nearby town. Dean had suggested the three of you split up to try to catch the demon by surprise. You had protested, but the moment he barked the order, him and Sam had split, leaving you behind. You cursed to yourself, silently willing that you would find the demon first so you could smite him with ease and not risk either brother’s safety. 

Unfortunately, it hadn’t quite worked out that way. It had been well over an hour with no luck as you searched the stretch of abandoned warehouses. And neither you nor Dean could reach Sam’s phone. Fear set into your heart, a cocktail of worry and grace coursing through your veins. Your whole body was buzzing- normally, you would stop to calm it to avoid revealing yourself, but a horrible intuition left you no choice but to use it as fuel.

Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes blinked open, the dull pain in his head sharpening as he regained contact with his senses. There was a rope tied around him, anchoring him to a rickety chair and rubbing abrasively against his biceps. 

“Sam Winchester. Good to see ya, champ. Rare to find you without your partner in crime these days.” Blinking back the spots in his vision, Sam’s eyes focused on the man in front of him- scratch that, the demon, as revealed by a quick flash of black.

Sam, struggling against his restraints, retorted. “Dean will be here-” 

“Who said anything about Dean?” The demon cut him off, cocking his head. “I’m talking about your other little… friend. How’s it been, running all around town with that pet abomination of yours?” His smile was sickening, and there was something sinister about his words. He knew something Sam didn’t, and that was never a good thing.

“What are you talking about,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth.

“Nice try, Sam. Better get talking.” The demon sent Sam’s chair flying back into the wall to punctuate his command.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” The demon pulled Sam’s chair back to him.

“Oh, you really don’t know? Scout’s honor?” He paced a lap around Sam, lurking over him as spite radiated off his every stride. “That crafty little bitch. That’s too bad, I was hoping to ask you a few questions… I guess I have no use for you, but why not break the news before I kill you? Secrets don’t make friends, right?” He knelt, drawing himself eye to eye with Sam, before practically spitting the words. “That pretty little girlfriend of yours is really a-” 

Before the demon could finish the thought, he was flat against the wall and screaming his way back to Hell. Sam, still tied to the chair, had a view limited to the empty room in front of him and the vessel the demon once possessed, now slumped in a pile on the floor. He released a breath, having watched the danger dissipate, before tensing back up. Whatever was behind him was powerful. He could feel every hair standing up on the back of his neck as his pulse began to pick up rapidly. Something was screaming inside him, begging him to get out, get away. 

“Oh, Sammy. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” called the creature from behind him. The words hung heavy in the air, tinged with heartbreak. Sam froze. He knew the origin of the voice, but it couldn’t be. He whispered your name and you came running. 

“Sam, sweetheart. Are you okay?” You knelt to the floor in front of him, unsheathing your knife to cut away his binds. 

Sam simply stared in response, mouth slightly agape and confusion nestling into his furrowed brow. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“Cat’s out of the bag, I guess. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want it to happen this way.” Guilt weighed heavy on you, as if you had done something horribly wrong. No, it was always to keep him safe, you reminded yourself. 

Sam sat dumbfounded a moment longer. “What are you?” he finally coughed out. It was as if asking the question had triggered his brain to process the situation, and he tensed in preemptive self-defense. 

This was it. No going back now. “I’m a nephilim, Sam.” Saying the words out loud felt like lifting the world off your own shoulders and watching it crash down all around you.

Your confession melted Sam’s expression into a series of reactions. You watched him work through the idea as if he was tossing your heart back and forth in his hands, weighing its pros and cons. 

“Please tell me you understand why I didn’t tell you, Sam. Why I couldn’t-”

Sam’s tone was tense- his lack of reaction almost made things worse. “There’s no way you didn’t tell me about this. I’ve- we’ve known you for-”

“For years, Sam! Before you knew there were even angels, before Dean went to Hell, before you had any idea about the bigger picture! That just goes to show you, Sam- I’m not part of any of this! I’ve kept my head down for thousands of years, not raising any flags or drawing any attention to myself. And then I met you- I met you and I had to love you, Sam, I had to. And then I had to watch you go through so much pain and suffering and all I wanted to do was help however I could but I-”

“But you couldn’t. Because it would put you in danger.” If Sam had landed on a stance, you sure couldn’t decipher it. His voice was soft and gentle, but his jaw flexed and his expression narrowed.  

“It would put you in danger too, Sam. And Dean. And everyone else.” Your response was quick, calculated. You had played this conversation out too many times in your head. Except you never had thought very far beyond the why didn’t you tell me and into the well what the hell do we do now? 

There was silence for a beat.

“The demon knew.” Sam spoke somberly, like he was hand-delivering you a death sentence.

“And now you know,” you contended, defeated. A heartbroken breath wracked through your body, shuddering out of your lungs as you stabilized yourself to avoid teetering over. It was like the wind had been knocked out of you- like you and the man you loved most in the whole world had been plucked from safety and tossed out into open season.

“So what does this mean?” Sam’s tone sat on the fence between concern for your apparent emotions and the fear and confusion that had characterized the rest of your exchange. 

“It means you can’t tell a soul, Sam. Not Dean, not anyone. Anyone who knows is at risk. And it means I… should probably leave.” Your stomach churned as you spoke. All of your worst fears were materializing in front of you. Try as you might, even your powers couldn’t zap them away. Your eyes rose to meet Sam’s, and finally, you could read his expression with clarity.

“No,” Sam shook his head.

“Sam, I can’t put you in danger-”

“And I can’t lose you!” You recoiled at his outburst. “I can’t lose you.” The second utterance was softer, bearing a greater resemblance to the sweet words Sam often shared with you. 

“Sam, if anyone finds out…” you pleaded. As much as it broke your heart, you couldn’t bear to put Sam in any more danger.

“They won’t. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.” Sam’s gaze was intense as he studied you. It was as if he was learning you all over again- like you were someone brand new to him. And yet, you could still see the love in his eyes. You were still you, after all. This was just a new layer of you. Sam had promised to love you, all of you. And if nothing else, he was a man of his word. He lifted a hand to your cheek and ran a thumb over your cheekbone, as if maybe you might feel different under his touch. And when you didn’t, his last scraps of hesitance melted away. Tears welled in your eyes. 

“Just… promise me not to tell Dean until we figure this out.”

“Promise not to tell me what?”

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts IX

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Valaena takes justice into her hands after she makes a discovery, and Aemond sees his sweet wife in a whole new light.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Confrontation, Violence, Murder/Death, Blood, Smut, Rough P in V,

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4150

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena had always been perceptive, and it hadn’t taken long for her to notice Mira’s not-so-subtle attempts to repeatedly gain Aemond’s attention.

The young dark haired maid fluttered around him like a moth drawn to a flame, her eyes lingering far too long, her touches grazing his arm under the guise of serving him, her flirtations barely concealed by faux innocence.

It was clear what Mira wanted. But no matter how hard she tried, Aemond remained utterly indifferent to her advances.

He only had an eye for Valaena, his love unwavering, and his disinterest seemed to frustrate Mira to no end.

Lirri, ever vigilant and fiercely loyal, had taken it upon herself to sabotage Mira’s seduction attempts.

Whether it was "accidentally" spilling wine on Mira’s dress or intercepting her before she could approach Aemond, Lirri had become a formidable force standing in the way of the maid’s ambitions.

Arro, Aemond’s loyal guard, appeared to be in on it as well, watching Mira with hawk-like intensity and shadowing Aemond more than usual.

Their quiet efforts to protect Valaena and Aemond’s marriage had not gone unnoticed by her, and she had found their devotion comforting.

But then one day, everything changed.

Valaena had been tending to the children in the gardens when Lirri, who had been standing nearby, suddenly swayed on her feet.

She pressed a trembling hand to her nose as blood began to trickle from it, her eyes wide with confusion before she collapsed onto the grass.

Panic surged through Valaena as she quickly rushed to her side, calling loudly for help.

The maesters had arrived swiftly, attending to Lirri and examining her condition.

Their conclusion had been grim—Lirri had ingested some form of poison, although they couldn't be sure what.

Aemond had been livid, his fury barely contained as he ordered the entire manse into lockdown.

No one was allowed to come or go and Arro had been reassigned to guard the children exclusively.

And much to Valaena's displeasure, Mira had taken over as her personal lady in Lirri's absence.

Valaena had grown incredibly fond of Lirri, not just as a servant but as a friend. She spent hours by her bedside, clutching Lirri's hand, praying to the gods for her survival.

The maesters had induced her into a deep sleep with milk of the poppy, claiming it was necessary for her body to purge the poison.

Each day that passed felt like a waiting game, as Lirri’s still form lay in the bed, a shadow of her former vibrant self.

Despite Aemond’s best efforts to root out the culprit, there had been no clear suspect. No one seemed to know how the poison had entered the manse, but Valaena did.

The answer had been there all along, glaringly obvious to her.

It was Mira.

The tension had been building for days as Valaena watched the sly maid carry out her duties with a false air of innocence.

The sight of her smiling, knowing what she had done, made Valaena’s blood boil.

It wasn’t until one night, after the children were put to bed and Arro had resumed his watch, that Valaena decided she could wait no longer.

Steeling herself, Valaena moved through the manse, her footsteps quiet as she approached Mira’s chambers.

She pushed the door open, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was empty, which gave her the opportunity she needed.

She began searching through Mira’s things, rifling through drawers and cupboards. At first, there was nothing unusual, just the typical belongings of a maid. But then, in the bottom drawer, Valaena found something that made her stomach churn.

One of Aemond's cotton shirts, a pair of his small clothes, and even a lock of his silver hair, all neatly hidden away.

Valaena's hands trembled as she stared at the items—proof of Mira’s twisted obsession with Aemond.

It was no longer just an attempt at seduction. This was something far more dangerous.

Slamming the drawer shut in a fit of rage, Valaena stormed out of the room.

She wondered where Mira was, but luckily she didn’t have to search far as she found the little harlot in her chambers, lounging naked on her bed, a smug smile on her face as though she was clearly expecting Aemond.

Valaena's voice was cold as steel. "Well, what do we have here?"

But when Mira saw Valaena standing there instead of the one she desired, her expression quickly shifted to one of shock and fear as she scrambled to cover herself, but it was too late.

Valaena shut the door behind her with a soft click, her movements slow and deliberate.

Her voice was low and menacing as she stepped closer to Mira, her eyes gleaming with cold fury. "Did you really think that you could just try and take what is mine?"

Mira trembled, her naked body shaking under Valaena’s withering gaze. "I—I didn’t mean to—" she stammered, scrambling for an excuse.

Valaena’s laughter was sharp, cruel. "So, you're in my bed naked because?"

Mira’s voice quivered, "Please, have mercy, my lady. I beg you—"

Valaena cut her off with a venomous sneer. "Mercy? Like the mercy you granted Lirri when you poisoned her?" Her words were like a blade cutting deep.

"I-I didn’t—" Mira started, but Valaena suddenly lunged forward, looming over her like a dark storm.

"Don’t fucking lie to me!" Valaena snarled, her voice dripping with anger. "Lirri was getting in the way of your pathetic attempts to seduce my husband, so of course, you needed her out of the way. Or-" Valaena’s eyes darkened further, her tone chilling. "-Was the poisoned wine meant for me? So that I may die, and you could swoop in, and offer my poor grieving husband a shoulder to cry on, hoping that he'd fall into your arms?"

"I-I d-don't-" stuttered Mira.

"Oh give it up, your innocent little girl act won't work on me" snarled Valaena.

Mira stood frozen as Valaena threw her dress at her, the red anc creame cotton fabric sliding against her trembling hands.

 "Get dressed, Now-" Valaena commanded, watching the girl with cold, calculating eyes.

Once Mira had hastily pulled the dress over her shoulders, she whispered, "Please, my lady, I just—"

Valaena cut her off again, her voice lethal. "-What makes you think that Aemond would even cast you a second glance?"

Mira swallowed hard, fear twisting her features. "Your husband is a very beautiful man," she whispered, her eyes pleading for understanding.

Valaena laughed again, this time louder. "Indeed he is," she agreed, her voice coldly amused. "But there is far more to him than just his looks." She took another step forward, her gaze never leaving Mira. "-Come on, tell me what else you like about my husband."

Mira hesitated, her fear growing more palpable with each passing second.

But Valaena’s voice boomed again, sharp and commanding, "Come on! I asked you a fucking question."

Mira flinched. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she stuttered, "He—he’s a good father, and he’s kind and-and strong."

Valaena’s lips curled into a dark smile as she advanced slowly, like a predator stalking its prey.

"Me and Aemond are two hearts, one life. We are forever." Her voice dripped with certainty, her steps closing the distance between them.

Mira tried to back away, fear consuming her. "Please," she whimpered, as her back hit the wall.

Valaena leaned in, her voice now a deadly whisper. "We bound our blood. We risked everything so that we could be together. Do you really think I would let some pathetic wanton whore destroy everything we have?"

Mira’s eyes suddenly darted to the door and then she desperately tried to push past Valaena, her bare feet stumbling over the floor.

But Valaena was faster. She seized a fistful of Mira’s dark hair, yanking her back with a brutal force.

Mira let out a strangled cry, struggling against Valaena’s iron grip.

Valaena shoved her to the floor, watching as she landed in a haphazard heap.

"I am his, and he is mine," Valaena hissed, her voice cold and unyielding. "From this day until the end of our days."

Mira, sobbing and desperate, tried to plead again. "P-Please, my lady—"

But Valaena was done listening. Her hand moved to her sleeve, where she withdrew a gleaming dagger.

"My husband gifted this to me when first arrived in Qarth-he said it for just in case-and oh how right he was" said Valaena.

Mira’s eyes widened in horror, and she whimpered, trying to crawl away.

But it was too late.

"He is mine," Valaena whispered, her voice hollow and dangerous.

And with that, she plunged the dagger into Mira’s chest.

Mira gasped, her hands scrabbling at her chest, her body jerking in pain.

But Valaena didn’t stop.

"He is mine!" Valaena screamed, each of her words punctuated by a vicious stab. "He is mine! He is mine! He is mine!"

The chamber echoed with the sickening sound of blade meeting flesh, Mira’s blood spilling onto the floor, soaking the stone beneath her.

Valaena’s vision was red, her anger consuming her.

Then, she heard the door creak open behind her. The room suddenly fell silent, the only sound the ragged breaths escaping from Valaena’s lips.

Slowly, she looked up.

Standing in the doorway, his eye wide with shock, was Aemond.

Valaena and Aemond stared at one another, the room heavy with the smell of blood and death.

Gods, what a sight she must have made—her dress soaked in Mira’s blood, her hands stained crimson, her face spattered with it.

She was a vision of fury and violence, yet in Aemond’s eye, there was no fear.

Only an intense, burning gaze.

He stepped slowly into the room, his boots quiet against the stone floor.

The door closed with a soft click, and he locked it without saying a single word.

He slowly removed his belt, the weapons clanging as he laid them on the desk, then he removed his leather jerkin, placing it on th eback of a chair.

Valaena wiped her nose with her bloodied sleeve, feeling the weight of the silence between them.

She stood up, her body trembling—not from fear or regret, but from the raw energy of what she’d done and the intense way Aemond was staring at her.

Aemond walked towards her, his steps deliberate and measured, his eye never leaving her.

His gaze was filled with something dark, something dangerous, but not directed at her.

It was as though he saw her—really saw her—and what he saw only drew him closer, it made his blood go hot, in a way he never expected.

When he reached her, he grabbed the fabric of her bloodied dress in his fist and shoved her hard against the wall, the dagger falling to the floor with a loud clatter.

The force of it knocked the breath from her lungs, but she didn't resist. She lowered her gaze, her chest heaving.

But Aemond wasn’t having that.

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his, the intensity in his eye blazing like fire.

There was no judgment in his face, no anger. His expression was unreadable but fierce, charged with a storm of emotion.

Slowly, his hand slid around to the back of her neck, his fingers gripping her firmly, and possessively.

And then, without warning, he pulled her to him, crushing his lips against hers in a ferocious, passionate kiss.

It was hungry and desperate, filled with everything they couldn’t say in words.

Valaena’s hands, still covered in blood, found their way into his hair, tugging hard as she kissed him back just as fiercely.

The world outside ceased to exist in that moment—all the fear, the blood, the chaos.

There was only them, bound together in fire and fury

Aemond’s grip tightened on Valaena, his breath ragged with intensity as he manically tore at her dress.

The silken fabric ripped under his hands, shredding apart and leaving her bare before him.

He took a step back, his eye roaming over her naked body with raw hunger, and without a word, he began quickly pulling off his own clothes.

His gaze never left her as each article of clothing hit the floor, exposing his lithe muscled body.

Valaena’s heart raced, her body humming with anticipation, but then her eyes flickered to the side—Mira, still alive, barely clinging to life on the floor.

Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, eyes half-lidded, blood pooling around her.

Aemond, now naked, caught the direction of Valaena’s gaze.

A dark, twisted smile played on his lips. “Let her witness what she could never have,” he said coldly, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

Without hesitation, he roughly grabbed Valaena by the waist and lifted her against the wall, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as he pressed his body against hers.

His hands gripped her hips tightly, fingers digging into her skin as if he were claiming her all over again.

Aemond’s lips found hers again, this time more demanding, more urgent, as he devoured her with each kiss.

His body covered hers as he moved to suck and lick the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Valaena moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth digging into her skin.

Not having the patience to properly prepare her, Aemond spat into his hand reaching down to run it up and down the hard length of himself, eyeing Valaena with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she rolled her hips towards him.

Valaena barely has a moment to think as Aemond guides himself to her entrance and sheathes his cock forcefully inside and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond.

Valaena can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing the tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers, his fingers digging into her hips as he pushes and pulls her against him.

His cock reaching deep inside her, the sting of being stretched by him now giving way to a pleasurable ache.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Valaena as she claws at his back.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

“P-Please. Oh Please. Yes-yes” babbled Valaena ignoring the pain in her back as the force of Aemond’s thrusts kept slamming her into the wall.

“That’s it-that’s it-” encouraged Aemond his gaze rooted to the place where they were joined, transfixed by the sight of her cunt stretched around his cock.

“Oooh-please-please” muttered Valaena.

Aemond leaned forward and took one of her rosy nipples into his mouth, sucking on the stiffened peak before he bit her.

“Ooooh Aemond-“ whined Valaena as she writhed against him, he smirked as he released her nipple and moved across lavishing the other one with the same attention.

“P-Please-Please-” sobbed Valaena as she felt his hard cock sliding against her folds.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful-” sighed Aemond, his thrusts slowing down as he pulled away further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance.

“Tell me you want me-“ growled Aemond as he ran the head of his cock through her wet folds.

“I want you” exclaimed Valaena.

“Tell me you need me” whispered Aemond as he sheathed himself back inside her.

“I need you-“ muttered Valaena as one of Aemond’s hands slid up her body and wrapped around her throat.

Aemond smiled and then began to fuck her again in earnest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her throat, using her as leverage as he repeatedly plunged his cock into her cunny, thrilled to hear his wife’s moans of need echoing around their chambers.

His thrusts once again brutal and unrelenting.

“Come for me-” breathed Aemond.

Valaena screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me-good girl”.

“S-so good-Aemond-“ whimpered Valaena.

“I-I’m never leaving this sweet cunt-“ moaned Aemond.

Valaena slid her hands over his shoulders and coiled her fingers into his long silver hair as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Valaena as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me again-” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast.

“I-I c-can’t. It’s t-to m-much” whined Valaena.

“Yes. You can. Peak for me, I want to feel you-”

Valaena’s thighs began to burn, as she felt her second peak approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Valaena her vision going white as she came around his cock.

“I-I’m going to spill my seed inside you-exclaimed Aemond, the tension in his abdomen was about to burst.

“Yes-yes-Inside me-please-” whined Valaena.

 “FUUUCCCKKK” roared Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed inside her.

Aemond groaned as he withdrew his softened cock from Valaena and then gently lowered her to the floor, his singular eye focused on his seed slowly running down her leg, he shook his head as he felt his cock begin to stir.

He reached forward and cupped her face tenderly as he peppered soft kisses across her forehead, cheeks, and lips.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a low, gentle voice, his brows furrowing with concern.

Valaena, still catching her breath, smiled faintly. "I'm fine," she whispered, touching his hand.

Aemond's gaze flickered with worry. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

She chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Only a little-but I liked it."

Relief flooded Aemond’s features. He quickly pulled on his breeches and a cotton shirt, then crouched beside Mira’s lifeless body, his fingers checking for any sign of life.

"She's dead," he declared, standing up with a heavy sigh.

Valaena pulled on a robe, tightening it around her body as she glanced down at the body.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"No. Never. Hows could you even ask me that?" replied Aemond.

"Just I-I killed someone a-and-"

"I've killed before, do you think any less of me?" asked Aemond.

"No. I do not" muttered Valaena softly, her fingers fiddling with a loose thread on her robe.

"Well there you go then. Besides I never knew how insanely hot you would look covered in blood-"

"Lets not make a habit of it" replied Valaena rolling her eyes.

"What can I say, my sweet wife has found her inner dragon-I quite like it"

"Oh I know how much you liked it" said Valaena grimacing as she felt the sticky sensation between her thighs.

"The occasion called for it"

"What are we going to do with her?" asked Valaena, her voice calm but laced with the weight of what had just happened.

Aemond reached into the wardrobe and he slowly slipped on a hooded cloak, his mind already calculating the next steps. "You need to bathe," he said, not missing a beat. "I'll deal with her."

"But what will we say if people ask where she is?" Valaena questioned, her mind racing ahead, already trying to foresee the questions and suspicions that might arise.

Aemond, now fully dressed and ready to act, looked at her thoughtfully. "We could say she was caught stealing and then we asked her to leave-"

Valaena frowned, thinking for a moment. Then her voice grew sharper, more resolute. "She was the one who poisoned Lirri. Or rather, the poison was meant for me-"

Aemond froze, his face darkening with fury as he processed her words.

“What did you just say?”

“Mira-she intended to poison me so she could have you to herself, but Lirri-”

Without hesitation, he strode forward and pulled Valaena into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair.

"I could have lost you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"It's because of Lirri that I’m still alive," Valaena murmured, running her fingers along the jagged scar on Aemond’s cheek.

Aemond cupped her face, staring deep into her eyes. "She will forever have my gratitude. I couldn’t bear to live without you."

Valaena smiled softly, her fingers brushing against his lips. "Thanks to Lirri, you don’t have to."

He kissed her quickly, a fierce and urgent gesture, before pulling up the hood of his cloak.

Bending down, he hoisted Mira’s body over his shoulder effortlessly.

Valaena went to the door and unlocked it, her eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway for any sign of movement.

Once the path was clear, she stepped aside and glanced at Aemond.

"It's clear"

"Remember to bathe," Aemond reminded her, his voice low and steady.

Valaena nodded as Aemond slipped out of the room with Mira’s body, his figure disappearing into the shadows.

She closed the door quietly behind him, her heart racing as she stood alone in the aftermath.

Turning back to the room, she noticed the bloodstain on the floor and the remnants of her torn dress.

With a steadying breath, she picked up the shredded fabric and used it to wipe away the blood.

Once the floor was moderately clean, she tossed the soiled dress into the fire, watching as the flames devoured the evidence of the night’s events.

After a moment, Valaena summoned one of the maids to help prepare her bath.

She kept herself hidden in the shadows, ensuring that her face and body that was still covered in blood remained unseen.

Once the maid had finished, Valaena excused her politely, waiting until she left before discarding her robe.

She stepped into the bath, the water warm and soothing against her skin.

As she washed away the blood from her body, the water soon turned a pale shade of pink.

Valaena leaned back, closing her eyes, her mind replaying the night’s events—the danger, the passion, the resolve.

She was safe, the children were safe and Aemond would handle the rest.

Aemond moved swiftly through the shadows, Mira’s lifeless body draped over his shoulder as he made his way to the clearing where Vhagar and Silverwing nested.

Luckily, it wasn't far from the manse; as both dragons preferred to stay close to their riders.

The air was still, the only sound being the faint rustling of the leaves on the tree’s as Aemond approached the looming forms of the great dragons.

Vhagar, stirred at the sight of him, her huge golden eyes observing him with curiosity as he neared.

But it was Silverwing, the dragon bound to Valaena, that Aemond intended for this task.

He dropped Mira’s body unceremoniously in front of the silvery dragon.

Silverwing sniffed the body, her massive nostrils flaring as she nudged it with her snout, unsure of its significance.

"I know I'm not your rider but-" Aemond said, his voice low and commanding. "Aderī, Silverwing, kisātās." (Quickly, eat.)

Silverwing hesitated, her sleek head tilting, showing little interest in what was being offered to her.

Aemond narrowed his eye, knowing that the dragon needed just a little more incentive.

"Ziry sylutan naejot ossēnagon aōha kipagīros," he said, his tone sharper now. (She tried to kill your rider.)

At this, Silverwing let out a low, rumbling roar, understanding dawning in her eyes.

Her fury was palpable, and without further hesitation, she opened her jaws, and a stream of scorching flame engulfed Mira’s body.

The fire crackled in the night, turning the corpse into a blackened heap.

Once the flames subsided, Silverwing devoured what remained, her sharp teeth crunching the bones as she ate.

Vhagar, watching nearby, huffed in clear annoyance, her massive form shifting restlessly.

Aemond smiled, walking over to his old dragon. He placed his hands on her massive head, feeling the familiar warmth beneath her scales.

"Naejot byka syt ao uēpa riña," he chuckled. (Too small for you, old girl.)

Vhagar, however, wasn’t appeased by his words, and she nudging him impatiently with her snout.

Aemond sighed, amused at her persistence. "Paktot māzigon va pār." (Alright, come on then.)

He started climbing the rope ladder attached to her saddle.

Once he was fastened in, he gave Vhagar the command to fly.

With a deep growl, she spread her colossal wings, launching into the sky with a powerful lurch.

Aemond could feel her joy as they soared together, the wind whipping through his silver hair.

Vhagar loved flying with him, her massive form cutting through the night sky with ease.

After a little while Aemond directed her toward the open sea, letting her instincts take over.

After a time, her keen eyes spotted something in the water, and she swooped down, claws outstretched.

With a quick, violent motion, she snagged her prey—.

They returned to land, and Vhagar dropped her kill before landing with a heavy ground shaking thud.

Aemond climbed down, inspecting the whale with a satisfied smirk. He glanced over just in time to see Silverwing creeping forward, trying to steal a bite from Vhagar’s prize.

Vhagar let out a low, rumbling growl, warning Silverwing away, and the smaller dragon backed off immediately.

Aemond couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Umbagon aōha pālegon," he called out to Silverwing. (Wait your turn.)

Satisfied that the dragons were content for now, Aemond dusted his hands off and began his walk back to the manse, the chill of the night air a stark contrast to the heat of dragon fire still lingering in the clearing behind him.

His task was done, and the world had one less threat to his family.

TBC

[daenerysaizie]

𐔌 . ⋮ REALM’S DELIGHT .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

Mk1 x Targ!reader

A/N:

Dear gentle readers,

I pray thee forgive my long silence, for a month hath passed since I last shared my humble words. Life’s cares did hinder my pen, though my thoughts oft turned to thee. Now, by God’s grace, I return with renewed spirit and fresh ink. I humbly ask thy pardon and hope the stories to come shall be worthy of thy patience.

Thine in earnest,

Author

@kchavez666 💋

Chapter 3 — a typical day?

Time had passed so quickly; a month had already gone by. While others showed significant improvement, you progressed at your own pace, which you didn’t mind as long as you kept improving. You demonstrated great potential in archery.

Apart from the intensive training and the constant challenges you endured, the Wu Shi Academy brought a certain tranquility to your mind. The recurring dream that had haunted you throughout your life was replaced with a forgotten memory. While the memory brought a sense of nostalgia and sadness, it was much preferable to the nightmarish dream of your mad father's death.

Viserys called out to you, “Sister,” capturing your attention. You were no more than five at the time, while he was already a young man, around the age of fifteen years old and strong in both mind and body. You recalled him as being built and skilled in swordsmanship, with a fondness for storytelling. He was particularly captivated by the tales of the conquerors and their dragons, he also shared with you bitterly that these creatures had vanished more than a century ago. The dream depicted your room in Dragonstone, wooden toys that mimicked horses and dragons scattered across the floor. "Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros," Viserys began, gesturing towards the brown leather-bound book adorned with the three-headed dragon sigil. "but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. It was not Aegon alone who united the Seven Kingdoms. He had the support of his sisters, Visenya and Rhaenys." He continued turning the pages of the book as he spoke of the conquerors and their conquests. Then, Viserys turned to you “Sister, in hard times like these, you and I bear the hope for the future.”

The dream ended there.

It was the dead of the night when you woke up. You wiped away the tears on your damp cheeks with the sleeves of your nightgown, thinking about your brother. Time had erased his face and voice from your memory, but somehow, seeing his face and hearing his voice again made you miss him terribly, and you couldn’t help but wonder – Was he alive? Where was he? You were also taken aback to realize that you remembered this distant memory so vividly.

“Viserys…” you murmured, as if testing his name on your lips. When was the last time you called out to him? You recalled his promise to bring you home once the nightmare has ended. But when was that?

And for the first time in forever, you wanted to call out to your brother, embrace him, and feel the safety of his arms again. You couldn’t help but to shed more tears.

Knowing that sleep was far from you for the time being, you decided that a cup of tea might help soothe your nerves and mind. Quietly, you made your way through the temple house to the shared kitchen, hoping to find some solace in the warm, comforting brew of fresh tea.

The kitchen was softly illuminated by a single candle, and in the quiet space, Kenshi Takahashi sat alone at the table, lost in his thoughts. His face was etched with a deep frown. You couldn't help but tease him gently to not startle him, "If you continue frowning like that, you'll end up with permanent wrinkles." Kenshi looked up at you, surprised, and raised an eyebrow. "Why aren't you asleep?" he asked, his usual patience and temper uncharacteristically strained.

"I couldn't sleep," you explained, "and I thought a cup of tea might help calm my mind. Would you like to join me?" Kenshi's frown softened, and he nodded, his initial crankiness fading. "Sure, I guess I could," he responded with less irritation than before. You smiled as you walked over to the stove, preparing the tea.

The process of making tea was quiet. Surprisingly, the silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it was slightly awkward. Kenshi discreetly watched you from behind as you swiftly prepared fresh tea for both yourself and him. He pondered silently to himself, wondering when was the last time he had experienced such kind companionship and comfort from another person.

You carefully placed the porcelain cups and teapot on a tray and carried it to the table, gracefully serving tea to Kenshi before taking your seat across from him. He mumbled a soft "thank you" as you sat down.

"How is it?" you asked curiously, watching for his reaction as he took a sip. Kenshi raised both eyebrows briefly before looking up at you. "It's good," he replied, his gaze returning on the cup. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph, mentally giving yourself a pat on the back for making a good cup of tea.

A moment of silence passed between the two of you as you sipped your tea together. Wanting to break the quiet and ensure you weren't overstepping any boundaries, you asked gently, "Is it alright if I ask why you aren't asleep?" Kenshi looked at you for a brief moment before replying, "I had a dream that I was still in the yakuza." The grimace on his face betrayed the pain that the dream had caused him.

You send him an apologetic look, “Don’t worry, I know that too well.” You pause, “Not being in the yakuza! I meant the dream part,” You fumbled, fixing your wording quickly and think your words carefully to not put the man before you in further bad mood. “Dreams can be cruel.” you acknowledged, your own experience with nightmares reflected in your understanding expression.

A hint of amusement flickered across Kenshi's face at your slip-up before it was replaced with neutral look. "I'm guessing you had a bad dream too?" he inquired. You nodded in affirmation, responding, "It wasn't bad, just... sad. It was better than the usual dream I have, I guess." He simply hummed in acknowledgment, not prodding further on the matter.

The silence settled between the two of you once more. You observed his reaction, noticing how he idly swirled the tea in his cup with a distant look in his eyes. Out of the blue, he confessed dryly, "I hate the gods for making me as they did."

You paused, surprised by his unexpected words, and replied sincerely, "I do not. You are an honorable man with a good heart." A soft smile graced your lips as you added, "And that's a rare thing." Kenshi looked up at you and offered a small smile. It was not noticeable but you could tell it was there.

And what you said was true. Kenshi Takahashi was an honorable man. He was poised, sharp tongued yet respectful. You hoped he had taken your words sincerely.

That night, you both found solace in each other’s presence, even though no more words were exchanged.

—

You didn’t regret staying up so late with Kenshi; it had brought the two of you closer than you expected. However, you dreaded the consequences of getting so little sleep. You looked like you’d fought a raccoon in your sleep, with your hair slightly disheveled from not having the energy to properly braid it. Kenshi, on the other hand, didn’t seem nearly as fatigued. He still looked composed and proper. When he saw you, he chuckled at your appearance and offered to make you an omelette for breakfast. You gratefully accepted, though both of you received raised eyebrows from the other three.

The day progressed like any other at the Wu Shi Academy—rigorous training and your archery lessons. But today was ‘sparring day’, and your opponent was none other than the so-called “best” Hollywood star, Johnny Cage. To your frustration, his flashy, unorthodox fighting style was new to you. He even utilized his sunglasses into the fight—impressive, considering they didn’t break.

To your further dismay, you ended up pinned beneath him. Johnny smirked, enjoying the moment. “Giving up already?” he teased. You huffed in response, an idea sparking in your mind. A playful smile touched your lips as you looked up at him. “Not yet,” you said in a teasing tone.

“Are you sure about that?” Johnny taunted, clearly relishing your determination. He noticed your subtle attempt to distract him, his smirk widening. He was enjoying the way you tried to match his confidence, but unfortunately for him, it worked. He was too focused on how matched his ‘freak’, and his grip loosened just enough. Seeing your chance, you swiftly flipped him over, reversing the position.

“Yield?” you asked with a grin, pulling a hairpin from your bun and letting your silver hair cascade down as you pointed the pin at his neck.

To his surprise, you had him pinned. He chuckled, a mixture of defeat and admiration on his face. “You sneaky little… I yield,” he said, meeting your gaze from beneath you. You helped him to his feet, and the two of you bowed to each other in mutual respect.

Johnny could have won if he hadn’t fallen for your trick, and though he felt a little embarrassed, he accepted his defeat.

“Marvelous victory!” Raiden exclaimed your name, clapping his hands along with Kung Lao and Kenshi. Kung Lao gave you a thumbs up, and Kenshi smirked at Johnny’s defeat, clearly enjoying it more than you enjoyed your victory. You smiled and gave them a playful curtsy.

“Kenshi, how about you and me?” Kung Lao gestured toward the training ground. Kenshi nodded, and the two headed off to spar where you and Johnny had just been.

“You vixen,” Johnny muttered beside you, folding his arms. Raiden, standing on your other side, smiled and suppressed a laugh. “I’d say she won fair and square, Johnny. You let your guard down,” Raiden said, placing a supportive hand on your shoulder.

You turned to Johnny, mimicking his pose. “How am I a vixen?” you teased, barely managing to keep a straight face.

Johnny laughed sarcastically. “You know exactly what you did.” His focus shifted to the next sparring match, while Raiden looked confused at Johnny’s remark. Clearly, no one else had noticed your little tactic.

—

You didn’t mind the peaceful domesticity of the moment, standing next to Kung Lao and Raiden in the kitchen. Kung Lao kneaded dough for baozi while Raiden prepared the fillings, and you focused on making side dishes using Madam Bo’s recipes. The three of you chatted and laughed together, enjoying the simple routine. Living together meant sharing responsibilities, taking turns cooking and doing chores. Tonight, you three were on kitchen duty, while Johnny and Kenshi handled the laundry. Johnny had been complaining about how tight his hands felt from using so much soap.

“Hey,” Kung Lao called your name, grabbing your attention. “You never told us your little secret. Maybe now’s the right time?” He dusted off the excess flour from his hands.

“Yeah, but it’s fine if you’re not ready yet,” Raiden added, pausing in his work to give you a reassuring look. Kung Lao rested his arm on Raiden’s shoulder, and the two of them watched you expectantly.

You had been putting off this conversation for a month now with, “I’ll explain when the time is right.” By now, they knew about realms, magic, and creatures, so your story wouldn’t sound too far-fetched. Maybe it *was* the right time. After all, you trusted them with your whole heart.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come at first. Sensing your hesitation, the two men continued their work, giving you time to gather your thoughts.

“I’m… Stormborn of House Targaryen,” you finally said, revealing your full name to them for the first time.

Kung Lao set the dough aside to let it rest and sat down across from you. “Stormborn? House Targaryen?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. You smiled and nodded.

“I’m from a continent called Westeros, a place here on Earth,” you explained. Raiden, looking puzzled, asked, “I’ve never heard of a continent called Westeros.”

“It’s hidden, barricaded by some kind of magic,” you said. “I’m not sure what exactly, but it separates Westeros from the rest of the world.”

“Why?” Kung Lao asked, resting his head on his arms.

“I don’t know… I was very young when I left Westeros, so my knowledge is limited.” You shrugged.

“Why did you leave?” Raiden asked, his voice soft but curious.

“Because it was dangerous.” A hint of sadness crept into your voice as you looked down at the side dish you were preparing. A small silence followed before you continued. “My father… he wasn’t a good man. He was paranoid and erratic, and because of his behavior, many turned against him.” This was assumption based on your dream now. Was it right for you to speak of your father like this? You did not want to believe your dreams but something told you that it was real.

You remembered how guarded Dragonstone had been, how there were always guards, servants, and food testers watching over you and your brother, Viserys. Once, on your birthday, your father had ordered all your gifts burned, convinced they were cursed or poisoned. Gosh, how much had you forgotten?

“Was he an influential man?” Kung Lao asked bluntly.

“He was the King of the Seven Kingdoms,” you replied, looking up at him. “So, yes, he was influential.”

Both men froze. “You’re a princess?” they exclaimed in unison.

You cleared your throat and nodded. Kung Lao gaped at you, while Raiden bowed with a respectful, “Your Grace.”

You panicked at his formality. “Wait, no! Don’t! I’m no longer a princess. I’m just an ordinary woman now. Please, you’re my closest friends—keep treating me the same as before,” you pleaded, gently pushing Raiden back up.

Kung Lao still looked stunned. “Wait, wait, wait! So we’ve been friends with royalty from a secret land, and you never thought to tell us?”

“I didn’t want to keep secrets from you,” you explained, “but I was strongly advised not to share my background. It could have put me—and all of you—in danger. I didn’t want that.”

Raiden nodded, understanding your reasoning, though both he and Kung Lao still had questions. They shared a glance, silently agreeing to take turns asking what they could.

“Did people there have the same hair and eye color as you?” Kung Lao jumped in, still processing.

You chuckled. “No, only my family and those with Valyrian blood had these traits.”

“Do you have siblings?” Raiden asked next.

A small smile crossed your face as you nodded. “Two brothers—Rhaegar and Viserys. Though, I don’t know what became of them…” A pang of sadness tugged at your heart.

In truth, you barely knew Rhaegar compared to Viserys. You had only met him twice, as his duties as heir to the Iron Throne kept him in King’s Landing. Viserys often boasted about him, and you remembered one thing clearly now—Rhaegar had a beautiful singing voice. Nonetheless, you still loved him.

Sensing your sadness, Kung Lao and Raiden decided to steer the conversation away from your family. The questions turned into silent awe as you continued explaining your background. As you recounted what you could, you began to recall forgotten memories, fragments of your past that time had nearly erased. Though it did make sense for you to forget. After all, you were no more than five. Of course, you didn’t tell everything as it would be too much at the moment.

Maybe, you did remember and knew more than you thought.

By the time dinner was served, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders, as though finally sharing your story had brought you some peace.

[thisismeracing]

The phantom of miscommunication | LH44

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x black!plussize!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1.8k ― Warnings: not proofread; suggestive content; angst with a happy ending; mentions of an argument. Minors DNI! ― Summary: Dating a professional athlete is hard, and it’s even harder when you are famous too, and your schedules just keep crashing. how will their love beat their insecurities?  ― A/n: I took forever to finish this request, but I hope the waiting was worth it and I did the request justice 🤍.

⁕ Based on this request. ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece)

You often hear about loving someone being easy and natural, a fall that you would pray the other catch you from. Turns out, as Yn discovered with Lewis, it feels natural, and she’s sure he’ll be there to catch her if she falls, but easy? Love wasn’t that easy. Or life was hard with it. 

That’s at least how it feels for her while she finishes getting ready for the last performance of her Broadway play. Alone. She’s ditching her favorite dress because it reminds her of Lewis and how he would look smug whenever she wore it because she would need his help to zip her up. Lewis loved being needed. Not in a selfish way, but in a way that meant he loved to be helpful to those he cherished. Loved to hear their joyful tones while they thanked him, or the warm arms around his body, and in her case, the cold lips against his. 

Lewis loved loudly. 

Maybe that’s why they ended up fighting that last week. Because if he loved being helpful and seeing others happy, how could he not cancel a meeting to watch her finish the play she spent months traveling around overseas? 

Yn loved silently.

It was as if she liked to feel him slide beside her in bed at night, rather than hear the noise of the door closing, and knowing he would be there. The silence that led to the moment was deeply appreciated by her. And her love somehow worked similarly. She wouldn’t ask more than twice for something she wanted, something important, something someone who loves her should know. To her, it was enough her dad showed up, he didn’t need to tell her she did a great job, no words of affirmation or bouquet of flowers and gifts whatsoever. Just their presence. And that was what Yn was expecting from Lewis: his presence. 

She felt a tear slide down her cheek and she quickly wiped it before grabbing her bag and keys and leaving her house, making her way to one of her favorite cafes. There was something so unique, it mundane on finishing her tour home. Just minutes away from the house she shared with Lewis. A quick walk to her favorite café. The view of a grey, yet very beautiful London being her company. 

Yn goes about her day doing most things on the automatic mode. Sometimes, she would think about how she always dreamt of this day when she was just younger. Starting on Broadway as a black girl was a hard task, that, in her case, was two times harder because she was also a plus-size actress. Some of the producers would reduce her to her weight, her skin tone, or just about anything, but her talent. She had to prove herself over and over until she finally became a phenomenon in the country and then, years ahead, she started to have a significant international impact. That’s when she met Lewis. She had traced most of her career, she had a name, and so did he, and maybe that was the first thing that brought them closer: the fact that it seemed as if everyone was attentively watching over them not because they wanted to appreciate the work they put on, but because they needed them to do something wrong, anything wrong, just so this wrongdoing could be talked about more than the rights.

It was hard. 

And having Lewis there to share this burden made it a bit lighter. 

Having him there to love her, and recognize her more than anyone ever would, was heartwarming. Being someone else’s first pick felt amazing. And though the ups and downs of their careers existed, they always faced it together. Just like they shared their victories together too. That’s why it felt so wrong not having him on her Musical ending show. He shared the struggles of her waking up early, and going late to bed just so she could grab each emotion needed, and memorize all the lines. She was the leading actress. The main start. Yet, she missed having him be illuminated by her light. 

Truth is, Yn felt sad without Lewis, not that her happiness depended on him showing up, but they had created those small traditions. He would always be on the final stops of her shows. She would always make it to his most expected races. 

As the saying goes, a dream you dream by yourself is just a dream, but a shared one is a reality.  It’s hard to create a reality while in a long-distance, or mostly long-distance, relationship. You gotta be ten times more attentive and understanding. So when Lewis told her he had to make it to an interview before preparing for his race weekend without even waiting for her response, it did not feel like an understanding relationship, he, for the first time, did not seem attentive. And that hurt.

“But, love, why can’t you reschedule your interview for Friday after free practice? Or maybe even Saturday after qualy?” Yn asked, a pout on her lips, while Lewis was finishing packing his suitcase. 

He sighed, “You know very well the rush after those two, Yn.”

Fair enough, “Well, then do it online! That way you could do it right before my play, and then come to the Teather after. It’s not that far from our house, you sure can make it.” She was full of solutions, to a problem that felt like Lewis himself created.

When his eyes found hers, determination written all over it, he didn’t even have to open his lips and tell her an audible “no”, she already knew, so she tried to practice healthy communication. “Look, Lew, it’s just that this is our last stop and they were okay with it being in London when most of the time it happens somewhere in the USA. You know how this city is important to me, and this play, it’s just- I can’t help but feel like you’ve been lacking in terms of support lately.”

The British finally stopped packing, dropping his shirt inside the suitcase, and leaving with a quick glance towards Yn, mumbling how he didn’t want to fight. 

“But I want you to fight with me. Fight for me!” She trailed behind him, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen. 

“Well, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Yn!” he snapped, and before he could apologize or backtrack she nodded, leaving the room. Love should never feel forced. She shouldn’t have to ask for it. 

The door slammed behind her as she made her way to the Teather to bury her head in work, sweat the hurt away, dance, and sing until the energy made her feel comfort. 

“Yn?” one of her colleagues asked, snapping Yn out of her memories. “They’re calling us for one last rehearsal before the show.”

She nodded and glanced at her phone, hoping to see a message, either an apology or a good luck one, anything that showed that he remembered, but there was nothing. Her shoulders slumped lightly and she made her way to the stage, the audience still deserved the best ending show, she deserved the best ending show. 

So that was exactly what happened: Yn shined along with the whole crew. They sang, danced, smiled, and even cried after the curtains opened to an outstanding ovation from the audience. That’s when Yn’s eyes found his, right on the front row, a bouquet of flowers on his seat, one of his shy grins, while he stood clapping the most beautiful performance he had ever seen Yn deliver.

Lewis was there.

Lewis wasn’t in an interview on the other side of the world.

He was standing there.

Smiling.

Clapping.

Proudly watching. 

And when her lips quirked up slightly he nodded as if knowing they still had to talk, but for now, he took the right decision.

When the curtains closed again and Yn made the walk to her dressing room, she wasn’t surprised to find Lewis there, “hey,” she said, closing the door behind her and staying glued to the wooden.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Lewis started. “Look, I’m-”

“Can we save all the headaches and solutions for when we get home?” She suggested, still a bit breathless from the play. “That is if you’re coming home tonight. Or are you flying to do the interview late?” 

There was a  sad smile on Lewis's plush lips, “I’m home, with you.” 

A breath of fresh air got into Lewis’ lungs when he noticed her shoulders relax with the news. She was relieved he would be home. She was happy to have him around. It wasn’t too late. 

“And I agree on saving the deep talk to when we get home, but I want to say I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t support you or love you enough to reschedule and work my way around my things. You’re my treasure, love. And I’ve been lacking lately, I’ve been stressed, and with my head all over the place, but I’ll get better. I promise,” and a Hamilton promise would always come true. You could count on that. 

Yn bit her lips, trying to hold back the tears, but they fell around her face like waterfalls just the same, and Lewis was in front of her in the blink of an eye, fingers brushing the wet splotches, lips kissing her delicate skin. 

“I’m sorry, I am so so sorry,” he whispered painly.

“I was so terrified we were about to get on a dead-end road. That you would stop showing up for my plays, and-”

“Sweetheart, breathe,” he held her face between his soft palms and Yn tried to even her breath with his. “I’m here, I’m always going to be here. You have my endless support and undying love, you can count on that.” He was a runner, one of the fastest drivers on the grid, but he could never run away from her and what she made him feel. What he could do was beat the phantom of miscommunication to the finishing line, get there first, say he’s sorry before it’s too late, and work so that this ghost won’t ever bother their relationship again. 

Yn nodded, gulping a bit more of air, and finally crashing her body on his in a tight hug. Lewis kissed her hair and found her lips with his, tasting their own tears and love. Yn mumbled how sorry she was for not being patient enough, and Lewis shook his head, kissing her again.

“I’m the sorry one, and I’m gonna make it up to it,” he explained. 

Yn arched her brows, looking into his honey eyes, “I know just the way you can express how sorry you are,” she smirked, undoing the bow for her white dress and making it cascade around her ankles. 

And Lewis did exactly that. 

He whispered apologies and love promises in her ear, the sound of a symphony with her body banging against the door. That was their private play. Their favorite one. 

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hiii!! I hope you guys liked it! I hope your Friday is amazing! Don't forget to reblog and leave me a comment if you can, it means a lot and it usually inspires me to write more *mwah*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @iloveyou3000morgan @mishaandthebrits @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @scorpiobleue @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @p8dris @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @soph1644 @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar

⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

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[crashandlivewrites]

👀👀 let me throw you some kyle coded quotes. do what you wish with it 🫴

"If the choice is the mission or coming home to you, I’m coming home."

"There will always be another mission, _ , but there won’t always be another you."

This has been sitting in my inbox for a wee bit and I’m sorry it took so long. Thank you for sending this through! I hope I did it justice for you.

Pairing: Kyle Garrick x GN!Reader

CW: slight angst, relationship troubles, but comfort and happiness because Kyle is the sweetest boy <33

You loved your boyfriend. With all your heart. Kyle was the sweetest guy you’d dated, the most caring and attentive man you could have ever hoped for. But every relationship has their gripes and unfortunately, Kyle’s job was yours.

It was important, you knew that. He saved countless lives every time he went away, putting himself in danger in the process. But the fact he was gone so often made everything hard. He often missed important events; wasn’t home for your birthday or your anniversary or the holidays in general.

Despite you trying to be understanding, sometimes you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unwanted frustration towards your boyfriend. He made it up to you whenever he was back, you knew that, but it wasn’t the same. And you selfishly wished for more.

“I want you to be here more!” You yelled at him in frustration one night, having one too many drinks. “I know your job is hard—”

“No, you don’t know how hard it is. You have no idea what I go through.” Kyle snapped back, just as agitated.

“And you have no idea what it’s like sitting here waiting for you, watching all my friends and their partners and wishing I had that instead of praying you’re not dead.” Shaking your head in exasperation. He just laughed darkly, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry for getting my hands dirty so the world stays clean. Do you have any idea how dangerous some of these arseholes are?” Groaning in frustration, you push past him, walking down the hall to your shared bedroom.

“You’re missing the point.” Gritting your teeth, you huffed out a breath. “I’m not a priority for you.”

The harsh words make him stop, no longer stomping after you. It’s enough to make you turn around, and the hurt expression on his face immediately makes you feel guilty.

“What makes you think I don’t?” He whispered, voice barely audible as he blinked with uncertainty. Ducking your head, you look away from him, not being able to stomach the expression on his face anymore.

“It’s just… you always leave. There’s always something more important than me.” His expression twists with anguish and steps forward with two strides, hand closing around your wrist.

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.” The dark brows on his forehead were pulled tightly together. His warm eyes, usually so calm and comforting, were wide and panicked. “You’ve always been a priority to me.”

The tears pricked in your eyes as his words dug into your skin, pulling down the defences you’d tried so hard to build around yourself. Shaking your head, you try to push him away, wiping furiously at your cheeks.

“I don’t feel like it, Kyle. You’re gone so often. And I know it’s important and I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take!”

As if the universe decided to play a cruel joke on you, his phone began to ring. Kyle winced, closing his hand around your wrist tighter as he dug into his pocket. You knew whose name would appear on the screen before he even needed to tell you.

“It’s Price.” His voice sounded wounded, broken as he looked up at you, eyes desperate and pleading as the phone continued to buzz in his hand.

“Go on. Answer it. It’s important.” The iciness of your tone couldn’t be missed, despite trying to keep your expression dismissive.

“Fuck, babe, please.” He begged, keeping a firm hold on you and not letting you walk away. “I can fix this. We can fix this. I just—”

“You need to take it. Yeah, I know.” Shrugging, you leaned back against the wall, watching him as he gave in, putting the phone up to his ear.

“Sir?” The shift between Kyle and Sergeant Garrick was something you used to find attractive, enticing. Now, it just left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You watched the one sided conversation closely, Kyle’s face becoming more and more strained. His jaw twitched as he grit his teeth and you sighed, knowing what was inevitably coming. Flicking his eyes towards you, he saw the hurt on your face, the sad acceptance and his own heart pounded before opening his mouth.

“Actually, Captain, I was thinking about taking a bit of time off.” At his words, your ears pricked and head snapped up to meet his gaze. He met your eyes as his thumb tenderly grazed against the back of your hand. “Yeah, sir. Just something important that I need to attend to here.”

Dropping your wrist, he lifted his hand up to cup your cheek tenderly, pressing his forehead against yours. At this distance, you could hear the tinny voice of his captain coming through the phone speaker.

“Alright Kyle. Take care of yourself. And take care of that partner of yours. You’ve put them through hell this last year.”

“I know, sir. Need to sort out my priorities. See you in a few weeks.” And he hung up the phone, pushing it into his pocket and lifting the hand to join his other.

The pair of you remained there for longer than you cared to admit, your face tenderly held between his hands as you breathed deeply.

“You mean more to me than I ever could express. What you do for me, I couldn’t ask for someone better.” Curling your hands into the fabric of his shirt, you tugged him closer. Sliding under the cotton, you rested your palms on the warm, firm skin of his torso.

“I’m sorry—”

“No, you don’t need to apologise. I’m sorry.” He lifted his head up to look down at you with sincerity. “I have been putting work first, and not you. It always should have been you.”

“But I said those hurtful things—”

“Because you were upset, love. It’s okay.” His voice was smooth as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you. “I love you, babe. So fucking much. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

Being wrapped in his arms had always made you feel safe, and this time was no different. Breathing in, you let his familiar scent surround you, settling deep into the back of your mind as you hugged him back tightly.

“Still no excuse for saying all that stuff before. The work you do is important. If you need to leave… I understand.” Deep down, you knew it was the right things to say. If Kyle was being called to work, it was something important and as much as you wanted him for yourself, others needed him more.

“No, love. I’m not going anywhere. There will always be another mission, but there won’t always be another you.”

Letting out a breathy chuckle, you lifted your head out of his chest, staring up at him with a soft smile.

“You really mean that?” His deep brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he backed you against the wall, tilting your chin up and lowering his face to seal his lips over yours.

His fingers curled into the hair at the base of your neck, holding you close as his lips moved slowly, dragging out the kiss. His warm breath fanned over your cheek as he groaned, cupping your cheek and letting his teeth drag across your bottom lip before pulling back.

You knew your lips were already swollen, the temperature of your body rising as your breath came out in short pants.

“If the choice is the mission or coming home to you, I’m coming home.” He whispered, thumbs tracing against your cheekbones. “You are what’s important to me.”

[all444miles]

1610 miles with a girl whos js inlove with the beach and the ocean

— OCEAN GIRL

— pairing: 1610!miles x ocean loving!black!fem!reader

— genre: fluff

— summary: what it's like for 1610 Miles to date a girl with a love for the beach and the ocean.

— a/n: im always gonna make miles 1610 silly ! when i tell y'all im deadly afraid of the water so i had to think AS HARD AS I COULDDDD to make these hcs, i hope i did this justice !! ty for the request, and enjoy ‹3

MILES + YOU = beach dates.

you two will go to beach and have a picnic, and he prepares it so sweetly for you ‹3

something like this !!

he knows how much you love the ocean, so he makes it special for you ‹3

he paints the rocks and gives them to you.

like when i say you have a collection of sea rocks with random things Miles has painted, you have a collection.

your favorite is the one that has two spiders with yours and his initials on it.

you two also collect shells, one time, you and Miles found a whole bunch, and made a necklace out of them.

"These seashells are so pretty, right Miles?" "Yeah, but what are we gonna do with em?" "..Oh! Wanna make 'em into necklaces?" "Oh yeah, I know how to do that!" "Really?" "..Nah." "You're so silly. C'mon, I'll show you."

He loves to take so many pictures of you in the water with his polaroid camera.

He'll take like four, then use them as reference so he can draw you - you're practically his muse.

After he's drawn them, he'll show them to you and let you keep the pictures.

You two watch Moana together. I dont care.

He calls you "Mi serenita", which means "my mermaid" in spanish

It's corny, yes, but it's so cute ‹3

Speaking of mermaids, the two of you most definitely paid tickets to watch the new little mermaid. twice.

"Miles! Can we go watch the new lil' mermaid?" "Wait, did we not already watch it?" "We did- but i wanna watch it again! Pleeaasee" "Of course."

snow cones!

He's always the first to get brain freeze because he eats them too quick.

Thankfully, he has spidey sense so he doesn't get stung by a jellyfish or pinched by a crab.

Because if he didn't? Pray for him.

You can't surf, but he can, and he'll never act serious when he does. He acts like a surfer boy on purpose.

"Cowabunga!" "Love, please, never say that again." "Nah, but did you see the way I rode that wave? That was gnarly!" "Miles, I love you, and it was, but you is not a surfer boy."

A lot of the times, you'll stay at the beach till sunset so you two can be alone.

SUNSET KISSESSSSS ‹3

© all444miles 2023. do not plagerize, copy, or repost my work in any way shape or form, without my permission.

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

[citrinae]

avoid the crowds.

law x reader

summary; you're an aspiring biologist, hard-working on your phd. when you're coupled with your colleague law to enrich your research, you're mortified to discover that other's personal projects may be a little more ambitious than you’d anticipate. 

contents; gravedigging, only a pinch of gore, explicit at times, toxic attachments, love/hate, smoking, references to mary shelley because i’m a nerd & law is pathetic, college/academia!AU, gn!reader, wc: 2k. this is actually my very first time writing for this freak, intensely praying that i did him justice. check here for more spooktober shenanigans.

masterlist

Dirt on your shoes, on your jeans, under your nails. Pushing a lit cigarette between your lips, you realise your hands are slightly trembling. It’s slowly that you take the smoke in, a burning sensation into your lungs making you forget about the cold creeping up your cheeks, your ankles and into your bones, and you keep it there for a moment. Your eyes wander to the number of gravestones carrying the memory of someone’s friend, partner, or sibling, all cared for and regretfully gone. There’s a rustle coming from your right, boot sliding on the ground before his knee bumps into yours. With his hat he brushes the dirt off his lap. 

“This shit is bad for your health,” Law says, with a hint of superiority that has you pursing your lips around the cigarette. 

“These guys haven’t seen a pub in decades,” you manage to keep your cool. “Thought they wouldn’t mind if I brought them a piece of memory.”

He doesn’t play along. “They are dead. I doubt they care about much of anything.”

“How do you expect your students to like you if you can’t even take a joke?” you say through an exhale. 

“Honestly?” Law props his weight on the shovel he’s dug into the ground, legs spread. “The very few students I’ve had so far were actually funny.”

“Fuck you,” you huff. “Honestly.”

“Kindly reminding you that we’re in a cemetery,” he drones. “I'd restrain my libido for when we get back.”

You give him a look, still not believing he said that. His fingers—long, nimble, tattooed at the knuckles—rest atop his knees as he absently watches ahead. He’s slack in track pants and sweater, not that tonight makes him any different from the way you’ve always known him—cold, laid back. The sky is dark, only a few hours away from dawn. At your feet lingers a plastic bag he’s filled with everything needed for his fun little science project. 

Or rather, your fun little science project, now that you found out about it and agreed to let him do his magic before your eyes. The only condition was that you do it quietly—so far, you’re being terrible at it, and still he keeps you by like some sort of low-cost apprentice. Looking at the spots where dirt has been immaculately removed and battered back into place, your stomach threatens to turn. 

How have you ended up like this?

(There was someone in your research group; a guy called Trafalgar D. Water Law. A brilliant fellow, a committed academic. A little bit of an asshole, if you were to be completely honest. Law rarely ever spoke to the rest of you, let alone spend time with the group. Frequented the lab when you were about to call it a day and left early in the morning, just before you'd put on your whitecoats, fluorescent light droning overhead and steam hovering from coffee mugs. The nights were when he liked to work the most, doing whatever the fuck he was up to. Your PhD coordinator said something about reinventing surgery; but not even they were able to run into further detail. You were all too buried in your own projects to pry.

Water gathered at the tip of your nose and dripped onto your shoe. Your clothes were soaked and plastered to your skin; you hadn’t expected to rain that night. 

“Jesus fuck,” you managed under your breath. There was a dense, awful smell lingering in the air, the door to the research room locked with no spare key to use. “Law, are you in there?” 

Movement on the other side, pretending you didn’t exist. Your hair curled at your nape, wet and cold, and a feverish sensation began to climb up your temples. 

You tried again. “I left my journal in here, and, uhm,” scratching your head, “see I really needed to look up some notes tonight. May I come in and fetch it so I can leave you be?”

Still no answer; you were starting to get angry. 

You also needed a towel. 

“Listen up you freak,” through gritted teeth. “I don’t give two shits about what you’re doing or how many dicks you had to suck to be allowed to act like you own this fucking place. My day was bad enough to only care about my stupid little notes I left in that stupid little room, so please, for the love of god, open the door or else I’ll break a window or something and tab the damage on your weird ass name.”

“Who’s breaking what?” It was coming from behind; you turned, and stopped. Wiping his hands with a white washcloth, there stood Law, hoodie sleeves rolled to elbows, dark hair dishevelled, bags under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

The sounds you were hearing from inside the workroom didn’t cease. You felt heavy with the onset of a headache. 

“But if you’re here,” you said, incredulous. “Then who’s—” a second of thought. “What’s—”

Folding his arms, fabric thrown over his shoulder, “Yeah?”

The words felt weird leaving you, “What do you keep in there?”

“Nothing to be concerned about,” Law said, plainly. He seemed to know better than coming up with an excuse. There were steps that you heard, after all, nothing a branch against a window or a vending machine could replace. 

“You were saying you needed something?” he added, searching his pockets. “Let me get that for you, stay right there.”

But you didn’t stay put. You couldn’t. Shortly after watching him turn the key into the lock, careful not to reveal much of what awaited him inside, impulse had you setting your foot in the door. An elbow pressed on steel, a tattoo beat into floor tiles. And you could hardly hear the disturbed hiss leaving him now that you were facing a true miracle of modern medicine.)

They say the secrets of Heaven and Earth ought to stay in the palms of the one behind their making, for the man was made a crafty artist, but, alas, uncompleted. Understanding is a bottomless pit, only for the divine to fill and look after. But why are they to be frowned upon, half-made creatures, clinging to the knowledge that would make them whole?

(A strange friendship took shape that night. You agreed to keep the secret and Law allowed you to keep him company during the nights, borrowing notes, studying equipment. Little of this brought anything new to your own research, and yet, being in Law’s presence felt like a giant leap in your career. You wouldn’t be made to admit it, but you admired him, and at the same time he seemed almost content with the ease at which you were navigating the dense volume of research. As far as work was concerned, you were making a surprisingly good team—that you could both agree on despite your infuriating personalities. 

Some uneventful nights you would fiddle with his earrings as he measured the diameter of a human limb. Some other nights, his hand would flatten across your back as he showed you how man-made particles quivered and dispersed under the microscope. Your eyes ached from lack of sleep but your curiosity was a persistent fiend, always hungry for more, begging to be kept entertained. Slowly you found yourself disconnected from everything happening around you other than your undergraduate classes and lab work. Everything in your world revolved around science, and consequently, around Law. 

But spending so much time around each other would soon get the best—or worst—of you both, on a night just as rainy as the one you started working together. There was an hour left until the sky would start bleeding into a deep gradient of blues, two before the building would be animated with swarms of steps and voices. Tables had been diligently swept with no trace of your nightly work, equipment dismantled and notebooks locked away—just like Law instructed you to. Your steps echoed down the hallways of the facility, dark and empty, comfortable silence lingering between your forms as you were heading out. Exhaustion crept into your body to the point walking felt like floating. To your left, Law’s breathing seemed heavier than usual. You found yourself cagily tracing the contours of his hair, his ear, his neck and shoulder, stopping at his hand that he kept buried into a pocket. 

A beat later, too soon to tell how it happened, you were pressed against a wall, Law’s stare taking from confused to determined as he tried to keep up with his own actions. 

There was a pause. 

“You don’t have the guts,” you provoked, adrenaline pushing your mouth into a smirk. 

Law clicked his tongue. Then he kissed you, deeply, viciously, and you returned it without much thought. White hat collapsed on the floor as your fingers struggled to make their way through his hair, digging themselves into his scalp, touching and searing everything they found in their reach. Standing so close to him you were surprised to catch a faint trace of cologne lingering under all the metal and soap and formalin he worked with. Your head spun. His hand was cold as it touched you under your sweater; with his other he had to cover your mouth to keep a sound from coming out.

It didn’t stop you. He urged you somewhere more secluded.)

You flick the ashes off your cigarette. “Hey,” you say, trying to figure out the inscription chiselled on a gravestone. “Is it fair? To disturb these people’s peace like that?”

Law breathes out, heavily, a little shaken himself. He thinks about it for a moment. Then, massaging a temple, he says, “I think it’s a little too late to ask yourself this.” He’s right. 

“Maybe.” It’s faint, distracted. 

Some would say you’re giving them a second chance; you know that’s not the case here. None of you wants nothing out of this but the Promethean high of discovery. Performing miracles with a scalpel and needle, building an universe of your own. 

Wind blows in your direction, sharp like a slap in the face, and your body starts coiling within itself as it does. 

(Your research sessions carried on like this. Passing thread through layers of dead skin, sinking your teeth into Law’s skin moments later. Papers and pens and scissors scattered on the floor. Bodies feverish and drenched in sweat. Taking his chin between thumb and forefinger, you relished the faces he made after claiming that you inspire him. With his cock deep inside you, Law admitted he was glad to have found a use for that foul mouth of yours. When you use it to say his name, he added on, his voice grave and possessive, beard tickling your earshell, it makes him believe your voice was sewed for him.)

“Time to go,” Law says, already back on his feet.  

You insist that he carries the bag. And so he does, hoisting it around his shoulder without much care for its contents. You stub out your cigarette under your foot, and your eyes roll heavenwards when he demands that you pick the thing up. 

“I was meaning to,” you sneer, bending down. “Who do you take me for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Law hands you the shovel. 

“For the record,” dusting off your jeans, “When faculty reviews are up, I’m ruining your ass.”

Law’s smirk is offensive. “Double-check your spelling before sending anything in.”

No one says a word on the way back to the facility. With weight propped on your shoulders and stars hiding one by one behind the horizon, the moment feels almost serene, and you dismiss the impulse to close your eyes because you know you will be falling asleep as soon as you do. For now, you end up settling with this space between dream and reality, hoping that maybe, somewhere, awaits the truth you’ve been working so hard to earn. 

[pascallllllll1]

Crimson Tide

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: Reader gets her period and Pedro helps;)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: blood, period talk, swearing, mentions over the counter pain medication, brief daddy kink(common this is about Mr “I’m your daddy” what do you expect?), unprotected sex, if you notice anything else that should have a warning just lmk!

Hi everyone! This was a requested and I hope I did the idea justice. Quick fyi this is my first time attempting to write smut so bare with me y’all!🤣 requests are currently open:)

Regret burned inside you fueling your already emotionally fragile state. The warning signs were right in front of you. First you noticed your breasts engorged this morning getting dressed before work, your nipples aching and chaffing against the rough fabric of even your softest bra.

Then there was the mental health break you had to take at work due to crying so much from the separation anxiety rippling through you because Pedro wasn’t present. In fact he was home working in his office. But the text you’d received from him about going to the gym later and not being home when you’d be arriving set off every panic alarm in your body at the thought of being away from him any longer than originally planned.

Finally, and what should’ve had you sprinting to take 2 blessed tablets of Midol, was the slight pressure building in your lower back followed by tight twisting tendrils of sharp pain wrapping around to cup your lower belly around an hour before you’d be heading home for the day.

The entire 30 minute drive home the pain only intensified with each passing minute causing you to grip the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turned white. After pulling up the driveway and into the garage to park the cramps had you doubled over kneeling on the ground the second you’d gotten out of your seat. You sobbed silently praying for the pain to ease up enough to allow you the chance to run inside quickly and down some painkillers, and as if mother nature heard your cries she relieved enough of your anguish for you to accomplish just that before starting up again.

Now, you lay naked curled in your fuzzy Sherpa blanket centre of yours and Pedro's massive shared bed in a nest of blankets, impatiently waiting for the pills to work their magic feeling trapped in your body. The world is so unfair.

***

A hand removes the blanket from over your head ruining your perfectly cocooned bundle of warmth and has your eyes hesitantly blinking open from your nap.

“Are you ok, pretty girl?” A deep angelic voice asks. You look up to see Pedro let out a sympathetic sigh before shedding himself of any clothing and joining you in your nest.

“It hurts so bad Pedro and I think I’m bleeding now.” The thought of getting up out of bed right now and away from Pedro’s safe embrace to put in a tampon has tears spilling all over again. Massaging your sore belly he shushes you and tells you to relax and let him hold you. After some time passed and you’d calmed, Pedro let his right hand travel between your sticky thighs tracing the wet skin closest to the source of your womanly problems.

“I can help you, let me help you.” He begs starting to suck and bite little marks down your throat while running his hands up and down your sides. Once he arrives at your chest he's wrapping his mouth around your pebbled nipple sucking on it before releasing the bud with a pop! He proceeds to kitten lick the sensitive area making your pussy clench around nothing. With your growing neediness you wrap your legs around Pedro’s hips locking him against you.

“Please, I need you.” You gasp. Lifting his head up Pedro lands both his hands on either side of you caging you in, you place one firm hand on his shoulder the other one weaves your fingers through his thick hair tugging hard earning you a throaty groan in response. Pedro then leans forward to capture your mouth in a sloppy kiss, his tongue fighting yours for dominance. One of his hands is moving to line up the fat head of his cock to your fluttering hole eager to welcome him home, the initial stretch of him filling you has your head falling back onto the pillow and crying out his name.

“T-take me so well.” He mutters, starting to slowly drag his cock back out and giving no warning before quickly burying himself to the hilt deep inside you then relentlessly begins pounding into you. If you weren’t so cock drunk maybe you’d be more embarrassed by the wet squishing sounds filling the room but at the moment your only concern was with how full Pedro made you feel.

“You feel so good baby-mmmphfucK. That’s right. Fuck your self on my cock princess.” His praise has you damn near strangling his cock from how tight you squeeze around him and being the good girl you are, you give him exactly what he wants, continuing to roll your hips meeting each of his hard thrusts.

“So close daddy.” You whimper to him feeling the pressure of your impending orgasm building ready to burst but needing just a little more to get you there.

“Sssh baby I got you. Daddy’s got you.” He coos at you as he reaches down to draw fast circles on your clit and sinks his face into your neck pecking soft kisses behind your ear.

“I-I-“ you gasp, unable to speak.

“That’s my good girl.” He groans out before asking, “you want daddy’s cum now?” You nod your head eagerly, mumbling in confirmation still too dazed out of your mind to respond with real words. He loves when you get like this, too drunk on him and his cock to form any thought or sentence your only purpose being to let him use you. His warm breath fans over the skin of your neck with each grunt and moan he blesses you with. Pedro’s thrusts become more erratic and sloppy as his high approaches before stilling inside you and shakily painting your walls with his seed softly reciting his love for you like a mantra. A peaceful quiet takes over as the two of you bask in the warmth and comfort of each other’s bodies.

A final kiss is placed on your lips before Pedro’s rolling out of bed to run you a hot bath, he’d planned to clean up and redo the bed while you soaked and unwind. He turns around to double check you’re ok before entering the attached bathroom and meets your tired regard with a sheepish grin admiring your fucked out current state;

“…No… prom..ises..” You hardly get out. Shaking his head, Pedro just lovingly laughs to himself before going back to his initial task of running you a bath.