#side note I was giggling the whole time I was drawing this

[echoes-of-the-unknown]

I felt compelled to draw this with human! Perry

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Dancing with the devil...

@estelletheskeleton forgot to add this here but here you go >:Dc

[chrisbesitos]

chris x fem¡younger reader ( like 1-2 years younger) he just babies her the whole time, and is very protective of her.

SWEET RELIEF.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀chris sturniolo × fem!reader.

warnings: fluff, nsfw, cursing, sickness, angst (a lit bit).

synopsis: Chris dates a girl who's two years younger than he. Chris is 21 and the reader is 19.

— Chris and Y/N relationship are public, but they keep private.

Chris never hide his relationship with Y/N, but they never made any hard launch in the social medias, because Chris didn't want his fans to being mean with her. Y/N is only 19, Chris knows how evil people on internet can be and he doesn't want his girlfriend to suffer with this.

But sometimes he can't stop this, but he can make her feel better with his love.

"Hey, gorgeous." Chris said, he found his girlfriend on their bed. He was out with his brothers, recording a video and Y/N stay home waiting for Chris, so they could sleep together.

"Hi, I couldn't sleep without you." She replied, Y/N looks a upset, Chris could notice. Y/N gave him a sad smile, he frow his eyebrows and sit in the corner of the bed. Chris extends his hand to Y/N, holding hers.

"What happened, baby?" He asked, Y/N low her eyes and let go Chris' hand. She rubbed her own arms, Y/N knows she couldn't hide from her boyfriend. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Why you with me?" Y/N looked at Chris, the boy frowned his eyebrows doesn't understanding why she were asking this.

While she was waiting for Chris, she spent time scrolling her 'for you' page on TikTok and saw some comments about her. People were saying she wasn't right for Chris, because he needs to stay with a woman of his age, calling her childish and annoying. Then, she couldn't stop thinking about this, maybe Chris really needs someone who's not two years younger.

"Why are you asking this, baby?" Chris asked, he sat by her side and pulled her to his lap. He let kisses all over her face, making her giggle because of his beard. "I'm with you, because I love you so much."

"And I love you too, but–" Chris cuts her off.

"Why are you asking this? You didn't answer me." Chris hugged her shoulders, Y/N lay her head on the crook of Chris' neck. She started to draw invisible circles on Chris' chest with her finger. "Y/N."

"I saw comments on TikTok saying that you should date a woman of your age." Y/N said sadly, Chris hugged her harder and kissed her forehead. "They said I'm childish and annoying and–"

"I don't want to hear these lies about you." Chris held Y/N's chin to make her look at him. "None of these people knows you as much as me and I don't fucking care about what they think about our relationship. You're my girlfriend, I want you and only you." He kissed her lips.

"I love you so much, you know this, right?" She smiled, Chris nods his head smiling too. "I just. . . I don't want to care about it, but sometimes I can't help it."

"I know, It's hard, baby, but these people are trolls who want to make you feel bad for being you." Chris pulled her to his chest, Y/N embrace his waist, laying her head on his chest. "Don't worry about it, I'm gonna make sure they'll know I'm not gonna tolerate these comments."

And he did. After Y/N fall asleep on Chris lap, he posted a note on his Instagram story. He wrote he would not tolerate mean comments about his girlfriend, because it's anyone business who he dates. He protects his girlfriend all coast, you can say he babies her all the time and protects from everything, but he didn't care and so Y/N.

— Y/N's mad at Chris, because he wants to protect her from everything.

"Stop babying me all the time!" Y/N said angry. She was getting ready to hang out with her friends, friends who Chris doesn't like, because he thinks they are a bad influence to Y/N.

"Well, you didn't seem to care until now." Chris rolled his eyes, he sat on his bed and crossed his arms on his chest. He was trying to stop Y/N from going to a party with them, but she was being stubborn. "Come on, baby."

"No! I want to go out tonight, they're my friends, Chris." She groans, hitting the sink with her hands. Even though she didn't care when Chris babies her, now he's acting like she's a kid. "It's just a party, Chris."

"Oh, these friends? You mean the guy who got arrested? You told me, don't remember?"

"Jeez, Chris. It was a misunderstanding." She got out of the bathroom. Y/N was wearing a tiny dress, make up and hair ready, Chris thinks she looked gorgeous, but he didn't trust in other guys. Chris got up and held Y/N's shoulders.

"You want to go out? We can go, but I don't trust these people."

"Chris, why don't you trust me? I can take care of myself, damn."

"Did I say that I do not trust you?" Y/N rolled her eyes. "Fine, I gave up. Go hang out with them, but don't call me when you get in trouble because of them."

Y/N groans angry, she got her purse and phone and stormed out of the room. Chris followed her until the door, he watched her walk to her friend car, he knows she will end up calling him, but if she wants to know by her own, he will let her do.

"Oh, how would you get into a party? You're not twenty-one yet, they would not let you in." He said sassy.

"Fuck you, Chris!"

He was right, he always is. Chris waits for Y/N call, because he knew she would call at some point. It was almost nine in when Y/N call, only an hour after she leaves. Chris answered quickly, even though he was mad with her, he still worried.

"I told you, didn't I?" Chris said.

"They left me here." She cried. "They got in the club without me after the security said I couldn't get in, they just said sorry and left me."

"I tried to warn you, Y/N. I told you they wouldn't let you in." Chris sighed, he got off the couch and catch the car keys. "Send me your location, I'll get you."

"I'm sorry, Chris." She sobs.

"I know, baby. Now, send me your location, okay? I'm gonna bring you home."

Y/N send Chris her location and he drive until her. She was sitting on the highway with tears on her face, Chris parked and opened the window, Y/N get in the car in silence. She sniffed, Y/N cleaned her tears and the mascara of her face, Chris tugged his hoodie off and gave to his girlfriend.

"Now you understand why I didn't want you to go out with them? They left like you were nothing."

"I know." She whispered, putting on his hoodie. "I'm sorry, I should've listened to you."

"Baby, when I do these things it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I don't trust them." Chris said, he started to drive back home. "I'm sorry if you don't like when I baby you, but it's because I love you."

"It's not this, I just feel like you were treating me like I'm a kid."

"I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean." He stopped at the red lights, Chris rubbed Y/N's tight. She held his hand and kissed the back. "I'm gonna try to not baby you too much."

"No, I like when you baby me." She crossed her arms on her chest, Chris giggled. "Just don't treat me like I'm a kid."

"I will not, not anymore." Chris smiled and gave a peck on her lips. "In 'n Out?"

"Please, I'm starving!"

— "You don't have to carry me everywhere, Chris!"

Chris loves to carry Y/N everywhere. They arrived home? Chris has to carry his girlfriend inside. Arrived in a hotel in the middle of the night during the tour? Chris carried Y/N until their room while she sleep. Bathroom in the middle of the night? Here he goes, carrying his girl to the bathroom and waiting for her, so he could carry her back to bed.

Y/N loves too, but she can walk, but Chris insists in carry her.

"No, no, no." Chris stopped Y/N, they were watching a movie in the living room. "Where are you going?"

"I didn't sleep too much last night, gonna have a nap."

"Then, let's have a nap." Chris turns off the TV, he gets up the couch and holds his girlfriend in a bridal style.

"You don't have to carry me everywhere, Chris!" Y/N giggled, holding Chris' neck. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, rubbing her nose there.

"But I can, so why not?"

Chris carried Y/N to their room, he lay her in the bed and covered with the blanket. Chris turns the lights off and lays by her side, Y/N hugged Chris' neck with her arm and embrace his waist with her leg.

"Just lay on me." He chuckled. Y/N yawn and climb Chris' body, he holds her and let her sleep on he.

— If he babies Y/N all the time, when she got sick it's even worse.

"100.4° F (38° C), damn." Chris said looking at the thermometer visor. Y/N was acting weird the whole day, Chris thought she was getting sick, but she insisted she were okay.

Until now. They got home after the day shopping, Y/N passed out in the bed for two hours until Chris comes to check on her. He knows she was sick, but for some stupid reason she was acting like not.

"It's not that bad." She complained.

"Oh, yeah. A higher fever is not that bad, Y/N." He said being sarcastic, she sighed. Chris helped her to sit, he tugged her hair from her face. "Open your mouth." Chris said holding a pill.

"I don't need this." She frowned her nose, but the look Chris gave to her made her open her mouth. Chris put the pill on her tongue and gave her water to swallow. "Thanks, baby."

"Rest and I'll make you a soup, okay?" He kissed her forehead.

"You don't know how to cook." She giggled laying down.

"I'll figure it out."

She was right, Chris doesn't know how to cook, so he had to ask Nick to do it. After the soup is ready, Chris put in a bowl to Y/N and goes to his room. She wasn't sleeping anymore, Y/N was watching TV with her body all covered by the blankets. Chris smiled at her while he closed the door.

"You cold?"

"A bit, probably because of the fever, but I'll feel better if you lay here with me."

"I bring you soup." He put the bowl in the nightstand and sat in the bed, Y/N sat too with Chris help.

"Who made it?" She jokes. Chris rolled his eyes getting the bowl back, Y/N tried to hold, but Chris didn't let her. "Why? You gonna feed me?"

"Of course I will." Chris said and Y/N didn't complain. The boy gave her a few spoons of the soup until she felt filled.

She fell asleep again on Chris' shoulder, feeling too tired to stay awake. Chris held her the hold night and the whole day after until she felt better.

— Always gentle with her while they are having sex.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" He said looking at his girlfriend laying down in bed, he was on top of her, ready to be inside of her. Y/N nodded. "Words, baby. I need words."

"Yes, I'll use our safe word." Y/N said breathing hard, she was needing Chris so hard. "Please, Chris. I need you."

"I'll be gentle with you."

"You always are."

Then, Y/N was moaning Chris' name loudly while he push his cook in Y/N's pussy. His slow movements, catching every reaction of his girlfriend. He keeps kissing her face and saying lovely words to her. Chris let her come as soon as she needed, because he didn't want his girlfriend to suffer. Her loud moan was music to his ears, he didn't take too much to come inside her.

— Aftercare always, everything to his girlfriend.

"Sure you okay? Did I take it too rough with you?" Chris asked, rubbing her tights with his nose, his beard tickling her sensitive skin.

"You're always gentle with me, baby." She smiled lazily, Chris nodded. He tugged his T-shirt from the floor and used it to clean her tights, giving pecks in her skin. She yawn.

"I'm gonna run us a bath, so we can sleep, okay?" He kissed her lips and then the forehead, she nodded.

Chris filled the bathtub and put all of Y/N bath products, he carried her until the bathroom and get in the water with her. Chris washed her hair and her body, giving kisses on her pretty skin, giving all the pleasure that she deserves.

Then, he carried Y/N back to the bed, Chris lay lazy by her side. She smiled at him, slowly closing her eyes. Chris held her waist and laid his head on her tits, slowly getting asleep too.

hope you like it <3

Tags: @lizzymacdonald06 @deliciousluminaryanchor @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy

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[thewritingrowlet]

The Tireless Wife, ft. Red Velvet Irene

tags: creampie, deepthroat—you know what, just read the whole thing, hm?

length: 8k+

author's note: I speedran this fic so please forgive me if it's too messy; I just wanted to make use of this free time.

p.s. this fic takes place before and after The Determined Wife.

-

Irene walks in the bedroom as you’re gathering your consciousness after a very good, post-sex sleep. “Ah, good morning, my love.” She high steps towards the bed to join you, taking her rightful place in your arms. “Love, on a scale of 1 to 10, how awake are you?” “Seven, probably.” You rub your eyes to see if maybe you can improve that score. “Okay, maybe eight and a half,” you revise.

Irene thinks that it’s not good enough; she wants you to be 100% in the right mind this morning, which is odd. She sits on your lap and starts kissing you passionately, seemingly in high spirits; she’s likely very satisfied with the fact that you’ve granted her wish to be bred.

“Tell me again.” “Nine and a half,” you tease. Your wife rolls her eyes. “Ugh, please don’t play hard to get.” You chuckle. “Aww, come on, love; I just want more kisses.” She puts on the beautiful smile that’s unique to her and only her. “Ah, fine, you win.”

She comes in for one more deep kiss, going as far as invading the space of your mouth with her tongue—it’s unfortunate that she breaks it soon after, though. “If that didn’t make it 10, I’m going to suck you off,” she says. “Sounds tempting,” you tease, “well, maybe later—let’s get to your point first.”

With a smile, Irene fishes something out of her shorts pocket and hands it to you with a closed palm. It is only when she lets go that you can see what it is: a pregnancy test device with two lines on it. “I’m a mother, love,” Irene starts breaking into tears, “I’m a mother, and there’s no question that you’re the father.”

Tears, endless of them, start flowing freely out of your eyes and onto your cheeks. “Y-you’re pregnant, my love?” Your grip on the little test kit weakens as your hand starts trembling—oh, look: a tear lands on the device, right where the little screen is. “I am,” Irene joins you in crying, “thank you for granting my wish.”

You put the small device to the side because you want to use your hands to hug your wife. “No, no, no,” you say, “thank you for giving me such a huge blessing.” Irene starts crying more freely, and you can’t help but do the same. “We’re going to become parents, love—isn’t that crazy?” “It is,” you agree with her, “thank you for making it possible for us, love.”

Irene pulls away from the hug, placing her hands on your shoulders instead. “You need to get ready for work, don’t you, love—let me start your shower.” You shake your head. “Screw work,” you say, “I want to spend this wonderful day with you and only you.” Your words draw a wide smile on her face. “Sounds great, love.”

She turns around before leaning against your chest, placing your hand right on her stomach that’s now occupied by the little one—your little one (the fetus hasn’t formed yet, yes, but the point still stands). Irene giggles as you rub her belly gently. “You’ll need to come up with some names, love.” “You first,” you say, “do you have ideas?” She taps her chin as she thinks of a candidate. “Jihoon-ie if it’s a boy, and Hyewon-ie if it’s a girl.”

You’re a little startled; Jihoon was the name of your little brother who passed away just before he turned 9 years old (you were 13 at the time) due to cardiac arrest. Your parents, specifically your mom, took his passing heavily, falling into what you learned years later as depression, which explained why they weren’t at home a lot—they were busy seeking help from professionals, both at home and abroad.

Irene knows about this story, obviously; you’ve taken her to his resting place a few times. “His memories can live on with our child, love,” she explains the reason behind the idea. “I’m glad that you have that idea, but personally, I think I’d let him rest,” you say, and Irene dares not argue.

“What about your ideas, love?” You take a few deep breaths as you try to come up with some names. “I don’t have any boy names in my head, but Yeseo if it’s a girl,” you say. Irene likes your idea; she thinks that it’s such a pretty and cute name for a girl. “Well, we’ll need to wait until they can tell if we’re having a son or a daughter.”

-

Mr. Hwang, the cook, has made some fettuccine for breakfast, since Irene said that she’s been craving pasta—a pregnant woman shall have what she wants. So, here you are: sitting at the table in the dining room with Irene, ready to fill your stomach with this tasty-looking dish.

Seeing the tall glass of water reminds you of something important that you want to address with Irene. “My love,” you place a hand over hers, “now that we’re going to become parents, let’s stop drinking alcohol, hm?” She nods enthusiastically. “I was about to suggest that idea to you, hon.” You smile. “I’m glad that we’re on the same page.” “About that, though,” she backtracks, “what about our collection? We have some nice wine and champagne.”

You ring the kitchen bell, and Mr. Hwang appears after a few seconds. “Yes, sir?” “Do you drink, Mr. Hwang?” “I do, sir, occasionally,” he admits. “Nice,” you put on a thumbs-up, “would you like to keep our liquor collection? We want to stop drinking now that we’re expecting.” His eyes widen in surprise. “I would be honored, sir, but as far as I know, they’re expensive.” You smile kindly while placing a hand on the side of his arm. “The only thing I care about, Mr. Hwang, is my wife and my child’s health—I don’t care about those bottles.” “If you say so—oh, and congratulations on the pregnancy, sir.”

After convincing Mr. Hwang to keep your collection of liquor for himself, you return to your wife. “Mr. Hwang will take care of those bottles, love; we won’t have to throw them out,” you inform her. “Erm, actually,” says Irene, “can we give the Masseto to my parents, love?” You agree with her request, thus officially marking the start of the transition to a clear-headed life without alcohol.

-

You invite Irene to join you on the sofa because you think that you have some things to discuss with her. “What do you want to talk about, love?” “Which hospital do you want, and how do you want to deliver the baby?” After thinking about it for a while, Irene says she wants to try delivering without surgery but is open to it as the last option. As for the hospital, she chooses the Sacred Heart Hospital, which is a very good hospital that’s also not too far from your house.

“Next up, our stuff,” you say, making Irene confused. “What do you mean?” “Well, we’re going to need a new car; I don’t think transporting the 3 of us in that 911 or your Genesis is a good idea.” “Do you want to sell the 911?” No, you don’t want to; Irene bought that silver speedster as a birthday present for you. “I was thinking that we should just buy a new one—something that can accommodate us and our child comfortably.” She pulls out her phone to search for options, but you stop her. “That doesn’t have to happen today, love,” you say, “we can think about that later on; I was just trying to get it out there, you know.”

Irene moves to sit on your lap. “I have some things to ask from you, love,” she starts on a new subject, “tell me what you think about them, okay?” You nod to get her to continue. “First, whenever possible, please come home early and don’t spend too much time working.” You say yes without hesitation, which satisfies her. Work will always be there, but your child’s growth and other important moments only happen once—wouldn’t want to miss your child’s first word or first step, would you?

“Second,” she puts up two fingers in front of your eyes, “please have mercy on me when we have sex.” You ask her to elaborate further. “I know that we can get rough sometimes, so let’s turn it down a bit to make sure the child isn’t in danger or anything.” “What about the frequency?” You take your turn to ask. “Just the usual, please; I’ll tell you when I want it, and you can tell me when you want it.” Again, without hesitation, you agree to her terms, which apparently serves as a segue for her next point.

“Can I have you, love?” You grin as you feel your cock getting hard. “You certainly can, love—can I have you as well?” Irene giggles cutely. “That goes hand-in-hand, doesn’t it?” “Just wanted to make sure, baby.”

Because of the time and day, there are other people in the house (i.e. the cook and the cleaning staff), so the only place you can have sex in is the bedroom. On your way to the bedroom with Irene in your arms, she taps your chin to get your attention. “Love, Miss Jo wants to take a leave to visit her parents,” she says. “We’ll go out later and get her some stuff to take home.”

You set Irene gently onto the bed in compliance with her request to take things easier during sex. “Ah, my gentle giant,” she comments. She hasn’t used that nickname in quite some time, now that you think about it. That name was given to you by your fellow student council members (including Irene) back in university when you refused to beat up a toilet peeper and would rather have him formally punished by the university and charged by the victims. “I thought you’ve forgotten that name.” She lets out a giggle. “How can I forget, love?”

You come in for a kiss to indicate that you’ve had enough chatter, and Irene welcomes you warmly as usual. “Please, love,” she gulps, “please start already.” You reach for her pajama top and undo the first button. “Patience, baby; I still need to undress you.” She cooperates by undoing her top starting from the bottom button and meeting you halfway. “There, I helped,” she says, making you laugh a little. She then proceeds to pull down her shorts just as you’re about to ask her.

Your gaze lands on her firm belly where your child is being safely kept. “I hope you won’t hate me when my stomach gets bigger.” You shake your head rapidly. “There’s no way I’d hate you for that—you’re my wife and that’s our child in your belly,” you say, and you see that Irene’s eyes are threatening to burst.

You join her in bed after undressing yourself and after she has taken off her underwear. You then pull her into a hug and peck her head everywhere, making her let out that lovely laugh that’s special to her. Once you stop, she places her hands on each side of your face. “I swear on everything I have that I’m so glad that I ended up with you and not with that Kim Junghwan guy.” “He never deserved you,” you say, demeaning. “That is true,” she agrees with you, “you and only you, love.”

You take the bottom position today, letting Irene have her way with you. “I have a feeling that I’d not be able to ride you as well with a big belly,” she comments as she moves to sit on your lap. You’re starting to get ticked off, but at the same time, she’s coming from a good place, so for now, you simply let out a sigh. “Love, please don’t worry about the sex; we’ll adapt as the pregnancy continues. Just focus on your health and stress levels, please.” Irene places her hands on her chest. “That’s touching, love—thank you.”

With your cock in hand, she aims it at her entrance. “Here I go,” she notifies you, as if you couldn’t see what she’s doing. Irene slowly goes down on your shaft, hugging it with her tight and warm walls. You breathe deeply as she starts moving up and down. “Fuck, that’s good,” you praise her to rile her up. “Yeah, daddy?” There it is: the kink that you love the most—Irene has always been quick to use it.

Irene bends backwards slightly and fixes her grip on your knees. After making sure that she’s steady, she starts moving faster on your cock, and you desperately want to hold those bouncing plump tits of hers. “Daddy, daddy,” she chants, “oh, you’re so deep in me, daddy.” “Keep it up, baby—fuck, you’re doing so well.”

Irene might not be the best at working out, but damn is she good at managing her stamina during sex; it feels like she has this extra battery pack that’s specifically used for sex, and as long as praises and words of affirmation keep flowing out of your lips, that battery will never die.

“Oh, no, daddy,” she slows down a little, “I think I’m about to cum.” “I don’t see the problem with that.” You slap her butt a few times to get her to speed up again. “Go on, baby; be good and cum for me.” Irene nods and picks up the pace again, trying to adhere to your command to “be good.”

Irene’s thighs shake violently when her first orgasm hits while her walls are gripping your shaft very tightly, making it very hard to you to not just bust right here. You pull her towards you and hug her. “Good job, love—very good job.” “You—oh, you always bring the best out of me, daddy,” she replies despite the heavy pants. “I can say the same about you, love,” you whisper back.

Without retreating from her pussy, you roll over until you’re the one on top. “You’re so sweaty, love,” you comment while wiping her forehead, “that must’ve been exhausting for you.” Irene shakes her head feebly. “A-anything to make you happy, daddy.” The way she always puts your pleasure as the top priority is touching. “Alright, let’s take a breather first, okay?”

“Take a breather,” you say, but you’re still slowly moving back and forth in her pussy, making her let out soft moans despite the exhaustion. “Ha-have mercy—please, daddy,” she utters faintly, almost too quiet to reach your ears. “Don’t worry, baby; I’m being gentle.”

As you keep fucking her like this, you can feel your orgasm inching closer, so you pause for now. “Okay, I’m going to stop here—I don’t want to cum without your full attention.” “B-but you have my attention, daddy.” You chuckle. “Your eyes are barely open, love.” When you see her opening her mouth to make an argument, you quickly lean in for a kiss to interrupt her. “Relax, love, we have all day.”

You’ve spent the last few minutes kissing (while still being inside her), and Irene is the first to break it. “When are you going to give me your cum, daddy?” You assess that she has recovered enough for you to finish this, so to answer her, “Right now.” You straighten your back and prepare to start. “Where do you want it, love?” Irene scoffs. “Where else?” “But what about your career?” The callback to the career vs. child argument makes her laugh. “I’m literally pregnant right now, in case you forgot—fill me however much you want, daddy.”

You place her legs together on one side of your shoulder and start fucking her. Irene promptly places her hands on her tits, doing whatever she can to add more stimulation on top of that you’re giving her. “Daddy, you’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it, you know.” You let out a hum to answer her. “Give it to me whenever, daddy.”

You fasten your grip on her legs as you turn up the pace to the maximum of your ability. Your wife has now been reduced to moans and screams; she no longer has the headspace to play with her tits and instead just puts her hands on each side of her head.

“Love, I—” Before you can finish your sentence, semen escapes your shaft and enters her body, making her let out a long, sensual moan because of the warmth. “Oh, daddy,” she gasps, “oh, God, you’ve filled me again.” You let go of her legs and fall limply onto her body. “I love you, baby,” you say right into her ear. “I love you more, daddy.”

-

As you roll closer towards your house, you see your wife patiently waiting for you in the front garden among the flowers. She turns her head and puts on a smile for you, and you swear to God that exhaustion and stress from work has been taken away, and along with it, your breath.

You quickly jump out of your car, stumbling on your own leg in the process. “Welcome home, love,” she greets you with open arms. You take your rightful spot in her arms, and you can feel her belly bump against yours. “Tired, love?” “I was but not anymore,” you say. “It’s like magic, isn’t it—the moment you see your significant other, everything else just disappears.” “Absolutely,” you agree with her.

Irene invites you to sit on the garden bench with her, but you opt to take a knee in front of her instead. You rub her belly gently to greet your little one, and Irene looks at you with a smile of approval. “I want to say that I’m tired, but it doesn’t feel right.” You furrow your eyebrows. “Why not?” “I mean, it’s you who went to work, not me.” “That’s absurd; you might be at home, but I imagine being pregnant is tiring.” You can tell that she wants to make another argument, but the way you’re looking at her right in the eyes makes her bury that intention.

“Have you eaten, by the way?” Irene nods. “I asked Mr. Hwang to make me lentil soup for lunch.” Lentil soup sounds nice and healthy, which is important for a pregnant woman. “It was so delicious, by the way.” You laugh. “He’d be in deep trouble if it wasn’t.”

You think that this is enough catching up for now and that it’s time to get into the house, so you carry her inside safely. Irene says she wants to watch TV because she’s “tired of being in the bedroom,” so you put her down on the sofa and hand her the remote. You then tell her that you’ll join her after taking a quick shower.

When you get back to the living room to join her, you see that Irene is watching this little documentary on Giethoorn, this beautiful hamlet in the Netherlands where rivers run everywhere. She keeps letting out wows as shots of the area are shown on screen, deeply immersed in the show. “Do you think we can move there one day, love?” “Oh, man, I hope so; that looks like a really nice place to live in.” Irene turns your head towards you. “Maybe if we can’t live in the Netherlands, we can live in some quieter place instead—Damyang or Jinhae, perhaps?” You smile at her. “We’ll see what we can do, alright?” Not satisfied with just words, she makes you make a pinky promise that you’ll seriously consider it.

-

You didn’t know that you fell asleep, only waking up because you feel soft pokes on your thigh.

“Hngh?”

“Love, you’re tired, aren’t you?”

“A little.”

“Please, that doesn’t look like a little.”

“A little lot, perhaps,” you change your answer.

“I was going to invite you to sleep, but you haven’t eaten yet.”

“That’s fine, love.”

“No, it’s not fine—do you want to have food delivered here?”

“Eh, sure,” you accept her offer, “order something light for me, please.”

Irene doesn’t say anything, presumably busy scrolling through the food delivery app to find something for you. “Light, light, light—what’s something that’s light?” “A lamp—haha, get it?” Irene slaps your thigh for your joke. “Daddy is really funny, isn’t he, Hyewon-ah?” Hearing your wife say that name startles you a tad. “Hyewon-ah? Really?” “I don’t know,” Irene shrugs, “I just like that name.” “Oh, I thought we’ve found out if we’re having a daughter.”

Irene focuses on ordering food again, and something finally catches her fancy. “What about some toast, love?” “What toast?” She shows you the available options, from peanut butter toast to kimchi and cheese toast. “Get me one peanut butter toast, please.” She says that it’s a better deal to order at least 3 toasts, so she adds some other toast to the order. “It’ll be here in around 45 minutes, love.” You thank her for the help and then invite her to rest her head on your lap.

“Love me, please,” she says in this aegyo-esque voice. You bend down and peck her on the forehead. “Anything specific, love?” Irene opens and closes her mouth a few times, seemingly trying to judge if she should speak her mind. “You’re so tired, though,” she utters, and you can already tell what she’s getting at. “You want me between your legs, don’t you?” Your wife covers her red face. “W-well, if you put it like that…” “We’ll wait until I have some food in my stomach and see how we can proceed—do we have a deal?” “Yes, deal!” The way her voice cracks makes you laugh. “My, my, aren’t you a cutie?”

-

The toasts are here: you’ve grabbed the bag from the delivery man and put it on the living room table.

You pick up the box with the text “PB” written on it. Irene says that she has bought some toast from this place before and hopes that you’ll like it like she does. You nod in satisfaction after taking the first bite. “I think I know what brand of peanut butter this is,” you comment. She scratches her head in cluelessness. “I don’t know, love; they all taste the same to me.”

You notice that Irene has two hands on top of each other on her stomach and keeps licking her lips while watching you eat. “Want to have a bite, lovely?” She nods timidly. “It looks so good,” she admits, “b-but I don’t know if I should eat.” You tilt your head in confusion. “Why not?” “Erm, I think that’s ultra-processed food—that’s one. Two, I don’t want to gain too much weight.” Weight can be quite a sensitive subject, especially considering that your wife has always been paying close attention to it.

You keep chewing as you think of a reasonable answer—well, here it goes: “I’m sure that you have good intentions, but I’m almost certain that one toast won’t hurt you or Hyewon-ie.” You can tell that she’s starting to get swayed, as proven by how she has a box with “CHOCO” written on it in her hands. “Forgive me, Hyewon-ah, but I really want this toast.”

You panic a little when Irene sheds a tear after taking a bite. “Oh my, are you okay, love?” She nods again. “T-this is so good, but I feel so guilty for eating this—oh, I’m so sorry, Hyewon-ah.” You put down your and her toast on the table so that you can hold her hands. “Love, love,” you try to get her to focus on you, “it’s okay, no one is yelling at you for eating one toast—not me, not Doctor Shin, and certainly not Hyewon-ie.” “A-are you sure?” “Yes,” you say in a resolute tone. “We’ll be just fine, trust me.”

Feeling decently comforted and assured by your words, Irene asks if she can have her toast again, so you give it back to her. You make sure you don’t forget to wipe that random tear off her cheek while you’re at it. “Thank you,” she utters softly. “You’re welcome, my love,” you say equally softly.

-

After finishing those tasty and quite filling toast, Irene asks if she can have you between her legs, so you stand up from your seat and stretch your body to warm up. “I apologize in advance if I finish too fast; I’m kind of tired.” Your wife shakes her head. “As long as your load is mine, I don’t really see the problem with finishing fast—I’ll probably finish before you, anyway.”

There’s only you and your wife in this house right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that sex should only happen in the bedroom for the next 6 to 7 months; it’s more comfortable for her and safer for your child.

After getting undressed, Irene asks to be helped sit on the stool that she prepared earlier today. “It seems like you have an idea,” you comment. “Yes,” she says, “I want you back there.” “What happened to turning it down?” “This isn’t our first time, is it—just remember to be gentle.”

You open the bedside drawer to find the lube and see that it’s not there. “We don’t have lube?” Irene looks away to hide her red cheeks. “Erm, I might or might not have used it earlier.” You furrow your eyebrows. “You used it? For what?” She shyly admits that she fucked herself in the rear with a dildo this afternoon. “I-I wanted to prepare for you, because I know you like it when I think ahead.”

It’s not strange or new to you that your wife is lustful; you’ve known that for years at this point. That said, you’d think that being pregnant would turn that lustfulness down, but it doesn’t seem like it so far—in fact, it feels like she’s more lustful than ever.

You stand in front of her and hold her chin. “Oh, love, what would you do without me—who could satisfy you if not me?” “I don’t know, daddy; it’s always been you since day one.” You reward her with a kiss for answering correctly. “May I, then?” Irene giggles slightly. “Certainly.”

You walk around and look for your target. “I’m pulling this plug out, alright?” After getting a nod of approval from your wife, you gently tug on the plug. “Ngh!” Irene clenches her fists when she feels her rear being stretched by the wide part of the plug. “Relax, love—it’s almost out.” With a pop, the plug is finally out of her tight ass, and you quickly put your mouth on it for the first time ever in this marriage, making your wife gasp in shock. “Daddy, no, I’m dirty there.”

You ignore her and keep running your tongue on her puckered hole; quite fun, you must admit. Occasionally, you try parting her cheeks apart so that you can put the tip of your tongue in her rear.

Feeling weak, Irene starts tumbling forwards, but you catch her just in time to save her from going face first onto the floor. “God, you’re so crazy, daddy.” “Your new task, baby, is to keep it clean all the time—is that clear?” Irene nods in obedience. “Y-yes, sir; I will try my best.” You squeeze her butt cheek lightly. “Good girl,” you praise her.

You get on your feet and hug the panting woman from behind. “Are you alright?” “Y-yes—fuck, you’re fucking crazy.” You pinch a nipple, more surprising than painful. “That’s not how you speak to me, woman.” “S-sorry, sir, b-but you are indeed crazy.” You kiss her on the back of the head. “I hope you didn’t mind, by the way.” Your wife shakes her head. “Not—oh, not at all.”

“Sir, daddy,” Irene can’t choose between the two, “would you fuck my ass, please?” “Thought you’d never ask, baby.” You stroke your shaft to make sure that it’s properly hard and ready while your wife spreads her butt cheeks to give you access. You place the tip right on the entrance of her forbidden hole. “Are you ready, baby?” “Yes—oh, God, fuck, yes.”

You waste little time and go deep right away into her warmed-up hole. “Fuck, you’re always so tight right here.” “Hngh! Ngh!” Irene can only let out grunts as she’s getting overwhelmed by the stimulation you’re giving her. “No one can touch you like I do, hm?” She shakes her head weakly as a response, still unable to say anything back.

You hook her arms backwards as you get ready to fuck her to make sure she doesn’t fall off the stool. “I’m yours, daddy—fuck me however you want,” she says, as if it was ever a question. “Bet.”

With this steady posture, you start fucking her ass roughly, forcing Irene to scream with each thrust delivered. “My husband is fucking amazing—Hyewon-ah, daddy is fucking amazing,” Irene thinks as the sounds of your hips crashing against her butt enter her ears.

As time goes on, everything starts to get blurry for Irene, and it doesn’t help that from this position, she has no control over how fast you’re fucking her. “P-please stop,” she says weakly, hoping that it’ll still reach your ears amongst the clapping sounds. It doesn’t seem like you heard her, though; you’re still fucking her ass recklessly, which leaves her no other choice but to just yell out loud. “DADDY, STOP—PLEASE!” Hearing her scream makes you stop abruptly with more than half your shaft still lodged in her ass. “Daddy, please, let me breathe,” Irene begs.

Still panting, you gently retreat from her gaped ass. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you just realize how rough you’ve been. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, love,” you repeat to show sincerity. You pull her into your arms and take a seat on the edge of the bed, and the sight of your wife crying (from getting fucked in the ass, nonetheless) twists your heart like nothing else. You keep repeating apologies while rubbing her stomach gently, hoping that doing so could also tell Hyewon that you’re regretful of your actions.

Irene feebly reaches for your face. “I-it’s okay; it was good until it became overwhelming, daddy.” You lie her down on her side and inspect the result of your recklessness—it seems like she didn’t get injured by your shaft. “I think you’re fine, baby.” “Great,” she replies, “so what are you waiting for?” You blink rapidly in confusion. “I thought you were in pain?” “I never said that,” she shrugs. Seeing that you’re silent, Irene piles on. “C’mon, look at yourself, daddy: you’re still hard and ready to fuck me—let me finish the job, please.” “Fine,” you give up, “I’m not getting in your ass again, though.”

Irene says that you have a deal and asks you to lie down so that she can take control, which is fine by you; you’ve had enough “fun” being dominant tonight. You keep an eye on your wife as she aims your shaft towards her entrance from the cowgirl position. You grit your teeth when Irene slowly sits down on your cock—you’re in her ass again. “Oh, fuck, welcome back, daddy.” “I thought we had a deal.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Irene deflects, “anyway, I hope you enjoy the ride, hihihi.”

Irene rests her subtly bulged belly on your body while her hips are busy bouncing up and down along your length. She keeps chanting “you’re in my ass” as if you can’t tell that you are indeed in her ass. You reach around and slap her butt. “Go faster.” Having planted her hands on your chest, Irene tries to bounce faster on your cock. “Oh, oh, yes—how’s this, daddy?” It’s you who can’t respond this time; just like earlier, the way her muscles are squeezing you prevents you from thinking straight and coming up with words to say.

You rest your head on the pillow while your wife is busy fucking herself on your cock (while moaning so freaking freely), and for some reason, your eyelids feel like they weighed 100 kilograms—what the hell are they so heavy for? “You must be close, daddy,” Irene makes a keen observation. “Uh-huh,” are all that escape your lips. Hearing that you’re close serves as fuel for Irene to keep up the tempo and make you bust with her ass; this tireless woman can be very crazy in bed, pregnant or not.

“Love, I’m about to—oh, fuck, I’m about to bust,” you warn her. “Yeah?” Her voice is barely heard thanks to the endless clapping noises. You grip the pillow your head is resting on as your cock starts twitching wildly in her rear. “Baby, please,” you let your desperation to cum be known to her.

Irene slams herself down onto your body, and you instantly erupt, surprising the both of you at the same time. She throws her head back as your warm semen floods her ass. “Oh, oh, yes, daddy.” It was her who did all the work, but it’s you who’s panting heavily.

“Love, thank you so much.” Irene removes you from her ass and lies down next to you. “Even when tired, you’re still so strong,” she praises while her hand runs along your length. “What’s your secret, daddy?” “You’re my secret; if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be like this.” You let out a low moan when your wife manages to squeeze the last bit of semen out of you. “You’re so cute, you know that?” You chuckle. “No, I don’t.”

-

It feels odd to not have Irene welcome you at the driveway, especially since she’s been doing that consistently for the past few weeks, too. Her Genesis is parked neatly in the usual spot, so she must be at home, but where is she?

“I’m home.” You close the door behind you and scan your surroundings—still no sign of your wife, making you wonder if perhaps she’s asleep. You make your way towards the bedroom, and your jaw drops immediately when you see her kneeling on the floor while being almost entirely naked. Irene buckles a little, presumably because she feels a fetus kick. “Even Hyewon-ie doesn’t approve,” you comment.

You rub the side of her face gently. “What on God’s green earth are you trying to do, love?” The ball gag in her mouth prevents her from answering, but she has this little spanker in her hands that she’s trying to hand over to you. “Love, please, what are you doing?” Irene just looks at your feet while her hands are on her thighs. “This isn’t how a woman in her second trimester is supposed to behave, is it?” You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to get yourself together. “Fine, I’ll play your game.”

Your wife steals some glances as you undress in front of her, and when you’re finished, you take the time to take off her bra, exposing her tits that you swear have grown bigger recently. You then lift her onto her feet to remove her panties, and Irene instantly drops back down onto the floor after you’re done. “Oh, you’re that serious, aren’t you?”

You pick up the slim paddle from the floor and prepare to swing. “Wait, where do I hit her?” You look for places to hit her on, but the more you think about it, the more that you don’t want to do it. That said, you imagine that it’d disappoint her if you chicken out, so you decide to play along until she taps out.

You hit her on the right shoulder once. “Ngh!” Irene lets out a yelp of surprise when the paddle lands. “That’s one.” You move the paddle to your other hand and hit her on the left shoulder. ��I’ll count until 29, okay?” Irene nods in response, and that’s when you look for other targets.

You ask her to show you her palms and hit them successively. “Any ideas?” Your wife taps her thighs, indicating that she wants to be hit there, so you hit those two spots, harder than you’d like to admit, making her grunt in pain. “Sorry.” That sounds less sincere than you’d like, but it’s okay, you’ll make it up to her later.

Before you continue, you join her on the floor and unlatch the gag. “This doesn’t look comfortable, so I’m taking it off,” you say. Irene relaxes her mouth now that she’s free. “Thank you, master.” You sigh. “Master? Really?” Irene nods enthusiastically. “Yes, master.”

You stand back up and swing at her tender breasts out of nowhere. “Fucking naughty, aren’t you?” As Irene opens her mouth to say something, you hit her breasts again. “You’re pregnant, and this is how you fucking act? Explain yourself.” You tell her to explain herself, but you don’t give her the chance to do so, interrupting her with a hit on the forearm. “M-master, please.” “Please what?” You subconsciously raise your tone. “Please punish me; I-I’ve been naughty.” You roll your eyes. “Fuck it, we’re going back to zero.”

You hit her on different places in rapid succession, and Irene screams after each one. “How many?” “S-six, master.” “Good,” you praise her emptily, “count to 18, slut.” You initially chose 29, which is the date she was born, but changed it to 18, which is the date you were born. As much as you’re putting on a cold charade for her, you don’t have the heart to hit her 29 fucking times.

You tell her to get on her hands and knees to expose other parts of her body. You smack her on the back a few times before moving on to her butt and hitting it a few more times. “How many?” Irene chokes up momentarily before she manages to get her answer out. “T-twelve, sir.”

To end the show, you give her some hard hits on the back of her thighs. “E-eighteen, master.” “On your knees,” you command, and Irene obeys right away. “Explain yourself, or else.” “I-I was just trying new stuff,” she says. “Is that it?” Irene just nods, and you can’t help but sigh, feeling somewhat frustrated by her simple answer.

“Love, be honest with me: why are you acting like this?” After taking a deep breath, Irene proceeds to explain the whole thing, from how she tore the left rear tire of her car against an elevated curb while trying to pull into a gas station this afternoon, to the fact that she touched herself thrice while thinking about you. “L-like I said, I’ve been very naughty.” You exhale deeply. “Those few things don’t require punishment—especially not of this sort.” Your wife shakes her head. “But I want to be punished,” she insists.

“Have you had enough, or what?” Irene slowly shifts her gaze to meet yours, and you know that she knows that you’re aroused, as shown by your erect cock. “Do whatever you please, master,” she says, hiding her excitement behind the façade of obedience.

Still kneeling in front of you, Irene eases you into her mouth. You place a hand on the back of her head and pull her towards you, forcing your cock deeper. She’s taken you deep plenty of times, so this is neither new nor difficult for her. “Hold it there and count to 10.” After finishing her count, Irene retreats until only your tip is in her mouth. “Very good—now do it 9 more times.”

Irene does as you command, doing each repetition passionately, much to your satisfaction. “That’s very good, love,” you make sure you don’t forget to praise her. You retreat from her wet mouth to let her breathe, and she promptly inhales sharply. “I-I hope I did well, sir.” You smile kindly. “Of course; you always do everything so well.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed while you wait for Irene to get herself together. “Anything else, master?” A lit bulb appears over your head. “Is it just me, love, or have your breasts gotten bigger?” She takes a quick look at herself. “I-I think they have indeed grown, master.” “They look so soft, don’t you think?” She nods to your question. “Would you like to touch them, sir?” “I have a better idea,” you say, “put them around my cock.”

Irene crawls towards you and places your cock right between her extra plump tits. “Like this, sir?” You moan in a low voice as your shaft grinds against her tits. “You—oh, fuck, you’re so good at every-fucking-thing.” Your wife blushes. “I aim to please, master.” “Oh, trust me, I’m very pleased right now, love.”

Much to your pleasure, Irene presses her chin against her chest and catches your tip with her mouth every time it pokes through her tits. You pet her head gently. “Good fucking job, baby—fuck, I’m about to bust.” “Please, give me your cum, master.” Irene moves her tits faster, eager to have your first load of the day.

You throw your head back and close your eyes as semen spurts out of the tip of your cock, landing all over her face and chest. “Oh my, very thick,” she comments. “I love how you taste, master; your diet works well for me too, you know.” You chuckle. “Good to know, baby.”

You invite Irene to lie down in bed with you. “You haven’t cum yet.” “Yes, I have; I told you I touched myself a lot today.” You get your tie from the messy pile of clothes. “Hands above your head, please.” She puts her hands together above her head, and you tie them together. “Are we ready?” Irene looks at you nervously. “Please have mercy, master; I’ve had a lot of orgasm today.” “That wasn’t my doing, was it?”

Irene gasps in shock when she feels your hand on her little nub. “Sensitive much?” “Please, master.” “Please what, baby?” “I need to cum again, master—make me cum with your hands, please.” “Well, since you asked so nicely.” You use one hand to stimulate her nub and use the other to play with her tits, going fast and fervent right from the gate.

In the moment of high stimulation, Irene accidentally kicks you in the head—how did that even happen? “That’s not nice.” “I-I—fuck, I’m so sorry, master. I didn’t mean it.” “That’s strike one, Miss Bae,” you warn. To punish her behavior, you increase the intensity of stimulation on her pussy, making her jolt around more. It’s fine if she were to kick you again; you have some more ideas in your head to get her back.

Your wife keeps moaning loudly and freely as her fourth orgasm looms ahead. “Master, master,” Irene begs for your attention, “I won’t last too long, master.” “Oh, is that so?” You plunge two fingers into her pussy and finger-fuck her, and Irene can’t help but moan, possibly until her voice disappears.

Your hand starts getting tired, but as timing has it, she’s also very, very close to orgasm. With an ear-piercing scream, Irene explodes: her legs are shaking violently, and her juice is coming out torrentially. “Very, very good, my love—you’re such a big bomb, aren’t you?” You free her hands and move to barrage her sweaty head with pecks. “We’ll wait until you’re relaxed before doing anything else, alright?”

Amid all this, you notice that you’re getting rock hard again. You start stroking your cock with the sight of your naked wife in front of you. Irene, in her exhausted state, looks at you. “Don’t waste your cum,” she says vaguely. “What do you mean?” “Put it somewhere in me, master,” she clarifies. You stop for a moment. “You’re very exhausted, love. I don’t want to burden you with more sex.” Your wife shakes her head. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

You take a position in between her legs, aiming your cock at her pussy in the process. You announce that you’re going in, and Irene moans weakly at the first contact. She tells you that you need to do all the work this, citing her exhaustion. “Never thought I’d hear such words from you; you’ve been tireless recently,” you say, earning a little chuckle from her.

You kiss her while your shaft goes in and out of her, dropping whatever charade you’ve been using these past few hours. “I love you, baby—I love you so fucking much.” “I-I love you more, hon—you’re the best for me.” Her warm words make you smile. “I’ll stay by your side until death do us part, my love.” “You have a deal.” You hug her tightly when your second load of the day enters her body.

“We’ll rest a bit, if that’s okay with you.” “Sure,” Irene says, “I can’t even stand up right now.”

-

You feel rapid taps on your chest, making you wake up crassly in surprise. When your eyes are open enough to provide vision, you see that your wife is seated in bed with Yeseo in her arms. “Yes, love?” Irene doesn’t answer your question and instead, starts breaking down in tears. “C-can you take care of her a little? I-I want to rest.”

You slap yourself as hard as you can for leaving your wife to sleep and, in turn, forcing her to tend to your child alone. “My goodness, I’m so sorry, love.” You open your hands to receive your daughter who is wrapped snug with a little blanket, and Irene immediately falls flat onto the bed—she’s still crying, though. “Go to sleep if you can, love; I’ll keep her safe.” “I’m such a bad mom,” she insults herself unnecessarily, “I can’t even stay up for my daughter.” “No, you’re not a bad mom—trust me, you’re not.” To offer her some peace, you tell her that you’ll be in the living room with Yeseo until morning. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You give her a peck as a parting gift.

“Yeseo-yah,” you whisper softly, “while mommy catches her breath, we’ll hang out in the living room, okay?” Having been born just a few weeks ago, Yeseo can’t respond much aside from a small head movement, which you’ll gladly accept as an answer. “We’re going to get along very well, aren’t we, sweetie?”

You turn on the TV to watch something in an attempt make sure you don’t fall asleep, and that’s when you see the time: 02:09 a.m. “We’re staying up late, sweetie—I hope you won’t make this a habit when you’re grown up,” you comment.

You make sure that the TV is muted so that it doesn’t startle your daughter when this video starts. “Oh my, look at that place, Yeseo-yah.” A shot of beautiful countryside scenery in Jeju steals your attention, and it’s very hard to resist the temptation to move there with your family. “What do you say we move there, sweetie?” Yeseo lets out a small squeal, and you guess that she’s interested in living there. “Aha, great minds think alike, hey?”

You remember your wife asking if the family can move to somewhere quieter to raise Yeseo in, and now that she’s actually here, you’re really contemplating the opportunity. In your head, you try to think about what work would be like if you lived in a place like Jeju, which is even farther from the big capital. Your brain suggests stepping down from your post and earning from dividends, which sounds like a sound idea. Irene had stepped down from her position of director of risk management two months before Yeseo was born, so it’s not the craziest idea to follow suit.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and mommy, Yeseo-yah.” You want to say that you’re willing to die for them, but Irene’s words enter your mind: why die for family, if you can be healthy and stay by their side instead? You laugh a little as you recall that exchange. “Mommy is an amazing person, sweetie. Sometimes I can’t believe I ended up with her.”

-

Irene wakes up around 6 hours later, feeling somewhat refreshed after a decent night’s sleep. The first thing she does is obviously to check up on her husband and daughter.

“Look at you: sleeping with Yeseo in your hands.” Irene unlocks her phone and takes a picture of you sleeping with your mouth wide open while Yeseo is chilling in your arms. She gets teary eyes looking at this scene in the living room.

She never had the idea of being childfree and has taken a more neutral stance about it, but at the same time, having Yeseo is quite the surprise turn of her life.

Irene quietly joins you on the sofa to not disturb your peace. “Love, love,” she whispers, trying to get you to wake up, “wake up, please; it’s time for work.” “Screw work,” she hears you say, “I’m stepping down.” She knows that you’re referring to your job. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” you reply again, “we’re moving to Jeju.”

Before getting too excited, Irene makes sure you’re awake. “Love, seriously, wake up.” The way you’re suddenly looking at her with eyes wide open makes her jump. “Yes?” “Were you serious about moving to Jeju?” You nod. “I’ve talked with Yeseo about it, and she agreed.” Irene bursts out laughing, shaking her head in amusement. “Sure, she did.” “Just ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

She plays along with your joke and asks Yeseo about her opinion on moving out of the big city, to which she replies by crying out loud, taking the two of you by surprise. “What, what, what,” you panic, “is she hungry? She’s probably hungry, right?” Irene unbuttons her pajama to expose a nipple Yeseo can latch on, so you hand your daughter over to her to be breastfed.

“Sorry, love, but these tits aren’t solely yours anymore,” Irene quips. You start laughing out loud, finding it difficult to stop. “What—what are you talking about? Why did you say it like that?” Your wife joins you in laughing. “I don’t know—it just felt right to say it.” You shake your head, highly amused by your wife’s odd statement. “It’s fine; I’m totally content with sharing them with Yeseo,” you clarify.

-

You take one last look at your house that is now empty. “We spent a fortune on this house, didn’t we, love?” You nod in agreement. “It’s crazy how much we bought this place for,” you reply. “I hope you won’t regret moving out,” Irene expresses her concern. You look at her right in the eyes while your hands are on either side of her waist. “We’re doing this for Yeseo—this is bigger than just the two of us, love.”

You walk with her outside towards the driveway, where Yeseo’s stroller is parked. “Isn’t she so cute?” “She is,” you say, “I swear I will do and give everything for you and her.” Irene puts on a big smile.

“We’ll give her a good life and a bright future, love.”

“We absolutely will.”

[g1rld1ary]

the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

➻ synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

➻ word count: 4346

➻ content: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Prongs, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

[jo-com]

can you do a carlos x reader x charles

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒🐚 ೀ ➛ Two sides

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader x Carlos Sainz

Summary: The three of you are having a baby together—Charles being the nonchalant one while Carlos is the overreacting half.

Genre: Fluff, established relationship!, pregnancy, poly relationship, Nonchalant!Charles x Oa!reader x Oa!Carlos

Note: There are grammatical error and this is not proofread!!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ˚⋆౨ৎ˚🌷⋅₊⋅─ ───────

Ever since you guys decided to have a baby—the two have been nothing, but ecstatic and over the moon with joy.

Their hearts gushed with excitement as they dread the day your little one will be born. Your once barely seen bump was now the size of a melon; making you go tired even after just standing up or even sitting on a chair.

Nonetheless the two boys were there, helping you throughout the whole process. One being overreacting while the other was nonchalant; though they acted differently, they still are the same when it comes to your needs and safety.

…

Of course Carlos being himself— he handled you with the outmost care, as if you were a porcelain doll that is so fragile one wrong move could crack.

On the other hand. Charles acts nonchalantly calm about any situation; He’s like the adult in the relationship— taking care of three kids at the same time.

…

“Mi amor, are you sure you don’t need extra pillows?” Carlos asked, his tone dripped with concern as he frantically circles around your chair.

Before you could answer your husband, Charles was quick to retaliate along with his signature eye roll, ”Carlos stop that, you’ll make her nauseous.”

Carlos lets out an exaggerated gasp, his eyes flickering from Charles to yours and automatically pouting his plump lips, “do you really feel that mi vida?, am i making our baby sick too?.”

You let a soft giggle and patted the head of the man in front of you, “baby no, what Charles mean is that i might puke from all your movements.”

“I am sorry, my love” he mumbled.

Carlos then drooped down your side, his head rested in your shoulder as he moped around.

Whilst consoling Carlos you could see from your peripheral that Charles was leaning on the wall and was looking at you two with pure love. His eyes filled with adoration and heart full of happiness.

You gestured for him to come and join you guys to which he happily obliged. Hugging you two and tightening his hold, making the three of you feel closer to one another.

…

You were now 6 months in the pregnancy— your bump was now more evident than before, making your two husband grow protective. Watching your every move like a hawk.

It got worse when Charles’ home Gp came around the corner. You wanted to go with and support them, but they refused to let you participate in anything that will harm your guys’ baby.

“I’ll be fine guys, i swear” you spoke, your voice a little strain from being tired.

Charles sighed heavily and stared back at you, his brows knitted in concern, “mon amour, we just don’t want you to feel tired.”

From the side, Carlos shook his head vigorously in agreement and grasping your hands in his. “Yes, we don’t want the baby to also feel tired.”

You lowered your head and sighed defeatedly, earning an eyebrow raise from the two.

If they won’t let you go, you’ll have no choice, but to use your secret weapon.

You looked back at them— your eyes curled into doe ones and your lips pulled into a pout. “But, I want to support you guys” you said imitating a baby’s voice.

Carlos’ heart ache from your puppy dog eyes and was easily wrapped around your finger. He glanced back at his other lover and looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Maybe it’s not a bad idea, right Charles?” Carlos asked.

Charles looked at the two in disbelief, especially with Carlos. How could he give in easily.

But with the two of you combine, how the hell could he say no himself?

The two of you looked at him with sparkling eyes— drawing him over to your side. Sad to say that Charles didn’t make it and after about one minute in, he finally agreed.

…

“You ready baby?” Carlos asked, his hand softly caressing your bump.

You smiled back at him and nodded in response. “We’re here” Charles spoke, peeping in the window and checking the surrounding for your safety.

The entrance of the Paddock were bombarded by lots and lots of fan— waiting for the two drivers to appear in front of them.

Their chants of excitement and praise were heard from the inside your vehicle, making you feel a little bit uneasy.

As soon as you guys moved out of the car, Charles and Carlos instinctively covered you from all of the paparazzi and fans that were getting close. Their bodies towering over your meek ones— the uneasy feeling from earlier slowly left your mind as your two husband made sure you were safe and protected.

After walking down different garages, you guys were about to reach the hospice when one of the McLaren driver stood in your way. “Y/NNNNN” Lando yelled happily.

He was about to run in and hug you but was abruptly stopped by Charles’ broad chest.

“No can do muppet, can’t you see she’s pregnant”

Lando rolled his eyes and peered from Charles’ side. There you were, standing besides an overprotective Carlos— his hand moved you closer to his side. His eye’s laced with annoyance as he glared back at the other driver.

“Chill guys, i just want to greet my best friend” he spoke, walking pass by Charles and carefully taking you to his embrace.

With a smugish look, he hugged you tightly; not so tight that could hurt the baby but was enough to piss the two off.

Out of sheer anger, Charles quickly grabbed his collar and moved him to the side. “What the hell man, i swear if you ever do that again I’ll kill you.”

Meanwhile, Carlos softly led your figure to his and checked if you got hurt somewhere, his eyes were teary from the stupid move Lando just did. “Are you hurt any where my love? What about here?

…

The day lasted like that, where each of them had one role— Carlos would be the overreacting one who checks on you but will get teary from the slightest thing and Charles would be the nonchalant one with anger issues.

Now that’s what i call, happy family.

…

[pinecipitation]

Pine,,,, smiling friends headcanons, how do you think each of the boys would react to their crush saying they feel safe with them :> if not all of them, your boy Alan and Charlie and Pim (asking for us both im shaking)

SMILING FRIENDS X GN!READER HCS

FIRST OF ALL,,,, HAIIII TEDDYYYY :3 ❤️💛 HELLO WIFE HI LOML…

second of all YESSS SMILING FRIENDS CONTENT WE R SO BACKKK let me get to work ‼️

word count: around 1.2k

authors note: oh my god this was in the works for like a month, I be procrastinating really hard i’m sorry gang 😔🤞 also I’m so sorry alans is so short despite him being my favorite one I’m fighting for my life in here man

CHARLIE: (s1e6)

charlie… is almost relieved to hear it, honestly would immediately flip a switch and do the very most to KEEP you as safe as you can be- but hide it in a playful manner. would carry you for the rest of your life if you asked, just because you inflated his ego.

The two of you are almost halfway in the enchanted forest, you walking in front of Charlie as you hold a little makeshift map in front of the two of you. The whole time Charlie is pointing out little shortcuts, you erasing and drawing paths over and over on the paper until a particularly strong gust of wind blow it away from the two of you, his shocked mouth open and yours would’ve opened if the pencil wasn’t still in your mouth. You didn’t want to say it, but you felt a little aggravated at him for losing your focus like that.

You stop to let him speed up in front of you, the two of you continuing onwards in silence before he speaks.

“Listen… I-“

“It’s fine, you go and I follow. I trust you.”

The minute those words left your mouth, Charlie immediately stops and turns to look at you, the clinks and clanks of his armor making it almost comedic.

“What?”

“…I said you could lead the way?-“

“No,” he shakes his head, the helmet shifting with him, “After that.”

You look at him quizzically, your arms awkward by your side as you look to the side then to him again.

“I trust you?”

What you couldn’t see was Charlie internally squealing like a little girl, happy that someone like you can allow themselves to be so carefree around him. Except you weren’t just someone; he’s unknowingly had a thing for you long enough to where it’s embarrassing that he hasn’t made a move. But, somehow, you telling him that made him understand why he got so nervous around you. Why he always felt let down whenever you had a different mission that day and couldn’t hang with him and Pim. Why he always slightly pulled aside the seat next to him in the office just so you’d sit next to him instead of across.

He finally realized he liked you.

But of course, he’d never say that out loud.

What he did do, however, was immediately grin and flex, his armor audibly showing him move as if he were showing off in a gym mirror.

“Well of course you do, I’d be concerned if you didn’t think a hero like me could protect you. I mean, look at me,” he plays along, successfully earning a chuckle from you before you roll your eyes and shift the bag on your shoulder before you keep moving ahead.

“Alright, hero- hey-!” Your joking manner was cut short as Charlie picks you up, flinging you over his shoulder as his laugh rockets off the trees around the two of you.

Your giggles and pleas to be let down drowned out as he thought about that sentence once more, thinking about what to do to hopefully hearing it again another time.

PIM: (s1e4)

pim….. he’d be so happy, would internally have a little panicked spongebob brain moment but on the outside he’s a stuttering blushing mess. as if he isn’t pink enough.

“Don’t worry, i’ll use this rock to mark the trees- we can find our way back easy!”

Pims words seemed like an echo, his happy go easy personality twenty minutes ago almost feeling like a warning now that the two of you crossed that bridge. The two of you just barely escaped the rain, logs and sticks discarded as the rickety cabin door you called shelter slammed shut.

You were both dripping, Pims cowboy outfit making wet stretching noises every time he stretched his leg or raised his arm. Your outfit was also drenched, a small rip or two from the thorns you pulled away from on the run here.

You were still kneeled over catching your breath as the thunder pursued outside, Pim shakingly clearing his throat before looking up at you with disappointed eyes.

“Listen,… I’m really sorry, I didn’t think it would rain or anything but even then I shouldn’t have taken us across the bridge, and now it’s my fault we’re here-,” he begins, his wet hat now in his hands as he stares down at his cowboy spurs. He only really looked up once he hears you interrupted him with a laugh, a sound he immediately feels his cheeks redden to.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little rain. We’ll be okay- plus, I feel safe with you. I know we’ll make it back fine.”

You were facing down trying to wring the water out of your hair and costume, thinking nothing of it, but to Pim?

To Pim, it meant everything.

He immediately stopped, his eyes widening as he stares at you with his mouth slightly ajar, the redness in his cheeks instantly spreading to his nose and ears. It took two or three tries for him to get his words out, the clothes on him somehow feeling tighter the more he tried to express himself.

“You… you trust me??” The way his meek voice instantly made you straighten up and look at him, the barely there water in his eye almost making you feel guilty for saying it.

Immediately you went to go hold him, your hands wrapping around his back as he listens to you giggle out a ‘Of course! Pim, are you okay?’ and he nods in return. His hands interlock together behind your back, his cheek on your shoulder as he thanks you.

ALAN: (s2e3)

alan… my wife.. would definitely think about asking if you’re SURE. in that case, he’s taken it upon himself to keep his eyes on you like a HAWK, unfortunately intimidating everyone around the two of you.

You seem to feel oddly safe perusing the streets of CrimeVille, thinking back on everyone’s warnings of how dangerous the place was. This is too easy, you think, feeling like everyone was just exaggerating the state of where you two were. What you didn’t realize, however, was Alan shooting everyone the stink eye of the century as he walks behind you.

It wasn’t too long ago when you two left the OfficeCrap, the following conversation unexpected as you both walked out.

“I can do it myself, I don’t want you going to that part of town…” Alan mumbles, the soft mechanic noise of the sliding door behind you helping end his sentence. You only shake your head, shushing him before pronouncing how you’ll be fine, and you trust him to protecting you if anything.

Unbeknownst to you, that’s the only thing Alan’s been thinking about since you left. Fortunately for Alan, being tall and having a somewhat stoic resting facial expression, he was very easy to intimidate anyone looking at you.

He almost walked like your shadow, hands in his pocket as he walks over you like a protective red totem, his blue tie occasionally brushing the top of your head as he looms over everything.

[casuallyimagining]

refuge | xmh

xu minghao x reader

"they're so loud." genre: fluff | wc: 592 | warnings: none

For the briefest of moments, the sound of laughter and old friends reminiscing bubbles up and punctures your quiet little hideaway outside. It’s a little chilly–autumn finally has the early October nights in its clutches–but you managed to turn on the small fire table before settling into a corner of the wicker sofa with your book. The noise dies down with the sound of the patio door sliding shut, and it takes only a moment more for the cause to appear.

Minghao leans down, presses a kiss into your hair, and hums at the warmth that the fire table gives off. “You’re quite cozy out here,” he notes, settling down into the space beside you. “I brought you some tea.”

You take the offered cup gratefully, setting your book down spine-up in your lap. “You lasted far longer in there than I expected.”

“They’re so loud,” he whines, a pained look crossing his face. 

“You love them.”

Just then, as if to punctuate his point, you can hear shouting from inside. Vaguely, you can make out Seungkwan’s voice. Hao looks at you flatly, as if to say ‘see?’

You bat at his chest playfully and you both laugh. It fades to quiet after a moment, and the silence of the night envelops you again. You pick your book back up and lean forward to set your mug on the edge of the fire table before cozying back into the sofa. Hao moves over, almost imperceptibly, but you can feel his body pressing into your side, and you wrap an arm around his shoulders to draw him closer.

Beside you, you can feel Minghao relax, his breathing evening out as he drifts into his thoughts. You let your focus fall back into your book, and for a while, you sit there together, completely at peace.

“We should get one of these for the balcony.” Hao’s voice is soft, and when you look up, he’s staring into the fire.

“Add it to the list.”

And he smiles. A soft, shy little thing that he tries to hide behind his cup of tea. The two of you have been half-joking about moving in together for months. It’s not the right time for either of you–he’s busy and your lease is nowhere near up–but the promise of more keeps you going.

The noise bubbles up again as the door opens, and Soonyoung’s voice punches out into the night. “Minghao! Come back inside and play with us! Vernon went to sleep and we need even teams.”

Hao shoots you a pointed look. “Loud,” he repeats, just loud enough for you to hear. 

You giggle. “Go in and spend time with your friends.” You kiss him quickly, his soft lips moulding against yours for the briefest of moments. “I’ll be in soon. I just want to finish this chapter.”

“Minghao!” Soonyoung yells again, and even without looking at him, you can tell he’s taken a step outside toward the two of you.

Hao rolls his eyes and kisses you quickly before standing. He takes his teacup with him. “I will give you 5 million won to forget my name,” he tells Soonyoung, and the older man giggles like a deranged toddler. 

The ghost of a smile graces your lips as you watch your partner disappear into the house. The night once again goes silent. You know he’s not always up for the raucous energy of his 12 chaotic brothers, but you’re always happy to be here when it gets too much. You’ll never tire of being his refuge.

minghao has really dug himself into the soft spot in my heart recently. I love him a whole lot, and I need more minghao content in my life. if you've got any recs, send them my way, but in the meantime, let me know what you thought of this, maybe?

[drunk-person]

Study Session

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x classmate!reader

Summary: Aemond is assigned to a college work with Y/n, an absent-minded art student who doesn't give a damn about philosophy. Things don't go well since she doesn't help him at all, until the two come to an unorthodox agreement that ends the impasse.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! secret crush, semi-nudity, voyeurism, breast fetish, exchange of academic favors for "sex", modern au, no description for reader.

Word cont: 3.200k

Author's note: This just came to my mind while doing some really boring work and I ended up writing it. The Rosby house is close to Kings Landing so I chose this surname for the reader, I hope you like it.

Dedicated to the poor readers of The Gossip who read chapter 7 and are in need of some comfort for their souls after all that mess hahaha I love you all! English is not my first language 💕💕🥰

Y/n was so frustrated. That class was absolutely hellish and if it wasn't mandatory in her schedule she would certainly never even pass in front of the door. The only reasonable side to all of this was the fact that Aemond Targaryen sat in front of her during this unbearable class. He could be as arrogant as he wanted if he continued to be so hot.

The girl bit her lip as she stared at the back of his pale neck that was exposed to her eyes since his long silver hair was tied in a bun due to the heat wave. The two had never exchanged more than a few words, but Y/n couldn't help it, he was too handsome and intelligent for his own good.

She didn't know how he could understand that subject and answer all the questions the teacher asked as if they were obvious to him. Y/n did her best to hide her crush, but whenever no one was looking she couldn't help but sigh lightly as she looked at him.

She was barely in the same reality as the rest of the class when she heard her name being called harshly by the professor, pulling her out of her deep thoughts and back to real life.

-I'm sorry, professor, I was distracted. - She looked down, blushing when she realized that the whole class was looking at her while letting out light giggles.

-Which seems to be a very common occurrence with you, doesn't it? - The man spoke in an irritated voice and Y/n felt her face heat up even more.

-If you're interested in knowing, Miss Rosby, we're holding a draw for pairs of work for the semester. - The professor was still looking at Y/n as he spoke and reaching into the jar, he pulled out a new piece of paper.

-Aemond Targaryen.

Y/n felt her heart stop momentarily when she heard that name. Would her semester partner be Aemond Targaryen? The gods must have wanted to play with her.

-Good luck, Mr Targaryen, you will need it. - The man said, making the whole class laugh, except for Aemond, who, without Y/n noticing, glared at the teacher when he heard the mean joke.

After the class ended, the room gradually emptied, while the few remaining students put their books and notebooks in their backpacks. Aemond finished writing some notes in his notebook under the watchful eye of Y/n, who was anxiously waiting to talk to him.

And when he turned towards her with that serious look and that sculpted face, Y/n smiled and pretended to be disinterested.

-I don't understand half of what that man says. - She shrugged, staring at him while Aemond frowned. - I hope it won't be a problem for you to be my partner.

-Maybe you would understand if you spent more time paying attention in class and less time drawing. - Aemond rolled his good eye, putting away his own books while Y/n felt her belly heat up.

How did he know she was drawing in class if he had his back to her the whole time?

-I don't like studying boring things that guys who died centuries ago said and that don't make any sense.

-But do you like studying works that boring guys who died centuries ago painted and that don't make any sense? - He raised his eyebrows ironically, looking at her and Y/n's mouth slightly opened, not knowing what to say.

-That… That's not the point.

-Mmmm… if you say so. - The irony was poignant in his voice and expression and Y/n slightly narrowed her eyes, feeling the urge to argue more without knowing what to answer.

-They… They're not meaningless! - She snorted in annoyance and Aemond just let out a nasal laugh while raising his eyebrows.

-Most of them are just a bunch of meaningless scribbles. - He rolled his eyes, putting his backpack on his back.

-The name is surrealism, and perhaps underdeveloped minds don't understand it very well! - Y/n lifted her chin, pulled her own bag onto her shoulder and pressed the sketchbook against her chest, leaving before Aemond, leaving him with a mischievous smile on his lips as he watched her leave.

Y/n rolled her eyes, irritated with herself as she walked towards the open courtyard of the college, sitting at a stone table and throwing her bag on it, seriously considering diverting her idiotic crush on Aemond Targaryen to another guy.

Unfortunately for her, at the same moment the thought crossed her mind, his soft voice called her from behind and the hairs on the back of the girl's neck stood on end at the same moment, making her snort.

-We need to decide where and when we're going to meet to start the work. - He murmured and Y/n turned to look at him, snorting when she saw that he looked even more attractive with the sunlight shining through his silver hair.

In the natural light, the prosthetic eye was more visible than indoors, as was the thin scar that ran from the eye to the forehead and cheek. Y/n didn't give a shit, she just thought he looked even hotter if that was possible.

-Rosby? - Aemond called her, his voice miles away from taking her out of her self-imposed trance.

-I'm sorry, I got a bit distracted. - She shook her head, trying to focus on the conversation, and Aemond turned his face to the side, smiling discreetly at the action. - What did you say?

-We'll meet to start work.

-Oh, yes, yes. - She nodded thoughtfully. - How about the library?

-I don't study in the library, there are always idiots who go there to make a mess and interfere with concentration. - Aemond rolled his eyes with a frown, making her rack her brain to remember if she had ever messed up in the library.

-Yeah. They're all idiots! - She agreed, rolling her eyes when she came to the conclusion that she hadn't done anything wrong in the college library.

-We can go to my dorm. - Y/n shrugged, trying to be casual. - But my roommate is always there and never turns off the TV.

-Don't you have your own room? - He looked at her confused and Y/n laughed.

-Not all of us can own the campus. - She grimaced and Aemond rolled his eyes.

-Your family has money too.

-Having money is different from being a filthy rich Targaryen. - She grumbled as she gestured lightly with her hands, arching her eyebrows, and Aemond didn't contest her.

-Whatever, let's meet in my dorm, it's empty there and no one will disturb us.

Y/n nodded, subtly biting her lower lip at the idea that she would go to Aemond's room.

-Where is it? - She came back to reality, remembering to ask, and asking her for a pen, Aemond wrote down the number and the floor on the last page of the sketchbook that was on the table.

-See you on Friday. - He murmured, turning around and leaving her as soon as he finished writing, making her sigh once more at hearing that voice so close to her.

♤♡

Y/n did her best to look beautiful in the most disinterested way possible. Just a gray blouse with black denim shorts and a thin black coat on top, her hair tied with a simple clip and just a bit of lipstick. It was almost how she looked every day, except for the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, but with the coat on top he probably wouldn't even notice that fact.

Apart from the fact that when she got there she discovered that they were fixing the cooling system in Aemond's building and now she was without the coat and wearing only the thin blouse, attracting Aemond's discreet glance at her from time to time.

The two spread their materials across the table in the living room connected to the bedroom and sat on the floor to study. Unfortunately, Aemond was having more trouble concentrating in his own room than in the library, with the sight of Y/n in that blouse in front of him, scribbling drawings on her philosophy book while pretending to read something.

When he finally managed to read a few words, he could hear her melodious laughter from the other side of the table.

-What is it? - He murmured almost in a growl making her become serious.

-It's just that I'm watching and I think my shared dorm room would fit inside yours.- She shrugged and Aemond rolled his eyes without giving a verbal response.

Minutes later, when he went back to reading focused and taking some important notes, her voice rang out once again, distracting him.

-I'm so lazy. - Y/n threw herself onto the philosophy books open on the coffee table in Aemond's dorm room, and he slightly arched his eyebrows.

-You haven't done anything so far. - He grumbled as he took note of an important quote that he would probably use in the future during the work.

-Because this subject is totally boring. - The girl mumbled with her head still lying on the books but now with her face turned towards Aemond looking at him while slowly blinking her eyes feeling a little sleepy. Until now, nothing interesting had happened outside of her imagination.

-Boredom or not, I think it's better to start working on your part, because there's no way I'm going to give you credit for something you didn't do. - Aemond looked at her very seriously while Y/n sulked, crossing her arms under her breasts, slightly drawing the older man's attention there again.

-Are you always this boring, Targaryen? - Y/n snorted, making one of the loose strands of hair fly out of her pretty face.

-This isn't boring, this is justice. - His eyes were still discreetly fixed on the subtle neckline of the gray blouse that Y/n was wearing, except that now she noticed it, feeling her stomach tingle with the idea that Aemond Targaryen was looking at her.

-Talking about justice and being a total pervert. - She slightly pressed her eyes to him while tightening her arms under her breasts, making them more prominent, making Aemond cough with a subtle choke, looking away.

-Mmmm, I wasn't looking at your breasts. - He grunted looking in another direction.

-Ah, you certainly were. - She arched her eyebrows laughing. - If you want to know, women always know when you're looking.

-What's that? A weird sixth sense? - Aemond raised his eyebrows in disbelief, still a little embarrassed for having been caught.

-Something like that. - Y/n shrugged with a slight grimace, but then an idea popped into her head making her subtly bite her lower lip, staring at him as she gathered her courage.

-How about we make a deal? - Y/n was still biting her lower lip without believing she was actually going to say that to him.

-What kind of deal? - Aemond tilted his forehead, confused but interested, while his eyes inadvertently fell once again on her breasts.

-I'll let you be a perv and look at my boobs, and you do my part in this stupid job. - She suggested, slowly poking the hem of her own thin blouse under the attentive gaze of Aemond, who felt his own mouth drying up.

-Mmmm. - He mocked her with an ironic smile. - No deal. This work is almost 30 pages long, I want to at least be able to touch them.

-What? - She narrowed her eyes slightly while arching her right eyebrow now, not believing what he was saying.

-That's right, and you'll be topless while i writing the work. It's that or nothing. - He smiled maliciously as he arched his eyebrows, waiting for her answer, being almost certain that she would give up on the idea.

-Gods, you're more perv than I thought. - She grumbled, staring at him with a frown as she tried to process the fact that Aemond Targaryen really had asked to touch her boobs.

-Do we have a deal? - Aemond asked, still with a dirty smile on his face, and Y/n rolled her eyes at him, mumbling something to herself, unable to call him an idiot since she had given him the idea.

-We have a deal. - She spoke firmly, feeling soft shivers down her thighs as she said this, making Aemond subtly widen his eyes in shock at her accepting. - But… I don't want to read a single sentence about this subject, I don't want to know about these idiot philosophers and much less about their silly theories.

-These aren't silly theories… - Aemond rolled his eyes condescendingly at the girl's lack of understanding on such an important subject, it almost affected the crush he had on her… almost.

-Ah. - She cut him off instantly. - I don't want to know. Deal?

-Deal. - He grimaced in slight disgust, if she weren't so hot it wouldn't be worth all the effort, Aemond thought rolling his eyes.

With a sigh Y/n pulled the gray blouse of thin fabric over her head leaving her bare breasts exposed to Aemond's hungry and raw gaze that made her skin crawl almost instantly.

The moment she took off her blouse, Aemond took away his previous thought. She was certainly worth the effort and he would definitely do a thousand jobs like that just to take a look at those breasts.

Feeling confident under his gaze Y/n sat on the two-seater sofa and once again crossed her arms under her now bare breasts while looking at him with one of her eyebrows raised.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond sat down next to her, staring at that beautiful pair of breasts that he could say for sure were the most beautiful he had ever laid eyes on in his life.

-Can I? - He reached out his hands to her breasts, but stopped just before touching them, wanting her to be one hundred percent sure of what she was doing. And when the girl nodded positively while biting her lower lip and subtly pressing her legs together, he touched his palms, feeling her soft breasts and almost moaning at the soft sensation.

Little by little he moved his hands while looking at her with a very serious look, and with the tips of his thin fingers he began to massage her erect nipples with increasing dedication, observing the responses her body gave him. Every soft tremor, every subtle gasp, every press and rub of her thighs against each other.

-They're perfect. - He praised softly as he stimulated them, eliciting a soft moan from Y/n who bent down even more offering her own breasts to Aemond.

She was lost in his touches, so gentle yet so demanding. No one had ever given her so much pleasure just by touching her breasts, and Y/n wanted to moan with pleasure but was holding herself back so as not to seem so given. She pressed her eyes tightly, feeling the shocks of pleasure running through her body and going straight down to her completely soaked pussy.

Suddenly, with her eyes still closed, Y/n felt Aemond's warm breath close to her skin, and opened her eyes at the same moment, looking at him.

-What are you doing? - She gasped, looking directly into that blue eye that had left her fascinated since the first time she saw it and that now looking so closely she thought it contained some violet reflections.

-I said I wanted to touch, you didn't specify just using of hands. - He murmured dirtyly, lowering his mouth over Y/n's breasts and sucking deeply on her excited nipple, which curved her back against the couch, finally moaning loudly in pure contentment.

-Oh Aemond please more. - She whimpered, writhing and pressing her thighs together. - So good... so good.

From that moment on, it was impossible for her to contain her own moans, his mouth felt so incredible against her already sensitive nipples. With each suction she trembled and tightened her thighs while gripping the sofa tightly, almost digging her nails into the upholstery.

-By the gods, you have the tastiest tits I've ever tasted in my life. - Aemond moaned between the hungry sucks and firm, desperate caresses, sending a new wave of pleasure over her as she heard those words. And without control over her own body, Y/n put her hands in Aemond's hair, tangling her fingers there and holding her head against herself as she moaned his name in despair.

Her pulling on his hair did something almost wild to Aemond, he usually didn't like it when people pulled his hair, but at that moment… Fuck, it really felt good. And when she started moaning his name in a completely lacking way while rubbing her pussy on the couch like a desperate bitch in heat, he felt himself on the edge.

While he sucked and licked her left nipple, caressing the right one with his hand, drawing waves and waves of pleasure from her, he guided his vacant hand inside the gray sweatpants he was wearing and finally paid attention to his cock, which was leaking and making a mess against the fabric of his boxers.

He violently fucked his cock against the left hand while still inside his pants while inevitably moaning against Y/n's nipple, making her rub even harder against the sofa.

-Aemond. - Came Y/n's broken voice in a moan that was almost a whimper as she shuddered without control over her own body, writhing on the couch, feeling the unbridled pleasure of the orgasm taking over her.

And hearing her beg for his name as she writhed in the midst of orgasm, Aemond reached his own peak of pleasure, spurting against his own hand in thick, strong jets, moaning with contentment against Y/n's sensitive, reddened nipples.

The two remained motionless for a few moments, just trying to regain their senses completely taken over by the debilitating pleasure. Y/n's mind went completely blank as she laid her head on the back of the sofa, still panting, completely shocked since she had never cum just by stimulating her nipples. And Aemond, in turn, tried to regain his composure with his head still buried between his classmate's delicious breasts.

And when he finally raised his head, he couldn't resist the temptation to suck her nipple once more, making her gasp with overstimulation.

-Oh, Aemond. - She sighed complainingly, lightly pushing his head away with the palm of her right hand. - They're sensitive.

-Mmmm. - He murmured caressing her naked waist. -I could suck your tits for hours if you let me.

-I could let you. - She gasped, pretending to be uncertain about the subject even though she was still sensitive to his touch, feeling the inside of her thighs tingling amid the scandalous moisture in her panties.

-Well, it's 30 pages. - He shrugged, moving his caresses up and down her waist. - And as far as I know, the pairs that Hayford assigned are until the end of the semester.

-We'll have plenty of time. - He kissed her nipple once more, making her sigh.

[sebsxphia]

reunion kisses.

natasha ‘phoenix’ trace x reader.

￫ summary: natasha comes home after a long deployment and you’re going to show how much you missed her.

￫ word count: 3.5K.

￫ warnings: sex, oral, fingering, scissoring, kissing and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ authors notes: i had the deep desire to write a simply smutty and sweet fic with nat, therefore this was born! this hasn’t been proof read. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Natasha was as quiet as she could be as she clicked your front door locked and shut it behind her. She slung her duffel bag off her shoulder and gently placed it on the floor of your hallway. Her heavy boots paced along the floorboards before she sat at the bottom of your stairs and un-laced them. She momentarily craned her neck upwards to gaze longingly at your hallway, catching a glimpse of your bedroom door hidden behind the stair railings.

An excitable smile broke out on her face and she could feel her heart pounding faster against her rib cage, the prospect of seeing you after three months apart dawning every second closer as both of her boots were placed at the bottom of the stairs. Her socked feet padded, yet still in a hurry up your stairs, purposefully missing the creaks in the woodwork to not wake you any sooner than she had planned.

She reached the door of your shared bedroom and gingerly inched it open. She had to control her erratic breathing, her heart now feeling like it would burst through her chest. She bit down so hard on her bottom lip it threatened to draw blood, biting back an excitable giggle bubbling up her chest. Her eyes fell to the sight of your frame for the first time in three months and for all her years of training, they went out the window. Her knees could’ve buckled then and there, at that very moment.

Your en-suite bathroom door was cracked open to allow for the dim light resting overhead your mirror to shine through. Natasha knew that when you slept alone in the house you needed this tiny source of light to comfort you. Even if she was away for one night, you needed the light to feel not so alone in your shared bed. It wrapped you up alongside your blankets and kept you warm when Natasha’s warmth wasn’t there.

She raked her gaze over your covered frame and sucked in a harsh breath. You were partly lying on your side, partly on your stomach, with the print of Natasha’s old Navy Academy stretched across the tattered t-shirt you were wearing. On your second date, she got you a Build-a-Bear dressed head to toe in pilot gear. He was tucked under your arm and hugged tightly to your chest. By the third date, it was sprayed in Natasha’s perfume and her familiar scent had never faded. Your lips were parted and soft snores were leaving your nose alongside you.

Natasha recognized your incredibly peaceful form and a tiny part of her didn’t want to disturb you, but the rest of her wanted to taste your lips on hers again. She padded over and as she was two steps away, you finally shifted from your content slumber. Your eyes slowly blinked open, bleary and worn out with tiredness. Alongside that, your limbs jumped an inch as you took in the frame close to you, but the light flowing from your en-suite bathroom illuminated Natasha.

A breathless and stunned gasp jumped from your throat and your upper body bounced upwards. You felt your whole body come alive. Every nerve ending was set alight. You felt like a live wire.

“Natasha?! Oh my fucking, God! Natasha! Baby!” Your squeal of pure joy could be heard for miles around as your arms wrapped around her neck and drew her to you, finally feeling that contact from your lover.

Natasha let out a stuttered laugh as bright as the sun as she fell into your familiar embrace, bouncing slightly as she landed on the mattress with you.

“My dove. My sweet, sweet dove. Fuck, I missed you, so much.” Natasha gasped into your neck.

You fell back against the pillows with her over you. Her nimble fingers immediately found your warm and rosy cheeks and brought her plush lips to yours. Her lips were cold against yours since coming in from the night outside, but they quickly warmed up against yours. She wasted not a second more before letting her tongue dip just inside your bottom lip and run along it, savouring the familiar taste of you. She pulled back and let her teeth tug on your lip and you let out a wanton moan, quiet but full of need.

“You weren’t meant to be back for a week! What the fuck happened?” You gasped out, as you quickly found the air she had knocked out of your lungs.

A prideful smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she purred.

“Bradshaw spoke to Admiral Simpson. He got me bumped up a week. He felt kinda bad taking me away on deployment for three months, just as I proposed to my girl a week before I left.” Natasha chuckled.

“Damn. We gotta get him a fruit basket or somethin’, as a thank you.”

Natasha tutted playfully. “Not before I taste your fruit basket.”

“Jesus, Natasha.” You burst into a fit of bubbling giggles in response, Natasha joining you as she registered what she just said. She was a concoction of lack of sleep from three days of traveling and pure excitement at the prospect of seeing you again. She might as well have been slurring her words by this point.

“God, I’ve missed your corny one-liners. C’ere, baby.” You purred against her lips and cradled her firm jaw in your hands. You felt it soften as she leaned into your plush lips again. You could feel the months of tense nights and early mornings melt away each time she moved her lips against yours. Small and pitiful moans from her were vibrated against your own. You felt her hips press down and push against your bare cunt. The rougher material from her jeans created delicious friction which you hadn’t felt in months and left you careening for more. Need, want and desire to taste your pretty baby’s cunt again.

“Pretty baby…” You breathed out as you broke from her lips. By now, the bedside lamp had been switched on and it illuminated a warm glowing light over your bedroom. From this, you could see how Natasha’s cheeks turned a rosy pink at your sweet name for her. “I need to taste you, Nat. C’ere, let me make love to my pretty fiancée.”

You began to maneuver Natasha off your warm frame and lie her down. She let out a groan in sequence and she was squirming to be pinned on top of you again.

“Fuck, dove. Let me have you, please.” Her whines and pleas had never sounded so sweet.

You cocked her chin upwards with your knuckle and grinned.

“Pretty baby, you’ve just travelled for God knows how many hours to come home, you’ve probably been wearing the same clothes for three days. Just, let me fuck, my, fiancée.” You punctuated every word. “Lemme take good care of you, baby. You can have me any way you want after.”

Natasha let out a pleasured groan and released the tension from her chest, caused by all the travelling she’d done, in combination with the prospect of her fiancée making her come. It was beautiful, domestic, peaceful, simplicity.

She had never fallen so hard for someone.

Her goal of becoming a Navy Pilot and potentially flying with Top Gun became her priority, rightfully so, but any sort of dating or relationships were in limbo and were always put on the line.

Until you.

She made it work with you because she wanted to make it work. More than anything she had ever wanted. Sure, she worked fucking hard for her place in Top Gun, but for you, she would fetch the moon and the stars if you so asked. She thought you looked like an angel in reincarnation as the soft, golden, glowing light in your bedroom framed your face between her now bare thighs.

As she was lost in the giddy waves of love and excitement due to being back with you, you had shed her Navy Academy t-shirt from yourself, her cargo, white t-shirt and her underwear. You were both lying bare naked with each other and you wasted no time in pressing your nose against her plush cunt and inhaling her familiar scent deeply into your airways.

As your nose nudged against her clit, she let out a choked moan and a curse of your name. Your hands wrapped around her thighs with your fingertips pressing firmly into her flesh. You kept her thighs held open as she bared her naked pussy to you. You couldn’t help the small smirk that twitched at the corners of your lips, as you noticed an already slick shine of her arousal seeping through her folds.

You loved teasing Natasha. You would take long, agonizing strokes around her lips and gently prod at her clit slowly over time. But right now, you couldn’t care less. It had been far too long since you had had her taste dancing on your tastebuds, and you therefore wasted no time in burying your face against the soft curls of her pubic hair and attaching your lips to hers.

An almost vulgar slurping sound bubbled against her pussy and in tow, a wail of a cry left Natasha’s mouth, followed by her cursing your name and, “Fuck!”

Her hands immediately shot out to tug at your hair, pulling you impossibly closer to her cunt. Your tongue started to bury itself deep within her, and already you could feel and taste her cum dribbling onto your tongue. A muffled moan left your lips as you tasted her again. You wanted her to be embedded into your tastebuds forever. You wanted her in your veins. She tasted so sweet.

Croaked moans and gasps left Natasha, with one of your hands leaving her thighs momentarily to snake upwards to her pebbled nipples where you gently tugged and pinched at them. Her moans became louder and her gasps were stuttered. With your hand resting over her chest, you could feel how rapidly she was breathing and how heavy her heart was hammering against her rib cage.

Your tongue moved from inside her to begin swirling around her clit. In sequence, Natasha whimpered and her hips bucked. The sensation had been long forgotten by herself, with her fingers only during half the deployment job. The sudden jolt of direct stimulation to the point where she needed it most, gave her the most pleasure and all she could do was continually whimper uncontrollably.

You began switching between pressing your tongue as deep as it could go and swirling around her clit. If you had the time (maybe tomorrow), you’d insert two fingers, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer. The desperation from yourself caused you to sloppily eat Natasha out, yet still pinpointing all of those spots that made her cry your name. By any means, Natasha felt much the same. Your mouth was enough for her and you could tell she was becoming close. You began to lock your lips around her clit and suck harshly, occasionally tugging at it gently with your teeth. When your lips kissed her clit, your tongue could work at lapping it feverishly.

This was the point where Natasha came crumbling down and fell apart in your mouth.

“Dove, baby, o—oh, fuck!” Her fingertips were pressing against your skull as she held you tightly against herself. “Right there, right there, oh, fuck, baby! Y’ feel s’ good, s’ fuckin’ good.” Her hips were bucking uncontrollably and her erratic breathing was matching that. “I'm gonna come, Dove…”

For a moment no longer than a second, not wanting to take away from her sensation, you mumbled against her, “Come, my pretty baby. Come f’ me. Come on my tongue, please.” You begged her just as much as she was begging you.

Her moans grew louder and heavier with each breath and then, one long cry which crackled into pleading whimpers escaped her throat. Her hips stopped bucking, but instead, she ground her pussy impossibly closer to your mouth in an attempt to soak up each twitch and throb of pleasure. You moaned deeply against her as you tasted her practically pour out onto your tongue. Her sweet release was like cotton candy. You lapped away at her, with your tongue going through every fold and soaking up every last drop that came from her cunt.

You hadn’t even noticed from being too lost in your fiancée’s pussy, but you had started grinding down on the bedsheets in an attempt to gain some friction and alleviate your throbbing clit. Still, you continued to lap at her cunt and over time you gently slowed down your ministrations to gentle sucks and kisses, letting Natasha come down softly.

In combination, you let out muffled praises against her. “Doing s’ good for me, pretty baby. Y’ taste s’ good, feel s’ good. God, I’ve missed you and your perfect, pretty, cunt.”

She let out wobbled whimpers and strained moans at your words, and due to the sensitivity of her orgasm still rolling through her, her clit still twitched when you lapped at it for longer periods. She let herself roll her hips against your cum stained mouth through her orgasm and she heightened sensitivity. She was savouring every long-awaited feeling caused by you, her sweet Dove.

Her heavy panting soon slowed down to rhythmic breaths. You came off her clit with a last satisfying suck and pushed yourself up Natasha’s warm and damp torso. A thin veil of sweat had already begun to coat around her tanned skin. You kissed her light freckles, that had been brought on by the sun during deployment, and finally placed your lips on hers. She moaned into your mouth as she tasted herself. Sweet and warm. Her hands came up to ring around the base of your neck and pull you in tighter. She kissed you sloppily, her muscles still feeling limp from the moments prior.

Eventually, she pulled away and gazed up at you with half-hooded, pleasure-induced eyes. Her tongue dipped to wet her bottom lip and soak up the remnants of your kiss.

“I wanna feel you, my sweet girl.” Natasha purred. She was already moving to sit up and guiding you to lie down.

You knew what she meant by this and you hummed in pleasured agreement.

Although she had just been pulled apart by your mouth, she remained steady as she got on her knees above you and gently parted your thighs with her firm hands. Your pussy twitched as you were reminded that those very hands controlled a Navy fighter jet.

She grinned and dragged her teeth slowly over her bottom lip as she saw the sight before her. Her fiancée’s pussy was slick with their arousal. Natasha’s slender index finger moved up through your folds and pressed delicately on your clit. Your wetness gathered on the pad of her finger. You couldn’t hold back the wanton moan that left your lips. She pressed her palm against your pussy and slid her two middle fingers inside of you with such ease, it made her chuckle. The tips of her fingers curved up inside of you and brushed your entrance. You’d only felt the friction from the duvet prior and this sudden heated touch from Natasha caused your hips to buck forward and chase her.

“Please, Nat! Need you. Need to feel you.” You babbled out.

She hesitantly removed her fingers and still with a grin on her lips, she sucked on her digits and groaned at the taste of you.

“Taste so sweet for me, my sweet girl.”

You whined again below her. Months of longing for her came crashing down on you with a heavy weight and you couldn’t bear waiting a second longer.

Natasha heard your pleading whines and cooed. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’, baby.” She parted her thighs and slotted herself over you. Your pussy pressed against each other and you let out a whimper when you felt her warm clit move against yours. She too stuttered. “Fuck… I missed you. I missed you so much, my sweet dove.”

You gazed up at her with pleading eyes. “I missed you so much too, pretty baby. Feels s’ nice feelin’ your pussy on me.” She moved an inch and you whined again. “P—Please move, Nat.”

Her hands squeezed onto your thighs and she began to slowly move against you. The slick between your pussy coated you both and allowed her to grind against you with ease, with an obscene noise. Your clit slid against hers and pushed through her folds. You were throbbing with sensitivity and every movement against her caused your nerve endings to be electrified like a live wire. She picked up her pace and your hips moved against her to match her rhythm. Your breathing elevated to the point where you were practically panting. A constant string of pleasurable moans left your lips, as you begged her for more.

Normally, Natasha would enjoy teasing you further and testing how long you could beg for, but you were both desperate after all this time.

With her heightened pace grew a firm pressure on both of your clit’s, as they continuously slicked against each other. Natasha threw her head back as she was grinding down hard against your cunt. Her soft, inky black hair fell past her shoulders. Some of the finer strands of hair had gathered around her temple and forehead, sticking to her hot skin with sweat. She cursed your name and cried out about how sweet you felt. Your entire body was responsive to her touch and the firm feel of her cunt grinding down onto yours. She gripped so hard onto your thighs, that her pressing fingertips could bruise.

“Oh, baby, oh fuck! I— I don’t think… I— I can last m—much longer, baby.” You cried out from below her.

Her head came back down and her eyes met yours. Your clit throbbed against hers as you saw the desperate and pleading look in Natasha’s eyes.

“Please come for me, dove. Please, please, please. I need t’ feel you squirming against me. I’m right behind you.”

She ground down onto you impossibly harder and as her clit swiped past yours, it was the final touch to push you over the edge. Your body squirmed and a cry of gratification tore from your dry throat. Your jaw went slack as strings of curses and moans fumbled over your lips. Your pussy throbbed against hers and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Good girl, my dove. Such a good girl for me… Fuck! M— Makin’ a mess all over me…” She praised you from above, but Natasha’s panting grew heavier with even heavier moans. Her eyes were locked onto yours but her long eyelashes were fluttering.

Your clit thrummed with overstimulation, as she continued to chase her high. Your hips still angled against hers and allowed her to pulverize for the next few strokes, pushing her to crash over the same edge you just fell. Her body began to stutter over you, but she remained as steady as she could. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she babbled out moans of your name.

Natasha looked radiant above you. A sheen of sweat coated her tanned skin. The soft light of your bedside table lamb reflected and flexed against her toned muscles, as she rode out the final strokes of her high. Her silken black hair fell with perfect waves over her neck and shoulders. Her teeth grazed over her plush bottom lip as she sucked in the last gasp of air from her high.

Her orgasm had caused her to go limp and she let herself fall to your chest. You held onto her and gently guided her down to rest her warm cheek against your breasts. You felt her soft breaths of warm air fan against your skin. Both of your heartbeats slowed down in sync. Natasha hummed to herself with a smile as she finally heard the comforting and rhythmic thud of your heart under her pink-tipped ear.

She turned her head slightly and pressed a kiss in between your breasts, lifting herself to give you a lopsided grin.

She hummed again. “Let me clean you up, my dove.”

You let out a blissful sigh and combed your fingers through the finer hairs on her temple. You nodded in agreement and cupped her cheek to bring her lips closer to yours. You both let out a content groan as you tasted one another on each other’s lips.

You pulled apart and watched as Natasha’s eyelashes were fanning over her cheeks, her eyes growing heavier with each passing second. You knew that she was beyond exhausted from her travels and the prior activity, therefore you let her rest against you for a couple more moments.

You would clean her up with a warm washcloth in a minute.

For now, your only desire was to feel your future wife resting contently against your chest.

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head and purred with sweet delight.

“I promise I’ll take care of you in a bit, baby. I’m just so fucking happy your home, my pretty baby.”

Two days later and a fruit basket arrived on Bradley’s doorstop.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown @flames-thebitch @birdy-bat-writes @thedroneranger @randomfandomgirl97 @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

tagging those who were interested / who may be interested: @rhettmotel @roosterforme @floydsmuse @lewmagoo @sugarcoated-lame @beautifulandvoid @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts @nobody7102 @cherrycola27 @laracrofted @auroralightsthesky @rhettsgirll @castiel-barnes @fraaaaankiiiiieee @senawashere

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

waking up in his bed

(cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw, mdni, marks, a bit of spit stuff, dry (wet?) humping, swallowing)

part before: hanging off König's shoulder

When I open my eyes up again, for just a moment, I don’t know where I am. My own confused image stairs back at me – right, the mirror on his ceiling! And I laugh to myself because it’s ridiculous. The whole concept is!

I stretch myself, yawning. Realising that I’m alone in the kingsize bed. I mean, it would be impossible to miss the big guy. I still feel his lingering touches, the way he held onto me as we fell asleep together. Reminders of the first time hooking up after the concert.

I’m somebody who normally can’t sleep in a tight embrace, but he was pratically latching onto me both times. Subconsciously in his sleep. Holding onto me, softly still. If it were possible for him to wrap himself around me completely, I bet he would’ve done it. His big arm resting over my torso, the forearm securely between my breasts, his hand on the side of my face. One of his legs strewn over one of mine. Almost like a human weighted blankie. And I still slept soundly.

I yawn and stretch again, until I notice a little piece of paper stuck to my arm. I peel it off and look at it.

That explains where he went off to, but it also makes him out be a liar, because I don’t believe I look anywhere near cute in the morning. Drooling into the soft pillow underneath my head. My hair standing off to the side. Probably snoring as well.

And I have to laugh as I see the little doodle in the right corner. Honestly, it’s a relief to see – considering the man’s many talents – that he isn’t good at everything. Drawing doesn’t seem to be his forte. But at the same time, this was painfully cute. The note, the doodle, everything. I giggle to myself and finally pull back the covers.

I assess the ‘damage’ while I get up: Booty hurts a little bit, probably from getting fucked into the hard wood surface of the bar. The muscles in my legs are a little tense, my shoulders and neck feel a bit stiff, and my pussy is a little bit sore (and deeply satisfied). The hickeys and the faint bitemark on my inner thighs bring a little smile to my face. It couldn’t have been clearer if he had written ‘König was here’ in waterproof sharpie on them.

I put on my shirt, still not daring to take one of his because of how it might look, and curse myself because I didn’t pack more clothes. It’s not terribly stinky or stained, but it definitely looked better yesterday. I quickly brush my teeth, my eyes darting to the shower, remnants of last night in the forefront of my mind before I go on a search for my panties.

I find them on the floor in the bar, the memories of yesterday flooding me, the forgotten cocktail still on the bar. He had to make another one, because the icecubes had already melted and the gin was warm.

I leave the cellar going up the stairs until I stand in the living room again, looking at the books I set aside yesterday.

There is another crystal tumbler on the end table, this one empty. Just one because we shared it.

The glass moving from my hand to his and back, while we were listening to music, talking. Cuddling on the couch. My legs splayed over his thighs, barely reaching all the way to the other side. His arm around my waist, his thumb painting little circles over my hip. My fingers tangled in his hair and digging into the scalp, massaging gently until he was humming quietly.

His mouth placed on the glass where mine was, just a moment before, taking another sip.

Lingering kisses, slow and sweet, turning into little sips of the drink being passed between us. Tasting him and the gin at the same time. A heady combination.

I felt myself getting sleepier and sleepier the later it got, until I yawned and almost fell asleep in his arms, then he finally got me to agree that we should head to bed.

I hear the front door open, the sound ripping me from my memories. I turn around, skipping in that direction.

König is standing in the hallway, taking off his shoes, a grocery bag in his hands. In his usual leatherjacket, shirt and… sweatpants? Casual black sweatpants. Yeah no, I totally feel normal about them. I can’t help but ogle him, because he looks like a wet dream, even in the most mundane outfits.

He sees me, his face lighting up in a grin. “No pants again, huh?”, he comments, his eyes dropping down my body.

I blush. “Uh, I can put some on, if it bothers you.”

He laughs. “Doncha dare hide that cute ass of yours.” He comes closer and leans down, dropping a kiss onto my mouth and his hand to my ass. Patting it twice, quickly and playful. “I almost didn't want to leave bed this morning...”, he whispers against my lips and deepens the kiss, for just a moment.

“I got your note.”, I say as we tumble into the kitchen.

He puts the shopping bag down on the counter. “Yeah, went to the supermarket. And I also got us some croissants from the bakery.”

“The little shop at the corner to Main Street?”, I ask.

“Yes.”, he smiles.

“Hell yeah, I love their croissants, they're the best.”, I exclaim.

“Baked goods, the only thing the french are good at.”, he comments pointedly.

“Oh man, you and the french.”, I laugh as I hop onto the kitchen counter beside the coffee maker. Watching him unpack the groceries and getting said baked goods.

He pulls one croissant out of the brown paper bag and hands it to me unceremoniously. I grab it and take a bite, the flakey dough bursting as my teeth cut through it. The little sigh that drops from my lips sounds a little too enamored, a little too enthused for just eating a croissant. He looks at me, his jaw dropping just a bit.

“What?”, I ask, still munching on the pastry dough.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head mumbling something that sounds a bit like "never thought I'd be jealous of a fucking croissant".

That makes me laugh. "Thanks for getting them, but you didn't need to get up early for that."

He shrugs. "I'm an early bird anyway out of habit, and I had to go out and buy some milk, because I forgot about that.", he explains, pulling said milk out of the grocery bag.

I look at him, a little confused.

"I drink my coffee black, so I never have any milk at home.", he adds, as if that was a given.

A grin stalks on my face. “Of course you do.”, I say pointedly.

“Now, what's that supposed to mean?”, he asks.

I tilt my head and pull my brows up, all like 'are you being serious?'. “Let's just say that I would have been way more surprised if the over 40-year-old metalhead, who has a car that looks like it's from the nineties, who still collects vinyls and CDs, who would rather drink his gin neat and who's biggest kitchen appliance is a barista coffee machine with all the knick-knacks – if he drank a latte in the morning.”

He laughs, the hearty sound making me all giddy. “Tell me how you really feel.”, he says, his eyes sparkling at me, while jokingly clasping one hand over his heart.

“Sorry.”, I say, grinning at him.

He waves it off. “Don’t be, I deserved that.” He gets some coffee beans ready, putting them through the grinder and then fitting the portafilter into the barista machine.

While the coffee drips down into the cup, he comes closer standing right in between my knees. “But, how about you, missy? Do you like a latte in the morning?” The little quirk of the corner of his mouth is telling me that this isn’t just some question about my coffee preferences. It’s one of his telltale signs.

“I do, but I feel like I'm missing the joke here.”, I say, looking up at him. Sitting on the counter, he still towers over me, more than a head taller than me.

He chuckles. “Well, ‘Latte’ is also another word for boner in German, so...” He sees the grimace I'm making and laughs some more, and I join in, while shaking my head. He steps away and repeats the process, getting another coffee ready.

"I'm starting to think that your language only has dirty innuendos and curses.", I remark, jokingly.

He grins. "That just might be my vocabulary." He pours some milk into a metal jug and froths it, adding the froth to the mug after the coffee is ready. Wincing at the shitload of milk he put in. "Here, a latte for the lady.", he says, while handing me the mug.

My eyes drop down of their own volition, as I take it from his hands. Openly staring at his crotch, where his sweatpants are clearly tented by his dick. And he comes even closer with the way I'm looking at him.

My gaze pans up again until it lands on his face, his expression stoic, as he’s pulling an eyebrow up, like he’s awaiting what I’ll do. I take a drink, tasting the coffee on my tongue. "Thank you. For the latte." Trying to hide my grin behind the mug. "Sir.", I add, cheekily.

He leans forward, placing his hands on either side of me, caging me in. The look in his eyes burning into me. I still grin up at him, but I feel like I'm in danger. In danger of getting devoured like one of those flaky croissants.

"You wanna say that again with your lips around my dick? Hm?", he asks and my breath halts. Thinking about yesterday again. When I sat on his bed, gagging around his cock.

"Maybe.", I whisper. He just leans down to kiss me and I can taste the bitter coffee on his tongue, as it strokes against mine. Slow and deep.

I put the cup down to the side before my arms reach up, holding onto his shoulders, his hair falling to the front, the tips of it brushing over my skin. I push some of it back, my fingers tangle in the long strands, while I answer his kiss.

He's not breaking away, still caging me in, even though one of his hands moves to my panties. The fingers toying with the hem, easily slipping under the fabric. My legs spread even wider, I squirm into his touch and our kiss gets messier, sloppier. His thumb finds my clit, softly pressing against it, and the light touch makes me needy for more.

"Fuck, please.", I whimper into the kiss, and I can feel his lips turn up into a smile. He breaks away, keeping up the constant brushes against my clit, kissing down to my neck.

My hand tries to reach for his dick, but he catches my wrist. "Just- let me.", he murmurs, pressing his hot mouth against my pulse point. Sucking on it softly. A needy mewl escapes me when his middle finger slips into me. Just one digit, not quite enough to fill me up, even with his big fingers.

Soft teasing touches, enough to get me worked up, but not enough to get me anywhere near finishing. And he knows what he's doing.

König pulls back, his lids hooded, his gaze intently on me, which makes me acutely aware of the expression on my own face, the O shape of my mouth. His finger is still moving inside me, the brushes against the most sensitive spot make me squirm.

I teether on the edge of an orgasm, until he pushes another one inside me, filling me up. His fingers move fast now, against my fluttering walls. Coaxing the release out of me and I come, pulsing around them. Leaving me wet and needy for more touches.

He pulls the panties over my pussy again, the fabric soaking up my juices in an instant. His hand clasps over it, softly massaging over it, until they soaked wet with my own juices.

König simply pushes his sweatpants down, pulling out his cock, letting it rest against my clothed pussy. Then he spits and a dollop of saliva drops onto my panties. The sound alone makes me whimper, while I lean back until my shoulderblades hit the cabinets behind me.

The spit runs down, right over the tip of his dick. He drags it through it, spreading the wetness on his length, soaking my underwear even more. Slow and deliberate, taking his time. The slick just being enough, so he can flit over it.

I groan at the sight, the filthy little move making me even hotter. He pulls up one eyebrow while looking at me, the smirk on his lips infuriatingly cocky. He ruts his hips forward, his hard dick pushing against my pussy lips and clit. The friction due to the fabric in between us, against my sensitive skin, is almost too much to handle, my hands gripping his arms, nails digging into his biceps.

His hands splayed on my thighs and he looks down, my eyes following his until we're both fixed on the spot where he is rubbing himself against me. The little hickeys on the skin next to it. His thumb coasts over the bitemark on my inner thigh, a faint imprint still showing up. He lifts his hand for just a moment, pressing a kiss to his pointer and middle finger and then pressing them onto the mark.

If I wasn't so wound tight from his teasing touches, I think I would've actually awww'ed at the little gesture, him kissing the bite better. Like this, I only sigh, grinding against his dick, searching for more friction.

He slumps forward, his forehead resting against mine. "Fuck, I need to be inside you.", he grunts, his words sending a shiver down my spine. He lifts me from the countertop, my legs wrapping around him.

"What, no magic condoms appearing out of thin air this time?", I tease him, my fingers stroking over his shoulders.

“The magician is out of props for such stunts.”, he grumbles. “And there will still be enough time to fuck you on every surface in the whole house.”

He hurries upstairs to the bedroom where he sets me down on the bed and we both scramble to get off our clothes. I pull my shirt over my head and fall into the soft mattress, watching him shed his. His dick is hanging out his sweatpants, half caught in the waistband, bobbing up and down with his movements before he lets the pants fall down to the floor.

He grabs a condom out of the pack that's lying out on the nightstand, the packaging torn at the front, and puts the rubber on.

My eyes pan up from the dark fluff of his happy trail, the tummy, the upper abs and his huge pecs, dark hair peppered over them. His nipple piercing. The broad shoulders, adorned with black ink that spans down his arms as well. Trying not to look at the parts where cuts and other scars disturbed the otherwise impeccable images inked into the skin.

He looks back at me, from underneath his eyebrows, one of them quirking up, as he climbs onto the mattress, his weight pushing it down.

I yelp and giggle, as he grabs me by the hips, pulls me into him, until the swells of my ass hit his thick thighs. My legs drop to the side on their own, and he takes that as the invitation it is, his hand pulling the wet panties to the side and just slipping into me.

We both groan as he settles deep inside me, the stretch of his thickness making my head drop back and my eyes roll back.

His hand catches my chin, softly digging into it. Making me look up as he sits back on his knees and slowly starts to fuck me.

“See how fucking pretty you are?”

His eyes are on me, on my face, while I look up at the mirror, focused in on the point where we are connected. Seeing how his dick pushes into me, until he's balls deep, his tip pressing up against my cervix.

Sliding out, inch by inch, almost completely pulling out. In again. I feel the stretch as my pussy takes him in. It's a tight fit, but I'm wet and dripping from how he worked me up.

And out. The feeling of emptiness only dissipates, when his hips snap forward, filling me up quickly, and a moan drops from my lips, the shape contorted to an O.

He starts to fuck me harder, his hand coming around my throat, his fingers closing around my neck, gentler than I would have liked. Pulling me into him while he pounds into me. His hand is other still grabbing onto my panties, the fabric aching as he uses it as leverage to move me into his thrusts.

Rip.

The sound of fabric ripping cuts through the otherwise soft erotic soundscape. The drowsiness drops out of his gaze, his eyes widen in shock, as he looks down, stopping his thrusts. "Scheiße, sorry.", he curses.

I laugh a bit while I shake my head. "Don't worry, it's just clothes.", sitting up on my elbows, reaching out for him. Needing him to continue.

He lets go of them, the fabric hanging from my hips, and leans forward, pressing a deep kiss onto my mouth in apology. His hand softly strokes the side of my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. Close, so close, his forehead resting against mine, as he rolls his hips against me.

He straightens back up, picking up his thrusts again. His arm spans over my whole body, the muscled limb covering half of me. I feel so small compared to him, the contrast so stark when I'm splayed out like this in front of him.

His hand moves down a bit and his thumb pushes against my lips. I lick it, play with it and then release it with a pop, but just a moment later two of his fingers push into my mouth again.

He sinks in deep, my lips closing around them. Two is almost too much already. I start to lick them, to suck on his fingers, hesitatingly at first, but the little sounds that drop from his lips spur me on.

He moves them in unison with the pushes of his dick into me. The combined touches making me lose my mind fast. It almost was like he was fucking me from the front and back at the same time.

I gag around him, spit coats his digits as I suck them off like I would another part of him. And I guess, he is thinking about that as well, the heat in his gaze intensifying.

The sight mirrored back to me – of his dick pounding into me, while his fingers are fucking my mouth all sloppily, pushing into the wet heat, my lips barely reaching the lettering on his knuckles, is getting me worked up.

From the way he's looking at me, his eyes fixed on my face, while I swallow him up, it's driving him crazy too. Groaning, as I take him deep.

Him, just him, fucking me. And me at his mercy. Full, so full of him. And I can't help but think about what it would be like to have him fill all of my holes. The thought alone sends a tingle of filthy desire down my spine and I hum around him.

"Fuck, look at you, taking me so well.", he drawls. His words, the soft growl in them, wash over me and I can feel the zap of pleasure deep, when he bottoms me out, his dick hitting the right spot again.

I come, my body arching off the sheets, my sighs and screams muffled by the fingers in my mouth, as my eyes roll back.

He doesn't stop, fucking me through it. My pussy squeezes around him, and while I still come down from the orgasm, I can feel his other hand grabbing my hip, holding tight. His fingers still in my mouth, stroking against my tongue. Sinking into my throat, the letters on his knuckles disappearing as he pushes further in, and I gag around them once again.

They leave my mouth, all of a sudden, and I take a deep breath. "Please fuck, I-", he groans. "I want to come in your mouth. May I?" The inflection in his voice is almost pleading.

I nod, the thought alone sending another shiver of arousal through me. “Yes.”, I answer breathlessly, still a little hazy from my orgasm.

He pulls back entirely, his dick slipping out of my pussy. I scramble onto my knees, while he gets up from the bed, standing in front of it.

Getting off the condom quickly, his hand running up and down his length, continuing to chase his release. My spit is still on the two digits that were just inside me, now slowly coating his cock.

I press a soft kiss to the tip that is leaking precum, tasting the saltiness on my tongue. Flicking it over the piercing. My eyes pan up, searching for his, before I take him a little deeper into my mouth. Sucking on his tip while he jerks himself off. Hasty and desperate. A rumbly moan shakes his chest, his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck, gonna cum.", he mutters, the words all breathy.

I hum around his dick, licking and sucking eagerly, when he spills onto my tongue and down my throat. I lick up every single drop, swallowing it all. He shakes and shivers when I don't stop sucking until he's spent.

I release him with pop, when his fingers grip my chin, and open my mouth to show him. "Good fucking girl.", he drawls, the praise washing over me, as I sit back on my knees. He crouches down a bit, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. Like he's waiting for something, but he doesn't say anything.

My cheeks blush red, as I remember what we talked about before. "Thank you, Sir.", I say, looking him straight into his eyes.

His answer is a deep satisfied sound, almost turning into a growl, as he leans forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss. Crawling into bed again, pulling me onto his front, until I’m strewn over him like a blanket that isn’t even big enough for the big man. He’s softly stroking my back, the touches comforting and gentle.

I push my cheek into his pecs, the hairs on his chest tickling the soft skin, and I breathe in his scent. The warm calming tone. I feel his upper body rising and sinking with every single breath of his, until we are in unison. The deep calmness almost carries me away, and I feel myself getting sleepy. I mean, we didn’t get a lot of sleep. And getting fucked liked this was tiring, although not tiresome at all.

In the silence around us, a thought of mine cuts through post-fuck haze.

“I don’t wanna go home.”, I whisper against his chest, after looking for the right words to say.

His hand stops for just a second. “Then don't.”, he answers simply, continuing his soft caresses.

I lift my head from his pec, looking at him. “Are you sure? I don't want to disturb your vacation.”, I ask.

“I'm not on vacation, I'm on leave.”, he explains. “And you're not disturbing anything.” A little reassuring smile is appearing on his lips.

“I didn’t bring much though. Not even like any more clothes.”, I say hesitatingly.

“Would it be terribly selfish of me to put you in my stuff to keep you here?”, he asks, the smile widening a bit.

I laugh. “I fear, I won't fit into any of that. I mean, I think I could build a tent to sleep in from the shirts you wear.”

“That's fair.”, he grins at me, pushing my hair out of my face. And then he kisses me again, sweet and slow, until I sigh against his lips.

“You have to stop kissing me like that.”, I say, teasingly.

His smirk drops from his face. “Why?”, he asks.

“Because it makes me want to sit on your dick again.”, I jokingly confess.

He starts laughing, his whole body shaking. “That can be arranged.”, he grins at me.

“But – we can’t stay in bed the whole weekend.”, I retort.

“We can’t?”, he pipes up, his question somewhere between a pouty joke and sincere query.

I think about it for a second. “Mmh, I don’t know. Might tire you out, old man.”, I tease him, sticking my tongue out at him.

His eyes light up, all of a sudden, I get flipped, the whole world is spinning around me. He is on top of me, his weight presses me down into the mattress. His thighs spread my legs for him, his dick lying over my tummy, already hard again.

He grabs another condom. “If you keep this up, we’re gonna go through the whole packet.”, he jokes, one side of his mouth topping up in a smirk.

“Is that a challenge?”, I ask, caressing down his chest, inching in on his dick, while he is still fiddling with the rubber.

He grabs my wrists and pins them over my head, stretching me out on the mattress, while I grin up at him, splayed out like that.

“If you want it to be…”, he whispers against my face, his lips kissing down to my neck while he pushes inside me.

The mug on the kitchen counter is still half full, the coffee now cold. I take a sip, relishing the milky liquid running down my throat. Sitting here at the kitchen island in just his shirt. The Dark Tranquility one he wore when we first met.

“What are you doing?”, he asks me, utterly confused, as he sees me. He put on his sweatpants again and they are as delicious as they were before. Especially in combination with his naked chest.

“Finishing my coffee.”, I explain, taking another long sip.

“But that’s… cold.”, he says, the disgust palpable.

“Yeah, I like it like that. I drink them lukewarm. At best.”, I explain, with full confidence.

“Woman, you drive me crazy.”, he sighs, then laughs, making himself another coffee. Fresh, hot and black. “One of these days, we’re gonna manage to drink the drinks at the temperature they’re so supposed to be enjoyed at.” The loud noise of the coffee maker cuts through my laughter.

“We can certainly try.”, I say, taking another sip from my blasphemous coffee.

“So, about your stuff.”, he starts, as he leans against the kitchen island. The mug in his hand is looking ridiculously small compared to him. Just like me.

“Yeah, my panties are kinda ruined now, too.” I say and shoot him a pointed look.

“I don’t have any panties that will fit you.”, he says, the corner of his lips quirking up.

“No shit sherlock.”, I remark sarcastically, lifting the shirt that is hanging from my shoulders. That’s almost reaching to my knees. You could fit three of me in there.

“We can go to your apartment, you can look after Mimi and get some clothes, and then come back here. It’s no big deal.”, he suggests.

I sigh. “You sure?”

He nods, just waiting for my answer patiently. While I contemplate if it was okay to stay here for longer.

“Okay, quickly, just to get some stuff.”, I agree.

When we go to leave, I notice that my shoes are neatly lined up, not at all how I left them, when I stormed into the house yesterday evening. Standing just right beside an old pair of his combat boots.

next part: painting his nails or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

[lady-ashfade]

Teddy Bear

Day three of celebration marathon

Yandere! Platonic!Luke Castellan Vs Yandere!Brother!Percy Jackson x fem!reader

-£ ask: yandere Luke with Percy's twin sister who has always been protected and shielded by Percy with her naive innocence and when he saw her Luke was obsessed but gets furious how it's hard to get to her

-£ words: 800

-£ warnings: yandere behavior, short fic, reader being innocent and naive.

It was hard to believe how hard it was to get near you without your brother pulling you away or turning your attention on something else. At first when you both were placed in Hermes cabin you stayed by your brother and listened to his every word as you usually do. He was your protector ever since he was born. Even at young age he was sticking up for you.

You had just lost your mom and now thrown into a world you knew nothing about and the only thing you knew was him. So of course you did as he said, he never was wrong before. When anyone tried to talk to you, he pushed them away and gave you something from his pocket to get your attention on like a dog.

Luke saw you and he was obsessed at how innocent you seemed to be. How did you survive this far without any instincts of your own? He could do so much better then Percy at being your big brother. He could actually protect you and give you anything you ever asked for.

All he had to do was get close to you.

But that was harder then it looked. While he tried got close to you two, your brother didn’t let him close to you. So Luke had a to work around it. He took note of how Percy talked, acting towards you to draw you in.

“I found this,” luke looked at Percy with a rock in his hand, “thought y/n would like it.” percy glared at the taller boy. why was he even talking about you? But before percy would shut him down you squealed and jumped up, taking the rock from him. You looked so happy that the two boys didn’t care about anything else.

“Oh, thank you!” then you did something that caused both of them to freeze. you wrapped your arms around luke and squeezed him tightly while giggling. “I’m going to put it with the others.” You shout and run off towards your shared cabin.

percy looked at luke as he stayed there with his body tensed. “What was that?” even now, percy was trying to keep you to himself. but if he played his cards right…

“You’re a good brother percy. You give her things all the time, I thought I’d do the same.” He then threw his arm around the smaller boy and started to walk. “Now, I think we should start with swords today.” and like that he pretended to forget about the whole thing like it meant nothing.

but to Luke it was everything. the way you hugged him felt like the world was lifted off his shoulders. he made you smile. he made you happy. that was just a sign that he was made to be your family.

day and night luke was looking for new ways to get close to you even with percy holding you so close. he’d spend every moment with percy knowing you were right there. he tried to help you with your armor straps but percy did it before he could, making Luke annoyed. How is it that every chance he had percy was so quick? honestly percy was selfish for keeping you all to himself.

it only got worse when the both of you were claimed and you had to leave hermes cabin. you packed your things with a smile on your face looking as sweet as you always did. it was petty really, but luke couldn’t stop himself now. he walked up with a small teddy bear in his arms while Percy was looking away for a second.

“You know, I’ll be missing you both.” That was lie he didn’t even care if Percy was leaving now. You looked at him, “keep this to remember me?” His sweet smile as he handed you the teddy was making you feel warm. you loved the fluffy animal he gave you.

Before you go hug him Percy was at your side holding you by the shirt, “thanks Luke, but we should get moving.”

percy stared at him without backing down, he knew what was happening. luke wasn’t as good as he thought he was. they were having a staring contest showing they both knew. percy wasn’t going to give up his sister so easily and would never dare to have someone get close to her. but, luke was prepared to fight that battle.

Night came as crickets chirped, the threes rusted softly, and two souls out of bed while the same idea in mind. just outside cabin three there was the sound of muffled voices. on the ground was the teddy bear that was givin to the young daughter of posiden, ripped to pieces as the cotton inside fell onto the ground. percy stood with his blade in hand as a threat.

“Stay away from my sister.” Percy hated the way luke just smirked at him not taking him seriously. He was just a small barking dog in his way. “She’s not yours.”

Luke clicked his tongue and chucked at the statement from the younger boy.

“Give it time, she’ll be mine soon enough.”

-£ Taglist: @maria699669 @repostingmyfavs @itzmeme @ravenmedows

[piastriesque]

[6:32 pm]

⤷pairing: fernando alonso x reader

⤷warnings: fluff but a little suggestive at the end

⤷word count: 451

note: sorry for all mistakes!

Fernando laid his head on your lap. You loved it when he did that, you loved having him so close. You were playing with his thick hair. You noticed even more silver and white threads among the brown hair. Every now and then, you heard a slight murmur coming from the man's mouth. He clearly enjoyed it. However, at one point there was complete silence.

You leaned in slightly and said in a half whisper “I think someone here is falling asleep.”

The man only muttered something unintelligible, causing you to giggle slightly. Fernando rolled from side to back, turning towards you. He yawned slowly, covering his mouth with his hand.

“If you're sleepy, maybe you should go to bed.”

“No, it's cozier here” he smiled and winked.

“If you say so.”

You put your hand on his cheek and stroked his face with your thumb. You looked into his eyes. You had trouble describing their color. Brown with a touch of green? Hazel? What was certain was that they were the most mesmerizing eyes you had ever seen. They were protected by pretty eyelashes. How can someone be so gorgeous? Your gaze went to his lips. You really wanted to kiss them at that moment. The man bit his lips gently, and before you had time to process it, his lips were at yours. The kiss was intense but not rushed. His lips were soft, in contrast to his rough facial hair, which irritated the skin of your face slightly. You didn't mind and put your hands on his cheeks to draw his face even closer (although that wasn't possible). Fernando put his hands on your hips and deepened the kiss. You felt his tongue on your lower lip. You parted your lips a little bit. Your tongues were twining around each other. The kiss grew hotter and hotter until…

“What's that for?” he chuckled, touching the lip you've bitten, “Try a little more gently next time.”

“I’m so sorry. I guess I got too excited.” You said embarrassed.

“It's all right, baby. It didn't hurt much. I'm glad that even after all these years, kissing me excites you so much that you bite me by accident,” he smiled widely.

You stuck your tongue out at him jokingly. He giggled and kissed your nose. 

“By the way” he started, “When I was lying down, I couldn't take my eyes off you. You are the most beautiful person in the whole universe. I couldn't help but kiss you.”

“I was thinking the same thing, but about you.”

“Really?” he smirked, “How about the hottest couple heading to the bedroom now, to continue kissing or biting, if that's what you prefer?”

[bingwriterxo]

a clingy drunk

pairing: amber freeman x reader

summary: in which you get a little too drunk at one of amber's parties

warnings: implications of sex, mentions of alcohol poisoning

word count: 1900+

author's note: this was a request (find here!) hope yall enjoy :D

“So, is tonight just the group or is it the whole school?” you asked, your eyes trained on your own reflection as you tried to do your hair in the style that always drove Amber wild. You glanced behind you in the mirror, catching sight of your girlfriend as she looked through her closet for something to wear.

“The whole school,” Amber answered, pulling a cropped shirt from its hanger and holding it up for you to see. “Thoughts?”

You gulped, nodding quickly. “Definitely. Wear it with those low-waisted jeans you got the other day.”

She hummed as she crossed the room, shirt in hand, and leaned down, her chin resting on your shoulder. Her eyes locked with yours in the mirror, and she asked, “Making yourself all pretty for me?”

You shivered at her words, her warm breath fanning against your cheek. “Yeah, Ambs,” you agreed, turning your head to peck her on the cheek. “All pretty for you.”

Amber grinned, leaning in to kiss you. “My pretty girl,” she mumbled against your lips, and butterflies circled your stomach, making you beam with joy. She stood and left your side, going to dig through her dresser for the pants that you had mentioned earlier. 

You carried on with styling your hair, humming along to the quiet music that was playing in the room. You loved when things were like this--both of you existing in the same space yet doing your own things; it was pure domesticity.

Amber’s voice cut through your concentration, drawing your eyes back to her through the mirror. “Baby?” she began, her voice soft and lulling. You swore up and down that you could fall asleep to it. 

“Yeah?” 

“Try not to drink too much tonight, alright? I don’t want to have to call the ambulance again.”

You shuddered at the memory of what had happened at Amber’s last party nearly a month prior. Chad and Mindy had egged you into trying your first keg stand, and, upon successfully completing it, they decided to celebrate by feeding you shot after shot of tequila. Needless to say, the night had ended with you being rolled out on a stretcher, Amber following behind with wide, worried eyes, and having your stomach pumped. 

“I definitely won’t be drinking that much tonight,” you promised. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

She smiled, and your heart fluttered at the sight. “Good.” She pulled the jeans from her drawer, a mischievous smirk on her lips and a familiar spark in her eyes. “Wanna help me get changed?”

You leapt from your seat and rushed toward her, giggling the whole time. 

* * *

For a good hour, you kept your promise to Amber. While people were still filing into her house, you simply wandered around, offering half-assed greetings to your peers and sipping at your beer; every so often, you’d pester your girlfriend for her phone so that you could change the song, or you’d just walk right up to her and plant a kiss on her lips--she never complained about either. 

However, when your friends arrived, your night was quickly turned around.

“Y/N! My favorite girl!” Chad cheered as he walked through the front door, a six-pack of beer dangling from his fingertips. He pulled you into a tight hug, ignoring as you deftly swiped a drink from the case. “How you doing tonight? You ready to get fucked up?!”

“Not too fucked up, Chad,” Mindy interjected as she sidled up beside him, grinning at you. “Can’t have you in the hospital again, can we? Took me days to get that smoothie out of my hair.”

Unfortunately for the twins, at school the day after your little…incident, Amber had taken it upon herself to avenge you, resulting in both Meeks-Martin kids going home early with smoothie dripping from the tops of their heads.

“Definitely ready to get mildly fucked up,” you said, laughing.

Chad frowned. “We can do better than mildly.”

You looked around, making sure Amber wasn’t within earshot, and said, “As long as Ambs isn’t watching, then I’m all in.”

It didn’t take much time for the twins to get you more than mildly drunk. Within half an hour, you were slurring your words and swaying where you stood, your cheeks flushed a bright red and your eyelids drooping. 

“Oh, we’re fucked,” Mindy stated when she realized just how intoxicated you were, her eyes flitting from person to person to see if your girlfriend was anywhere in sight. 

Chad shook his head, taking a sip from his beer. “We’re only fucked if Amber notices,” he said.

“Amber!” you gasped suddenly, your eyes going wide at the mention of your girlfriend. You whipped your head around, stumbling backward and into Mindy’s arms at the force, searching for the raven-haired girl. “Where is she?”

“Uh, I’m not too sure,” Mindy said, glancing at her brother. “Do you need her?”

You twisted around and nodded furiously at Mindy, your face taking on the most serious expression she had ever seen. “Yes. Need her now.”

Chad furrowed his eyebrows, placing his drink down on the nearest surface he could reach. He put his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to face him. “And why do you need Amber?” he asked.

You sighed dreamily, pulse speeding up at the thought of the girl. “‘Cause I love her,” you slurred. “Love her so much. Just want to squeeze her little cheeks.” You mimicked the action with your hands, scrunching your face up as you did. 

Mindy chuckled. “As if Amber would let you squeeze her cheeks.”

“Oh, she does,” you said, your voice convincing. “All the time. She likes it.”

“Are we talking about the same Amber?”

“Why would I want to squeeze a different Amber’s cheeks?” you asked, dead serious, and Chad barked out a laugh. You looked at him, confusion painted on your face. “I only love my Amber. I promise.”

“Oh, I know, champ.” He patted you on the top of your head. “Everyone knows. But, right now, you can’t have Amber because--”

“Because what?” Amber asked, and you squealed at the sight of her standing behind Mindy. You pushed yourself out of Chad’s grip and hurried toward her, immediately wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face into her neck. She was left a little disoriented but no less loving as she quickly hugged you back.

“Baby!” you exclaimed, and she flinched back at your voice so loud in her ear.

“Hi, pretty girl,” she cooed quietly, running her fingers through your hair before settling her sight on the twins. “Why is she so…excited?”

“She’s a little drunk,” Mindy said. 

Amber’s eyes narrowed. “How much is ‘a little,’ Mindy?”

“Four beers and three shots,” Chad offered, cringing when Amber’s jaw clenched. 

“I thought I told you guys not to let her drink that much tonight!” Amber chided, her hold on you tightening. You nuzzled further into her. “You remember what happened last time, don’t you?” There was a threat in her voice as she spoke, her tone sharp and demanding, and both twins squirmed beneath her glare.

“She’s fine, Freeman. She’s just…really set on being with you right now, that’s all,” Mindy told the other girl. 

Chad nodded. “Yeah. She’s at about that point in the night where if you leave her alone, she might cry.”

Amber sighed and glanced down at you. “Guess I just won’t leave her alone, then.” She looked back at the twins. “At least, not with you two. Don’t you dare give her another drink tonight. Or else.”

Both twins raised their arms in surrender, taking a few steps back as Amber nodded, satisfied with their reaction. 

“Come on, baby,” Amber said to you. “Let’s go find Tara because I need to get more drinks from the basement.”

Almost immediately, you hugged her tighter, shaking your head. “No,” you whined, and Amber couldn’t help but think it was cute how determined you were to stay with her. She grinned as you emphasized the thought. “Only wanna be with you.”

You looked up, smiling at your girlfriend. You kissed her before raising an arm to squeeze her cheek. She blushed at the action, shooting a deathly glare toward her friends as you cooed like she was a puppy. 

“You’re the cutest person ever,” you said. “I just wanna be with you forever and ever and ever.”

She blushed even harder. “I love you, too, baby,” she said in response, because she’d have rather died than say something so cheesy where Mindy could hear her. “Now, can we please go find Tara so she can watch you while I run to the basement?”

Your face soured. “Depends. How long will you be?”

“Not even a minute.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, stuck in deep thought, and finally decided, “Okay. Fine. But can we cuddle after?”

Mindy tilted her head behind you, mouthing ‘Yeah, Amber. Can we cuddle?’ with a sly smirk. Amber had never been so tempted to tackle her to the ground. 

Through gritted teeth, she said, “Of course,” even though, in reality, she would have loved nothing more, but, again, she couldn’t let Mindy know that. 

“Yay!” you cheered, unraveling yourself from Amber. You intertwined your fingers with hers and let her pull you through the crowds in search for her brunette best friend, her thumb rubbing along the skin of your hand comfortingly as she did. 

It took a few minutes before you finally found Tara. She was sitting on the couch, a drink in her hand as she talked to Wes. Her head tilted when her eyes landed on you and Amber, lips quirking into a smile at your clearly drunk state.

“Did Chad and Mindy get to her?” she asked Amber, who nodded with a huff.

“Unfortunately,” Amber drawled. “Could you keep an eye on her? We’re out of beer. I need to grab more from the fridge downstairs.”

You frowned, like you had forgotten all about the fact that Amber needed to get more drinks. “Can’t I come with you?” you asked hopefully.

“I don’t think you could make it down the stairs like this, baby. Just stay here with Tara and Wes, okay?” She kissed you quickly before pulling away. When your frown deepened, she added "I'll be two seconds."

“Okay,” you grumbled, throwing yourself onto the couch between your friends and watching as your girlfriend disappeared in the direction of the basement.

“So, having a good night so far, Y/N?” Tara asked. 

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Guess so.”

“You don’t sound too happy,” Wes pointed out.

“I miss Amber,” you huffed. 

Tara chuckled. “She’ll be back soon. You’re a clingy drunk, huh?”

“No,” you denied, even though it was obviously the truth. “Just like being around Ambs. She’s so pretty, and cute, and she always makes me laugh, and she’s a really good kis--”

Amber appeared in front of you, a grin on her face, and you cut yourself off, hopping off the couch and right back into her arms. 

“You’re back!” you exclaimed.

She laughed. “I told you I wouldn’t be long.”

You pressed a kiss to the side of her jaw. “Can we go upstairs and cuddle?” you murmured, and Amber nearly melted. 

“Sure, baby. C’mon.” She started to walk away, you close behind, before she stopped and looked back at Tara. “Just…kick people out when it gets late, okay? I probably won’t be back down.”

Tara grinned at her. “Have fun, kids.”

Amber rolled her eyes and started leading you toward the stairs, trying to calm the fluttering of her heart as you chanted, “Cuddles! Cuddles! Cuddles!”

[heartofmortis]

✧ exile (what a ghostly scene)

. *. ⋆ Anakin / Vader x Reader

summary: you were bail organa’s ward, raised on alderaan with your younger sister. in the twilight of the clone war, you and anakin fell in love. when the war died, it dragged you and anakin to early graves with it — leaving only darth vader behind. even after years without you, he still wants you back. and there is nothing he would not do to bring you back to him. . .

tags: angst, tragic romance, suitless vader, no y/n, gn reader, inspired by the 2020 vader comics & vader immortal, past major character death, mourning, vader needs a hug, resurrection

note: my first reader/second person fic — i’m sorry if the tense is bad ajsjwjwjqjq. i’ve had this in my drafts for soooo long and i finally decided to finish it 🫶

word count: 1k

part 1 of 4

The stars have died, fizzling out into oblivion. All that remains is a charcoal heart that once belonged to Anakin Skywalker.

The boy from Tatooine is unreachable now, trapped inside the twisted soul of Darth Vader. The galaxy’s beloved Hero With No Fear is gone. With the rise of the Empire, the Jedi and their sympathisers will be erased from memory. A clean slate to start a new era.

Three years after the creation of the Empire, Darth Vader stands alone. His tower on Mustafar is isolating; its strategic position is a constant reminder of that day. His injuries still hurt sometimes: phantom itches on his now metal legs; scars from his burns that did not fully heal. The medical droids say he is lucky — the fire could have done more serious damage, and he could have been forced to rely on a suit keeping him alive for the rest of his days. Instead, the ebony coloured mask and suit he wears are to conceal his identity. A precaution so that Anakin Skywalker can fade from people’s tongues and memory, leaving the tyranny of Darth Vader in its place.

The weight of his failures is not the heaviest burden. Darth Vader drowns in his anger and grief. He was not strong enough to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was not strong enough to save you.

(All things die. Even stars burn out.)

You were the stars in his sky, his light in the dark, the silvery moon to his blazing sun. So tender and kind. Perhaps your heart was too good for this world. Perhaps, it was your weakness all along. (How could peace ever love a dragon?)

Since you met, you had been Anakin’s sun. You anchored him; guided him home. You were his destiny. And, without you, the galaxy had turned cold. The fiery world outside, all hot air and lava fields, only stood as a reminder of his failure. He’d lost you. After everything Anakin had tried — surrendering himself to the dark side, betraying the light — he could not save you. Time had not quelled the pain.

Vader wonders if you would still recognise him. His copper hair has grown longer (he remembers how you used to cut it for him after he returned from another mission, and you’d giggle as you braided thin locks together), but his face hides behind an obsidian mask. You always loved the blue of Anakin’s eyes, but now they are blazing amber.

Mornings are the only time Vader allows himself to dwell on the past. It is when he finds himself alone and does not have to hide.

Vader recalls how you arrived on Mustafar like it was yesterday. (You haunt him every waking moment.) He could sense your conflicted emotions as soon as you disembarked your ship. Vader wasted no time approaching you, drawing you into his arms (where you belonged; where you were safe). His lips reconnected with yours, fitting together like puzzle pieces as he kissed you hungrily, his hands settled on your hips to keep you close.

You and Anakin had met after turning nineteen. He and Obi-Wan were called to Alderaan to protect the Queen and Viceroy from an assassination attempt. Being their ward, you had been there the whole time and quickly formed a connection with the young padawan — your relationship had blossomed during the Clone Wars.

He rested his forehead against yours as you spoke. “I heard terrible things. Tell me none of it is true.”

Vader hadn’t replied immediately and instead drew his head back to look at you. He would tell you any sweet lie if he needed to as he fought to quell the anger flaring in his eyes. “What have you been told?”

“Obi-Wan told me—”

Vader’s grasp around you tightened protectively. “Obi-Wan is alive?”

“He said you’d killed Jedi. Killed younglings.”

“You must not believe him, my love. He’s a traitor.”

It wasn’t the answer you sought, and you took a step backwards out of your husband’s grasp. “What have you done?”

“I did this for you. To save you.” He cupped your chin in his flesh hand and whispered your name. “I love you.”

Your eyes trained into his. There was no denial, no remorse in his stature; his only regret was letting Obi-Wan tell you anything.

He repeated his words. “I did this for you.”

From the shadows of your cloak, you drew a blaster. Only a small, weak thing. Vader watched your hands tremble. He did admire your courage. “Fix this,” you demanded. “Please,” you begged.

Anger flickered in Vader’s eyes. He had never seen you unimpressed with him. With an easy glide of his hand, Vader used the Force to knock the blaster out of your grip and pin your arms by your sides

“I am stronger than the Chancellor now,” he explained desperately, drawing you to his side. “I can overthrow him. Then you and I can be together; we can run away — just like you always wanted to.”

(But you didn’t. He lost you. Some might call you a traitor — Vader maintains that you were misguided.)

Three years later, regret still festers inside Vader’s hollow soul. There must have been a way to save you.

He misses you endlessly: craving your touch and the sound of your voice. (There is nothing Vader desires more than to have you back in his arms.)

Part of him wants to forget. To cast his memories of you into an abyss; to put the past behind him. But it is an impossible task. You are too well tangled into his soul. You haunt him. (And you’ll haunt him until his death.)

Today, there is no time to focus on you. A new morning brings meetings and training. You were Anakin’s Achilles Heel — but Darth Vader shows no such weakness. As Vader sits on his throne, reading over mission logs and other updates from the spread of the Empire across the galaxy, he receives a message: he must make his return to Coruscant immediately. (Your memory pulls him under the ocean again until he can no longer breathe.)

[wettvagina]

ex for a reason

CONTAINS: p in v , infedility , pussy eating

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Chewing on your bottom lip, you tugged on the hem of your dress for the fifteenth time tonight, on your list of regrets, coming to this stupid college party was on the top of it, coming right after, was wearing this particular dress tonight.

The strapless black dress clung onto your skin, kissing the dip of your waist and curving at the wave of your ass, your boobs bounced with each step you took as you wondered around the house which was littered with swaying, half-concious bodies.

The dim lights were no assistance in finding your way to the exit, taking a sharp turn, you were met with a sliding glass door, with no ulterior motive, you slid the door open, finding yourself on a large, blustery balcony.

As you turned your head, your eyes met with those familiar, sultry green eyes, the eyes which transported your brain to a whole other location, taking you back in time forcing you to replay those woeing memories you made with the owner of those green eyes.

You found yourself stuck in place, as his green eyes traced down your body, you felt a sudden heat florish in your chest, making your heart drum. Your breath pace increased alongside your heartrate, causing your palms to moisten, you gulped before locking eyes with him, Eren Yeager, your ex-boyfriend.

You watched as his eyebrows raised and he took a step back, your body tensened and you attempted to exit, "Yo." his tempting voice spoke up, you kept your face straight, attempting to quickly manoeuvre yourself out of this situation.

"Hey." you plainly greet, Eren slowly walked up to you, as he did so, you took in his tall, healthy figure. As he approached you, you subconsciously stepped back, back hitting the transparent door behind you. Eren's lips twisted into somewhat of a smirk as he looked down at you.

"I've missed you."

Looking up at him, you just saw his sharp featured face, that face alone made you forget all the things he did to you. "Yeah?" you queried, "Look at you, fucking perfect." he admired, as you both locked eyes, you felt that heat within your body spread to your lower ograns, moistening the thin cloth of the thong you wore.

"You just keep getting hotter eachtime I see you." he disclosed, "How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself?" his deep voice questioned, "You kept your hands from me when you were kissing that other girl." you managed to say, forming a weak barrier between you both using your limited amount of current self-respect.

"I've changed." Eren claimed, "Yeah?" you asked with a stern tone, "Yeah, you've changed too." Eren noted as he stared directly at your chest. "You're fucking nasty." you giggle, Eren used his large hands to rub your side, "I need you...so fucking bad." Eren murmured as his eyes looked into yours before he glanced down at your lips.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'll do anything to make it up to you, baby." his sensuous voice ringed in your ear, "Well thats too bad, cuz' I hate you." you taunted, "Yeah? You hate me?" Eren spoke, his lips barely touching the skin of your neck, "That won't work, cuz' I'm in love with you." he said as he pressed his lips onto your neck.

Drawing his head back, his face was right in front of yours, you looked up at him, biting your bottom lip as you felt his strong arms hold you like he used to, as soon as your eyes dared to dart towards his lips, he took that as a signal to kiss you.

His lips basically fought with yours as you felt the eagerness in him be expressed with the way his soft lips moved on yours. His palms moved to the curve of your ass, grabbing it as he broke the kiss, "God, I missed you so much." he spoke before pressing his lips onto yours once again.

In one swift motion, Eren pulled the curtain in front the glass door, concealing everything transpiring on the balcony, using his muscular arms, he hoisted you onto him, grabbing you just below your ass, not breaking the kiss.

He placed you onto a lounge chair, as he got onto his knees on the ground, settling himself between your spread legs. "I'm gonna make things better, alright baby?" he promised as he parted your legs oncemore.

Pulling off your thong, and rolling your dress slightly higher, he licked his lips before making contact with your wet pussy, your clit was in proximity to his cold metal tongue piercing, upon the sudden perception, you looked down at him, slurping your juices as his bicep muslces stiffened as he held your legs apart.

"Fuckk, you gotta tongue piercing." you moaned, "Mhmm." he hummed into your pussy causing your knees to shake. As Eren's tongue guided down your wet lips your toes curled, his head shook to the side as he devoured your pussy.

Using his fingers, he jabbed at your deprived hole, with one final lick, he used his lips to suck at your bundle of nerves. With that, you came all over his fingers, soaking his entire hand. "Look at this, huh." his voice chimed, you bit your lip, looking down at him with needy eyes as your legs shook.

Using his tongue to wipe his fingers dry, he made you watch as he cleaned your juices off of him. Standing on his feet, he pulled you up, grabbing your face once you were to his level. He kissed you slowly with his wet lips, taking your hand into his, he guided your hand down to his crotch, making you feel how hard he was.

"What are you gonna do about it?" he whispered onto your lips, departing your lips from his, you looked at his lofty, trained figure, you pulled the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head.

You were faced with his tense, chiseled abs, switching your positions, now in front of him your directed him to sit on the chair you were once on. You dropped your core onto the tent in his pants, grinding yourself on him as you placed your hands on his chest, allowing yourself to move with more pressure and speed.

"Fuck." he cursed as he watched you grind onto him, "so fucking pretty." he whispered as his hands found themself on the curve of your ass. Discovering the zipper of his pants, you pulled it down with eagerness, yearning for the feeling of that lengthy, healthy-pink coloured dick that ensured an orgasm each time it was inside you.

As you slightly pulled down his pants and everything underneath it, his rigid cock sprung free, slapping your inner thigh upon liberation. "Fuck, you're so big." you praised as you stroked his shaft, before inserting it into your soaking core.

"Goddam." Eren breathlessly muttered, it was only the tip that was in so far, and your wetness was not much help getting his full length into you. His extensive,girthy cock stretched you out real good, you pressed your eyes shut, enduring the fugitive pain.

"God." you moaned upon feeling the sudden fullness, your knees pressed into the softness of the cushion of the chair you were on as you placed your hands on Eren's shoulders for stability.

"Fuck, bounce on it, princess." Eren urged, you used your knees to push yourself up, pulling yourself off of his length before dropping onto it again, the sudden friction of your walls to his dick sent goosebumps down your spine and produced loud moans.

Eren slouched into the chair, allowing himself to push his dick further up into you, with steady bounces you fucked yourself good on his dick as his shaft became coated with your juices. You arched your back moving your ass up and down as you moved in and out of him.

Eren groaned as beads of sweat dripped down his pecs and onto his carved abs, "Don't stop." Eren grunted, your own pleasure slowed you down from riding him at your full capability. Upon noticing, Eren used his hips to buck up into you, watching your breasts bounce in your dress as he wore out your pussy.

"You still hate me?" he questioned with a laugh as he dug his cock deep into you, "Huh? You still hate me?" he persisted, all you could do was moan as he drilled into you, Eren groaned loudly as he used his hand to squeeze your titties, still pounding up into you relentlessly.

"Oh fuck!" you yelped as the tight knot in your lower stomach became undone, you came for the second time, this time all over his dick. "Yeahh, who else can fuck you like this, huh?" Eren whinged, you inhaled and exhaled loudly as your orgasm faded out.

You hopped off his dick, scurrying to get your panties which were discarded on the floor, as you turned around you heard Eren's zipper and he stood to his feet. Bending over to slip on your thong, you felt him press himself against your ass, "You still hate me?" he iterated.

You felt his hands on your hips, and once your back pressed onto his chest he guided them around your waist, you twisted your head to the side, his jade eyes meeting yours.

Every wrong he ever did to you cancelled out, and you felt the same way he made you feel the day you met.

Tags: @dontcryskxawng @iheartjoaofelix79 @k-ine-e