#so i apologize if it's taking me a long time to reply to threads or even if i haven't been super talkative on discord

[cartelheir]

🙃

[connorsui]

In Your Arms

Zayne x reader

Genre/warnings: pure fluff, boyfriend zayne wanting peace and you give it, manz wanna make u a wife, no warnings we don't die around here...

Synopsis: Zayne finds solace in the warmth of your presence amidst the chaos of his demanding career, and silently, he cherishes every moment, hoping one day to make your bond official

Note: I wanted doctor zayne to cure my heart ....so I made doctor zayne want to make me a wife ...

w.c: 1,070

Zayne’s footsteps echoed softly in the sterile, dimly lit hospital corridor, his mind still entangled in the complexities of the latest surgery he’d performed. His shoulders were tense, a slight frown creasing his usually composed expression as he made his way out of the building. It had been another long day, filled with the kind of high-stakes decisions that most people couldn’t fathom. But as soon as he saw you waiting for him by the entrance, your face lighting up at the sight of him, something in him softened.

The sight of you there, with your soft smile and eyes that sparkled just for him, made the world tilt back into place. The weight of the day fell away, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply bask in the warmth of your presence. He didn’t need to say anything; the way his eyes lingered on you, tracing the curve of your lips and the gentle slope of your shoulders, spoke volumes.

“Hi, Love! ” you greeted him, your voice a gentle balm to his frayed nerves.

“Hello, Sweetheart” he replied, his tone low and warm, the single word carrying a weight of unspoken affection. His hands itched to reach out, to pull you into his arms right there in front of everyone, but Zayne had always been careful with his emotions, especially in public. Instead, he settled for a small, almost imperceptible smile that you had come to recognize as his version of a bear hug.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the soft rustle of your clothing the only sound in the quiet night air. It wasn’t until you were inside his car, the doors closed, and the world shut out, that he allowed himself the luxury of touch. His hand reached out, fingers lightly grazing yours before he intertwined them, the simple gesture grounding him in a way nothing else could.

“I would like to first apologize to you …” he murmured after a few minutes, his voice laced with the kind of guilt that came from too many late nights and missed dinners.

Surprised; you questioned. “What for exactly?”

“I just know I haven’t been around much.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, offering him a soft, understanding smile. “Zayne, It's alright… I know you’re doing everything you can…But…let's focus on the now.. is there anything I can do to make your night better?”

He turned his head to look at you, his gaze searching your face for any sign of fatigue or frustration. Instead, he found only warmth and concern, your eyes silently urging him to let you take care of him for once. The tension in his chest eased a fraction, and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Just being with you makes everything better,” he admitted, his voice rough with the weight of the day. “I don’t need anything else… just you.”

The ride to his apartment was filled with quiet conversation, the kind that flowed easily between two people who were entirely comfortable with each other. When you arrived, Zayne wasted no time pulling you close as soon as the door clicked shut behind you. His arms wrapped around you, his head resting on your chest as he exhaled deeply, finally allowing himself to relax.

“You’re so tense,” you murmured, your fingers instinctively threading through his hair, the familiar motion soothing both of you. “Why don’t you let me run you a bath? Or make you some tea?”

He tightened his hold on you, shaking his head slightly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “No, just… this is what I need. You’re what I need.”

The way he clung to you, as if letting go would mean losing the one thing keeping him grounded, made your heart ache with a mix of love and concern. He was always so strong, so capable, but even Zayne had his limits, and you could see that he’d reached them tonight.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” you suggested softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You deserve to rest.”

He nodded against you, and you led him to his bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over the room. Zayne moved with a quiet grace, his every action deliberate as he turned to face you, his hands settling on your waist.

“I’m sorry I’m not more… put together tonight,” he murmured, his eyes heavy with exhaustion as he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to be anything other than yourself with me,” you whispered back, your hands coming up to cup his face. “I love you just as you are, Zayne.”

His breath hitched slightly at your words, and he pressed his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss that made your heart swell with emotion. There was no rush, no urgency—just the deep, abiding love that had grown between you over time, steady and unshakable.

When he pulled back, his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, his eyes meeting yours in silent question. You nodded, and he carefully lifted your shirt over your head, his hands warm against your skin as he undressed you with the same precision he used in surgery.

Once you were both stripped down; Zayne pulled you into bed, his arms wrapping around you as he settled you against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a comforting rhythm beneath your ear as you laid together in the quiet.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his lips brushing the top of your head.

“It’s perfect,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

Zayne smiled against your hair, his hold on you tightening slightly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. In that moment, with you wrapped up in his arms, he felt complete, as if all the pieces of his life had finally fallen into place.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “ — to be here with you… it’s all I need.”

You nestled closer, your heart swelling with love for the man who had given so much of himself to others, yet asked for so little in return. “I’m here, Zayne. I’m always here.”

As you drifted off to sleep, Zayne couldn’t help but think about how much he wanted this—wanted you—every day for the rest of his life. And one day, he would make that dream a reality. But for now, he was content to hold you close, savoring the warmth of your body against his as he followed you into sleep.

Doctor zayne with a need for you is the only man I will ever need

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART NINETEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, not many for this chapter :p masterlist a/n: wanted so badly for this chapter to be longer but just as i finished a 60-hour work week, i fell down with the flu. boooo.

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Price kept his promise when the time came, the next morning shifting to evening, the sun resting along the horizon. You’d spent the better majority sleeping off the pain, unable to stay awake for long while the parasite ate away at you from the inside and out.

Waking to a booming ‘Land ho!’ was the relief you needed to relax properly, the potential of you receiving urgent attention easing your worries momentarily.

You hadn’t had a proper moment alone, always waking to another man in the room watching over you, appearing just as tired as you. Gaz was often the one who took over, or in his place it was Soap. The Captain was making haste in steering to landfall in order to guarantee your spot in healing. He was wasting no time, keeping all hands on deck to make it happen.

You weren’t expecting Ghost, however, when you opened your eyes. He was lounged in Price’s chair at his desk lazily, eyes blinking sleepily at the floor, his fist on his cheek. He looked oddly comfortable, sat at ease rather than a man who seemed to always have a target on his back.

“Ghost?” you croaked, habitually attempting to sit up. It knocked the air out of your lungs immediately and you settled back down once you noticed Ghost tense up.

He grunted in response, eyes darting up from the floor to you. You’d hardly seen him since Graves’ unsettling show, and you were sure he was only in the room because he thought you’d be asleep long enough for him to switch shifts with somebody else.

“Y’alright?” he asked, gaze flickering down to your side where the bruising was becoming a disgusting black, almost resembling rotting flesh.

“We are almost there?” you asked instead, shifting the blanket over you subconsciously.

He nodded, taking his fist off of his cheek and leaning back in the chair. “Not too long now,” he responded. “Just sit tight.”

You fiddled with the hem of the sheets, picking at a loose thread. The air felt heavy with awkwardness, and it nearly suffocated you. You hated how strange it always felt in Ghost’s presence, like a force between you condemned you away from one another, but you weren’t too sure if it was you or him creating it.

Judging from previous actions, it was definitely him. He wasn’t an easy person to talk to—even after his apology.

“You don’t like me, do you?” you asked without a second thought. Once it came from your mouth, you instantly regretted it. If you were able to move on your free will, you’d have slapped yourself by now.

“What?” he grumbled.

You swallowed, peering up at the ceiling to avoid looking at him. “You do not seem very fond of me. Even after everything.”

You felt his stare on the side of your face. It was burning into you. “Is that so?”

You nodded once, a curt movement that was stiff and uncomfortable. Now that you had bitten off more than you could chew, the only solution was to continue gnawing.

“S’not that,” he answered. He shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the table. “You’ve already forgotten our talk? I’m not the type to repeat myself.”

“I have not.”

“Then why are you always stressin’ ‘bout it?” he huffed, almost like a child. At times, he surely acted like one—a rather rude one, but you digress.

“You seem tense with me,” you replied quietly, wondering why the conversation was brought up in the first place. It was never easy speaking of feelings with Ghost, and you were learning that the hard way. You didn’t understand why you felt compelled to begin something with no finish.

“I’m tense because you’re hurt,” he corrected, albeit a bit coldly. “S’not you.”

You gnawed on your lip as you stared into nothingness. Ghost was always an enigma, a puzzle piece you couldn’t quite fit anywhere, and the more you spoke with him, the more difficult it became.

You wanted to understand him, but how could you understand somebody who didn’t want to be understood? Then again, perhaps he thought the same of you.

“Has Graves done this before?” you asked, tone growing soft.

You knew Ghost was at the hands of Graves more than once. The unspoken trauma he held was evident simply in the way he fueled his hatred for the evil captain. If there was anybody who knew Graves for who he truly was, it was Ghost.

“Worse,” he said shortly, as if the matter was so simple to understand. It made your stomach twist up, imagining the horrors that lie along Graves’ past.

“Worse?” you murmured to yourself in disbelief.

Truly, what had Graves done? Surely, he had killed plenty. He held the card of death, dealing it to those unknowing. He played the game until he grew bored, tossing his pawns aside when he wanted a new one.

Were you simply his plaything for the time being? What would happen when he sought out a new one?

You turned your head to look at Ghost. You studied the skull ring that glistened on his finger, as well as the matching mask that locked up his true identity.

Ghost was just as much a pawn as you were—he was simply the last one standing.

“Why do you wear it?” you asked, and when his eyes simmered with confusion, you continued. “The skulls. They are his, yes?”

Ghost glanced down at his ring, wiggling his finger for good measure. “It angers him,” he explained calmly, toying with the ring with his thumb. “He takes pride in his ship. The skull flag on his ship is his staple—he thinks only those deserving are allowed the opportunity to flaunt it.”

“So… you wear it because he does not think you’re deserving, and it angers him?” you finished.

“I consider it a game,” Ghost shrugged. “He took what was mine. I take what’s his.”

You blinked, trying to piece together the puzzle. It made sense in your head, but you felt you were missing something.

“What did he take from you?”

Ghost finally looked at you, pupils blown with that familiar hatred you’d seen all this time. Now, though, you know it’s not for you.

“Everythin’,” he muttered. “I’ll be sure to do the same for him."

Ghost left rather quickly after that. You hated to see him go, but you knew a nerve was struck and he wanted to be alone—it was something he preferred. You could respect that.

Soap was the one who took charge, talking your ear off while you drifted in and out of sleep. He was lifting your spirits as always, trying desperately to get you out of the funk you’d been stuck in.

The conversation with Ghost took enough energy from you that it left you lifeless, resuming to your exhausted state and only offering an occasional hum of acknowledgment to Soap. You felt horrible for seeming so uninterested, but Soap didn’t seem to mind. In fact, if anybody were to understand, it would be him.

“After all this is over, I say we take a li’l vacation, aye?” Soap piped in. You glanced at him blearily, silently nodding in agreement. “Ye ever drink before, dove?”

You shook your head, causing Soap to gawk at you as if you’d just offended his entire family. “Never? Well, we’ll have to change that the second yer all fixed up. Get ye to a nice pub and drink yer sweet heart out. Yeeeah, that sounds real nice ‘bout now.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, shoulders slumping. Soap, ever the sweetest, always kept a peppy attitude for you, even if you could see the exhaustion lines forming on his face. He was so compassionate with you, and you feared you didn’t deserve it. It was your fault for all this mess.

“Yer first drink’s on me, aye? Hell, once yer back on yer feet, I’ll pay for all yer drinks, how’s that sound?”

“Bargainin’ to a sick bird, am I hearin’ that right?”

Both you and Soap looked to the door where the Captain stood, hand on the knob. He was so silent as he came in, presumably not to wake you in the case you were asleep.

“Ach, the girl deserves a drink after all this. M’just tryin’ to make her feel better,” Soap defended with a huff, shooing his hand.

Price snorted in amusement, stepping into the room. He made his way to your bedside where Soap sat, peering down at you and observing.

“How’s my dove doin’ today?” Price asked, his tone affectionate.

You caught a glimpse of Soap’s side eye towards the Captain’s behavior, evidence of confusion washing over his expression. He said nothing, only blinking slowly. You could practically see the gears in his head clogging up the workings in there.

Price looked a bit more hopeful that day, albeit sluggish. His smile was tilted as if his lips were too heavy to lift fully, his eyes were dimmed from the light you’d seen recently. You knew he was pushing past his limit, hardly sleeping and overriding his brain with too many steps in his plans.

“I’m fine,” you assured quietly, though you prayed he couldn’t see through it.

You weren’t fine at all. You felt like a vessel while your soul floated above your body and watched on as you slowly crumbled to ash. You no longer felt completely present, only forced into living from the consistent wakings for meals or check-ups.

The mess on your ribcage had blossomed into a murky pool of black, only spreading rather than weakening. The poisoned veins were like a wildfire, untamable as they slithered their way through your body and organs as if making them its collection.

You were a disastrous mess on the inside. On the outside, though you were gray and sickly with sunken bags beneath your eyes, you tried to present yourself as anything but, mustering up the strength to converse with each and every one of them when you weren’t sleeping.

It was easy for any of them to see it, though. The spark in your eyes had vanished and you resembled more of a corpse than a woman.

Price tilted his head, staring at you for a moment. His hand lifted and he brushed the back of his knuckles across your forehead, resting them there. What met him was warmth. While it would’ve been a comforting feeling, it made him more worried than anything.

“You’re still hot,” he murmured, more to himself. “Have she been like this all day?”

Soap shrugged, frowning. “She’s been asleep for half of it.”

Price glanced at Soap before sighing through his nose. “We’ve got just a couple of more hours. Think you can wait it out a bit more for me, dove?”

You nodded sluggishly. What more was another hour or two? You had already dealt with it for days. The pain wouldn’t subside regardless.

Price attempted another smile, one you couldn’t return. It pained him to see you in a state so depressing, but it wouldn’t be the last that you and his crew would go through hell. He’d seen Ghost in far too similar circumstances before.

He gave your cheek a soft squeeze, frowning to himself when even that didn’t wash away the hollow expression you wore. He felt like he was looking at the shadow of a person that once existed.

“We’ll come and collect you when it’s time,” he told you softly. You only hummed through a sigh, feeling the unfortunate taste of exhaustion once again.

Soap and the Captain shared a look before they exchanged a few quiet words you couldn’t hear. Price seemed reluctant to leave but did nonetheless, slipping the door closed with such gentleness that it didn’t dare disturb you.

Soap remained where he was, studying your every feature as you slipped back into that unforgiving dream state, unable to take his eyes off of you—not when they were so close to getting you to a healer.

He feared if he looked away for even a moment, you might just slip through his fingers.

You’d loved helping people ever since you were a child. You couldn’t remember much, but you knew for certain that you’d been that way all your life—the simple aid of carrying items for the elders in your village, helping the merchants set up for the day, caring for the younger children if they’d hurt themselves or scraped up a knee or two.

It was something you’d always known that soon developed into a bigger dream the older you got. An obsession, some would say, to the idea of being your village’s healer and curing them of their misfortunes. Medicine was a calling, and you listened to its guide, working day and night to learn and discover all new possibilities that you’d never seen before.

Yet, that love for helping others labeled you crazy. The village slowly lost their affection for you, turning their backs as if you’d never been apart of them, disgusted by the fact that a woman of your age was unmarried and childless.

You knew you were meant for more, yet the people who you’d spent your entire life becoming apart of had shunned you over your mere dreams. There was a great, big world out there to discover, but they wished to keep you confined to their little home and grant you misery for the sake of keeping tradition.

Women didn’t have dreams. They didn’t have hopes. How silly of a world was that?

You still wanted to pursue them. You had the whole world ahead of you, and you were angry that there was a possibility of it being snatched away from you, all because of one man. He was ruining the work you'd spent years prioritizing, and you'd be damned if you didn't get what you wanted.

Even as you lay, rotting away in Price’s cot, that desire never went away. It only blossomed, the need nipping at you like an aggravating tick.

It was a wonder how you hadn’t succumbed to the vile venom that Graves’ had slipped under your skin when he bashed his boot into the workings of your ribcage. How you were still alive was unfathomable, something even you didn’t understand after working for years to do so.

Was it simply will that people needed to survive? Was it determination? Or was it just you, the lucky one?

Your mind was muddled with these screaming thoughts as you remained in your unconsciousness. Yet, even asleep, you could feel your body being jolted, like somebody was slipping their arms around you and carrying you to a place unknown. You tried to wake up, but you were trapped in your own world as if needing to seek answers before escaping.

Your ears pricked at the sounds of voices. They sounded far away, muffled as if underwater, and inside your cafe of your mind, you fought to hear, to get a glimpse of your reality that you were missing out on.

“I don’t know, Cap. There are rumors swirlin’ that this woman works wonders, has the hands of the Gods workin’ with her,” a voice exclaimed. Gaz, as clever as ever. You’d know his voice anywhere.

“You speak nonsense,” another voice said. You recognized the gruffness as Price. He sounded closer than Gaz did, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “We cannot get our hopes up over stories. She’s a medic, just as the others. We will not rely on foolishness to fuel our hope for dove’s recovery.”

You heard Gaz scoff, and you could nearly picture the tightening of his jaw and the slight downward curl of his lips—like a child pouting.

“You do not find it strange, Captain, that our dove hasn’t perished to the willingness of Graves’ curse?” Gaz asked. “Perhaps the rumors are true. Maybe this woman knew we were comin’, and that’s why dove’s held out for so long. Don’t you think a li’l extra hope is what we need?”

“We will know it when we see it,” Price retorted, clearly still unbelieving of Gaz’s claims. “I will not believe in such sorcery until it has been done to dove. What matters is healin’ her.”

“You have seen what Graves has done to others,” Gaz tried once more. “Sorcery is always possible.”

The captain didn’t reply, and you knew that meant he was stumped. You wished dearly to wake and speak with them yourself, to hear of Gaz’s story and to understand where Price is coming from. The desire to meet both their needs felt heavy, and it only grew the longer you went without it.

“Sorcery is what got us in this situation in the first place,” another voice joined in. You were surprised to hear Ghost chime in his own thoughts. It made you wonder if he spoke more when you weren’t around. “If you do not recall that, Gaz.”

You heard another scoff, one could only assume from Gaz. A tempered one, he was.

“Ever the so positive one, aye, Ghost?” Soap. There was no mistaking that heavy accent and chirpy tone.

You heard a snort, then Ghost speak, “Always.”

The world fell silent after that. If you listened close enough, you could hear the shifting of clothes and the crunch of dead leaves. You hadn’t a clue what was happening, though your best bet was that the ship had made landfall, and your path to getting healed was closer than ever.

So why did it feel like something else was beginning to unravel out of control?

[ssweetreveries]

(not so) quiet night

✩ seonghwa x reader

. 18+ mdni!

. word count! 1.7k

{one shot, smut, nonidol!seonghwa, softdom!seonghwa, afab!reader, sub!reader, pet names, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), oral sex (f.receiving), consent consent consent!!, fluff, it’s just very loving and sweet}

a.n i apologize if there’s any mistakes, this isn’t proof read and english isn’t my first language, please bare with me!! enjoy! ><

synopsis . after a hard day at work, your boyfriend makes you feel better.

Arriving home after a long day at work, all you wanted to do was relax. You were exhausted and wanted nothing more but to find comfort in your boyfriend’s embrace. But he wasn’t home right now, so you opted to wait for him on the couch, huddle up in blankets. You grabbed the remote and put a random series on Netflix. – Almost an hour passed until you heard the rattle of keys and the door being unlocked. Your eyes lit up the second they landed on his figure entering your shared apartment. “Hwa!” You exclaimed while jumping off the couch to make your way to him. “Hello to you too” he replied with a chuckle, before dropping his briefcase and engulfing you in a big hug. You smiled ravishing in the all to familiar warmth you so longed for, burying your face in his chest and inhaling his homey scent. “Well isn’t someone happy to see me today” he says, the prettiest smile decorating his features, showing you his pearly whites. 

“I missed you so much, hwa.” you murmur against his chest. He pats your hair softly, his other arm wrapped lovingly around your waist. “Bad day, hmm?” he asks. You nod and look up at him with a small smile, “yeah, but it’s already better now that you’re here.” He leans down and drops a quick peck to your lips, “mmm yeah?” You giggle and press your lips against his once again. Seonghwa is quick to respond to your kiss, lips moving together in a familiar rhythm. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you gladly let him in. 

You moan softly at the feeling of his tongue swirling around yours, and you can feel him smirk against your mouth. Seonghwa pushes you back softly until your back hits the wall, his lips never leaving yours. His hands snake up your shirt, brushing sensually up and down your sides. Your breath hitches at the feel of his cold hands on your body. “Hwa..” you whisper against his lips. He pulls back and looks at you with a playful grin, “hmm?” he hums, continuing to rub his hands down your sides, finding their resting spot against your plush ass. “What’s the matter, love?” he says teasingly. 

“Hwa, please, I need you..” you whisper. 

“Yeah? Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he says. 

You nod and Seonghwa lifts you up, carrying you bridal-style all the way to your shared bedroom. He gently drops you back to your feet, and sits down on the edge of the bed. “C’mere,” he says, pulling you along until you’re standing in between his legs. He pats his lap and you take the cue to sit on him, straddling him in the process. Your lips find his once more, not being able to wait any longer before tasting him again. His hands find their previous spot under your shirt, massaging your sides, all the while kissing you back. 

You bite on his bottom lip, and Seonghwa purrs at your neediness. His hands find the clasp of your bra and undo it. He pulls back from your kiss for a second, “Can I take this off, love?” he asks. You nod and let him take off your shirt, slipping off your bra in the process. His lips immediately attach to your collarbone, nipping at your skin and leaving a mark. A soft moan leaves your lips at the feeling of his mouth on your skin. He then directs his attention to your chest, leaving love bites all over before taking one in his mouth. You gasp as Seonghwa swirls his tongue around your sensitive bud, toying with your other breast at the same time. 

Your body arches into him, soft moans leaving your lips at all the attention he’s giving you. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging here and there. Seonghwa pulls back with a groan, “Am I making you feel good, love?” 

You nod with flushed cheeks, “So good, hwa..” 

Seonghwa smiles, satisfied with your answer. “I can make you feel even better, can you lay down for me?” he asks with a smile. You hum and let him help you off his lap. He softly pushes you down, your body hitting the bed with a soft thud. 

Seonghwa stands up, un-doing the buttons of his dress shirt before tossing it away. Getting rid of his other articles of clothing in the process, leaving him only with his briefs on. He makes his way back to the bed, crawling over you and caging you under his much bigger body. He drops another kiss to your lips before making his way down your body, peppering kisses everywhere. 

His fingers hook around the waistband of your pants, gently tugging. “Is this okay?” he whispers, his hot breath against your stomach making you shiver. 

“Y-yeah, please,” you answer him through a shaky breath. 

After discarding your pants somewhere in the room, he pulls down your panties as well, licking his lips. You look down at him, feeling shy now fully exposed to him. No matter how long you’ve been together or how many times you��ve done it, he always manages to make you nervous and have those butterflies appear in your stomach. 

Seonghwa starts by kissing and nipping at your inner thighs, purposely avoiding your sweet spot to tease you. “Hwa, please,” you whine. He looks up at you with a smirk. “Please, what?” 

“I need you, hwa,” you plead. He chuckles lightly, “And where would you need me, love?” 

He kisses your stomach one last time before going lower and softly blowing on your aching core. “Here?” he cooed. You let out a gasp at the sensation, nodding furiously. 

Seonghwa smirks, before licking a strip up your wet cunt, making you moan. “O-oh,” 

He chuckles, “This wet, already? And all for me?” 

You whimper, embarrassed, but Seonghwa only seems amused, going back down to lap at your juices. “You taste so sweet, love. I could do this all night.” 

You moan at his words, and Seonghwa delves back in, tongue playing with your sensitive nub. You throw your head back, your hand finding his head and pushing him harder against your core. His mouth on you bringing you to an ecstatic state. “H-hwa, more,” you whimper, “I need more, I need you.” 

He looks up at you with a sly smile, “I want to make you cum on my fingers first, baby.” He says as he pushes a finger into your tight hole. You choke on a moan, “f-fuck, hwa,”

He toys with your clit, gently nibbling at it as he enters a second finger, causing your hips to buck against him. 

With a third finger and his tongue playing with your sensitive bud, you can feel yourself getting drowned in pleasure, your orgasm nearing as your legs start to shake from all the stimulation. Seonghwa smirks against you as he can feel you tighten around his fingers. “Are you close, love?” 

You nod desperately as you arch your back against him, chasing your high. After a few more pumps of his fingers, you come undone, coating his mouth with your arousal. He pulls back looking up at you with a dumb smile, your juices dripping down his chin, before delving back in and lapping at you like a starved man. You cry out at the overstimulation, tugging on his hair, but he doesn’t stop until he’s licked up every last drop of you. 

“How was that?” he asks teasingly. 

“It was good hwa,” you giggle, “more than good.” 

He purrs before connecting his lips with yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is dizzying, his tongue swirling around yours in a way that leaves you breathless. His body is pressed against yours and you can feel his hard on against your thigh. 

Your lips never leave his as your hand slowly makes its way down to softly grab him through his briefs. Now this makes his breath hitch and he pulls away from the kiss momentarily. “Baby..” he groans.

“I want you, hwa..” you coo, pulling down his underwear and wrapping your hand around his throbbing cock. A soft moan escapes his lips at your touch, “fuck, baby, I need you.” he grunts, dropping a last quick kiss to your lips before aligning himself with your entrance. 

“Can I put it in, baby? I need you to tell me, please,” he breathes out, needily. 

“Yes, p-please, hwa, I want you,” you answer quickly.

With your approval he pushes his cock inside you, bottoming out. You choke on your moan, not expecting him to fully go in immediately. “F-fuck.” you mutter under your breath. 

“Sorry, baby” he whispers and kisses your cheek. “I’m gonna move now okay?” 

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him to you. Seonghwa starts moving, slowly at first, gradually increasing his speed. “Fuck..” he groans, “you feel so good baby.” 

You moan, his length hitting all the right spots. Seonghwa kisses you deeply as he angles you at a better angle, being able to reach even deeper inside you.

“Seonghwa!” you cry out his name as his hips snap against you, reaching that one spot that makes you see stars. 

“Fuck, baby, your clenching so hard around me,” he chuckles, voice raspy. “I don’t think I can hold back much longer.”

“M-me too, s’ close, ms’ close, hwa!” you whine as your legs tremble, feeling light-headed from all the pleasure. 

“S-shit, where do you want me, love?” Seonghwa moans out. 

“Inside, hwa! I want you inside, please, fuck–!” you cry out. 

With a final snap of his hips, Seonghwa stills completely, his load spilling inside you and bringing you over your edge. Your body trembles as you reach your new high, pussy clenching around his cock, milking him whole. 

Seonghwa, lifts his head from your neck and presses a loving kiss to your lips. “Was that okay, love?” 

You chuckle softly, “Of course it was, your amazing hwa.” 

“Hope I made your day a bit better,” he says teasingly. 

“Oh, you definitely did. I love you, hwa.” you smile, lazily drawing circles on his back. 

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

[yazmarina]

in my drafts

for the love circuit series

—that message wasn't for you but paul doesn't mind as long as you don't, either.

paul aron (f2) x gn!social media admin reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex, lewd photography, office sex, fingering, creampie, accidental nude sending, mild dirty talk

a/n: sorry i disappeared again!!! pls take this as my apology

It was supposed to be just pictures of him during the break. You expected innocent, somewhat average snapshots of how Paul spent his past two months. You knew he took that trip to Italy, attended his sister's graduation, did some training. It was your job to be at least a little updated on the drivers' whereabouts, in case the head of comms needed you to capitalize on it for content.

So when you received a few photos from Paul through iMessage of all his fall whereabouts, you didn't think much of it. You messaged him a few days earlier asking if he could send a few more unreleased pictures that he hadn't posted on his personal account yet, stating that it was for a post you were putting together for the Hitech Instagram. He was delayed in his reply, as usual, but that's something you expected. He was busy, after all.

Perhaps too busy to notice the outlier in the stack of photos displayed in your message thread. Everything seemed to be normal at first; Italian architecture, gym photos, the cheesecake he made. Typical day in the life photos.

And lastly, a photo of him in dim lighting, taken in front of a mirror, with nothing but shadows covering most of his naked body.

You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Your first instinct is to wait to see if Paul has anything to say, an apology, maybe, or a half-assed excuse. Anything to indicate that he noticed how he sent you a full-on nude. You prepare yourself for the three dots that show he's typing, the frantic scramble to delete the photo from your exchange, but it never comes. Heat rises up your neck as you realize you're going to have to confront him about it. This was, after all, a professional exchange and you'd hate for HR to come knocking at either one of your doors.

-Paul, please review the photos you sent. Thanks.

You regret it as soon as you send it. Was that perhaps too snippy? Too callous? It was as embarrassing for him as it was for you, maybe even more. But come on, how hard is it to distinguish your nudes from your vacation photos?

The loud throb of your heartbeat reverberates in your ears as you wait, cursing under your breath as a full minute passes and then another. You lock your phone, getting up to pace around your room. You're most likely going to see him tomorrow as he'll be at HQ for sim work and other things and you just so happen to have a lineup of meetings at the very same time. You're going to have to face the fact that you'll have to look each other in the eye after you've seen the outline of his dick.

Wonderful.

You unlock your phone, resigning to just delete the photo from your side. You can claim plausible deniability or whatever legal term it is, if it comes down to it.

Just then, Paul starts typing.

You yelp, setting your phone down on the desk harder than intended.

You realize belatedly that you're holding your breath, fingers pressed into your mouth as if suppressing any more potential noises. He stops then starts again then stops, as if he's unsure of what he's typing out.

-I'M SO SORRY!!!! It was an accident I promise 🥹 Don't report me

-Please I'm so sorry it's totally my fault ______ 😭😭😭

-______ please I'm so sorry

Somehow, despite everything, this coaxes a chuckle out of you. Paul was always open and easy around you, and you know he knows you won't report him for an honest mistake. He's probably just red in the face right now, fighting his inner demons.

You type out a reply to ease his nerves.

-I'll just delete it off my phone so no one can say we were fraternizing inappropriately 🥲

The response from Paul is almost instant.

-YES please I'm sorry again

Your finger hovers over the photos when another message comes in.

-Unless you want to save it for a rainy day that's okay too

-I WAS JOKING its a joke I'm sorry I'm sorry

You groan, throwing your head back against the backrest of your office chair.

He's done this on occasion. Flirt. Compliment you on your hair, your outfit (despite it being the team uniform), your smile, even. You brushed it off as typical driver behavior. Nearly all of them had that kind of nerve about them, a confidence that only comes with driving cars that are closer to rockets than actual cars on the street.

Bringing the phone up to your face, you gingerly scroll back up to the photos Paul sent, opening the accursed photo. Your breath hitches as you take it in more carefully, the light cutting sharply between the shadows of whatever hotel room Paul was in. Your eyes trail down and your fingers pinch at the screen, zooming in.

"No! No, no, absolutely not," you admonish yourself, swiping the photo away and typing back a slightly crazed reply.

-Whoever that photo was meant for might not like it if I do

-

"________!"

You freeze on your way out the door from the conference room, Paul's figure jogging toward you from the other end of the hall. The presence of some execs and the head of comms looms from behind you and you quickly shuffle out of the way to let them pass, all of them greeting Paul as he sidles up to you.

"Hi!" You say a little too brightly, turning to Paul, arms coming up mechanically then stopping, your brain reminding you that a hug might be too awkward but standing around without greeting him in some way would be just as weird. A flurry of butterflies erupt in your stomach as Paul stops in front of you, his cologne coming off strong as always. Just the way you liked it.

"How's the meeting?" Paul asks, gesturing to the room. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, a nervous habit he has that you've observed over the time you've worked with him. He has his hands shoved deep in his jeans, too.

You shrug, forcing out a laugh. "Same old, just going over social media plans and PR."

Paul nods, a little too eagerly perhaps. His eyes shift to the retreating personnel, all of them turning a corner, leaving you and Paul alone in the vicinity.

"Were you waiting for me?" You ask before he can say anything else.

Paul swallows. "Yeah. Look–"

"Paul," you cut him off, raising a hand between the two of you. "It's okay. It's no big deal. Happens to the best of us."

He raises an eyebrow at that. "Have you ever sent a nude to the wrong person before?"

Your cheeks flare up in a violent blush.

"Well, no. And keep your voice down," you berate lightly. Paul looks around and shrugs as if to say, 'Nobody's here'.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "But what I meant was, like, messages are sent to the wrong people all the time, I'm sure you didn't mean any harm, and besides, no one else knows. I promise I haven't told anyo–"

"Okay." It was Paul's turn to cut you off. "Okay, I believe you."

He smiles at you good-naturedly, opening his arms and coaxing you into a hug. It takes you a second, but eventually, you let yourself laugh in relief, wrapping your arms around his strong frame.

"I missed you over the break," Paul admits, pulling away and holding you at arm's length. You blush again, masking it with a chuckle.

"Well, the break isn't over yet. We still have three weeks to go," you remind, your own hands coming up to settle on Paul's outstretched arms, making it look as if you're holding him in place. To anyone who didn't know, you two would look like a couple deep in discussion.

"At least you get to see me more," Paul offers with an easy smile. nudging you lightly.

You scoff. "I think I've seen enough of you, thank you very much."

A heavy silence settles over the two of you as you realize what you just said. Paul lets his arms drop from where they held you, an apology ready at your lips but Paul gets to it first. He runs a hand through his unkempt hair, blonde strands tugged between his fingers.

"You haven't deleted it, have you?"

No, you haven't.

"I was going to, but I got distracted with other things." Not entirely a lie. You really meant to do so, but thoughts you'd rather not share took hold and there were matters you needed to attend to. Matters that could only be solved with your fingers and a vibrator.

You should feel guilty, getting off to a picture of a coworker that wasn't even meant to be sent to you in the first place. Maybe you're terrible, maybe you should be fired, sued by the Aron family.

Memories of you gasping out Paul's name in the quiet of your room come flooding back and you pray that Paul doesn't notice the irregularity in your breathing.

"I'll delete it now, in front of you, so you can see that I did," you offer, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Paul shakes his head, catching you by the wrist, his hand large and warm against your own skin.

"I mean if I was going to send it to anyone, it would have been you," Paul says lowly, as if afraid someone would hear him, despite the entire expanse of the hallway void of any people other than yourselves.

"Consensually, of course," Paul adds in a hurry, eyes widening. "If you wanted to receive them. It. Receive it."

Your eyebrows shoot up, your mouth curling into a smirk. "You have more you want to send?"

Paul's lower lip slips between his teeth and it seems the two of you are finally on the same page. You try to suppress the smile threatening to break out, clearing your throat and avoiding his eyes.

"Until when are you staying here?" You ask casually. You didn't mean 'here' as HQ. Here as in, in town, close to you.

"Next week," Paul replies, stepping closer. "I won't see you until Qatar after that."

"Shame," you mutter, tilting your head as you meet his gaze once more.

"Maybe," Paul begins, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together. "I can add one more thing to my break to-do list."

"Now?" You ask incredulously. Paul nods immediately.

"You know that one storage closet inside the sim room?" He asks, winking at you.

"What? Paul!" You whisper-shout, but he's already leading you down the hallway. The two of you make a sharp turn to the right where big blocky letters spell out 'SIMULATOR' on the large double doors of the sim room.

You squint, immediately plunged into darkness as the only source of light inside is the curved screen, dimmed as well as it sits on standby.

"What if your engineer walks in? Your teammate? Doesn't he have a session soon?" You continue to protest, even when Paul gently pushes you toward the storage room door at the very corner. He flings the door open and you see that it's filled mostly with spare sim components and monitors.

"Babe, that's why they call it a quickie," Paul reasons, flipping the light switch on inside. The lightbulb offers little respite in the darkness and shadows still play along the lines of Paul's face. He shuts the door behind him.

"It doesn't lock? Paul, I swear–"

You gasp but barely any sound comes out as Paul presses his lips to yours, hands settling on your hips. He maneuvers you toward a shelf, pushing you against it and pressing himself fully on you.

You can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

"Did you like it?" Paul asks as he breaks away for a second. He kisses your jaw, tracing its outline as you sigh, your head falling back. He takes his opportunity to kiss along the column of your neck, his tongue smoothing over your skin.

"Did you get off to it?" Paul asks again and your breath catches in your throat. It's as if he knew all the dirty, deplorable things you did over that one picture.

"I know you did," Paul concludes with a breathy laugh, reclaiming your lips and driving a knee between your legs. You groan in response, grinding against his thigh while your fingers tug at his belt.

Paul pulls away and takes over for you, undoing his jeans and slipping them down to his knees. You silently thank whatever god is listening for the fact that you so conveniently decided to wear those easy cotton office pants, slipping them off in one quick swoop along with your underwear.

"I'm tempted to get on my knees right now so I can eat you out," Paul teases, hiking your shirt up and exposing your chest.

A snide remark forms in your brain but it's cut off when you feel the cold press of fingers on your clit. You clamp a hand down on your mouth as Paul gently flicks at it, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Maybe later after work," Paul says, rubbing harder. Your elbow spasms at the sensation, hitting the shelf behind you.

"Ow, fuck," you curse, meeting Paul's eyes. You two burst into muffled laughter just as Paul slips a finger in.

"What happened to a quickie?" You demand, hips moving along with Paul's hand. He adds a second finger and you whine, fingers digging into Paul's shoulders.

"I have manners," Paul informs with an easy smile, face impossibly close to yours. You can see the shift in his bright blue eyes. "I need you wet and ready for me, no?"

You bite down on your lip, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Paul curls his fingers inside you. A shiver runs through you and you feel yourself clenching down and around his digits.

Paul retracts his hand, much to your dismay, but you don't get to complain before Paul kisses you again, rough and heated. His tongue dances against yours and you grip at his Hitech team kit for purchase.

"Bend over," Paul commands and you're more than happy to oblige, turning around to do just that.

You brace yourself against the shelf behind you, gripping at the wood as you lower the front of your body. Paul grabs your hips and your back arches almost automatically. You can feel him pressing up against you and you sneak a peek behind you to see Paul with his phone in hand.

"So I can 'accidentally' send you another one," Paul jests before slowly sinking in. You whine, head dropping down between your shoulders. The thought of him documenting your little tryst sends a shiver up your spine which only intensifies as Paul grabs one side of your hips. He sets up a hard, steady pace that has the shelf in front of you creaking.

"Paul," you gasp out, your whole body shuddering at the force of how hard he's fucking you.

Both of his hands grip at your sides now so you can assume his phone has been put away. You try to stay upright which proves challenging considering Paul is ramming into you ferociously.

Contradictory to it all, you feel the soft touch of fingers through your scalp, smoothing over your hair. In a moment's turn, your head is yanked back as Paul tugs at your hair, arching your back even more.

A garbled sound escapes you, part moan, part sob as the sting in your scalp shoots straight down to your core, pushing you ever so closer to your release.

"The social media person," Paul begins through gritted teeth. "Always so pretty behind the camera. Making me do trend after trend. I'd do anything for you, baby."

You mewl in response, reaching back to grip at Paul's wrist, pushing back against him, urging him to go faster. Paul gets the memo.

"Funny how that photo was taken only because I was about to jack off to the thought of you," Paul continues. "You sent me a message and I was missing that pretty face of yours so I went through your Instagram. Looks like you had fun in Mallorca, tiny swimsuit and all."

"Sorry, baby," Paul says close to your ear. "Couldn't help it."

"Inside," you plead. "P-Please, I'm close. N-Need you to cum inside me."

Paul merely grunts, letting go of your hair so he can pull you flush against him. His thrusts grow erratic, barely pulling out of you each time. He pulls you back to him, your back against his front as he bites down on your shoulder.

"Yes, yes, right there." Your voice comes out raspy, walls squeezing around Paul's throbbing cock. He reaches over and resumes his movements from a while ago on your clit and you yelp, hips spasming pathetically.

You cum with Paul deep inside you, his groans filling your ear as he follows soon after. He stills and pulls you even closer to him, arms encircling your torso. He kisses the spot where he had bitten you, pressing his lips almost reverently to the indented skin.

You're both breathing hard and you're perfectly content to stand around while the two of you gather your bearings. But Paul momentarily disentangles himself from you and reaches down. You see him pull his phone out from his jeans from where they've presumably fallen down to his ankles.

"Smile," Paul prompts, his lips planting a soft kiss behind your ear as he angles the camera toward the two of you.

He snaps a blurry photo, just in time to capture your hand coming up to rest against his cheek as he grins into your skin. Emboldened by the somewhat artsy, flirtatious nature of the photo, you turn around and land a proper kiss on Paul's lips, savoring each second his tongue passes over your mouth.

"Send all the photos you want," you whisper, smiling up at him.

"Or we could just take them together," Paul offers, kissing the tip of your nose.

[chaotic-birds]

fluffy Jason thought

if you like run your fingers through his hair, especially when he’s sleepy, he’ll kiss your palms and wrists. Especially after an argument, it’s like his silent little apology before the actual words (kinda like he’s hyping himself up in a way)

I love soft!Jason so much :,)

soft!Jason owns my heart. thank you for sending this in!!! my writing is a little rusty, but I had fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

this is also uploaded on mobile so sorry if the formatting is weird. if it is, i’ll fix it later 😖

TW none | WC ~500 | G angst, fluff, h/c

masterlist

It didn’t take long for you to realize Jason Todd is not used to being loved.

He’s not used to the gentle touches or the soft voices.

But he tries to be.

He tries for you.

Jason’s head lays on your lap, eyes closed as he focuses on the feeling of your fingers threading through his dark hair. The slow motions bring comfort to his fast-paced life. It steadies his breathing and allows his body to sink deeper into the couch cushions.

Although Jason is becoming sleepier, he can’t bring himself to rest. Not when he snapped at you last night. Not when he knows the origin of his frustrations came from his self-hatred that he made you so scared for his well-being.

Jason reaches up to grab the hand that’s been playing with his hair and guides it to his mouth. He places tender kisses on each knuckle. Each time his mouth touches your skin, he can hear the echo of his words he had said to you.

Words that he regrets saying.

“I don’t need you worrying about me all the damn time.”

“I’m not a fucking child, and you’re not my fucking mother.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years, darlin’.”

“How about you worry about someone else?”

Jason kisses the inside of your wrist and lets his lips linger on your warm skin.

Skin that he loves to feel against his. Skin from the person he loves so much that it scares him.

Scares him because what happens if your skin becomes cold forever. What if…

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your wrist. “I’m so sorry.”

Your hand cups his face, angling it so his blue eyes connect with yours.

“I know, Jayce. I forgive you.”

Jason’s lips twitch in a failed attempt to smile.

He should have never gotten mad about you caring for him.

If you were the one stumbling home after a bad fight, bruised and bleeding, he’d be fretting over you too. Hell, he’d probably react in more extreme ways.

“I’ll try not to worry so much,” you say.

Jason shakes his head. “I don’t want you to, but I understand why you do. I… I worry about you too.”

You smile, nodding. “I’m glad you do.”

Tilting his head, he questions, “You are?”

“Yup,” you reply. “It means you care.”

Jason’s eyes flicker from yours.

He knows he cares about you. He’d give his life for you. He’d take all the pain in the world if it meant you were unharmed.

But if he’s willing to do that because he cares about you, does that mean you’d do the same because you care about him?

Jason leans his head into your palm that’s still against his cheek as he lulls over the thought.

He’s not used to feeling loved. He’s not used to your soft touches and soothing voice.

But he’s trying.

Because deep down in his heart, he wants to be.

He wants to be loved.

He wants to be loved by you.

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Frayed Edges

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be so in love and so… ignorant of the roles you had to play, which lead to you breaking up. But that didn’t seem to keep you away from each other since you now act as Bucky’s nurse whenever he gets hurt. Based off my mini fic here.

Stitched Together | Pull the Thread | In Stitches | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

He was pissed off. His entire body hurt and he was really pissed off.

Sam dropped him off at your place. Bucky didn't want to deal with anyone else right now. He told Sam he'd call him when he'd need to get picked up.

He limps up to your door, grimacing at every move he makes. The stab wound in his stomach hurt like a bitch and he needed your help ASAP.

He knocks on your door, ringing the doorbell with urgency. The door swings open and your eyes widen, "Holy shit, Bucky!" You pull him inside and he groans in pain.

Bucky takes a quick glance at your table, seeing two sets of plates set out, "You expecting someone?"

You open your mouth to reply and there's a knock at your door, "Shit," you murmur, "Go to my room. Don't make a sound. Hurry!"

He obeys without a word. As soon as your bedroom door closes, you rush to your front door and pull it open, "Hey, dad! Sorry, was in the bathroom."

"It's alright, Bug," your dad kisses your head and enters your home, the bag of takeout in his hand. You take the bag from him and head to the dining table.

"Nice! Sushi!" you feign excitement, silently praying that, for whatever reason, your dad doesn't go to your room to find your ex boyfriend, now mob boss, bleeding on your floor.

"You still like the dragon roll, right?"

"Yup!"

"Good," your dad joins you at the table.

"Um, I have to finish some online training class really quickly and then I'll join you in a bit."

"Yeah, yeah. No problem. Go finish up. I'll be here," your dad waves you away and you rush to your bedroom, locking it behind you.

You head to the conjoining bathroom, as see Bucky cleaning his wound. “Why the fuck did you think coming here was a good idea?!” You whisper angrily at the bleeding mob boss in your home.

“I didn’t know your dad was coming over!” Bucky loudly whispers back in response.

“Exactly! You didn’t know which is why the smart thing to do would’ve been to call or text me to let me know you planned on coming!”

The mob boss scoffs, “Well sorry, I was a little too busy trying to not to die from a stab wound!” He gestures to his punctured skin.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh, “Out of nights you get hurt, it had to be the night my dad and I have dinner together.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “My bad. I’ll make sure to schedule my stabbings at a more convenient time.”

“Idiot,” you mumble as you grab your first aid kit from under the sink, and gesture for him to sit on your toilet.

You work in a quick and efficient silence. Bucky doesn’t make an effort of conversation because he knows you prefer silence when you work.

Despite your annoyance with him, you're still gentle. You apologize for the stinging of neosporin.

He watches you with an observant gaze, a softness in his eyes. A sense of longing fills him in the pit of his stomach...or maybe that's the feeling of the needle you're sewing him up with.

Bucky still can't believe this is where life has lead you both. You help save lives, he, on occasion, ends lives. You're light, while Bucky lives and works in the dark.

He knows coming back into your life was dangerous, but he couldn't help it. He just missed you so much and was desperate to have you back in any capacity. Even if he can't have you the way that he wants.

You finish up, taking off the bloody gloves you wore and throwing them into the trash, “Stay here. Take some meds. I’ll check up on you, but please be quiet. If dad finds you, he’ll kill both of us.” You state with concern and seriousness.

He nods and gives you a shy smile, “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Go enjoy dinner with your pop.”

You stand with a sigh, “Just text me if you need anything. I’ll pretend it’s America or something.”

“Got it. Thanks,” Bucky says as he slowly stands from your toilet after you stitched him up.

He watches as you quickly clean up and exit your room. He listens to the distant sound of you and your dad talking.

Bucky’s shoulder slumps as he lets out a shaky sigh. He wishes it never came to this, sneaking around and pretending like he still didn’t love you.

Because he does. He always will, even if you two are now worlds apart from each other, on opposing sides, never meant to be.

[knoxic]

Cycle of Greed

Azriel x Reader | Lucien Vanserra x Reader | p1 - p2 - p3 - p4 - p5 - p6

Summary: Reader talks to both of them (separately), things get 100% clear.

wc: 2,2k

warnings: none?

a/n: I apologize for this being so short, I just didn't want to leave you guys without them for so long (like I have before 😬), I didn't have much time to write this week and when I did I was surprised at how inspired I was. Absolutely loved writing this part.

You felt like passing out, the aching in your heart making you lightheaded. Too many emotions coming in waves with the pumping of blood rushing through your veins, the numbness in your limbs contradicting that feeling.

Not in your wildest dreams would you have seen Lucien on his knees declaring himself to you. If that's what he was doing. 

“You don't have to say anything now.” He whispered with a small laugh, you think he wouldn't have been able to say anything louder than that due to his nervousness. “I'll go take a walk, give us both time to ponder over it…” 

Lucien's hand slipped from your face and only then did you realize how much you were relying on his touch, as soon as it left your cheek, the sting of cold nicking at your skin took place. The sun was still bright outside, its warmth kept the cold away, it was just your skin that had surpassed the natural heat. Without realizing, your hand rested on that same spot, rubbing softly to bring the warmth back. Lucien, of course, noticed, ever the attentive male.

He could swear his heart swelled with love at the sight of you being so affected by his touch. By him. Deciding it was better to not overwhelm you, Lucien turned to walk out of his room, as his hand met the door handle, your soft voice reached his ears.

“I don't know what to do…” You whispered. He felt sick hearing how unsure and unsettled you sounded.

“You don't have to do anything, darling.” He needed to reassure you, “You don't have to do or say anything. Take your time.” 

“No, it's not like that,” your eyes met his with urgency, “I know what I want, I just don't know how to get it…” A sudden spark of hope flickered inside his chest.

“And what is it you want, Ace?” His voice low and steady.

You knew this was a chance you perhaps would never have again, so you needed to make good use of it, “You.”

Lucien held himself back from rushing to you, the urge to feel your soft lips on his, to feel the warmth of your body heat ten times over in contact to his bare skin. He kept telling himself to take things slow, to not scare you off, to be gentle because that's what you deserved, a gentle love. 

Seeing relief so clearly on Lucien's face felt like a cold bucket of water was dropped on your head, so you continued, “But I also want him…” his brows furrowed slightly, the smile gracing his lips faltered, “And I know it's greedy, I know! I can't help it. I don't think I ever stopped loving him, the thread of my love for you did not disrupt the thread of my mating bond, didn't make me choose, it was just there, blooming in silence. Loving you was easy and I didn't see it coming.” 

You could practically hear his thoughts as they momentarily deafened him. Now he knew you loved him, but you also still loved Azriel, and that worried him. Decades of familiarity wouldn’t be outweighed by two years, at most, of friendship.

“You, Lucien Vanserra, disrobed me without bearing me naked. You have claimed me without tasting my lips, without taking. I gave myself to you and I didn't even realize,” a small laugh escaped your lips, “and you held me, with no benefit, took care of me the way I wouldn't have been able to at that moment.”

The tears rolling down your cheeks weren't acknowledged until soft fingers brushed them away. Lucien, back on his knees before you, didn't bother hiding his own, right now, for him, crying was far from being a synonym of pain or sadness.

Instead of a verbal response, Lucien replied by pulling you into a hug, supporting your body when you slipped down his bed. His hold on you tightened as he quietly sobbed, his sniffles muffled by your neck where he hid. Your fingers gently brushing his locks seemed to ease him, the occasional scratch on his scalp and squeeze on his nape. Too soon for your liking, his arms left your body. 

With both hands holding your face, Lucien brought your face closer to his, resting his forehead on yours, “Go to him.” He spoke, a newfound confidence lacing his words, “Go and talk to him, do what your heart tells you. I don't mind settling on whatever deal he might want to make, I don't mind fighting the blood duel for you, I don't mind if you go back to the night with him, as long as I get to have you by sunrise.”

𓂃

“He rejected the bond.” 

Azriel eyed you silently, trying to gauge your reaction to what you were saying. “I guess we all knew it was a matter of time before it happened…”

Momentarily, your mind drifted to how relieved Lucien looked as he told you about his decision, “Yeah…” 

“How did it make you feel?” It took you a few moments to understand what he was saying, when you did, you took notice of how calmly he had spoken.

Honestly? Happy. “Relieved. I hated seeing him suffering, so it's nice…”

“Ace.” Azriel tilted his head down to try and catch your eyes, “You said you two talked about us, tell me?” 

You knew you had to talk to him about it, you had mentioned it first, but it still had a weird feeling forming inside you. His thumb brushed your hand, tracing your knuckles and down to your nails. Sooner than you planned, the words spilled.

You told him everything, from entering Lucien's room, to how easy you had voiced your feelings to him, pretty much like you were doing now.

“He said he's willing to make a deal with you, to fight a blood duel if you want…”

“What do you want?” Throughout your life, there haven't been many moments where you were asked that same question, and now, not even a day apart, you were asked it twice. “What are you willing to do?” 

“Az–” 

“I won't stop you if you want him, I won't stand on your way. But I need to know if I can fight for you–if I need to fight for you.” The urgency in his voice showed how afraid he was of losing you.

“You don't have to.” You apparently conjured enough confidence to convince him, Azriel quieted. “I'm not giving up on us, but I don't want to give up Lucien either. I don't know how I'm going to do this…” Your last words slowly turned into a whisper.

You granted yourself a moment to think. With Azriel in front of you, not Lucien, things seemed different. Even though he was the only one to mention aloud what the three of you secretly wished for, you were scared of what would happen if you agreed. 

Suffering was a natural thing. Living meant feeling, and the ability to feel wasn't always a good thing. In the duration of a day, it was possible to feel many different emotions in just a span of hours, a happy moment could quickly change by a simple act. And when you've been living for centuries, fighting battles, meeting new people and mourning others, expecting suffering becomes a habit. 

It wasn't a nice thing to say, but it was true. You wish you didn't have to anticipate pain, that things could remain as they were. Steady and familiar. But that prohibited you from experiencing new things, good and unexpected things. Sometimes living through habits and routines blinded you from seeing the good in things, and after losing those habits, you were allowed to see how many opportunities to appreciate were lost.

“This whole time we've been apart made me realize some things need to change.” He nodded slightly, “I missed you, missed our routine, missed our unprompted late night dinners, missed waking up in the middle of the night to your heavy wing draped over me–” Azriel's bashful laugh surprised you.

“I didn't know I did that…” His cheeks turned a tad darker.

“Well, I never minded it, it's comforting… but imagine a dark and heavy form suddenly covering you when you're barely conscious, it's scary.” 

At that and the smirk on your face, Azriel doubled over in laughter, the kind of laughter that only came when he was feeling especially giddy with happiness. The ruffling of wings and coolness on your arms showed how loose he felt. His shadows happily settled around you both, you had a feeling they purposefully kept away from your faces.

When he looked up, his eyes were shining, “This,” he whispered, “I missed this.” 

You carefully watched him, “Me too, but you're changing the subject…” You wouldn't have minded spending some more time joking around with him, not seeing the frown on his face and not having to worry if your tone of voice was too playful for him at the time, which is why you needed to cut him off.

“I know.” He nodded slowly, hazel eyes drifting down to your conjoined hands, “I'm sorry. I don't like changes, I don't want things to change… But I know they have to,” there was a long pause and for a moment you thought he was going to stop there, “and it scares me.” 

“Are you scared I'm going to leave you?”

He subtly nodded, "I'm scared you'll find out he's much better than me."

Your brows furrowed, "That's bullshit, you two are completely different, you can't compare."

"I know." He shook his head as if brushing away a thought, "He's just better at taking care of you than I am, and I had decades to improve..."

"Another bullsh–"

"He's good," he cut you off, "and I can see why you love him. I've got baggage, shit I still have to work on but was never brave enough to do so. You helped me so much, made life easier to deal with, but that's not your job, and I want both of us to be at the same stage, you know?"

"Why do I feel like you're trying to break up with me?" You whispered.

Azriel laughed, cupping your face and bringing you for a little peck on your lips, brushing you nose with his, "No, sweetheart, I'm not. Wouldn't choose a life without you in it." Taking a moment to admire you from up close, he became quiet.

"What's on your mind?" You searched his eyes to try and find a clue, even if his face appeared distance, his eyes were nothing but focused on you, shedding emotion.

"You said things needed a change, right?" You hummed in response, "Let me get to know you again. We were pushed into tearing down our lives, it's only fair we get to build it back up, stronger this time. Perhaps with room for more?" Hope emanated from him.

Dread danced in your guts, "We already had room for more–"

"Which I still hope to fill, eventually." The hand he kept holding yours gave you a tight squeeze, "It's your call if they'll be decorated with cute bats or sly little foxes... But still, they'll all be raised the same anyways."

You failed to give him a response, too shocked by his words and the images provided by your mind. When the concept of children became a possibility to you, they always bore bat wings and dark hair, but now, influenced by who you hoped would be their father, you saw apple colored eyes and hair, how bright they'd glow on a Autumn day.

They'd push the leaves together, collecting enough to make a little mountain so they could jump in it without hurting themselves, maybe if they were adventurous, which of course they'd would be, conjuring their father's charm, they could convince their winged siblings to take them just a little higher.

It would be chaos from then on, giggles everywhere, hushed whispers to not let mommy know, a few other hoarser whispers and you'd let yourself get closer, to see with your own eyes where they all got the adventurous spirit from. The two males that found the path to your heart and soul, both with enough muscles to knock other males off their feet, using their strength to push more leaves into their children's pile.

The contagious giggles must have affected them too, for Lucien started collecting a bunch of leaves in his arms and quietly, with all his grace, made his way towards Azriel, who in his hunched position beside the giant pile, became almost defenseless when they rained down his back and head. Almost.

Batting his wings against the floor, he sent flying most of the leaves still falling and the ones on his back. His mind being so filled with playing revenge, that he forgot about his designed task. His children's important pile of leaves in front of him, that went flying too, covering them all in its Autumn colors.

"You like that, don't you?" It was a rhetorical question. You napped your eyes to his at the sound of his voice, you could hear his smile before seeing it, "It's okay, I see it too."

Would there be any point in lying? You weren't even sure if you'd manage to come up with a plausible excuse for your daydream. And who would you be trying to fool? Yourself? Because Azriel made it clear what he thought of including Lucien in your life.

"If I tell you, I want him too, would it be easier for you to say yes?"

"Yes."

taglist: @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @meritxellao @cleverzonkwombatsludge @paintedbyshadows @mp-littlebit @rcarbo1 @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @littlepippilongstocking @lorosette @minnieoo @hailqueenconquer @azriels-shadowsinger @blessthepizzaman @chelsiemp @saltedcoffeescotch @thestartitaness @historygeekqueen @sillyfreakfanparty @entr4p3 @warmdragonfly @clementine111002 @azriel-shadowsingerr @amiime @anuttellaa @loulou0101 @acourtofbatboydreams @xmalfoyweasleyx @anna-reader-blog @melmo567 @buttermilktea11 @helo1281917 @thelov3lybookworm @cazrielsfairygf @hanatsuki-hime @st4r-girl-official @feiwelinchen @fhgsvbnh @tenshis-cake @lilah-asteria @imagoddessinmystories @iluvyewman-blog @azriels-human @starriestarlight @tele86 @lees-chaotic-brain @honk4emoboyz @bunnyredgirl @sleepylunarwolf

[planetpedri]

Domestic!Pedri Head cannons ۶ৎ

I cannot contain myself. I’m actually about to tweak thinking about these. 😭 Thank you Enny for helping me come up with these smooch smooch. Sorry I got so carried away with these…

feel free to request head canons about anyone !

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, you catch talking to Nilo all the time. Pedri will walk around the house with the little black pup in his arms, pointing things out to him.

“And that’s a picture of me and your uncle Fer.. And that’s my new shoes, those you better not touch.” or he’ll scroll through his camera roll, showing pictures of many different things, mostly pictures he’d taken of you. “Look at her, isn’t she just perfect?” It’s genuinely the most adorable thing in the world.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, after a rough day of practice just wants to lay in between your legs while you thread your fingers through his freshly dried hair. After he adopted Nilo, every time he tries to enjoy your cuddles, the pup will jump and scratch at your legs till Pedri picks him up and lays him on his chest. A small smile takes over your lips at the sight, your boyfriend was just too adorable and so was your new addition.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, likes to cook with you. It had become a common routine for the two of you after you moved in together. Now, with a dog running around the house, you two found yourselves tripping over him often. When you do so, you both erupt into a light of laughter, spewing out apologies and kissing Nilo’s head even though he wasn’t hurt.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, after a long day at practice begs you to wait to shower until he gets home. He always insists that, “it’s saving water.” But you know he just wants an excuse to be close to you, and of course you always agree. You loved the way he peppered your shoulders with soft kisses and the way his hands felt massaging the shampoo into your scalp. Showers with Pedri were when you were your most relaxed, and he felt the same way.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, never leaves you alone. On your days off you like to make meals and snacks for each other instead of going out, knowing Pedri was on a strict diet, it helped save cost anyways. Whenever you are making something, Pedri will sneak up on you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Despite knowing what you were making, he’ll ask anyways, “What’re you making, amor?” He just loved to hear your sweet voice reply.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, always, and I mean always gives you three kisses whenever he’s about to leave or whenever he is grateful or even if he just is passing by. It’s never on the same spot, he kisses your lips, shoulders, cheek, temple, jaw, neck, anywhere. And he’ll rotate them every time. His own little way of saying, “I love you.” without actually saying it, not that he has a problem saying those three words, but he just liked the simplicity and intimacy of kissing you.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, loves to cuddle with you whenever he can. On his days off he likes to sleep in, groaning and complaining any time you try to cut it short to do your morning duties. Once you’re done (after prying yourself from his grip), you climb back into bed, this time spooning him, intertwining your legs together. Pedri loves to feel your soft breaths against his neck, half of the time it will lull him back to sleep.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, paces around the house constantly. Being an athlete, he is used to moving around constantly, which causes him to feel antsy when he’s sitting alone for too long. After coming home from work, you often find him walking around the living room, staring at his phone. He only settles down when he spots you, pulling you in for a welcoming hug.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, doesn’t care much for TV shows, but will watch anything with you as long as you’re cuddling. He tries to pretend he isn’t completely enthralled in whatever you’re watching, but his random outbursts when something stupid happens says all you need to know.

“He did WHAT?” , “Is this a joke?”

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, prefers staying in instead of going out for dates. With him constantly in the public eye, he feels uncomfortable with the invasion of privacy. When he’s having intimate moments with you, he prefers not to have to hide or mellow it down. In the safety of your home, he can kiss you anywhere he pleases without wondering how the media will react. He also just likes to have you all to himself, so being at home gives you all the privacy in the world with no interruptions.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, will do anything for you. If you’re having a bad day, he will pamper you senseless. If you are sick, he will disappear for half an hour and come back with your favorite foods or things to cheer you up. He loves to take care of you. He hates to see you hurting and would do anything to make you feel better.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, is the biggest baby when he’s sick. At first, he’ll act like it doesn’t bother him, but the second you make a concerned face, he’s suddenly so much sicker. He’ll pout and pretend he’s on his death bed till you call out of work to nurse him back to health.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, loves to do anything as long as it’s with you. You want to play board games? He’s already on the way to grab them. You want to go shopping? He’s grabbing the keys. You want to go to the movies? He’s putting on a hoodie. You want to go for a walk? He’s grabbing his sneakers. Anything you want, he will do.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, doesn’t hesitate to clean the dishes after meal times. He’d rather take care of it right away so you don’t have to worry about it later. He’s always on top of things around the house, too. If something needs repaired, he’ll make the calls for you. Your family loves to tease him about how good of a husband he’ll be one day, and you can’t help but agree.

(DT): @halfwayhearted ^_^

[thought--bubble]

Mine To Claim

Dark Aemond X (Commoner Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,193

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Pregnancy, Infidelity, Dub-con

A/N: Hit 200 followers today!🥳🥳 Thank you to all of you who read and interact with my stories! You make this so fun and make me want to keep writing more and more! 🥰

The bell over the door in your little store chimes at you, and you look up to see the face of your long-time friend. It is an unlikely friendship and a friendship most people know nothing about, but it is a relationship that is dear to your heart.

He holds two small dresses over his arm. There is a seamstress in the keep. An incredibly talented one, but still, he takes dresses to you to be tailored or repaired.

"Hello, my prince," you smile as he brings the dresses up to you.

"These are small. Must be for the little princess?" You take the dresses from him and lay them out on the table before you.

"Running around with her brother, she damaged them. Here and here, " his face is stoic as he points to a few minor tears on the garments.

"Oh, I'll have these fixed up quickly." You hum to yourself as you lift the dress, trying to match the color to your available thread.

"No need to be quick. I have nowhere to be. " he sits down in the chair on the other side of your sewing table.

This was a regular occurrence, ever since the night you found him curled up cold and shaking outside the brothel your father frequented.

He had been dragged there by his brother to "become a man" and was so uncomfortable during the whole ordeal that he ran out into the dark streets alone to escape. It was raining and cold, and he had never been down in here on his own.

Lost, scared, and traumatized, he stumbled down the alleyways behind the brothel, passing by your little hovel where you sat on the stoop just watching the rain. As he moved just past your hovel, he drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands. Once you hear the sobbing, your heart breaks. From his size alone, you can see he is a child like you, so you ran to him, bringing him into your home, and miraculously, he went with you.

When he had pulled his hood down and you saw that silver hair, you froze in terror. It would be your luck that you accidentally dragged a Targaryen prince into your house.

You had apologized profusely, but he wasn't upset with you, and that was how it started, from there, he would come back to town with his brother regularly but instead of following him into the brothel he would come to see you.

You were a secret for him, a safe place where he could unload, you never judged, only supported, and because of that, the two of you grew to be very close.

You couldn't deny that he was handsome and charming. As he grew from a boy to a man, you could not help but be impressed by his commanding presence and his dedication to his swordsmanship and studies.

Today as he sat in the chair across from you, you couldn't help but smile.

"So...." you start and look at him knowingly.

He raises an eyebrow at you and you chuckle.

"How did it go? Your nephews being back?"

He instantly goes rigid and the calm look on his face hardens into a look of fury.

"Well, very well" he chuckles to himself as he crosses his legs.

"Is that so?" You know there is no way it went 'well' by an average person's definition of the word, you were however talking to Aemond so it's possible in his mind it did.

"Yes, I gave a wonderful speech, well received" he leans back in the chair a smug smirk crawling up the corners of his mouth.

You knew better than to continue to pry so you changed the subject. "I also have some good news" you continue stitching the dress in your hand as you wait for his reply.

"hmmm" he taps his fingertips on his knee "and what is that?" He keeps his eye trained on you, with a look of skepticism splayed across his sharp features.

"I am to be married!" You smile brightly and your cheeks heat up.

You have been seeing a fisherman, a young man by the name of Oscar. He has brown curly hair to his shoulders and warm brown eyes. A charming smile with a broad chest and shoulders.

You should have waited until marriage to let him bed you. You knew that. Yet, his charm and charisma had you leave your convictions by the wayside, and you found yourself missing a moon blood shortly thereafter, and when you bombarded Oscar with your fear and panic upon his most recent return, his response was that of elation and he quickly asked your father for permission to wed you.

Aemond's silence is deafening. You stare at him your smile beginning to faulter at his lack of reply.

"Are you not going to congratulate me?" You ask beginning to get a bit more frustrated and impatient.

"For what exactly?" His voice is cold and cruel, his fingertips tapping against his kneecap.

"For... for my happiness?" you are so confused at his behavior. He had always supported you, when you opened your own shop, when you finally put your foot down with your father and got him off the drink.

He grips the arms of the chair he is sitting in, his knuckles turning white. "Happiness?" he grits his teeth and stands up looking toward the door.

"When?" He still hasn't turned around and his voice is tense.

"In a few days..... Aemond.... this won't effect our friendship if that is what you are concerned about" You try to combat his anger and tense air with gentleness and understanding.

"Why is this so hurried?" He completely ignores your prior statement.

"What?"

"Why are you getting married so quickly? What. is. the. hurry?" He is now looking at you with his jaw clenched and his shoulders tense.

"Oh.... I'm ...... " You take a deep breath in. You know that he is a loyal follower of the seven. As are you. This confession is going to make things so much worse.

"I am with child." You close your eyes and squeeze them tight and wait for the inevitable chastising and disappointment.

"So you wish to marry him?"

You slowly open your eyes and look at Aemond with confusion. "Yes"

"And when the child is born, with silver hair and purple eyes, will people not question their true parentage?" He takes in sharp short breaths, and his lone eye is wide open, pupil blown.

"Why would my child look like a Targaryen?" You rub your temples to try and ease the pressure building there. 'What in the seven hells is he getting at?'

He quickly rounds the table and grabs your chin, pulling you up to your feet, your neck strained with your face up to look directly at him.

"Because of me." His face is still as stone. A look of conviction that has you even more confused than before.

"Aemond..... we have never....ummm. " You clear your throat, hoping that he would come to his senses.

He doesn't. He lowers his mouth to yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. At first, you can't help yourself, and you kiss him back. His lips are just as soft as you had imagined them.

He brings his hand up to the side of your face and slides it into your hair. When his kisses start to trail from your mouth down your neck, you start to remember that this isn't right.

"Stop." You push him away and back up. "We can not do this." You run your fingers through your hair.

"Why?" The anger pulsating off of his body is stifling.

"Because! I am to be married! I am with child! Another mans child! Aemond, you are a prince! This is madness!" You turn from him believing this would surely be the end of the situation.

"You are mine to claim!" He yells out.

The booming sound has you swing back around in shock.

He stalks toward you, a dragons fury burning in his sole eye.

"I must claim what is mine. It is not freely given to me. I will take it by force if I must, but the result remains the same. What I covet shall be mine"

"Aemond.... " You slowly back away from him, putting your hands up in front of you in a defensive gesture.

"You are mine." He steps closer to you. "You belong to me ever since the day I found you." He continues moving closer to you as you do your best to back away.

"Your body, your mind, your soul, it's all mine," the pupil of his eye has taken over entirely as he corners you in the back of your little shop.

You again attempt to reason with him. "Aemond... this baby..." He puts his hand up.

"Is mine"

"it can not be, it isn't possible." You press yourself up against the wall tightly. "You know this to be true!"

"It is mine.... because I will it so. " he wraps his hand around your throat, moving his face close to yours, whispering directly into your ear. "I waited too long, I see that now."

He ruffles up your skirts. "You are still mine." He moves his fingers over your heat and releases a husky breath.

"You can feel it, I know you can." He rubs his hand over your clothed center.

You mewl quietly as he moves his hand in a circular motion, applying more and more pressure.

"Your body..... it tells me what you will not. " he pulls your underclothes down to your knees before bringing his hand back to your center.

"You are soaking for me, and still you wish to deny us?" He slides a finger into you while tightening the grip around your throat.

He starts to pump his finger. "Your body has already given into me. The mind will follow. " He lightly nibbles at your cheek, and he crooks his finger, looking for the spot inside of you that would make you even weaker to his touch.

You start moaning loudly. "That's right Dōna Riña " He uses the palm of his hand to apply pressure to your pearl as he starts to slide a second finger into you. "submit"

"I .... I ..." Your body is responding to him in ways it has never responded to Oscar. Your senses are so heightened that you can't even form a coherent thought.

"Tell me you are mine." He tugs at the shell of your ear with his teeth as he brings you closer and closer to climax, holding the weight of your body up with his other hand.

"Yours." You practically whisper as you close your eyes, ready to ride out your pleasure. As soon as the words leave your lips, he stops.

"Not on my fingers." He picks you up by the waist carrying you back over to the sewing table. He slides his hand across, knocking all items to the ground.

You are like putty in his hands. Just desperate for him to touch you again. He lays you down back flat on the table, legs hanging off the end.

He pushes your dress up, exposing you to him. He slides his finger up and down through your folds, causing you to buck your hips toward him. "Say it again," he growls while he pulls the strings of his breeches loose.

Your hazy lust riddled mind is confused, and all you can muster is a gentle "huh?"

He pulls out his hard cock and slides it over your clit spreading your wetness. "I said to say it again, say what you are"

"Yours?" As soon as you say this he starts to push into you.

"Again," he grunts

"Yours!" You whimper

He wraps a hand around your throat as he bottoms out, moving gently against you. He sighs.

"That's right mine" He tightens the grip on your throat as he starts to fuck into you harshly "mine"

"This cunt is mine" He jams two of his fingers into your mouth making you gag "This mouth is mine"

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, dragging the wet digits down the front of your face.

He brings his hand to your chest and palms your breasts through your dress. "These tits are mine"

He brings his hand back down to your pearl, rubbing it in circular motions with his thumb. "It's all mine"

With this, you feel your climax surge through your body, your whole body clenches around him. He lets go of your throat, bringing both hands to your hips, pulling your body to him while he slams into you harder and harder, chasing his own release.

"This womb...." He grunts as he hits his own peak, making sure to fill you completely,"is mine"

You lay back on the table, having been fucked dumb.

"I'll come back for the dresses." He fixes his breeches before pulling your dress back down.

"And when i do, I better not see a husband here"

To be added to taglist click here

@targaryen-dynasty

[roanniom]

i wanna wake up with eddie eating me out and moaning into me all soft and wrecked 🥵

Good god.

Morning, My Love

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, oral sex (f receiving), somnophilia (sexual acts while one sleeps. In this fictional work it is fully consensual between 2 adults. If this makes you uncomfy do not read), PIV / unprotected sex

You feel like you’re having the most delicious dream. It’s all sensation and sound, you don’t even know exactly what is happening. You just know that a wonderful pleasure is blooming hot in your core. Something that sounds vaguely like your boyfriend’s moans tickles your ears and you roll your hips in a unconscious need to chase the accompanying vibrations.

Vibrations. It’s physical. Not in your head or the product of some dream like you’d thought.

As you start to become more conscious you become aware of hands pressing your thighs apart. Of a dull drag against the lips of your cunt. The clenching of all of your muscles in response to a swirl on your clit.

Your even breaths from sleep are long gone when you rouse from sleep. You’re panting, and you’re fully awake when you take in the soubd of a heady moan.

“E-Eddie?” you mumble groggily.

“Mmm morning baby.” Eddie’s head pops up from between your thighs, his wide palms pressing down on the wide planes of your flesh to keep you open for him. His curls are disheveled and his mouth shines with your arousal. His eyes are glassy and he smiles almost drunkenly at you. You notice the bed shaking gently. Rhythmically.

Eddie is humping the mattress. So turned on by the simple act of eating you out.

“Ohhh Eddie. Were you needy and I was asleep?” you ask gently. Eddie hums and nods, bringing his mouth back down to kiss you clit. The vibrations from the hum shoot through you, making your eyes roll back.

“Couldn’t wait, Princess. I tried, I’m sorry…” he mutters against your slick folds.

“Don’t be sorry,” you coo, bringing your hands down so your fingers can thread through his hair, keeping his face where you want it. “Feels so good honey.”

“Yeah?” he asks weakly, tongue leaping at you.

“Ohh. Yeah.”

One of Eddie’s hands slides down from your inner thigh to insert two fingers into your pulsing heat. You immediately clench down on him.

“F-fuck…” you all but whimper.

“Pussy wants to cum,” Eddie mumbles through an open mouthed kiss to the place where your leg and pelvis join. “It’s been so good for me. Want you to cum baby, so bad.”

The desperation in his tone. The way the bed’s begun to shake more noticeably with his thrusts. It’s all got you rocking your hips up into his face, cradling him to you.

“Wanna cum,” you whisper. But then you pull him away from you, despite the tingling in your core. He looks up at you, messy and dazed, questioning. “Wanna do it with you inside me, though.”

Eddie scrambles up your body, limbs moving disjointedly as if through water.

“Holy fuck I love you, Princess,” he breathes into your mouth before kissing you hard and deep. You taste yourself on his tongue and reach down to yank his boxers down, impatient for the release you’d been holding off.

“Love you too, Eds,” you reply, his name becoming a whimper as you guide his cock to sink into you, his hips bucking erratically from jump.

“Too good, baby. Didn’t know I was so close…” He’s apologizing but you’re having none of it.

“Me too, Eddie. Just give it to me. Get me there, honey.”

Your sweet words act as the motivation he needs, because he gains control of his thrusts enough to deliver a few hard and deep ones that hit just the spot inside you. Coupled with his groping hands and the way his lips mash sloppily to your ear, feeding you his every sigh, whimper, and groan - you’re cumming in no time.

As you fall apart beneath him, Eddie seizes around you. Pulling you to him in a final barrage of strength and want and need. Burying his face in the crook of your neck as his hips stutter once, twice. And then he releases deep inside you.

The full weight of him drops onto your body, but you don’t mind. It helps ground you as you float back to earth after your high. He comes around to the feeling of you rubbing his back and humming.

When he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are still tired but his grin is wide.

“Morning, my love.”

~*~

[6okuto]

HOW FANS FIND OUT YOU’RE DATING: SAKUSA VER.

gn!reader | timeskip!sakusa

sakusa wanted to marry you. he had said as much drunk and clinging to you, and while sober, falling asleep to your voice and fingers running through his hair. but he knew he’d have to wait, be careful with what could happen if word got out msby’s sakusa kiyoomi had a significant other.

but even kiyoomi couldn’t help himself from getting rings. promise rings, he emphasized to you.

he handed the carefully wrapped box to you, tense, only able to hope you'd like them but ready to return them at your word. you looked up after opening the gift, and his heart skipped a beat. “kiyo—”

“it’s a promise ring,” he said quickly and softly. “they’re just promise rings. don’t worry. i just…” he reached into his pocket to take out his own. his ears embarrassingly hot as he tried to explain, “i wanted us to have them.”

“...unless you don’t like them, or this is still a little–”

“‘omi.” he froze at your voice, and you stepped forward to wrap your arms around his neck as he held you to his chest. “it's perfect. thank you.”

and he’s careful. so, so careful to keep his safe and always on him, even if it's hidden in a pocket somewhere, only out so he can kiss it before each game. and that’s why it's a shock, especially to him, when a reporter comments on it during a press interview.

“sakusa, would that happen to be a ring on your finger there?”

that's all it takes for kiyoomi’s mind to blank. he had fiddled with it while on a call with you, what? 10, 15 minutes ago? and apparently the voices of his teammates caught him so off guard that he forgot to put it away before being called over.

kiyoomi wasn't stupid—the opposite, really. with everyone's eyes on him, he knew there was no believable way out of this. his eyes flicker down to where the band of metal sat and stared back, as if taunting him for his mistake, and all he can say is “yes.”

a grimace pulls at his lips when the camera flashes seem to get brighter at the word, and he can feel the stares of his team and management unintentionally burning holes into him. the reporter moves a little closer. “does that mean—”

“no, i’m not married, or engaged.”

“ah,” she replies, shifting a little in her seat again. her confusion was evident, and she hesitates in confirming, “so it’s just a ring, then?”

“no.”

“i–i’m sorry?”

“it’s a promise ring," kiyoomi explains. and he sees the reporter is about to speak again, but he's quicker. “yes, i'm in a relationship. but that’s all i have to say about it today, thank you.”

so the interview carries on with his announcement in the air, and he can feel an oncoming headache when he overhears the trending headlines and hashtags after they're done. "sakusa kiyoomi confirms he's in a relationship!", "how long has sakusa been dating somebody? is he secretly married?", and apparently threads of images where fans tried to collect evidence for and against it all.

it's too much, and his mind's muddled and reeling by the time he gets home. he doesn't know what to do or what to say next; the only thing kiyoomi knows for certain is that he has to find you. so he takes off his shoes and jacket, padding up to your shared bedroom. slowly, he opens the door to see you in bed on your phone, and he wonders if you're reading the news.

“hey,” you greet him quietly.

“hi.” he breathes. opening your arms, you gesture for him to join you under the covers and he complies easily. he makes his way into your arms, face burying into the crook of your neck. there's a few seconds where neither of you speak until he finally mumbles, “i’m sorry.”

and he knows you know what he’s apologizing for. kiyoomi also knows you won’t be upset, he just thinks you should be; he had one job outside of volleyball, and it was to keep you safe. but your voice remains gentle as you begin to rub circles on his back, “why are you apologizing? you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“tell that to everyone else.”

“well, they all love me so i’m sure i could pull some strings for you. y’know, keep you out of trouble.”

he huffs, “you say that as if it isn’t accurate.” you feel him frown against your skin and a laugh escapes you. hearing the sound, kiyoomi can't stop himself from smiling despite the nerves in his stomach.

he licks his lips and using his thumb, spins the promise ring on his hand before asking you, “you know i won’t tell them anything else, right? unless you wanted to?”

“yeah, of course i do. never worried about that.”

“we’ll have a meeting this week to figure out what to do, or say, or whatever. i’ll—”

“the only thing you’ll be doing right now is resting,” you cut him off. he moves to look up at you and opens his mouth to speak, stopping himself when you run your thumb against the nape of his neck. “you’ve had a long enough day, ‘omi. leave that for tomorrow.”

“but—”

“nope, sleep time. i better hear you snoring.”

he frowns. “i don’t snore.”

“oh really? you’re gonna say that to me?” a smile dances on your lips and kiyoomi scoffs, a smile already on his own, before nudging your cheek with his finger, and you feel the cool metal of his promise against your skin.

“but seriously, we can figure it all out later. and if this is how everyone finds out then, you know. it won't change anything, maybe just the amount of fan edits i get to watch,” you joke lightly.

kiyoomi blinks, both at the news of you watching fan edits and the implication of your words. “you think i'll lose fans?”

“what? oh, no, are you kidding? i think you'll gain a lot. 'hot, brooding volleyball player sakusa kiyoomi is actually a sweetheart who loves having his hair played with—” you let out a yelp as the aforementioned volleyball player suddenly pulls the blanket over your head. the both of you laugh as you take it off and pretend to be offended.

kiyoomi's gaze softens at your reaction, and instead of apologizing he says easily, “i love you.”

the words catch you off guard, but after a second you reply just the same, “i love you too.” and kiyoomi's heart aches at it—the way you comfort and love him so effortlessly. but it's soothed by the sensation of your own ring against his face as you hold his cheek, and the reminder that no matter what happens next, his reputation be damned, you'll both be alright.

🏷 | @devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @idontlikeyourjob @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtc @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @the-b-u-n-n-y @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten

[her-devils-advocate]

Let me take care of you

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: fluff and smut

summary: It has been a few months since the war ended, and peace has brought a lot of change along with it. Physical and mental scars surround both of you, so you decide to show Levi just how much you love him.

note: This is my first time when it comes to branching out and writing smut, so apologies if it's not the best!

word count: 2,245

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55780150

You watch as Levi enters your shared room, he places his cane on his side of the bed before moving towards the mirror. You’re peacefully stretched out across your side, having been waiting for him to finish his book and join you for the evening. Ever since the war ended, he had gradually been getting used to at least attempting to rest for the night and even though the nightmares persist, no longer being on high alert at all times has since helped.

Your eyes are locked onto him as he slowly removes his shirt, a fresh one already waiting for him on the nightstand nearby as he starts getting ready for bed.

You take the chance to slowly drag your eyes across his revealed flesh, your gaze trailing over the firm muscles of his back, flexing with each little movement. Your gaze shifts to run across the myriad of scars littering his pale skin, the silver ones glittering in the overhead light while the darker, larger ones sit proudly upon their owner's back. You love tracing his scars, mapping out the constellation while he slowly dozes off, lulled by your soft touch. Back when you were scouts, it was almost the only way to guarantee he would sleep, especially for longer than his usual three hours.

"I can see you gawking, you know." His voice breaks you out of your memory and you look up to meet his eyes in the mirror. His eyebrow is raised and you can see the gleam of amusement that he tries to hide within his eyes.

"It's not gawking, it's called appreciating." You reply, your voice is light, knowing where his mind will take him. A small grumble from the man confirms your suspicions.

"Yeah right, what's there to appreciate?" Levi gestures to himself, fixing you with an unimpressed look that you are happy to return. You feel your heart clench at the rare moment of insecurity on display. You watch through the mirror as his eyes flick over to the scar sitting along the right side of his face before dropping to rest on his still-bandaged hand, despite the injury having been long since healed.

You gingerly reach out your hand, beckoning for him to sit beside you. He reluctantly complies, letting out a small sigh before sitting down on the plush bed.

You gently take his damaged hand in yours, peppering a dozen kisses across the top of it. You only stop when his hand moves to cup your jaw, his eyes are tender and you can see the unwavering adoration within their silver depths.

"Levi, you're beautiful and no, don't give me that look, you are." You bring a spare hand to brush the silky strands of hair out of his face, tucking a few of the longer ones behind his ear and catching his attention again. 

"You're still the same man I fell in love with all those years ago, a few extra injuries haven't and won't change that. We both survived, despite everything that’s happened we’re still here and that's all I could ask for."

You lean closer to him, searching his eyes for acceptance and when he gives a small nod, you bring your lips together in a sweet kiss. You feel him shuffle to be able to place a hand on your waist, the other coming up to thread through your hair as he kisses you back, just as fervently. 

You feel his lips desperately move against yours, savouring the moment in his usual impatient style before he deepens the kiss. You feel his tongue enter you, meeting with your own and you struggle to hold back the moan as you grip onto his bicep to calm the frantic beating of your heart. He lets out a hum of his own, the sound echoing in your mind as you lose yourself to the sensations of your shared desire. 

You try to control your breathing as you explore him with your tongue, despite having done it so many times before. He tastes like his own unique blend of tea, a common occurrence for him after you had purchased a small collection of herbs he could use to make his own unique flavour. Your grip on his arm tightens as he gently nips on your lower lip, earning a small groan from you. You hold onto one another desperately as you push your bodies closer together, your kiss growing more and more frantic and the mental dam finally breaks, months of stress leaving you wanting nothing more than one another.

You run your hands up his arms until you can hook them behind his head, letting your fingers dance along the velvet hairs of his undercut while you melt in his hold, giving all control over to him as he continues to greedily brush his tongue against yours. He drinks in your hunger, fueling his own desire.

Remembering that you both require oxygen, you pull apart from each other with a small sigh. Levi brings his hand up to gently brush his thumb against your bruised lips, staring at you in dazed wonder. His touch is electric, sending shivers up and down your body as you gaze at him through half-lidded eyes. 

“What was that for?” His voice is slightly breathy and you can feel his fingers continue to play with the strands of your hair.

“I just want to show you how much I love you.” You try to meet his eyes, for once not willing to back down from his intense gaze, only for him to be the one to break eye contact first.

“You show me that every day when you remain by my side…” Levi’s voice is a whisper, yet you hear him as clear as day. The thought of leaving his side had never once crossed your mind, not when you were both younger, still learning about the ever-changing threats awaiting you and certainly not now those threats are long gone. You have both earned this peace and you are sure as hell going to enjoy it.

You gently shake your head, clearing your thoughts as you move forward to place small kisses along his jaw, “I know, but let me take care of you tonight, hmm?”

You don’t get to hear his reply, the words caught in his throat when you move lower, leaving a wet trail of kisses down his neck and across his chest. You trace the chiselled plains of his chest with your slender hand while your mouth follows closely behind. You smirk when you feel his stomach flex once your hand reaches the waistband of his trousers. His grey eyes follow your every movement as you lower yourself on the ground before him, parting his legs to give you more space.

His eyes burn into you when you lift your gaze to search his and you have to bite back a grin once you spot the way his ears flush, now hellbent on making sure his flustered state grows even more. You carefully undo the clasp holding the dark material together before dragging them off his body at a painfully slow rate, revelling in the way he lets out a frustrated grunt. You can feel him stare you down, his gaze heavy on you, but you are far too distracted by the tent forming in his boxers.

When you look at him once more, he quirks an eyebrow, whatever bout of insecurity he might have had has since faded, replaced with pure desire and control as he watches you like a hawk. You instead turn your head, kissing along his inner thigh and smirking when you feel him tense under your light touches. His skin is hot beneath your lips and you leave a trail of goosebumps behind with each kiss, Levi lets out a small hiss when you nip at the tender flesh before smoothing it over with your tongue.

Having enough of your slow admiration of his alabaster flesh, now painted with delicate love bites, you feel his hand cup your jaw and raise your head once more. His eyes are dark as he brushes your lips again, but this time you feel his finger part your lips with a knowing look. Your tongue wraps around his finger, not once averting your eyes as you continue to suck on his finger while Levi does his best to bite back a groan.

“Gods…” His voice comes out strained as he tries to hold back, trying to hold onto what little control he has left. He swallows roughly, anticipation flowing through him as he grips the sheets below with his other hand.

He watches you carefully while you continue your advancement up his thigh with your deft fingers, coming to palm at his clothed erection, his chest is rising and falling heavily and he quickly removes his fingers from your mouth before rushing to remove the annoying material currently in your way. His stiff cock springs free, precum glistening along his tip, and you waste no time. 

You place another tender kiss on his tip before swirling your tongue around it and licking small stripes along the slit, drawing a long groan out of him. With a small giggle, one which earns you an exasperated eye roll, you move to the base of his shaft, slowly dragging your tongue up along it before parting your lips and finally guiding his cock into your mouth. You hear a sharp hiss from above as Levi’s hand comes to rest on your head, his fingers are tense as he tangles them in your hair. 

You happily bob your head, swirling your tongue around his shaft before following the veins of his flesh with the tip of your tongue, rewarding you with a chorus of swears erupting from Levi’s lips. You then swap to flatten your tongue against him, sinking him deeper into your throat with each thrust of your head until you can feel the tip pressing against the back of your throat. You glide your hands over his thighs and up towards his hips, holding them in place when you feel his composure begin to slip.

“F-fuck, don’t stop,” he moans your name, the sound broken by his harsh panting as he rolls his head back, struggling to stay upright as you continue to work on him.

You give a small hum in response which earns you an even deeper moan as the vibrations help to overstimulate him, you pull your head back when you feel his hips begin to twitch, the fingers in your hair tightening. More swears spill from him when you descend once more, your tongue working him more and more until his breathing is nothing more than frantic gasps.

“Shit,” Your name is consumed by a shuddered groan, bringing a devilish smirk to your busy lips, “I’m gonna…”

Levi brings a fist to his mouth, biting down on it to stifle his frenzy of shudders as he comes, the thick liquid running down your throat as you swallow around him. You release him with a small pop, taking a different form of pleasure from the state you’ve left him in. He collapses onto his back and pants heavily with one arm draped over his fully flushed face. You watch his chest rise and fall while you wipe your mouth before crawling over the bed to lie beside him.

He doesn’t hesitate to roll over and pull you into his arms, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck while he recovers from your onslaught. After a small time spent within his embrace, the two of you existing as one, he lifts his head to look down at you and you can spot the small rosy hue still decorating his cheeks.

“That’s not what I was expecting tonight.” His deadpan voice brings a bubble of laughter out of you and you shift positions, turning to have your back pressed against his warm chest, your head resting against his arm that’s now being used as your makeshift pillow. You feel his other arm wrap around your waist, holding you tightly, as if you would float away should he let go and snap him out of a dream. You give his forearm a light squeeze before rubbing small circles into his skin.

“You should know by now, I’m full of surprises.” 

You’re not sure if it was even possible for his features to soften more than before, yet he always finds a way to prove you wrong. He looks at you as if you’re his world and you’re certain both of you wouldn’t mind if you could just hide away together, alone within your private little sanctuary of linen and silk, safe from the ghosts following you.

His voice, now laced with pleasant exhaustion, causes your lips to twitch with a content smile, “I’ll make it up to you.”

He lets out a small yawn and you feel him place a soft kiss on the top of your head, shifting slightly to regain feeling in his arm that is still being used in favour of the dozens of pillows you had argued were necessary. A calm, sleepy silence fills the room and you feel him drift off behind you, his breathing coming out in slow and steady puffs against your neck. You feel your own eyes grow heavy, the warm emitting from his body helping to lull you off into your own slumber.

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 8 - More intimate than lovers ☄️

Tags : oblivious Ahsoka, injured Obi-Wan, lots of fluff

~~~

“Get out of the way ! Kriff, move !”

The poor assistant who had the extravagant idea of crossing the corridor with a cart full of medical products - doing her job - at the same time Anakin barges in, gasps loudly and pulls on the handle of her cart with all her strength, avoiding the running Jedi from a hair.

“I'm so sorry, General !” She squeals in horror, but Anakin is already too far away to hear her apologies.

He sprints down the hallway, the soles of his boots skidding and squeaking on the smooth ground at every turn. He's almost out of breath when he storms in the landing hangar, eyes wide as he searches for one specific spaceship.

The Negotiator is parked in the middle of the hangar, the main door already opened on the bridge where clone troopers are offloading some heavy crates.

“Obi-Wan !” Anakin calls, slipping through the crowd while his eyes are scanning the ship’s surroundings for the older Jedi. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

Obi-Wan’s Force signature is very weak, too weak for him to locate him precisely, even when he tries to follow the thin golden thread of their bond.

“Damn it.” He swears when he can’t find him anywhere, panic slowly rising in his chest and curling around his lungs.

He runs to the bridge of the ship, searching for a familiar face, anyone who was on that kriffing mission and could tell him where Obi-Wan is.

“General Skywalker !” Someone calls for him from behind, making him turn around.

He’s relieved to be faced with Cody’s dark buzzcut and moon-shaped scar, someone who’s supposed to know where Obi-Wan is at all times. Someone so loyal Anakin trusts him with Obi-Wan’s life. Someone who knows him too. He doesn’t even need to ask questions, he just tilts his head to the left.

“He’s in the medical bay.”

“Thank you, Cody.” Anakin replies gratefully before running away to the new location.

He crosses the distance in less than five minutes, mumbling apologies every time he pushes someone on his way. Ahsoka is already waiting outside in the corridor, pacing left and right until she hears him coming like a tornado.

She winces and walks to him before he can storm in the emergency room, hands reaching out for him.

“He’s fine.” Is the first thing she says because she knows him so well. “You can't enter.”

Maybe she doesn’t know him that well after all.

“I don't care.”

“I know you don’t.” She rolls her eyes and grabs his arm when he reaches out for the door. “But you have to let the doctors do their job.”

“I need to see him.” Anakin breathes, removing his arm from his padawan’s grip, gently but firmly enough to warn her from not trying to stop him again.

Ahsoka considers him for a while, taking in his laborious breathing that couldn’t be blamed on his running only, his wide and scared eyes and the way his fingers twitched nervously, aggressively picking at the skin around his nails. He could have said he wanted to see Obi-Wan, but he didn't.

It’s a need. She truly realizes then.

“You’ll have to wait a bit.” She still says, gently taking his hand in his own. “I promise it won’t take long.”

“It’s already too long.” Anakin groans, his signature hanging low like a menacing cloud around him in the Force.

“He's okay, Skyguy.” Ahsoka insists, intertwining her fingers with his own to prevent him from damaging his skin even more. “He was still talking when he was admitted. You know he's tough.”

“Maybe.” Anakin mumbles. “I should have been with him.”

“You can’t be with him all the time.” Ahsoka says patiently.

“Why not ?” Anakin huffs, and Ahsoka smiles before she understands it’s a real question.

“Because… Because you’re both really important for the Republic and we need you to lead our men. They can't afford to waste time by sending you both on the same missions every time.”

Anakin doesn’t answer but she can tell by his expression that he’s not satisfied with the explanation. She wonders how he manages to be separated from Obi-Wan so often on a daily basis. Not well apparently, given his current level of anxiety is through the roof.

She opens her mouth to reassure him when the emergency room’s door opens. A tall woman with very light blonde hair pulled tight in a perfect bun walks out with a fold in his hand.

“Ahsoka Tano ?” She asks, and Anakin uses this exact moment to slip through the door. “Eh, wait !”

“Sorry.” Ahsoka winces apologetically at the doctor. “He’s very worried.”

“Visitors are not allowed.” The woman says with pinched lips. “Is he family ?”

“Uh, kind of.” Ahsoka replies.

She thinks for a second about the right term to describe Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship and she realizes she has none. They’re closer than a Master and his former Padawan were supposed to be, more than friends, even closer than brothers. She never knew one without the other and she didn't wish to know.

“Kind of ?” The doctor lifts a delicate eyebrow, looking at her with a mix of skepticism and annoyance.

“Yeah, well. You should thank me for still having a door, because Anakin doesn’t bother with that kind of details when it's comes to Obi-Wan.” Ahsoka smiles and bypasses her to enter into the room.

The sight she finds makes her stop on the doorstep with the impression of interrupting something precious she wasn’t meant to see. Anakin is sitting on the edge of the bed where Obi-Wan lies with his forehead pressed against his, gently holding his hands as they whisper quietly to each other.

From where she is she can see that Obi-Wan is smiling, wide and bright in spite of the bandages around his chest and the blood covering one side of his face.

“Family, mh ?” The doctor’s voice resonates quietly beside her, making Ahsoka turn halfway.

“They’re very close.” She retorts, feeling defensive without really knowing why.

“I thought attachment was prohibited amongst Jedi.” The woman still continues but her tone is gentler than earlier, devoid of any judgement. “They look… Intimate.”

Ahsoka blushes at the implication and shakes her head.

“They’re not… It’s not like that. They just care a lot about each other.”

“Sure.” The doctor smiles before leaving her at the door to go check on the other patients of the room.

Ahsoka frowns, confused. She couldn’t find the right words to explain the very special bond between her two masters but it didn’t mean that it was like that woman implied. It couldn’t be. She would have noticed by now. Or whould she ?

She squints at the two Jedi still completely immerged in their own little world, talking to each other like they were all alone. She’s so used to this that she can't see it as anything else than Anakin and Obi-Wan’s normal behaviour toward each other. They’re constantly gravitating in each other’s orbit, looking for each other, touching each other, evolving like they’re in their own private bubble.

It can be annoying sometimes, sure. Especially when one of them comes back injured from a mission and she has to calm down and reassure the other. They might be a little bit obsessed with each other, alright. But it doesn’t hurt anyone, does it ? Caring deeply is not against the Jedi precepts, only unhealthy attachments. And when she looks at them what she sees, burning brighter than any star is-

Unconditional love. She thinks. That’s it. That’s what they have for each other.

Clearing her throat to announce her presence, she walks to them, witnessing the way they turn their head at the same time to look at her. Anakin’s eyes and cheeks are a little wet but he does nothing to hide it from her. She takes it as a precious sign of trust.

“So…?” She smirks when she sits on the other side of the bed. “What is the score this time, Master ?”

Obi-Wan snorts and winces just after, putting a hand on his ribcage.

“Three broken ribs.” He sighs. “Nothing a little rest can’t fix.”

“You forget about the concussion.” Anakin says, rolling his eyes. “And the fact that one of your ribs punctured your lung.”

“Details.” Obi-Wan mumbles. “I’m fine.”

He looks back at Anakin’s skeptical expression, face softening with such tenderness that Ahsoka looks away with a blush.

“I’m fine.”

“You say that each time.” Anakin grumbles. “And each time you come back even more broken.”

“Jealous that I wear scars better than you ?” Obi-Wan teases, making Ahsoka laugh.

“At least you don’t look like a stupid pirate because you fell on the freshener, Master Kenobi.” She sneaks in.

“You little sh-” Anakin starts but he’s stopped by Obi-Wan’s hand on his mouth.

“Language, Padawans !”

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan and does something that makes the older Jedi retrieve his hand quickly while a little blush spreads on his cheeks.

Weirdos.

“Alright, I’m very glad to see that you’re doing fine, Master.” Ahsoka says before getting up. “I’m gonna go finish Skyguy’s report because something tells me he’s not going to move from here before a while.”

Anakin, very maturely, sticks his tongue at her.

“Look how I am rewarded for my generosity.” She complains to Obi-Wan, and the traitor has the audacity to laugh.

But not for long because he's quickly reminded about his broken ribs. Some calls it karma.

“Thank you for coming, little ‘Soka.” The older Jedi smiles softly once he’s done wincing in pain. “And for teaching this one some manners about breaking doors.”

“No problem, Sir.” She smiles, giving them both a little salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As soon as she turns around she can feel their bond tighten again between each other in the Force. And if the reflection on the glass door makes it look like they’re sharing a quick, secretive kiss, it’s probably her imagination playing tricks on her.

[marnikula]

Hey! I was wondering if you would be able to write a post about a Derek x reader where Derek is in the hospital after getting shot and the reader is just so distraught and bursts into his room, but plot twist, no one knows that they are in a relationship except for Garcia, who let the reader know, and they are all so confused.

Also, I imagined it as a female reader, so if you are comfortable, could you do that?

Hey! Sure, I can do that for you😊

Not my best work, sorry about that, but I hope you enjoy none the less

CW: Injury, female reader, mentions of gun shot, hurt / comfort, talks of deatb

✨Enjoy!✨

You have never felt your heart drop so quickly and so violently into your shoes before that moment. "He just went into surgery, I don't know how long it's going to take for him to come out, I called as soon as I could."

Derek was shot. He was in surgery. He was shot. Shot. He could be dying. He could be dead.

Shooting out of your seat you grabbed a bag and flung all of your necessities in it, letting Garcia know you were on the way before hanging up the phone. He was in California, 6 hours away by plane and you hadn't even bought tickets yet, you didn't have anywhere to stay. You knew you were being rash rushing to the other side of the country without a plan, but you didn't care. The love of your life was on an operating table and you weren't there.

Hailing a taxi to the airport you finally took the time to book a flight, thanking whatever higher power there was for the fact that the soonest flight out was in less than an hour and praying that you would be able to make it.

===============================

Rushing into the hospital, your bag still in hand, you ran up to the front desk.

"I'm looking for Derek Morgan's room, he was shot, can you tell me where he is" even to your own ears your voice sounded frantic, like you were hanging on by a thread. And to be honest you were, you just needed to know that Derek was okay. "What is your relation to the patient?" "I'm his girlfriend"

After getting his room number from the nurse you practically flew up the stairs, not having the patience to wait for an elevator. Seeing his room you moved even faster, breaking into a sprint and almost knocking a tall and lanky man over in the process. Shouting your apologies behind you, you were met with a door, slowing down just in time to not run against it.

You were in such a flurry of relief seeing Derek alive and awake that you didn't even register the rest of the people in the room as you rushed in, dropping your bag at the door and enveloping him in a hug. His good arm reached around you and hugged you back as tightly as he could muster, which was still pretty tight considering he had just woke up from anesthesia.

Kissing the top of your head Derek spoke the first word between the two of you: "Hey princess, what are you doing here?" You shoved yourself out of his embrace, still sitting on the bed and letting the agitation you felt show on your features

"What am I doing here?! Seriously? You got shot and went into emergency surgery and you're asking me what am I doing here?!" "Whoah baby, calm down, I'm fine, doctors said I'll make a full recovery, no lasting damage except for some scarring" your reply followed, with a smack against his good shoulder as well "Don't you ever, and I mean *EVER* do that to me again, do you understand?! I was so scared that I would loose you" "Baby, I'm so sorry that I scared you, but I'm fine now, and I promise to try my best not to get shot again. It ain't exactly fun you know. Now do I get a kiss or what?"

A loud clearing of a voice broke the two of you out of your little world. "Are we perhaps interrupting something?"

"Rossi, man, I respect you and all, but please, get your and everyone else's asses out of my room so I can spend some time with my girl"

[harmonysanreads]

Dear Harmony,

I finally got a day off from being a bartender at the hostelry. However, I've been rather stuck on a few ideas I'm unsure how to pen down for an upcoming short story deadline with the publishing house. Hence, I've come to ask you something if it isn't too much to ask, dear Sunday kinnie expert. Pick anything from these questions, just one is fine :)

How would a certain avian hybrid who is madly obsessed with an unsuspecting darling...

a) act as a student council president who couldn't quite express his love for a blockmate/fellow council member?

b) react when he has finally received confirmation that the person he had fallen for is an assassin?

c) deal with the fact that the person that caught his eye is a very vocal punk artist who challenges whatever ideals he stands for?

That is all I would ask of you. I thank you for your time, and may your God keep you in Their care.

— Cranberry N.V~

Dear Cranberry N.V~,

I do apologize for the delay in my reply, some matters prevented me from picking up the pen for a while. I hope work has been easy for you — the regulars haven't given you too much trouble, right? I see your humor is as infallible as ever. The title of ‘Sunday Expert’ is beyond me, but I will do my best in assisting you out of this impasse.

a) How would Sunday act as a student council president who couldn't quite express his love for a blockmate/fellow council member?

You are a most agonizing distraction. The tempting blue of the sky during a particularly hard lesson to fixate on, the interest that presents itself as more appealing than the revision for the upcoming finals, more so. But he can't indulge, must force himself to be lucid — because that is the image he's crafted for the world to see. There is too much at stake, the lull of an escapade might echo as freedom, but the sky beyond the cage has long lost the trust of the bird.

It's alright, though. Seeing you free and happy blesses him with an unusual sense of contentment and for the minute instances where he's had the fortune of witnessing it up-close, he's sure to repay in any capacity allowed by his position. Blessing may it be, is a mixed one. Every so often, when the threads of clarity slip away from the Halovian's grasp, he can't help but deem his situation unfair. He wonders, if he hadn't been so restricted by his position, by himself — would he be able to experience your world as well? Would you then, not drift away as he watches helpless?

b) How would he react when he has finally received confirmation that the person he had fallen for is an assassin?

Not entirely surprised, but disappointed nonetheless. Despite how much caution and humility he exerts, some people get offended without any notable effort, hm? He has sufficient connections to warn him beforehand of impending betrayals, though this one, he wished never became real. The suspicions were there and you behaved exactly like someone who would point a knife to his eye soon. Usually, that's not how backstabbing happens... does it?

The confusion ignited his curiousity though, a miniscule hope kept it burning — you were able to come this far because of this leniency he bestowed. Now that the pretenses have been cast aside, the long overdue conversation can at last begin. Do take a seat.

c) How would he deal with the fact that the person that caught his eye is a very vocal punk artist who challenges whatever ideals he stands for?

That... explains a lot of things, though he isn't sure what it says about his preferences in romantic interests. You are interesting, for the lack of a better word and for his unwillingness to be crass. He will not lie, sometimes you do get a bit annoying. He can clearly see your perspective, but you're resolute in not respecting his. It's admirable how you can express yourself so easily though, something he admits is far from his reach. Yes, there is much in you that outweighs the negatives.

But you tend to get swayed somewhat easily, too, especially by those friends of yours. He wouldn't be astonished if you were coerced into this scheme either. Despite the disagreements, your conversations are enjoyable — until they're interrupted by others. He's certain, if he could have a proper, undisturbed heart-to-heart with you, you'd understand him. Perhaps... that could be the starting point.

Thank you for your well wishes, I had fun pondering about these ideas. May peace and happiness be in your life, as well.

Sincerely,

Harmony.