#steel broaches

[steelsmanbroaches]

Best Broaches in India with best steel used to make it perfect for your work.

[epsilonics]

ms fonda lee do you honestly expect us to believe that our dearest darlingest twink anden emery not once, not when rescued nor when subsequently gently threatened by the scarred, smooth-voiced, muscle-bound gont asch of the mountain clan, not a single time thought of gont's strength in steel and went 😳😳😳

[solitaireinfosystems01]

Spline Rolling Rack Broaches - Steelman Broaches

A complete range of Spline-Involute, Parallel and Trapezoidal, Serrations, Ratchet, broaches specially designed to suit the component specifications. Available in push or pull type desigh. We regularly manufacturer spline rolling rack broaches for precision-made Steering Knuckle Arm, Constant Mesh Gear, Front Axle, Lift Arm, Depth Control Cap, Bull Gear, Differential Lock Clutch centre and Fly/Sprocket Wheel Ratchet components.

[twstedstoryshop]

FINALLY, I return properly. Kind of. Reason I've been away for so long was because of insane convention season and also had this bad boy in the works. This is one of two commissions done for a friend. Hope you all can enjoy yourselves for the crumbs I produce. -SK

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, violence, depressed s/o, and mentions of toxic past relationships.

Your New Boyfriends Runs Into Your Ex

While Rook Hunt was one of many to find camaraderie in a den of villains, that didn’t mean chivalry was dead to him. Certainly not him.

Under his keen gaze, he knew that when a certain topic was broached, you would shy away instantly. Paled knuckles, a panicked gaze, and your bottom lip near to splitting open by how badly you chewed down.

It was like he was seeing a rabbit or deer caught in a trap, frantic with no escape. Though his heart had been trained to a perfect steel and not feel for his quarry, when he sees that look in your eyes, all defenses fall away.

The topic? Well, the worries of what the future held for you. Moreso in far off days. Would you continue to have your friends by your side? Would someone ever cherish you? Have a deeper connection?

For Rook, it was a no-brainer because of course! Who else was more worthy of adoration and praise than his dear petite grâce? As he would declare this in all his usual grandeur, a small smile would form on your lips, but that happiness never reached your eyes.

Doubt clouded that sweet gaze of yours. In its own way, seeing such clear eyes be veiled by sadness was heartachingly beautiful. Yet it was a beautiful scene Rook couldn’t bear to behold for too long.

When it came to keeping track of you, Rook was extra considerate. If one can call it that… In his mind, he kept careful track of those you interacted with. He watched your mannerisms, your dialogue, anything amiss he would file it away. But for the longest time, it didn’t seem like an outside force was troubling you.

For a moment, Rook considered that whatever wounded your heart was a scar from a distant past he had yet to uncover. What he didn’t expect was said wound abruptly appearing on a normal day.

From a vantage point, perhaps from a second story window or among the trees that dotted the campus, Rook had caught sight of you stone-still on your walk. Before you, an NRC student he couldn’t recall. He didn’t really have time to register the man when Rook had just attention all on you.

Your wide, hollow eyes. Your chest rising and falling rapidly. How you froze so perfectly under the gaze of this man. It was a scene Rook was all too familiar with. Prey terrified beyond its own mind to run, to hide, or even fight.

Your rational mind couldn’t comprehend what your ex was even saying to you as panic held you in its overbearing clutch. The world grew dizzying and just when you felt like your heart would give out, right then and there, a broad arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Ah, there you are, ma petite grâce. I was looking all over for you. You made me a bit worried, you know!”

It was hard to look up at him as Rook’s hat was tipped just enough for the shadows to mask his features. But your ex needed only one glance for the role of prey to be forced on him. Green eyes with a gaze so sharp, so precise like a notched arrow perfectly aligned to fire, bored right into him.

It didn’t take much time before the ex backpedaled away with his tail between his legs, now only leaving you with Rook.

Rook would face you, gripping your forearms firmly. His expression, soft though. He called out for you, trying his best to snap you from your daze. When you finally realized it was him now before you, your body moved on its own before you could think. A heaviness made you fall against his chest. You shivered, maybe tears and sobs escaping you.

Rook held you so close against him. Like he was cradling a sculpture of the most delicate porcelain. As if one scratch or knock would crumble you into fine dust.

A single hand held the back of your head protectively, letting you weep as much as you wanted against his shirt. His chin nestled along your hair. You would be so blissfully unaware of Rook’s gaze. A complicated stare into space as his mind swam with many thoughts.

Rook always found beauty in the oddest of places. Yet for the first time, there was something Rook found utterly detestable. A vile image that was a blot in his picturesque vision and that was your ex, the source of your pain. But from that ugliness, he did find a most exquisite sensation. A drive to hunt. An unyielding need to protect you.

While he couldn’t spring into action earlier, his quarry was marked. A hunter is patient and he can wait as long as he needs to for one slip-up, one more attempt to dare get near you, and Rook would be sure to let loose a vicious arrow.

There is a tension between you and Floyd on certain days. While most times, it would be all fun and games, just him and his little Shrimpy. But Floyd wasn’t blind to the weight you carried.

It would irritate him on a dime when you obviously had thoughts clouding your mind. So much so that you fidget anxiously or not even pay attention to him. His sharp voice would call over the din of thoughts and you’d see the eel practically inches away from your face.

His dual colored eyes glared at you and a slight frown pulled at his lips. “Geez, what the hell is goin’ on with you!?” He doesn’t mean to be so crass, but to see his Shrimpy unsettled, it frustrated him. 

Moreso that he can’t exactly pinpoint what was going on with you, that he can’t just squeeze it to a pulp and boom, no more problems!

He knew you had your walls and such walls took time to lower to let him in. Floyd had the patience as a waiting moray eel, but if he had the proactiveness to actually act upon his patience? That’s a whole other story. When it came to you, he just wanted to see you happy and unbothered. All reasoning would flutter out the window.

It may or may not have taken a lot of squeezing and thinly veiled threats to your friends for them to fess up information you couldn’t bear to unload on Floyd. A common name would be passed around, an ex from your past. Just the thought that someone else had their hands on you nearly made Floyd break bones if not for the pitiful yelps of your friends to release them in time.

Questions whirled in that skull of his. Why have you never brought this up to him? What did this ex do to you that made you shy away from him? Where was this scumbag now? All of these worries would bleed into his daily life and if it weren’t for Jade and Azul to straighten him out, he would have been throwing tantrums left and right.

It wasn’t until one day that all his frustrations would come to a boiling point into a final, satisfying crescendo. At least for him.

Work was to be done at Mostro Lounge. Floyd was on duty to be a waiter along with yourself. Both of you have opted to be in an awkward silence in your relationship and it was evident by how you both avoided one another, unsure of how to really talk about your issues.

Floyd had taken an order from a particular student, one he could easily sniff out as a rude bastard by his mannerisms and his tones. But if Floyd’s temper got the better of him, he’d never hear the end of it from Azul. He would hand off the order to you to at least serve drinks.

Everything seemed normal until suddenly a glass shattered. All eyes shifted to you who shivered in place. The tray rattled in your hands and below you a cascade of broken glass.

“Y-you…” “The fuck…? What the hell are you doing here!? And look at what you did to my drink! You’re still incompetent as ever, tch!”

You wanted to cry, scream, run away. You felt so ashamed, being treated like garbage again from an ex you swore you’d never let walk all over you again. But at the height of stress, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up for yourself. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic…

That is until a sing-song, nonchalant voice slid right up behind you. “Ahhhh, what a shame. I apologize on the behalf of our lil waiter here. They’re just nervous is all. Here~ Why don’t I make it up to ya? I can serve ya a drink right here, right now. On the house~” “Finally, some decent fucking service…”

You looked up at Floyd and saw that dangerous glint in his eyes. How his pupils honed on the poor fool as his smile widened so tightly across his face. He reached for a spare glass that was left on the table, presented it with a flourish to your ex, and coyly said, “Readyyyy~? Watch carefully.”

Then, his hand flew so quick to grab a clump of your ex’s hair and slammed it squarely on the glass. The crunch of glass, your scream, and the screech of chairs being pushed back as patrons jumped.

“GYAHAHA, YOU LIKE IT!? IT’S MOSTRO LOUNGE’S OWN PERSONAL RED. Ahhhh, but the red comin’ from you? Pfft, it ain’t worth the shit under my shoe…” Your ex could barely register what was even being said to him from the glass embedded in his face and blood gushing from his nose and broken lips.

Hands covered your mouth in terror as you could barely register what was happening. From panicked students screaming to Azul and Jade holding Floyd back from beating the poor ex to a pulp. All you could really register was the horrifying satisfaction deep in your chest, seeing the one who hurt you so much battered under the hand of someone who protected you…

Leona has his own ways of caring but most of the time, if you cannot read between the lines, it may come off as uncaring.

He does care, but don’t expect a coddling man rushing to be your knight when you are feeling sorry for yourself. The last thing he wants to do is pity you as he knows all too well the humiliation of being pitied.

Instead he observes, he watches, he’s keen to everything you do that isn’t a part of your daily life. In sly ways, he tries to break your moments of dissociating. He calls your name sharply to snap you out of your funk and gives you a menial task.

Telling you to maybe preen his mane, join Ruggie on an errand, what have you. It’s better to keep yourself occupied than whatever is plaguing your mindscape.

Sometimes, he will even abruptly lean against you, his weight toppling the both of you over. Even if you protest under him, he will insist he’s really tired and just wants something warm beside him to help him sleep. In truth, it’s just another way to stop your self-deprecating thoughts.

Though he will speak up in annoyance if your depressed thoughts start to bleed into your relationship. It will sting, but he means well. He tells you gruffly that he’s not in the mood to lay next to baggage. He wants only his partner, dammit.

You may argue, you may not, it depends on how you react but at the end of it, one way or another, you’re going to have to face him and this problem that hangs over you.

If you take time before approaching him or spill everything in one go, he will wait patiently and listen. But cowardice by running away he won’t accept and would want answers promptly.

One way or another, the truth has to come from you and you explain the thoughts that coil around you like a petulant serpent. A name and face that digs into your chest horribly. Your ex and the ways he has hurt you in many ways.

Leona listens stoically, letting you share your story before acknowledging and commending the strength it took for you to finally admit this. He knows all too well the pains of the past, he shares in your frustrations. But the past stays in the past for a reason.

Now it’s you and him now. You define yourselves here in the present. If anyone says otherwise? Well, he’d like to see them try.

Who would have known that such a time would come so soon when one day, someone had the gall to start harassing you right in the Savanaclaw dorm.

That same face that always lingered around you like a ghost was here right now in the flesh, taunting you at the edges of the Spelldrive field. Your ex sneered at you, wondering what the hell you were doing around here during his practice hours. Had the nerve to accuse you of stalking him despite your split.

Your anger boiled your blood, your face flushed. Your nerves alighted with a burning fury that made the dorm’s dry heat pale in comparison. But your body did not respond to you. Your throat froze despite wanting to curse and yell out at your ex.

What neither you expected though while your mouth gasped for something, anything to throw at this scumbag, was a lion’s roar peeling across the field. A shadow loomed over your ex and both of you looked up to a silhouette blocking the sun and a pair of piercing green eyes.

Astride his broom, Leona stared squarely at the ex. “For a minute, I thought I heard annoying squawks from a mangy vulture, but now I just see a whelp. Having the nerve to approach my partner…”

Without missing a beat, Leona lowered himself to the ground and sauntered right over to your ex. Your ex tried to stand his ground but anyone could tell he was practically shaking in his spot.

“So.... What were you two talking about?” It was such a simple question. So trivial. But the way Leona spoke each word, it was like a pair of hungry jaws were ready to snap behind every syllable. He dared for your ex to slip up.

“N-nothing… Nothing at all… I was l-leaving…” “Hooo?” Leona’s tail whipped behind him in amusement. “So you just waltzed up to my partner and gawked at them? Nothing left your useless, flapping gums? I can hardly believe that.”

Leona’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his hand and for a quick second, you swore you saw wind and dust particles gather between his finger tips. The air felt still and you heard your ex gulp audibly from a dry throat. Then, a sudden calmness.

“But if you were just about to leave, then by all means, scurry along. I hate people wasting my time.”

To which your ex immediately did, turning on his heel, so close to make a run for it. Then, like a giant paw slamming atop a helpless mouse, Leona’s hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

“A warning since I’m feeling so generous today… Don’t ever let me catch you near them again. Ya hear me? Or else, I’ll make you a nice addition to the scenery. We could always add more sand and bones.” Leona cracked a toothy smirk with darkness in his eyes. His fangs glinted in the sun and it was then you truly realized the fierce lion you had taken in as your boyfriend.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day eleven: monsterfucking kink

>>> guys this one may be my fav day ngl...as you can tell by my blog's entire theme that this is my biggest and most violent fantasy i need dragon king bakugou in the worst way please oh my god please

>>> EDIT 10/11: MHA LEAKS OMFG THIS DROPPED THE DAY MHA LEAKS BAKUGOU IS BACK MY GLORIOUS KING!!!!

>>> starring: dragon king!bakugou x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: monsterfucking, bakugou is a hybrid, no prep, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, dark content, kinda forced marriage? mating bonds, uh, i think that's it. >>>wc: 2.9k >>> event masterlist

it was the new king’s coronation day, and as tradition demands, he shall have his pick of the finest women in his lands. you were brought forth amongst a host of other ladies deemed pretty enough for the young king to choose from. you were the only one of them that seemed irritated by the prospect, all the other girls were tittering and combing their hair while discussing their chances of being picked to be the dragon king’s new bride. he examined you all in a line, sneering at all the smiling and fluttering lashes—sending them crying from the room. he pauses on you, his gaze was stern and fiery but you didn’t hesitate to square your shoulders and meet it. he’s surprised; you don’t smile or extend your hand for him to kiss. you challenge him, you tell him with that strong set jaw and steel stare that you won’t be easy. he feels a pull on his heart, something he cannot yet explain. he likes you. 

you tilt your chin up, almost like you’re the one sizing him up. you’re so regal and amusing to him that his mind is made up instantly, but he gives you a few more minutes of looking him over, hoping to see some semblance of interest on your face. king bakugou was a hulking form of a man, towering above everyone in the room. they always were bigger than the normal humans, but he was larger than any of the dragon shifters you had ever come across. the room almost didn’t seem big enough to contain him, and it was his castle. his burlap trousers balloon around his lower half, but it seems there were not shirts big enough to fit the new king of dragons, only a long fur cloak that fastened with a golden dragon broach stretching across the broad expanse of his chest. he was tanned and scarred from years of flight and battle, and muscled even more so. he had hints of sparkling scarlet scales trailing along his collarbones with pointy teeth that alluded to his other form. his biceps bulged as he folded his arms across his chest, admiring you as you admire him with a satisfied smirk on his face. you didn’t throw yourself at him like the rest, and he doubted you would yet still, but you weren’t shy to let your eyes linger on him. he likes you. 

he smirks your way, grunting his approval. you were the perfect match. you certainly were the most beautiful creature of his kingdom, and your womanly figure assured him that he would sire several successful heirs with you. you captivated him and you had not yet spoken a word, though the young king could feel that fierce tugging on his heart again, something he now recognizes to be his mating bond the longer he looks at you and the stronger the feeling grows. 

“mine.” he says simply, nodding at you in content. his right hand man and fellow dragon shifter steps closer, handing his friend and king a fur pelt similar to the one he wears before retreating back into the onlooking crowd. the king unclasps the matching golden dragon, swinging the covering over your shoulders and snapping the jewelry back into place with a surprising nimbleness. this was the first of many gifts the king would dole out for his mate and queen, but this is the first one to mark you as his. you’re shocked to be chosen, convinced he would take your surveying for disrespect and brutalize you here to send a message— but alas, the most explosive dragon ruler in all the lands chose you as his bride. “you are my mate. we will marry in two moons. dismissed.” 

he looks over your head when he says this, ending the celebrations in favor of alone time with his chosen. his gaze has a hint of boredom to it as it glides around the room, red and fiery with unspoken strength and power behind them. you straighten yourself under the weight of your new cloak, bowing your head out of respect, albeit so quick it made the king exhale heavily through his nose as if to chuckle. 

“you are amusing, mate.” he says, extending a warm battle-worn hand to push your hair away from your neck. he lets it rest against your shoulder, smirking at how small you were compared to him. it was overwhelmingly apparent that he could do anything he wanted to with you, and you weren’t necessarily opposed to the concept. you started this day with immense rage and dread at having to go before the king and be selected like a prize horse. but he surprised you, even being every bit as brute and brash as everyone said he’d be, his eyes sparkled when they came across you. he declared you his mate—-a huge deal for a dragon shifter, and shrouded you in the engagement cloak without so much as a second thought. there was no arguing with the king, nor his mating bond. your soul was created to nurture his, and vice versa. he felt this snap into place instantly, as a mortal, you probably wouldn’t feel the strength of your connection for several days to weeks. it was an honor, one you couldn’t believe was bestowed upon you—but you certainly weren’t complaining anymore. “i like you.” 

you feel your body warm a bit from something as simple as his touch. he’s rough around the edges, and certainly doesn’t know how to be gentle or verbose, but his statement makes you smile warmly anyway. “thank you, my king. i’m quite amused as well.” 

he lets his hand slide from your shoulder all the way to your hand, clutching it tight as he brings it to his lips, giving it a chaste kiss. your scent makes his heart skip a beat, and he wonders if he can make it through the next two months without ravaging his sweet maiden. 

the days pass, slowly, but they pass. your king brings you several gifts and trinkets, filling your new chambers with tokens of his affection and fondness for his mate. the dragons were known for this, and your mate was the brightest and biggest of them all. so never did he go out to fly without returning with a clutch of presents. he was always so proud of himself as he showed them to you, shoving all the perfumes and jewels in your hands with a boastful grin. 

“i found these for you. wear them.” he grunts, roughly pulling you into his arms for a crushing hug. he was working on it, but he manhandled you on accident a majority of the time, not used to interacting with women. you were getting used to it anyhow, only giggling and nodding your acceptance, cooing at how beautiful all the gifts were. he preens in your praise, eager to earn the deep affection that the bond produces. 

you couldn’t deny that the bond was starting to affect you, as if you needed any help falling for the monster of a man meant to be your husband. he was kind and loving to you, and you couldn’t ask for much more. he was feared and revered, if you were dumb enough to cross him or his kingdom—soon to be your kingdom, then you earned the punishment of his hellfire tenfold. you wouldn’t find yourself begging for lives to be spared as you stand in the crowd while watching the king dole out sentences. he was brutal, and scary, vicious and primal in every way. his servants tremored in his wake, and though his people loved his protection, they feared his wrath. you were truly the only exception, and it was mystical for everyone to see the fierceness that abounds for his soon to be wife, his forever mate, his queen. and they could only hope your loving tenderness would tame the wild king. 

he took meals with you, showed you around his dreary and plain castle, easily agreeing to your every decoration suggestion and insisting you do whatever you want—this is your home now too. he even took you on rides in his gorgeous dragon form, letting you see how beautiful the sun setting over the kingdom was, flying you to different nations, journeying close to the seawaters so you could feel the salty wind on your skin. he forced himself to sleep in his own quarters at night, trying and struggling to abide by common decency. 

when your wedding day finally arrived, the king was more than ready to make you his queen officially—and then cart you to bed where decency would be the last thing on his mind. the ceremony is gorgeous, the image of you in your wedding gown was never to be forgotten on him, even though he couldn’t wait to rip it off of you. his brain had already geared into the darker side of things by the time you were being shown to your now shared chambers, and he could not resist his mate any longer. 

you weren’t faring much better. however this mating bond usually affected mortal women, it had you ready to climb your king like a tree. as soon as the doors were closed, he was on you, shoving you backwards while hastily tearing at your dress. you assist him in getting it over your head with only minimal rips in the fabric. you can’t bring yourself to care as you fall back on the bed with his body covering yours like a blanket. he’s snarling, but he’s not angry, just eager and too impatient to think about all the lessons he’s learned in being gentle. he scoops you up and tosses you up towards headboard, and you swear you can see steam billow off his form as he eyes you down, watching you lay and spread for him. 

“it’s been hard…waiting for you.” he complains, unfastening his cloak and letting it fall to the floor. the moment is so intense, you can feel the air thicken, smell the need permeating the air. he’s breathing heavily already, tugging at the weaving strings keeping his pants closed. your breath hitches when you see his scales glisten in the moonlight, the outline of his cock pressing against the troublesome burlap material. you pant out and nod, knowing the growth before you was only the first hint of what he had to pleasure his mate with. dragon shifters are larger than mortal men in every way, reflecting their dragon status in several different physical markers along their bodies, scales along their collarbones and spines, long mane-esque hairstyles, and of course their cocks. he steps out of the clothing, his massive leaking dick slapping up against his abs with a loud smack, you moan. 

his ashy patch of hair and the scarlet scales glistening against his hip bones direct your attention to the monster cock you married. he’s long, thick, curved, lined with veins and a throbbing pink tip leaking his pre-cum in droplets on the bed. it was easily half the size of his thigh, both length and width wise. he fixes himself on the bed, shredding your panties with sharp talons and eyeing your tiny hole. he has all the intentions to stretch you a bit, to get you soaked to accommodate him but when he looks back up at you, you’re drooling. 

you can’t imagine how good that’s going to feel inside you. all the times you had touched yourself out of curiosity or even genuine horniness would hardly compare to this, to the man it’s attached to—the way he watches you like a predator tells you there was nothing in this world that would prepare you for what he was about to do to you–what you wanted him to do to you. “i know…” you say after taking a deep breath, reaching for his face. “i’ve had to wait just as long.”

you squirm in place, lidded eyes flickering from his endowment to his eyes and then back again. “just wanna feel my king…i know you’ll fill me up so well.” you coo, batting your lashes. 

he’s not in the right mind to banter with you, the only thoughts crossing his brain at the sight and scent of you was to ravage. he grips your hips tightly, trying to will himself to be stronger and give his new bride the treatment she deserves. he should prepare you like a gentleman, but unfortunately the young king is unable to will himself to be gentle. you seem to read his mind, nodding and spreading your legs a bit further, allowing him to get settled in the space you provide. he wastes no time in lining up with your entrance and bottoming out. he knows it’s sadistic that he enjoys the way your eyes cross at the sensation, the burning and splitting stretch ripping a sob from your throat. you clutch at his arms, the natural slick you produced just from your own anticipation aiding him in the glide. he stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to him so he can also adjust to the feeling of your virgin pussy gripping him like a hand-tailored glove. he can’t fight the groan that leaves his lips, mindfully keeping his talons retracted as he rakes his hands over your plush stomach and wide hips, stopping to paw at your thick thighs and fat ass. he’s already rendered speechless, only able to grunt and groan as he starts to move, putting your legs up to his shoulders as to not face any resistance. you cry out at the new angle, absolutely feeling the searing heat of him splitting you apart, but you love it. you move your hips against his, head digging back against the pillow at the newfound pleasure.

it’s so hard for him to go slow, especially as you fuck yourself into him and cry out for more. your body takes him so well, as it was designed to, but he still didn’t expect it to feel and look and sound so good. he can see himself in your stomach, the spikes along his base curling into you and hitting every spot so well. you didn’t even know it was possible to feel this good, his cockhead drilling into your womb so hard it has the corners of your vision turning white. 

he’s growling, unable to repress his animalistic side completely. he leans forward, snapping his hips to yours as your wanton moans fill the room. he lets his tongue lave over your neck, making you gasp out at the feeling. “mate–i need to mark–bite..” he rumbles in your ear, goosebumps rippling over his body when you whine out and nod. 

“please! bite me, got those teeth f’r a reason—” you plead, your small hand guiding his face to the crook of your neck. your eagerness makes his cock twitch, your enjoyment paramount to him just as much as claiming his mate for the first time. he abides by your wishes, sinking his teeth into your flesh and clamping down, feeling you do the same around his dick. you moan out, clawing at his back with your own kind of talons. he can’t stop, driving bruises and bloody spots all along your neck and chest. he’d never go too deep even in his lusty haze, his primal instinct to protect his other half would never allow him to cause permanent harm. he admires his work, “pretty mate, my teeth marks.” 

he grunts out, gripping your hips and roughly turning you over, grabbing a fistful of your hair to yank you into a deep arch. you scream at the new angle, some blood trickling down your neck and pooling between your breasts. he’s entranced by the shape of your body beneath him, how his hands take up your entire waist and the way your ass ripples as he hammers into you. you’re struggling to hold your body up under the force of his thrusts, gripping the covers beneath you for dear life. he reaches around your hip, locating the sweet bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. your hips falter when he presses his touch to your clit, a little sob coming from your lips as you begin to fall apart. 

“pretty. coat my cock.” he grunts, cock jumping again as you nod and fall forward, your pussy spasming around him like crazy. he feels the rush of you, sending him shuddering towards his end too. “g’nna take my heirs.” he groans, slamming your hips back into his as he spills into you for the first time. 

he pulls out quickly to gather you up in his arms, laying on his back with you protected by the expanse of his chest. you’re incoherent as his seed trickles out of you, and as bewitching as the sight is, he wants you to give him several warrior princes and princesses. so he slides his hands between your legs and chuckles as you jerk when you feel his fingers stuffing his cum back inside. you whine, so sensitive but yearning for all of his touches. he grunts a bit, leaning over to smooth your tousled hair and gently kissing the bruises and shallow wounds he gave you. his kindness touches you, and you relax into his body with a grin, knowing he would hold you to his heart’s content and then have the servants run a bath for the new dragon queen.

[sinkovia]

-`♡´- ANON ASK -`♡´-

Anon requested that the ask be posted after the fic.

Pairings: SImon Riley x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst.

As the days passed by, your once perfect relationship with Simon began to fracture. It seemed as though the idyllic days you once shared were slipping away, replaced by a constant tension that hung heavy in the air.

The source of the arguments seems to stem from your "nagging," as Simon puts it. But to you, it's an expression of love and fear - a desperate attempt to hold onto something precious in a world where loss and danger lurk around every corner.

From the beginning, you both understood the risks in your line of work, but it's only recently that the reality of those risks has begun to weigh heavily on your heart.

You've voiced your fears to Simon, your desire to retire together and find solace in a life far removed from the dangers of combat. But each time you broach the subject, Simon's reaction is the same - cold, defensive, and laced with hurtful words that cut deep. It's a cycle that plays out time and time again: he pushes you away with his sharp words, only to come crawling back the next day, remorseful and apologetic.

In those moments of reconciliation, he speaks to you with tenderness and warmth, promising that he's always careful on missions and that this is the life he wants. He reassures you that perhaps, in a few years' time, he could think about settling down. And each time, you find yourself giving in, desperate to believe that his words hold truth.

But as the fear and dread of losing him creep back in, the same arguments resurface, and the cycle repeats itself endlessly, leaving you trapped in a loop of hope and despair. 

The tension in your life reaches a boiling point when you're summoned to the briefing room, where Captain Price lays out the details of a harrowing mission. Your heart sinks as you realize the gravity of the task at hand - infiltrating the heart of Makarov's forces, your fluency in Russian making you the only person who could do it. It's a suicide mission, with slim chances of success and even slimmer chances of survival.

As Captain Price outlines the high-risk, high-reward nature of the operation, your mind races with conflicting emotions. On one hand, success could mean a significant blow to Makarov's forces, potentially saving countless lives and shifting the tide of the war. On the other hand, the thought of risking your life - and potentially throwing away any chance of a future with Simon - fills you with fear.

You weigh the options carefully, torn between duty and personal desire. The stakes couldn't be higher, and the choice before you feels like a cruel test of loyalty and sacrifice. As you leave the briefing room, the weight of the decision hangs heavy on your shoulders, uncertainty clouding your thoughts as you grapple with the choice before you.

You step into your shared apartment, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on your shoulders. Simon is seated on the couch, absorbed in the television. With a heavy sigh, you make your way over and take a seat next to him, steeling yourself for what's to come.

"We need to talk, Si,"

Simon sighs and reaches to turn off the TV, a resigned expression crossing his features. "Here we go again," he mutters under his breath.

Your heart sinks at his dismissive tone, but you push forward nonetheless. “Price gave me a solo mission,” you watch his reaction closely.

Simon quirks a brow but remains silent, prompting you to continue. “He wants me to infiltrate Makarov's forces,”

“Sounds risky,” Simon comments, his tone neutral as he leans back on the couch, crossing his arms. You take a deep breath, "It's a suicide mission," you confess, locking eyes with him, searching for any sign of understanding or concern.

Silence hangs in the air as you wait for his response, “When do you leave?” he asks, his response devoid of the emotion you had hoped for.

Does he even hear you? Does he even care?

“Did you hear what I said? It’s a suicide mission. Do you even care Simon?” you press, desperation creeping into your voice.

Simon releases a frustrated breath, irritation evident in his demeanor. “Of course, I fucking care, y/n. But like I've said a million times before, we chose this profession. We know the risks that come with our job. Any of our missions could easily turn into a suicide mission.”

Your heart sinks at his callous response, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “And if I died on a mission, would you be okay with that? With living without me? With going on with life without me?!” you challenge, tears welling in your eyes.

“Seeing how you're always fucking nagging me, yeah, maybe I’d be okay with that!” Simon's harsh words cut through you like a knife, leaving you reeling in disbelief.

Your lip quivers, and you shake your head, unable to comprehend the cruelty of his words. “You're being mean. You don’t mean that Si, I know you don’t,” you protest, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I do. I mean every fucking word,” Simon retorts, his voice rising in anger. “Do you know how easy it would be to find someone else who will give me what I want? I can never get peace when you're around. We are done, y/n. Don't bother coming home after your mission.”

The finality of his words crushes you, leaving you speechless and broken. With tears streaming down your face, you cover your mouth with your hand, muffling the sobs that threaten to escape. Simon turns on his heel and storms out of the apartment, leaving you alone in the wake of his harsh words. 

With a heavy heart, you rise from the couch and make your way to your room, your mind consumed by the weight of the decision ahead. As you gather the necessities for the mission, a wave of despair washes over you.

If Simon wasn't in your life, what else did you have to live for? There had been multiple missions you had turned down in the past, knowing they were nothing but one-way trips. But now, without Simon by your side, there was nothing holding you back.

Stepping into Price’s office, you steel yourself for the conversation ahead. You inform him of your decision to go through with the mission, his surprise is evident, but he and Laswell offer words of encouragement, instilling in you a sense of hope. With your skills as an infiltrator and your Russian background, they assure you that you stand a fighting chance. After all, who would suspect one of their own?

Despite the uncertainty and the weight of the task ahead, a glimmer of hope begins to flicker within you. Within a matter of hours, you find yourself on a plane headed to Russia, the gravity of your decision weighing heavily on your mind. Simon however remains oblivious to your departure, unaware of the path you've chosen. 

Back at home, he returns that night with your favorite takeout and a bouquet of flowers, his heart heavy with remorse and determination. With each step, he replays his apology in his head, rehearsing the words he's been meaning to say. He knows he's messed up, and he's desperate to make things right. He wants to change, to be a better man for you.

Simon's mind swirls with thoughts of seeking therapy, of learning to control his temper and his sharp tongue. He knows he's hurt you deeply with his words, words he never truly meant. He loves you more than anything, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to prove it. But as he steps into the house, the atmosphere is heavy with silence. The air feels cold and unwelcoming.

“Y/n?” He calls out for you, his voice tinged with concern, but there's no response.

Worry gnaws at him as he wanders through the darkened rooms, searching for any sign of you. Finally, he enters the bedroom, and his heart sinks as he sees a note lying on the bed, illuminated by the faint light filtering in through the window. With trembling hands, he picks up the note, his heart pounding in his chest as he reads your words. 

Simon,

By the time you read this, I'll be on a plane to Russia. I've made the decision to go through with it, despite the risks, and I wanted you to know why.

I've heard your words echoing in my mind, the ones about finding someone else who will give you what you want, about never getting peace when I'm around. And so, I've decided to honor your wishes. Once I finish this mission, I'll find my own place, and you won't have to deal with my constant nagging anymore. Your life will finally be at peace, just as you've always wanted.

I want you to know that I've always turned down these types of missions in the past. This isn't the first time Price has offered them to me. But if I had known sooner that you didn't care whether I went on them or not, I would have gone sooner. I'm sorry for making your life so miserable, for not realizing sooner that I was the problem.

I hope that you find peace now, Simon. I hope that you find someone who can give you what you want, someone who can make you happy. You deserve that much, at least.

Take care of yourself.

Yours always, Y/n

With each word, his heart sinks deeper, the weight of your words bearing down on him with crushing force. Tears blur his vision as he reads your farewell, your words cutting through him like a knife. The realization of the pain he's caused you hits him like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping for air as guilt gnaws at his conscience.

When he reaches the part where you promise to honor his wish and stay out of his life after your mission, Simon's heart shatters into a million pieces. The thought of you willingly walking away from him, all because of his own hurtful words and actions, is almost too much to bear.

He crumples the letter in his trembling hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as he struggles to come to terms with the magnitude of his mistakes. The weight of regret hangs heavy in the air as he realizes the depth of the love he's lost, the love he may never have the chance to regain if you don’t come back from the mission.

The suicide mission.

In that moment, he breaks down completely, the full weight of his actions crashing over him like a tidal wave. Seeing how much he's hurt you, how much he's pushed you away to point that you accepted the mission, shatters him to his core.

With each tear that falls, Simon's resolve crumbles, replaced by a deep and profound sense of regret. He wishes he could turn back time, take back the hurtful words he's spoken, and hold you close, promising to never let you go. But it's too late now, and all he can do is sit in silence, praying to a higher form to keep you safe, to let you come back to him alive.

The next day, Simon walked into Price’s office, his heart heavy with worry and anticipation. He needed to know more about your mission, to find any shred of information that could ease his growing anxiety.

Price informed Simon that you had landed in Russia in the early morning hours. However, he delivered the news that communication would be sparse for at least a month. They had scheduled calls planned for updates on the mission status, but they would have to wait until the designated time for you to radio in.

Simon listened intently, understanding the protocol, but inside, fear and dread gnawed at him. The thought of you out there, alone and potentially in danger, filled him with a sense of helplessness.

As the first month passed, Simon waited patiently in the room with Price, every passing minute feeling like an eternity. But as the hours stretched on, there was no sign of communication from you. No Morse code, no call, no comm. Just silence.

Panic began to set in as Simon grappled with the uncertainty of your situation. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease, the nagging worry that something had gone terribly wrong. But Price remained steadfast in his confidence, assuring Simon that these things happened often, that perhaps you hadn't found the right opportunity to relay a message.

Despite Price's reassurances, Simon couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that gripped him. With each passing day, his fear for your safety only grew stronger, overshadowing any hope he tried to hold onto. But he knew he had to stay strong, to keep faith that you would return safely from your mission.

Month after month passed, and still, there was no word from you. Simon waited patiently by the phone in the comms room center, his heart heavy with worry and uncertainty. He refused to give up on you, clinging to the hope that you would come back to him, despite Price declaring you M.I.A.

Even as Price tried to reason with him, pointing out that none of your mission objectives had been completed in the time you had been gone, Simon remained steadfast in his belief that you were still out there, somewhere, fighting to return to him.

Even as the years passed Simon couldn't bring himself to accept the possibility that you might truly be gone, vanished from his life and the world forever. The thought of living in a world without you was unbearable, and Simon couldn't bear to entertain it.

The last words he had spoken to you echoed in his mind, haunting him with their cruelty. How could he have been so callous, so blind to the pain he was causing you? 

Was this fate's cruel work, forcing him to confront the consequences of his actions? Was this punishment for his harsh words, for pushing you away when he should have pulled you close? Was this what he truly wanted, to be left alone in a world without you?

But even in the depths of his despair, Simon clung to a sliver of hope, refusing to let go of the belief that you would come back to him. He would wait for you, for as long as it took, holding onto the hope that one day, you would return to him and his world would be whole again.

Anon Ask- simon x reader but they are both in the military and reader gets assigned on a suicide mission but has a choice to go or not. reader and simon fight and then they decide to go. feel free not to do this no pressure!!! but if you will dont post the ask until after to make it a little angsty surprise!

[iamthatonefangirl]

unrequited - harvey specter

now that i'm getting back into the hang of writing hopefully my work quality will improve from whatever this is

send fic ideas!!! all the love on my recent harvey posts is what's keeping me going

also i can only write angst because i am still desperately crushing on my coworker oops

~~~

Your relationship with Harvey was like a ticking time bomb. 

You knew that you couldn’t keep this up forever; your feelings for him were too intense. They kept you awake at night, and they kept you from being able to date other men you knew you could like if not for him. Your feelings boiled up inside you day in and day out, and you were forced to suppress them. Harvey Specter was not the relationship type. 

You loved him too deeply to think the feelings would just go away one day. No, you would have to cut them off at the source. And that meant leaving not only your firm, but also the city in which you had built your connections, your career, your entire life. All to get away from the one thing you wanted so badly it was beginning to destroy the rest of your life. 

He had so easily turned into the main character of your story; it was time to reclaim your position as the protagonist. But that meant outcasting him for good. 

~~

When you first started at Pearson Specter, now Specter Litt, you were one of the few associates who Harvey had ever chosen to work directly with him. Years of watching and picking up on how he operated allowed you to grow to your full potential as an attorney at the firm, and for that, you couldn't be more grateful. Which is why even though you no longer worked very closely with him, having been promoted to junior partner, you knew he would be upset to hear your news of departure. 

You didn’t want to think about how you would eventually have to quit returning his calls and effectively ghost him to get on with your life. 

You expected him to ask what you wanted in return for staying at the firm, and when you would turn down the offer, he would lash out at you. You would leave the office and wouldn’t hear from him again until he called you a month later to check in. This was how it always went with him; it wouldn’t be any different this time around. 

Monday morning came around eventually, no matter how much you willed it wouldn’t. Stepping into his office, you were rightfully nervous to broach the topic. “Harvey, do you have a minute?”

He glanced up at you from his desk before replying, “Do any of us around here have a spare minute?” You chuckled at his response and shut the door behind you. 

“I’m serious.” He shut his laptop and turned to you. You sat down in front of his desk, hands fidgeting and eyes darting back and forth between him and the files on his desk. 

“I’m here to give you my official notice.” 

The half-smile he wore when you first walked in shattered. It pained you to see, but you steeled yourself. You knew what to expect next; you just had to grit your teeth and bare through the conversation. 

“I’ve been working on finishing up my recent cases over the last few weeks, and so I’m giving you my two-week’s. I’ve already spoken to some of the other partners who have agreed to take over my cases going forward, and I’ll be giving notice to my clients this week.” 

He didn’t say anything at all. Now that was uncharacteristic of him. 

He soon gathered his thoughts. He averted his eyes as he told you, “No need. I’ll waive your non-compete. You can take your clients with you to wherever you’re going.” He shifted his gaze back to you. “Just answer me this, what did they offer you?”

You didn’t quite understand. “What do you mean?”

He had that serious look on his face, the one he always sported when he realized he was caught in a bind. “The firm you’re leaving me for. What did they offer you to get you to leave?”

“Harvey, they didn’t– I’m not–”

“Senior partner? A higher salary? Because all of those things can be arranged for here, you know that. Just say the word.” 

He may have been upset, but he could not possibly have understood how difficult this was for you. His words the firm you’re leaving me for couldn’t have been more true, you were leaving him; no matter how you tried to tell him, you reminded yourself he couldn’t know that.

You paused a moment to exhale before telling him the truth.  

“I’m not leaving to go to another firm, you don’t need to waive my non-compete.” 

His lips parted ever so slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“I’m going home, Harvey. I’m leaving for San Francisco.” 

~~~

He had no idea what you were talking about. Home? How hadn’t this city become your home? This firm? Him? 

You rendered him temporarily speechless. He tried to offer you more and more incentive to stay, but you refused. 

“I’ll double your salary. I’ll give you a bigger bonus than you’ve ever seen in your life.” You declined. “I’ll promote you. You can be elected a senior partner within the week, and I’ll pay your buy-in fee.”

Why was he trying so hard to get you to stay?

No matter how enticing the offers he made you might have been, you had one goal in mind: protecting your peace. Protecting your future from a man who would continue to take more and more parts of you until you were nothing apart from him. You had to leave before you couldn’t find your way back without him. 

“Harvey, I’m leaving, That’s final.” You stood and began for the door. 

“How dare you?” You heard from behind you. 

Suddenly angered, you turned back to him, “Excuse me?”

“After everything I’ve done for you, you’re leaving, just like that. You’re going to drop everything just for some nostalgic memory of where you grew up?” 

“How dare you! Don’t you speak to me that way, Harvey. You have no idea why it is that I’m leaving!” You yelled back at him, finger pointing in his face. 

“So tell me!”

“You want the truth, Harvey? I’m in love with you. And I will never escape you any other way. So forget my two week’s notice. I’ll handle all my affairs from home. You’ll have my letter of resignation within the hour.” 

With what little dignity you felt you had left, you walked out of the room with your head held high. 

~~~

He had no idea, obviously. Of course he felt a connection to you; he trained you, taught you how the world of corporate law worked. 

How long had you felt that way? Is there something he could’ve done to avoid this whole situation? His most promising junior partner was leaving, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was his own fault entirely.

He was determined to get the chance to apologize when you came back with your resignation letter. He would straighten out the situation, explain that you could still work there. It wasn’t the end of the world. 

Of course, he got called away from his office for a period of time. The letter was there when he returned, and his hopes of keeping you were gone. 

~~~

You knew that in the books, the idea of people saying things in the heat of the moment were common occurrences. You didn’t think it could ever happen to you in real life, though. You intended for him to never discover this truth you hid from him. It was simpler that way.

But of course, you were wrong, and it all came out before you had a chance to bite your tongue. Now you had to clean out your desk quickly and say your goodbyes quietly. 

~~~

Three months later, you were settling into your new position. Since you anticipated spending another two weeks in New York, you had a whole month between your resignation and the time you were expected to start in California. 

You were finally starting to live your life more for yourself. You thought about Harvey less and less each day, until you could go out and meet another man without feeling like you were cheating on him. Crazy how you never got to call him yours, but still felt disloyal whenever you tried to go out with someone else while you were still in New York. 

Although you didn’t have the close relationship with your new supervisor that you had with Harvey, you felt welcomed and supported by your coworkers. You hated to admit that life was dull for a great number of weeks as you went through Harvey withdrawals, but it was true. Things were finally starting to get better until you got a knock on your door one day. 

~~~ 

You’d blocked Harvey’s number on your phone for a great many number of reasons. You never expected him to just show up at your new place, though.

“Harvey? What are you doing here?” you questioned.

“Can I come in?” You allowed it.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he pointed out to you, to which you replied, “I blocked you, Harvey. Why are you not in New York right now?”

“I needed to see you,” was his only response. And with just those five little words, all the work you’d done to get over him was erased. It allowed your mind to flood with ideas of him wanting you in any way other than professionally or platonically. Damn you, Harvey, you thought. 

“For what?”

“I want you to come back.” Unhelpful answer.

“Why?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, don’t you? I want you to come back because I trained you, and you’re an asset to the firm that we’re losing out on.” 

“So you’re only here for a return on your investment in me.”

As you said that to him, he realized he fucked up. 

“Look, I didn’t mean–”

“Yes! You absolutely did! You show up here, out of nowhere, telling me that you need my skills to benefit the firm, not that you might just want me to come back. Not that maybe I myself am beneficial to the firm, or even that you just miss me! God, can you really not acknowledge what I told you the last time I saw you?” 

He paused. “Look, I know what you said. Yet still, I came.”

“And what does that mean, exactly? That you’ve suddenly come to terms with it and realized that you love me too?”

He didn’t respond at all. 

“I’m not coming back, Harvey. I need a life separate from you. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.” 

He shook his head in agreement. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you need me to be.” He turned towards the doorway and saw himself out as the tears started welling up in your eyes.  

Those were the last words you heard from him for a very long time. 

~~~

masterlist

[steelsmanbroaches]

Steelmans provides best quality broaches in India.

[djarincore]

Hello! I saw requests were open and thought you may like this prompt

Imagine reader was in some way, shape, or form really good at flying a ship. It doesn't matter what kind it is, they can fly it. And din and reader are being chased by pirates or something like that, and the reader takes over flying while din goes off to do something, and all of a sudden their doing Barrel rolls and death drops making all the cargo fly everywhere (it would be hilarious if this is new information to din and he didnt know reader could do this)

This is just a silly little thought i had. You can add onto it and change it however you like (if you could add like mild tension of any kind i would be very grateful!) Love ya!

-H

TAGS: slight angst, injury mention, misunderstandings?, happy ending

A/N: hi H!!!! I loved this request and I'm sorry it took so long. I got sucked into the dragon age rabbit hole and just managed to crawl out after finishing origins lol hope you enjoy it!!!

—

Din’s breathless voice came through the com, “Get the ship started.”

You could tell he was running from the sound of blaster fire. Another failed bounty, you could only assume, for the third time in a row.

Things weren't looking so good for the two of you. Your partnership with the bounty hunter started with Grogu, getting him to the Jedi safely, and with Grogu gone now, things were tense. You didn't know where your partnership stood anymore, what it meant now that the mission was done.

You bring the engine to life with the flip of a few switches absentmindedly.

When you heard the clamoring of boots against steel, you shot up from the pilot seat and took your place in the co-pilot seat. Din came in seconds later, sliding into the pilot seat and getting the ship in the air.

“Hurt?” you muttered, fingers twitching in your lap as you await an answer.

He didn't respond, but his fingers curled around the wheel.

“I don't think they're following us. I’ll be back.”

He slipped out of the chair, switching into autopilot, and the door with a slight limp, disappearing down the ladder.

You sighed. He always lets you patch him up, at least before. Was it really time to move on? Was this his way of telling you he didn't need you anymore?

In your wandering thoughts, you failed to notice the tailing ship until shots blasted past the wings of the ship. Your mind and body jolted into action, slipping into the captain's chair.

Sharp, calculated maneuvers had the ship diving and twisting to avoid being shot.

You could hear the clamor of things in the cargo hold being thrown around, including Din. He was cursing, grunting, being shoved against the cramped walls of the hold.

Eventually, you managed to lose the pirates once again, settling back into the pilot's seat and hearing Din clamor back up the ladder into the cockpit.

“What the hell were you doing?” Din snapped, spinning your chair around.

His tone made you bristle. “Saving our asses. Those pirates were on us,” you retorted.

“Yes, but your piloting was reckless. You should've called me.”

“Sorry if I'm a little rusty,” you huffed. You hadn't been able to practice your piloting skills since Din always flew. It was his ship after all, and you were always busy with Grogu to chip in. “If you don't like my piloting, then I'll go. Seems like lately, you don't need my help with anything. So, what am I still doing here?”

There it was. The topic you'd been too afraid to broach. Your throat tightened, and suddenly you realized the fatigue in your muscles pulling your body to the ground.

You're glad you don't have to see his face. The silence is enough. You had to go.

“I'm going to bed. I'm sure you’ve got this handled.” You left the pilot seat and brushed past him.

—

Sleep didn't come easy which was why you could hear Din approaching your cot. He paused at your bedside, and you could feel his gaze on your back.

You turned over and looked at him with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to speak up.

“I didn't know you knew how to pilot,” he started, easing down onto one of the crates. You picked up on the faint hiss he let out and the way his body slumped to one side.

“Well, you don't know a lot about me.” You didn't mean for it to come out so harsh, but maybe it's a truth the both of you needed to hear. When you reflected on your journey together, neither of you had ever been open to one another. As someone who only ever had themselves to rely on, being vulnerable was foreign to you. Now you were losing Din because of it.

Just when your chest started to constrict, he finally said just enough for you to hear, “I'd like to.”

Your eyes widened, your mouth moving to speak, but the words were lost. In reality, you didn’t know how to say you wanted that too.

“I don't want you to leave. We… work well together,” he confessed.

You sat up, heart hammering in your chest as you stared at him, and nodded. “Okay, I'll stay.”

There were a lot of things the two of you had to work on, but you were glad this wasn't the end.

[blissfullyapillow]

┃It’s always you

₊˚⊹♡Jing Yuan x gn reader

₊˚⊹♡‎wc: 2,357~

₊˚⊹♡warnings: suicide (reader), angst with a happy ending, death & rebirth, soulmate au type beat 

₊˚⊹♡notes: I’ve been obsessing over Blade lately but Jing Yuan remains to be the OG lmao. On a serious note: I rediscovered the song Back 2 You by Selena Gomez during a time of emotional turmoil and.. voila.  I originally wasn’t going to upload this. I was gonna scrap it or just keep it for me, for personal use, but I decided to post it after I revised it. I wrote this for personal reasons I will not delve into, but I hope this helps someone else as much as it helped me. You’re loved, and there’s always someone out there who will listen, understand, and love you. I promise. ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

₊˚⊹♡Main Masterlist

Jing Yuan’s experienced many relationships before, ranging from platonic to romantic in nature.

Yet the end of said relationships failed to pierce his heart as deeply as his heartbreak for you.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

He still remembers that day vividly.

Your slumped figure sitting in a pool of your own blood, with a letter loosely held in your cold hands.

The rest of the scene became a blur, as his vision became clouded with tears.

a rare occurrence for a man like Jing Yuan.

He partly blamed himself, even though he knew your actions weren’t a reflection or a result of his own actions or feelings.

his heart lurched as a broken sob racked his trembling form. Still, he gently removed the beautiful parchment from your lifeless hand to scour your last words.

your written declaration of love and gratitude, for him, brought a self-deprecating smile to his lips. Your words are so powerful and moving, yet your body lay lifeless before him.

He takes a shuddering breath as his eyes slowly trail up your slumped figure. his fingers curl around your letter as his heart stops.

The sight of a dagger plunged deeply into your chest, directly into your heart, is all it takes for his soul to cry in agony.

His throat constricts, and his lungs fail to adequately exchange oxygen, yet…

He refuses to look away; he does not dare to tear his eyes away from the love of his life, even in her demise.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Jing Yuan never hid from the public eye. Even with the tragic, countless losses his heart continued to endure, he never resided in solitude for long.

…

Your death was the first time he remained in seclusion.

He knows you belong to the Vidyadhara, a humanoid race, so your body will be repaired.

but..

Your memories of him, of the time you two spent together, will not remain.

He doesn’t even know if he’ll encounter you again in his lifetime, but the possibility is high.

So, he waits.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

After Jing Yuan’s long period of seclusion following your death, he resumed work.

On a particularly slow day Fu Xuan stopped by to see the general of the Luofu. She knew of your fate, and although she was loath to admit it she was concerned for the general.

When she saw that lazy smile on his lips, she almost chided herself for being worried.

That is, until she realized his smile didn't meet his eyes.

She entertained small talk with the general as contemplated how to broach her concerns with the grief-stricken general. As the conversation slowly trailed off, she steeled herself. 

The Master Diviner braced herself for backlash as she gave the general unsolicited advice… albeit from the goodness of her heart; the general is a sloth at times, much to her annoyance, but she truly did wish him well. 

So, with that in mind, she cautioned him that if he were to meet your reincarnation he should not engage and move on.

Even as his lazy smile morphed into a deep rooted frown, she continued on. She informed him that there’s no guarantee your fate will differ from your past life, even if you two reunite.

Although Fu Xuan’s words struck a nerve, he knew she was coming from a good place.

After a brief farewell he watched her retreating figure. He considered her advice despite his reluctance. 

Though it pained him to admit it, her words were not ill advised. 

Maybe.. he should try to move on.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

He tried to heed Fu Xuan’s warning.. in his own way. 

He attempted another relationship, but shortly broke it off.

He deemed it a fruitless endeavor since his thoughts were filled with you as he was lying beside someone else. He’d hate to be inauthentic, so he did what was best for him and his brief companion.

It feels like millennia pass by as he moves through the motions. His duties as general serve as a welcome distraction for his desolate heart. 

Now, his droopy eyes rove over words that seemingly blur together as he reaches the end of the document. Once his signature is elegantly signed on the bottom of the document, he leans back in his seat to indulge in a brief moment of rest.

His sleep addled brain immediately thinks of you, as it usually does.

He reminisces about his very first encounter with you. 

He had made a visit to a bookstore with hopes of finding an engaging book that could be a much needed distraction from work.

Preferably, a book about cats.

He took his time to scan the vast array of books the store had to offer. His eyes lit up with unbridled joy as he found what he was looking for. 

He reached for the book, but before he could grasp it someone bumped into him from behind. When he turned around, there you were.

Your eyes were glazed over. It was obvious you were daydreaming about something and your mind was elsewhere. It took a few moments, but your eyes came into focus. 

As your anxious orbs stared into his eyes, he winked at you.  

He laughed at your flustered reaction; you began to apologize profusely as you tried to look anywhere but at him.

He didn’t know it at the time, but he would grow fond of your clumsy actions. 

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Subconsciously, a smile forms on his lips as he remembers the adorable smile you graced him with when he dismissed your apologies. 

In contrast to his smile, a pained sigh leaves his lips. He’s struggling to recall the name of the bookstore.

After you died he avoided going anywhere near that bookstore. He physically couldn’t handle walking down that path, that same path you used to always accompany him on.

To those close to him, it was fairly obvious that your death impacted him greatly. Unfortunately they could only do so much to alleviate their general’s heartache.

Jing Yuan hated Yanqing’s blatant concern when he purposely took the long way back to his office. Even so, Jing Yuan continued to avoid the route all together, for many years. 

He evades it to this day.

He forces his heavy eyes to open, staring at nothing as he tries to snuff his beautiful memories of you.

…

….

He slowly puts the signed document down with a despondent groan. 

It’s no use.

For some reason, he can’t stop thinking about that bookstore.

…it feels like he’s forgetting something important.

His mind reels as he desperately tries to recall the name of the bookstore. His eyebrows crease in concentration once the name of the bookstore is on the tip of his tongue. 

Come on Jing Yuan, it shouldn’t take you this long to- 

Ah, he remembers now.

Jing Yuan looks down at the paper as he mindlessly fiddles with it. He doesn’t know why, but he feels compelled to visit the bookstore once more after so many years. However, with every fiber of his being, he tries to quell the urge. His finger taps against his knee as his leg bounces. 

He detests how easily he wants to give in. 

He’s avoided the store for years, so why does he-

…

Wait. 

He shoots up from his seat.

He’s quick to scan the document he signed until he finds the date. Once his eyes land on their target, he feels the air leave his lungs like someone punched him. 

Ah.

It’s the day you…

He takes a sharp intake of breath. His knee resumes bouncing as his heart pounds against his chest.

He moves abruptly, heading for the door. 

Some papers flutter off his desk due to his erratic movements. He pays no mind to the wayward documents as he swiftly leaves his office.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Jing Yuan finds himself walking down a road he hasn’t set eyes on in years. The esteemed man admires laughing children and busy salespeople as he walks down the familiar path.

It feels like a weight is lifted from his chest as he continues to walk. A tentative smile reaches his lips as he draws closer to the bookstore.

His heart threatens to burst from his chest as the sign comes into view so he stops walking to take a deep breath. 

He closes his eyes and centers himself. 

He focuses on the sounds of life around him; His trained ears pick up the sound of laughter, of footsteps that rush past him, of a baby babbling… 

Once he’s composed himself he completes his journey to the bookstore.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Honestly, he’s fond of this bookstore. It is where he first met you after all.

He leisurely peruses the books in stock as he smiles at the seller. They gaze at him curiously with a tentative smile in silent reply. They’re obviously surprised that the General of the Cloud Knights is here to pay a visit to their bookstore. 

He scans the selection one more time. When he doesn’t find anything of interest, he says his farewell to the shop owner. 

He did what he came here to do. He’s proud of himself for walking down this route after so much time has passed. He feels the best he ever has in years.

This was a healing experience for him. 

He turns around, ready to return to the many documents that await his approval and revision. He unwittingly bumps into someone during his haste, and blood rushes to his cheeks as he quickly apologizes.

The person stumbles backwards, but he’s quick to reach out and steady them. His eyes quickly scan the figure as he opens his mouth to apologize once again, and..

Oh.

Oh my.

The words die in his throat.

His heart leaps out of his chest and into the hands of the beautiful person in front of him.

You.

 He knows it’s you; your pretty features are permanently engraved in his memory.

Your expression is one of surprise, yet a subconscious smile, reminiscent of a past life, graces your beautiful lips.

His mouth parts in shock as his skin runs cold. He releases you to subtly wipe his clammy hands on his pants.

He regrets letting go of you immediately.

Your head tilts as you stare at him, and an ethereal smile presents itself on your lips.

The same lips he dreams about every night. 

The same lips he achingly yearns to kiss once more. 

He instinctively tilts his body in your direction. 

“General!? It’s a pleasure to meet you! Am I in your way? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

His Adam's Apple bops as he tunes out the rest of your words. His eyes remain zeroed in on your lips. They only look up when your lips stop moving. 

Golden eyes blatantly admire the sparkle of amusement in your gorgeous orbs.

He longs to pull you into his arms; he’s missed you so much. He was uncertain if he’d ever meet you again, and he didn’t know he’d do if he did.

He hopes you aren’t facing the same struggles you previously were. If you are, he won't hesitate to do everything in his power, and more, to prevent the same outcome from occurring. 

“I.. I missed-“ 

His voice… it’s..

Strained. 

Hoarse. 

In desperate need of water.

He coughs into his fist as an embarrassed blush graces his cheeks. In his urgency to reconnect with you, he forgot that you won’t remember him. You don’t know him since you’ve clearly molted, and everyone knows the memories of the Vidyadhara unfortunately don’t carry over.

But oh he hopes you’ll spend this lifetime you have with him.

All of it.

So he settles for an elated smile. His heart flounders in your hands when you visibly become flustered; you look down as a shy smile manifests itself on your divine lips.

He falls in love with you all over again. 

Oh, how he loves you.

“Don’t worry that pretty head of yours over it, I’d hate to see a frown mar those ravishing lips. The fault lies with me. ..As a way for me to amend my mistake, why don’t you accompany me on a walk?” His velvety voice makes you swoon, and you fail to hide how giddy you feel. 

With a knowing smirk he offers his arm to you, but you hesitate to accept his offer. 

“Are you sure, General? I may not own anything of interest, but I’m sure I can-“ “Oh, but you do. Please, indulge me.” His eyes bore into yours, and you see a glint of… something.. within them. You aren’t sure what it is.

Although his words leave you confused, you oblige. Your arm wraps itself snugly in his and your body moves closer to his own. 

His eyes water with unshed tears as he fails to mask his euphoria. His wobbly smile is the last thing you see before he hides his face from your view.

You remain none the wiser to the tear that managed to escape.

As you both walk up the road he’s avoided for years, his gaze trails back to you once more. He chuckles at the flagrant jubilation on your enchanting face. You were always bad at masking your emotions around him.

He initiates a conversation with you, and it isn’t long before he’s blessed with your melodious laugh.

He hopes that he’ll be able to revive the object of interest that you own.

His heart.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

As the years go by you grow close to Jing Yuan once more. You successfully revive his previously shattered heart, and you make him the happiest man in the universe when you agree to marry him. You remain by each other’s side for eternity, and in this lifetime of yours he’s proud to say he was able to grow old with you.

P.S: He always reunites with you after you molt, and you two continuously fall in love with each other in every life that you have.

There’s no one else he’d rather spend his immortality with than you.  

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Challenge {1/2}

Aemond Targaryen x fem!bladesmith!reader Summary: Prince Aemond commissions your services but it gets off to a rocky start. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, sassy attitude, masturbation, unprotected sex WC: 5.6k

HOTD Masterlist || Part One || Part Two

The full force of the heat from the forge blasted your face as you grabbed the length of steel with your tongs. The long sword would be mighty when she was complete but it was a long way off from that. 

Your arms were aching from the hours spent in the workshop but you ignored the weight of them as you lay the steel on the anvil and hefted a hammer off the tool rack. Every hit was aimed with precision as you folded the steel over adding strength and shaping the blade until the glowing metal dimmed as it cooled.

Sweat dripped down your forehead and you swiped it from your eyes with the back of your sleeve before making your way back to the fire pit and starting the process again. It was repetitive work but you were never bored by the process because every blade was unique and made especially for its owner. Swords like yours could not be found anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms and that was why buyers travelled from far and wide. 

“Boy, where is your master?”

You turned slowly away from the dancing flames that had kept you mesmerised while the blade heated. “Excuse me?” you asked as you tugged at the cloth that was tied across your face to save inhaling smoke all day and protect your hair from being singed. 

“Oh,” the man chuffed as his dark brows shot up his forehead, “you are the bladesmith?”

You looked around the workshop that was void of anyone else before looking back at him. “You are a clever one.”

His lips pursed at the sarcastic remark and he stepped forward, his armour clattering with the movement. It was then you noticed the white cloak that was pinned to his shoulders by a dragon broach. “You are a long way from King’s Landing.”

“I was told there was a master bladesmith in this town but there must be a misunderstanding, though I did not see another workshop around,” he trailed off as he looked at a few of the swords hanging on the walls.

You turned back to the flames and rotated the blade to even out the heat dispersation. “No misunderstanding, there is no other bladesmith here.”

The soldier crossed the small room to get a closer look at the swords and made a small sound of surprise at the details and designs of the hilts. “These are remarkable.” He turned back to you and watched as you tightened the hold on the tongs and removed the blade from the fire to rest it on the anvil. “My prince is in need of a new sword, one that is fitting of his title. You will make it and personally deliver it to King’s Landing to present on his name day.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him as you raised the hammer, one well aimed hit would be enough to knock the entitled tone from his mouth but one word would also do. “No.”

The coins in the purse that sat in his hand jangled as his fist tightened around it and you ignored the flare of anger that tinted his cheeks as you beat the steel into shape while it was hot and malleable. “Your prince demands a great sword.”

You paused to look around the room once more, waving the hammer to the empty doorway as you spoke, “I do not see a prince.”

A growl of frustration gurgled in his throat before he turned on his heel and stormed out of the workshop, slamming the old wooden door closed behind him. 

“Arrogant prick,” you muttered under your breath as you returned to work.

The sun had set hours ago but the workshop was alight with the forge fire as you made the finishing touches on a curved scimitar for a client who had come from Braavos with the design.

The blade gleamed in the firelight as you ran the whetstone down its edge until you were satisfied it could cut through a skull with a single slice. Along with an engraving of the shield of Braavos, the hilt was gilded with gold and had a small blood-red ruby nestled into the top. It really was a magnificent piece, even if you were a little biassed.

Placing the sword into the velvet lined box that had been built by your trusted carpenter, you closed the latch and placed it on a clean benchtop so it would be ready for the gentleman to pick up on the morrow. 

You double checked the windows were locked before stoking the fire one last time to keep it warm overnight and making your way out of the workshop that was littered with projects. Lists of jobs to be done and ore to be bought ran through your head, the endless stream of debt and credit being calculated as you walked. You were so caught up thinking about your business that you missed the body that filled the dark doorway you were stepping out of. 

“What in the Seven Hells do you-” your words died out as you looked up from the leather clad chest you had hit and found a smirk on the lips above. 

It wasn’t the immaculate tunic, silvery hair or violet eye that gave away the man before you, though they all screamed royalty, it was the long-healed scar and eye patch. Prince Aemond, or Aemond One-Eye behind his back, had come to your workshop. 

Beside the prince stood the soldier who had visited only a few days earlier and his attitude did not appear to have lessened in his time away. Recovering from the shock of a prince standing before you, you dipped into a curtsey and stepped back into your workshop.

“Your highness, what brings you here?”

Prince Aemond walked in with a straight spine and puffed chest, taking in the shadows with a keen eye to spy any threat hiding within. He ignored your question and his soldier remained in the doorway, watching his prince see the work of your craft.

“The hour is late and I am tired, why have you come all the way from King’s Landing?”

“My Prince is here for his sword,” the soldier answered.

“I have no sword for the prince.” You placed your hand on the box holding the latest creation as the prince reached for it. “That is not yours.”

Prince Aemond placed his hands behind his back and pursed his lips. “She is rude, isn’t she, Ser Criston, and filthy.”

“I did warn you,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Do not speak of me as if I am not here,” you commented dryly. “Your manners are no better barging in here not once but twice. I suppose you are used to getting your way.”

“I could have your head for disrespecting me,” Prince Aemond warned as his hand came to rest on his hilt.

Your chin lifted higher in defiance as you retorted, “Then you will ensure you never possess a sword of the greatest craftsmanship. That is why you are here, is it not?”

Aemond stepped closer and dipped his head as he towered over you to catch your chin in his hand. “There are plenty of other bladesmiths like you. Ones that do not come with such a mouth.”

Your lips pulled back at the insult and you wretched your head from his tight grip as you snarled, “There is no one like me.”

The smirk playing at his bow shaped lips grew as he dared you, “Prove it.” 

“Fine,” you hissed before smacking his hand away that reached for the scimitar’s box again. “I shall make you a fine sword that will be the envy of all who see it. It will be longer than all others and require two hands just to wield it, a fair compensation for what lords who request such swords are often lacking.”

Ser Criston looked away with a pinched face while Prince Aemond chuckled darkly and pulled the protective cloth from your head. “I cannot speak for these other lords, but I assure you Targaryen men do not lack in length.”

You looked him up and down. “I was not talking about your height.”

His lips twitched in amusement and he tossed your cloth back before turning away. “Neither was I.” 

The prince stopped beside his soldier and whispered something before he clattered his way over and grabbed your arm tightly. “You’re coming with us.”

You struggled against the hold but it was impossible to break as he dragged you out the door and down the street to the only inn the small village had. “You’re a damn brute!” you hissed as you kicked at his shin only to cry out as your toes slammed into the metal armour. 

“Such a temper,” Prince Aemond tutted with a laugh. “Be careful. You’ll hurt yourself and I don’t want any delays in getting my sword.”

Ser Criston pushed you into a booth and stood guard while the prince slipped into the other side, waving a hand towards the waitress who rushed off to the bar. A few heads turned to the prince before blanching and quickly giving their attention back to the stew and ale in front of them. They were afraid.

“How is dragging me here going to help finish your sword any faster?” you asked as a draft of beer was placed in front of you by the waitress. 

The prince delicately sniffed his drink before taking a sip and his nose crinkled slightly at the taste of the penny ale. “You look like you could use a hot meal. You will be of no use to me if you fall sick.”

Your eyebrows pinched together and you looked down at your filthy fingernails, soot covering you from head to toe. You looked like a beggar, possibly even worse, but you were far from it. “My staff keeps me fed far better than anything that can be found in this place, thank you very much. And, I know I don’t look it after spending a long day in the workshop but I am very well off so I do not want to see pity in that eye of yours.”

You enjoyed the surprise that flitted across his face as you pushed the disgusting ale away and rose from the table. “If you wish to eat whatever diseased ridden animal they have found in the alley, feel free to stay and take your chances.”

You pushed past the soldier and he let you, instead turning his attention to the prince still sitting at the table stunned. “My prince, I believe she was inviting you to dinner.”

Aemond frowned at his guard. “Then why would she not just say that?”

You heard the metal armour rattle as Ser Criston shrugged and looked back over your shoulder to catch the prince’s confused stare. “I did, you just do not understand woman-speak unlike your counterpart here. Do you not talk to the ladies in your court?”

“I have better ways to spend my time,” he uttered as he followed you out of the inn. “Fetch the horses, Cole.”

“No need, my home is not far,” you interrupted, continuing on your way and letting them decide whether to follow.

You chose the workshop because it was close to the home you had inherited from your father. He had been a merchant, bringing precious metals from his travels until his heavily laden ship had been caught in a storm and been dragged to the bottom of the Narrow Sea. You could hardly remember losing him as a child but you could remember the pretty metals he had brought home. It was what led you to learning the art of metalwork, eventually finding your niche in high quality swords.

The men walked in silence, though you saw Ser Criston constantly keeping track of the surroundings with his hand on the pommel of his sword. Soon enough the stone walls of your property came into view and you reached the gated archway that was always kept locked since there was no ‘lord of the house’ to protect it.

The property would have been long lost to the taxman if your business were not so successful, the wealthy buyers willing to part with large sums of coin to have a sword made by you. It was satisfying to see the shock and surprise on the prince's face when the trees parted and the large home appeared. 

The ornate front door swung open as you reached the steps and Gerry curtseyed as she saw the company you kept. “Mistress, I was about to come in search of you.”

“You worry too much.” You pulled the heavy fireproof cloak off your shoulders and passed it over to her to hang in the coat closet. “We have company for dinner and will require two more settings.”

“Of course, mistress. Your bath is already drawn upstairs and I will have Kasia lay out more,” her eyes flicked to the prince, “fitting clothes.”

You laughed at the preposterous idea and shook your head. “This is my home and I am not a doll to be dressed up for anyone’s amusement, least of all the prince’s. I will wear my usual.” You dismissed her with a nod of your head and pointed to the adjoining room where most receptions were held. “You two can wait in there.”

“So bossy,” the prince murmured as he turned away to see the paintings that lined the walls.

Ser Criston took more offence and coldly warned, “Remember who it is you are speaking to.” 

“How could I forget,” you teased as you made your way to the stairs and swept into a curtsey to the prince who had followed your movement with his eye. “I am but your obedient servant.”

“You little-”

Aemond caught Ser Criston’s arm as he made to reach for you and shook his head. “Tis a game, Cole, and she is playing you.”

Your bottom lip pouted as he ruined your fun and you realised the prince was smarter than you had given him credit for, assuming he was just another entitled, spoilt lord. Those types of men you could deal with but this one was different and wasn’t afraid to call you out. It was intriguing. 

His eye lingered on your pouting lip and from the dark look you wondered if he enjoyed the attitude you gave him or wanted to spank it from you. After a moment you decided you would be happy with either one. He might have been an entitled asshole, but he was a handsome one and you were not immune to his looks.

You spun away and hastily climbed the stairs when you realised you had been staring at him for too long. 

You could only breathe again once you were safely shut behind your bedroom door and wished you hadn’t seen the look in his eye. The heat of it still remained on your lips and you traced a finger over them before shaking the thought away. 

‘He’s just like every other lord you have worked for,’ you told yourself as you began to strip out of your sooty and sweaty clothes. ‘Actually, he’s worse. He didn’t even have the decency to ask for a sword politely. Coming into my shop and demanding one,’ you scoffed at the conversation in your head, ‘who does he think he is?’

You dropped into the warm water that was nowhere near as hot as you usually had but the late hour had let it cool so you worked quickly to wash your body before it turned tepid. There was a moment when you were towelling yourself dry that you looked at your closest and thought of wearing one of the many dresses your old governess had purchased for you before you came of age, but it soon passed and you grabbed the pair of loose breeches and cotton shirt that was laid out.

The two men were conversing quietly in the reception room after helping themselves to the carafe of wine that was kept there and they both turned as you entered. Ser Criston spluttered on his wine, the red drops splattering down his armour as he coughed and looked away. 

The attire was certainly not what they would have been used to seeing from the ladies in the Red Keep but you would always choose comfort over style and that would not change just because there was a prince in your home. 

“You act as if you have seen something scandalous, Ser Criston,” you said, impelling him to interact while his ears burned red. 

“Those are underclothes,” he said without looking away from the curtains he was transfixed on.

You chuckled and looked at the prince instead. “I would never wear such things in front of his highness. I find them far too cumbersome.”

Ser Criston dropped his goblet entirely and you bit your lip to hide the laughter that was bubbling in your chest as the red wine cascaded across the floor.

“Oh dear, you would think your guard would have a steadier hand.”

Whatever retort was on the prince's lips was forgotten when Gerry entered and announced that dinner was ready. But it wasn’t forgiven as he sent his guard to follow your housemaid and caught your arm in his large hand when you walked by, pressing his body close so he could dip his head to your ear and whisper, “You are playing with fire.”

You tipped your head back to look him in the eye and the movement gave him a clear line of sight down the front of your shirt, proving you were in fact not wearing any underclothes. “I play with fire everyday, my prince, but I have yet to be burned.” You pulled away with a smirk and swore you heard his teeth grind in his clenched jaw. “Dinner will be getting cold.”

“That mouth will be the end of you,” he uttered as he swaggered behind you into the dining room.

The table was laden with all manner of dishes but you could hardly eat as you kept catching Prince Aemond’s eye in the seat opposite. Gerry had likely set the plates that way on purpose, so the prince would be at the head of the table like you.

It was how the table would be formally set if you were to ever take a husband. That was an unlikely event. Despite enjoying the company of men on occasion, you had no interest in sharing your home with one. Men were best set free after you were spent.

The table had just been cleared and a sweet pudding was on its way from the kitchen when rain began to patter softly on the roof. The downpour only grew louder over dessert and you placed your spoons down with a sigh. “Gerry?”

Your housemaid stepped into the room a little too eagerly and sent the prince a small bashful smile and it irked you that his lips curled up slightly in return. “Prepare two rooms. They can hardly walk back in this weather.”

“It’s only a little rain,” the prince said.

“I’ll not have you catch your death on my watch,” you shot back.

He wiped his lips with his napkin to hide the smile growing on his face. “Sounds like you care.”

You scoffed at his arrogance and reassured him, “I care about my money, which I won’t get if you die.”

“My prince,” Ser Criston whispered loudly, “I don’t think this is wise.”

“It appears safer than the inn, and we have determined she would rather me survive our stay - for her money of course.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached the stairs and the soldier barely suppressed the resigned sigh that came from the heavy breath he took. “It’s settled then. I will take your measurements and preferences for the sword on the morrow then you may be on your way back to King’s Landing.”

The bath had been removed, the fire had been stoked and the room was balmy when you bid your guests farewell and stepped inside. The door next to yours closed and you heard the men speaking in the room but couldn’t make out their words before the door opened and closed again and Ser Criston’s armour clattered with him to the room further down the hall. 

Satisfied you wouldn’t be disturbed until morning, you tossed your clothes to the floor and climbed atop the blankets knowing it would be too hot to sleep under them until the fire dwindled. Despite being exhausted your mind refused to quiet and let you rest, instead you were hyper-aware of the male specimen on the bed that shared your wall. 

It had been too long since you last indulged in a man and now it showed.

Your fingers traced the swell of your breasts before dancing their way down your navel to where you needed to be touched most. You jolted as the pad of your middle finger swept over your clit and found you were already sensitive from the verbal sparring of the evening and a soft moan escaped with your exhale. 

Your core ached with the need to be filled and you palmed your breast with one hand, teasing your nipple, as you parted your folds with the other. Fuck, you were wet. The evidence sounded around you as you curled your fingers in search of the delicious spot that would send stars twirling around your vision. 

You were completely absorbed in your own pleasure and could no longer bite your lip to keep quiet as you erupted around your fingers, your walls clenching around them as your palm rubbed your clit and sent aftershocks trembling across your body.

A final deep groan filled the room and it took a moment to realise the sound had not come from you. It was purely masculine. And coming from the other side of the wall.

The satisfaction of your release was lost to a new need and you shifted up the bed, pressing your ear to the wall in the hopes of hearing it once again. Holding your breath, you waited.

“Uh,” the prince grunted and there was a thud beside your head, as if he had callously thrown his own back from where he sat among the pillows. “That filthy mouth. This would shut you up.”

You inhaled sharply and stared at the wall as if you could magically see through it.

Was he thinking about you as he touched himself? Was he stroking his cock and imagining your lips wrapped around it?

You sat back against the wall and let your knees fall apart as you hung on every word that spilled from the prince's lips. Your fingers could not fill you as a cock could and did not reach the depth you were chasing and you gave a strangled cry of frustration before slamming a hand over your mouth. 

The room fell silent, and so did his. 

The air was heavy as you waited to hear any sign he was still there but nothing came and the tightening in your core was lost to time. 

Knock. Knock. 

They were quiet, almost silent knocks, but there was no denying that someone was at your door. 

You tore the blanket from the bed as you rose and wrapped the material around your naked body before opening the door just a crack. Even without candlelight it was impossible to mistake the shadowed man for anyone but the prince with his silvery hair. 

He did not wait for an invitation as he pushed the door wider and closed it behind him, a finger pressed to his lips before pointing to the messy bed and whispering, “Trouble sleeping?”

In the firelight you could see the flush on his cheeks and his tunic buttons were not aligned after hastily dressing himself in the dark. You reached a hand out of the folds of the blanket that swamped you and flicked the clasp he hadn’t done up low on his hips. “Thin walls, your highness.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed and you swore you felt the deep reverberations in your core. “Then you shall have to keep quiet.”

Your heart beat rapidly at the thought and the need between your legs throbbed in time to your pulse but, defiant to the end, you lifted your head and challenged him once more. “Make me.”

The fire reflected in his eye and those bow lips curled up at the dare. He would not back down, not when you were so provocative. 

His hand moved faster than you could follow and in a heartbeat your blanket was torn away to bare your entire self to him. The hunger in his eye exploded and your body heated as he feasted upon every inch, unblinking. He drank in the sight from your peaked nipples, stiff from your touch, down to the glistening evidence of your release at the junction of your thighs. 

His movements flowed like water as he spun you around, one hand splayed across your chest to hold you against him while his other parted your legs. “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he whispered in your air as he dragged his fingers through your folds, coating them in your slick before gliding over your clit. “I could hear you too.”

Your head fell back onto his shoulder and your hands reached up to tangle in his hair as you rolled your hips. “I don’t want this,” you said with a suppressed moan. “But I need it so just fuck me already.”

“That filthy mouth,” he growled before clamping his hands on your shoulders and shoving you to your knees. The clasps of his tunic were torn open as he circled you and freed his cock, the hard length springing forward. His thumb traced your bottom lip as it parted and your tongue darted across it in anticipation as he said, “Put it to good use.”

You snapped your teeth at him and smirked as he narrowed his eye at you, but he didn’t retreat when you reached for him. His cock was warm and hard in your hand and you stroked the length that he had definitely not exaggerated, teasing him as you swirled your tongue around the swollen tip. 

A throaty moan filled the air and you rolled your eyes up to see his jaw slack with the pleasure you were giving him. 

It was satisfying to see the calm and collected prince come undone. He was so completely vulnerable at your hand, and the thought set your body on fire as you took him deeper in your mouth.

“Seven hells, you are sin.”

Your fingers danced over the silken skin of his balls, gently squeezing and rolling them until they began to tighten and another guttural sound erupted. It was your turn to hum as you pulled back and tasted the bead of precum that escaped the slit before rising to your feet.

“Come.” You took his hand and led him to the bed, pushing him down among the sheets. “It’s my turn.”

He let you get as far as straddling his hips before he twisted and flipped you beneath him, pinning your hands above your head. “You are a very bossy woman.”

“How else am I to get what I want?”

His dark smile grew and you knew you wouldn’t like his answer. “You could always say please.”

You sent him a dangerously sweet smile and blinked innocently at him. “Unless you are going to fuck me, please get out of my room.”

He clamped a hand over your mouth as he lined himself up with your dripping entrance and filled you with a rough thrust that stole the air from your lungs. Your moans were silenced by his hand as he reached the parts of you that your fingers could never truly satisfy and your fingernails found purchase on his tunic as you arched closer to his body. 

“You knew what you were doing at dinner,” he growled in your ear as he pulled your leg higher over his hips. “Do you do this with all of your clients?”

His hand slipped away and you gasped in a deep breath, the ability to focus difficult with the pressure building in your core. “Only the attractive ones.”

You couldn’t tell if the honesty angered him or spurred him but he drove in deeper, pistoning his hips with a relentless pace. 

Your cries would have woken the entire household if he didn’t cover your mouth again but it didn’t stop him from pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The tightening low in your belly reached breaking point and your eyes rolled back as the force of the orgasm ripped through your body from head to toes. 

You were a quivering mess when he pulled out and fisted his cock that glistened with your release, pumping up and down, once, twice, then spilled his seed across your skin. His chest rose and fell quickly and his cock twitched as he drained every last drop with a shaky hand. 

Unable to resist another taste, you dragged a finger through the mess he had painted on your skin and tasted his come. It was just as decadent as indulging in a nip of brandy after a meal. 

“You have no shame,” he chuckled as he tucked his cock back in his trousers and began to clasp his tunic back together. 

“I like what I like, I don’t see the point in pretending otherwise.” You climbed off the bed onto weak legs and grabbed the corner post to stabilise yourself. The look of pure masculine pride filled his face as he saw your stumble and he swiped your blanket from where it had been discarded on the floor. You took it from his hand and noticed the temperature in the room had dropped since the dalliance began, draping it over your shoulders but leaving the middle open so he could enjoy the sight a moment longer. “Goodnight, your highness.”

He opened the door and grinned as he combed his mussed hair back from his face. “Twas.”

The door shut silently and you fell back onto your bed with a satisfied sigh and the smile on your lips remained until long after you fell asleep.

The prince was quite the actor when you met him in the dining room to break your fast. Given the fresh face and lack of reaction to your entrance you almost believed you had conjured last night's events in a dream. 

Almost. 

The ache between your legs could not be imagined, nor could the evidence of your union that you had washed off your skin. 

“Good morning,” you greeted the men as you took your seat and looked over the prince. “I trust you slept well.”

He spared a cube of melon with his fork and inspected the fruit. “The bedding was adequate.”

“Your hospitality is appreciated,” Ser Criston said after giving his prince a questioning look that was ignored. At least he appeared to have woken with better manners. He didn’t even choke or comment on the fact that you wore a silk robe imported from Lys, and nothing else. 

You inclined your head at the compliment before turning your attention back to the prince. “Do you have an inclination to any particular sword type?”

“A long sword, straight blade.” He placed the fruit back on the table without eating it, as if he had lost his appetite. “Light-weight, so it can be wielded with one hand should I need it. And, a dragon’s head carved into the pommel.”

You committed the details to memory, already imagining the finished piece, and rose from the table to get a measuring tape from the table in the study. You gestured for the prince to rise from his seat and dropped to your knees. 

You were acutely aware of last night's memory in the same position and from the deep swallow the prince took you knew he was seeing the same scene too. The tape unravelled from your fingers and you measured the distance from heel to hip to know the maximum length the blade could be. 

“Your sword will be ready to be picked up in three weeks,” you said as you rolled the tape up again. 

“No,” Prince Aemond interrupted, “you will bring it to the Red Keep and present it yourself at the tourney for my name day. What better way to win than with such a fine sword at my hip.”

You quirked an eyebrow at the information. “You, competing in a tourney? That is something I would pay to see.”

“Prince Aemond is one of the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms,” Ser Criston stated boldly as he rose to his feet in anger. “His swordsmanship skills are unrivalled.”

“With what experience - fighting soldiers that are fed by the coin of the king?” you challenged. “Unless he is to enter the tourney anonymously he has already won by default. No one would dare strike the prince for fear of their own death.”

Ser Criston opened his mouth to argue but the prince beat him to it. “You are right. It would not be a fair fight.” Prince Aemond pursed his lips as he paced the dining room. “Cole, I shall enter the tourney under your name. And you,” he faced you with an arrogance only a prince could muster, “will present me with the sword when I win.”

He held his hand out to seal the deal and you paused, your palm almost touching his. “And if you lose?”

His smirk grew as he looked to his guard and laughed, “I never lose.”

Click here for part two.

[missterious-figure]

Imma throw a Wine and feathers situation at you-

The triplets are loopy from residual tranquilizers and numbing agent. They had just returned from a check up from the doctor.

In their loopy state they all start to cling onto yn. By clinging, they are pressing their entire bodies against you. Their arms snaking through and around each others to get to you smaller form the most. You’re burning with embarrassment in your attempts to remain professional.

A coworkers arrives to check on you. Due to your desire to avoid implications and workplace rumors you pull your arms out and away from the cuddle pile and raise them as high over your head as you possibly can. You’re hoping that she sees this like those situations where divers are legally not allowed to touch a manatee but is currently getting cuddled by one nonetheless.

As your arms are raised you feel as Sun very clumsily “climbs” up your arm, one hand after the other, (in more of a dramatic, purposeful sense because he’s larger than you) and firmly presses his face into your open palm. His voice low and begging, but his words jumbled and lacking sense.

You shiver as lips are pressed behind your ear clumsily. Moon joins the babbling with strangely sweet whispers, but just like Sun, his words lack direction.

Then something throws your entire group off balance and you all crumble to the floor. As you lay on top of Eclipse with Sun and Moon clinging to your sides, you guess that Eclipse might have been helping you hold the weight of his brothers. But as his long legs wrap around your own legs, you realize Eclipse had other plans.

You feel their respective grips tighten around you. Any place you attempt to love your hands, Sun is not far away. Moons hand seems to be fiddling with your broach as he continues to ramble quietly into your ear. And not only has Eclipse limbs pull you into himself like your his personal teddy, you feel that he starts to preen your hairline.

With your new position on the ground you can no longer see your coworker, but you suspect that she is watching this all unfold.

Trying to steel your nerves you manage to squeak out a request to her. “Hey, if you’re still watching, could you ask the doctor how long it takes for the laughing gas to flush from a harpies system… for me?” (Gas was not used, you know that)

You would like to say all you heard was silence, but the whispers and the purr like rumbling close to you prevent silence from persisting.

Then a chuckle, a chuckle that prompted the loopy birds to also giggle amidst themselves.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You heard the voice distance itself. The tone your coworker used worried you. As you heard the door shut behind them you fear you may be pinned between three Handsom Harpies for far longer than your schedule recommends.

Prompted from the ‘air jail’ question and me wanting to imagine the bois being clllooossser

*DIES*

HUH?! WHAT!? THIS IS SO GOOD!? YOU KEEP KILLING ME WITH YOUR AWESOME WRITING! Please, it's great!! Thank you!! Can't wait for more if you have any!! I love how they are so loopy and are just absolutely smothering y/n with affection. Rip y/n.

[seramilla]

God that must be so hard and nerve wracking for Carmilla. Finally knowing what happened to the baby she lost and feeling slightly relieved cause now here was her baby safe and here in her arms again where she belonged damnit but they were all in hell and her baby had already lost an eye and had to fight every day...

But also...how are Clara and Odette handling the news that they found their baby sister and just who she is?

Carmilla takes a few days to determine if she wants to inform Odette and Clara about what she'd gleaned following the most recent Extermination. In the first place, her girls had been working overtime extracting all the angelic steel left behind near the Hotel; it's a veritable treasure trove this time, and they'd been so excited to get started. Second, Carmilla needed time to process recent revelations herself, and figure out how to delicately broach the subject with her eldest two.

How is she supposed to tell her daughters that their sister, whose existence they'd barely even registered back on Earth, had quite literally come back from the dead? Not only that, they'd missed an entire childhood together; growing, playing, bonding, fighting, and loving one another -- all things Clara and Odette had the opportunity to do. How is Carmilla supposed to just go up to them and say, "Surprise! You remember that child I was pregnant with when we all died? Well, she's still around! She's an ex-Exterminator, killed hundreds of our people, and I don't even know if she wants anything to do with us!"

Would Odette even accept her? Clara is usually the more open-minded of the two. That's another question she can't answer. With how many times Vaggie's "sister" Exorcists have tried to kill them over the years, would her other daughters even want to have anything to do with Vaggie? She thinks they would...Clara the most likely of the two...but they are fully grown women with their own thoughts and feelings. She wouldn't blame them if they...well, they'd have every right not to want that kind of relationship with Vaggie, at any rate.

Carmilla is still stewing in these thoughts, having practically worn a path in the middle of her bedroom floor by walking back and forth so many times, when she feels a vibration in her pocket. Pulling out her phone, Vaggie's name flashes prominently on the screen, like a fresh piece of graffiti on the side of a building. She almost drops her phone in surprise, but manages to keep it together. She taps the answer icon in trepidation.

"Ye-yes?"

"Carmilla?" Vaggie's voice on the other end sounds so...tired. Carmilla recalls she's been home for a few days now, but she wouldn't have been able to tell by the sound of her voice alone. Her tone is so...ragged and laced with anxiety; a spitting image of her own, if she's honest.

"Vaggie! Umm, yes! How can I help you?"

There is a definitive pause, one that makes the distance between them seem more metaphysical than real. They are just across the city from each other, but in every other sense, Vaggie is undoubtedly existing in her own plane of reality right now. She seems so much farther away than Carmilla could possibly reach by foot. It must have taken her a lot to call Carmilla. The arms dealer puts her patience to the test, and waits intently for Vaggie to find the words to voice what she needs to say.

"Carmilla..." Vaggie finally starts, a voice much shakier and insecure than she remembers; a far cry from that determined, brave girl that challenged her at her compound all those days ago. "Can I...come over?"

Carmilla's heart jumps into her throat. Her ears start ringing, and she almost needs to sit down on her bed before she collapses.

"Yes!" she says, flinching as she sounds a little too eager for her own ears. There's no helping that now. "Of-of course! Whatever you need, mi querida. My door is always open. When do you want to come by?"

"Ummm," Vaggie hesitates, as if she fears she's asking too much. "Is right now okay? Are you...busy?"

Odette and Clara will be back soon, but that is the furthest thing from Carmilla's mind at the moment. She'll deal with it when the time comes.

"No, that's perfectly fine! Absolutely, I'll be here! I'm not going anywhere today."

Vaggie sounds a little relieved, but also like she hadn't expected her question to be answered so quickly, so freely. Carmilla hopes she doesn't sound too eager...but she is. How can she not be? This is her daughter, for goodness’ sake, her child, wanting to see her.

"O-oh-okay!" Vaggie says, a little more eager this time. "Gi-give me an hour? And I'll...I'll be there."

"Text me once you're close by," Carmilla says, trying to push away any further doubts and hesitation from her mind. Vaggie wants to come over. She needs to be strong for her. She needs to keep it the fuck together. "I'll come out and get you this time."

"Okay," Vaggie responds. "Thanks...thank you, Carmilla."

Vaggie hangs up. Carmilla stiffens. She stands up, putting her large hands over her face, wiping her forehead down to her cheeks from the stress of it all. Vaggie is coming back, coming here, right now. She tries so much not to freak the fuck out.

Now to figure out what to do about Odette and Clara.

[muiitoloko]

Omg I love all your stories about Alan and his characters!! Especially Love Actually’s Harry stories caught my heart. I was wondering is ”Why?” going to get a sequel? Maybe showing Y/N and Harry happy again, perhaps with a long awaited child?

Thank you so much for your posts!! They brighten my days! ✨❤️

Title: Promise

Summary: The promises were fulfilled.

Pairing: Harry (love actually) × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut and happy ending.

Author's Notes: I'm thrilled that you enjoy my stories featuring Alan Rickman's characters, especially the ones about Harry in Love Actually! Honestly, when I was writing this fanfic with Harry, I actually toyed with the idea of giving them a bittersweet ending because, well, a bit of heartache can add depth, right? But I totally get that readers often prefer the warm fuzzies, so I decided to give Harry and the reader the happy ending everyone expects. Thanks for brightening my day with your kind words! ✨❤️

First, Second, Third and Fourth part here.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, you watched Harry's dedication to rebuilding your relationship with a mixture of awe and gratitude. He was relentless in his efforts to make things right, showering you with affection and attention in ways you hadn't experienced in years. Gone were the days of meaningless gestures and last-minute gifts; instead, Harry took the time to truly connect with you, to make you feel loved and cherished in every possible way.

You found yourself falling back in love with him, rediscovering the joy and excitement of being with him that had been missing for so long. It was like going back to the early days of your relationship, when you were both young and carefree, lost in the dizzying throes of love.

But amidst the whirlwind of emotions and newfound happiness, there was still one topic that loomed large between you: children. It was a subject that had always been delicate, fraught with the pain of disappointment and unfulfilled dreams. You both wanted children desperately, had tried for years to conceive, only to be met with heartbreak and despair each time.

And now, knowing that Harry had harbored resentment towards you for your inability to conceive made the fear in your heart grow stronger. What if he came to hate you for it again? What if history repeated itself, and you found yourselves back in the same cycle of hurt and betrayal?

It was a conversation you knew you needed to have, no matter how difficult or painful it might be. And so, on that day when Harry came to your apartment to spend the day with you, you gathered your courage and broached the subject that had been weighing heavily on your mind.

"Harry," you began, your voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. "Can we talk about something?"

Harry looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "Of course, love," he replied, his voice warm with affection. "What's on your mind?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. "It's about... children," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know it's a sensitive topic for both of us, but I think we need to address it."

Harry's expression softened even further, his eyes filled with understanding as he reached out to take your hand in his. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured, his thumb stroking soothing circles on the back of your hand. "It's something we've both wanted for so long, and it breaks my heart that we haven't been able to make it happen."

Tears welled in your eyes at his words, the pain of your shared disappointment washing over you like a tidal wave. "I'm scared, Harry," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Scared that you'll come to hate me again, like you did before."

Harry's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes filled with an intensity that took your breath away. "I wouldn't hate you, not anymore," he declared, his voice steady and resolute. "I was foolish to ever feel resentful toward you. It wasn't your fault; it never was. It was me, unable to resolve my own feelings, letting them fester and grow into something ugly. But I'm different now; I've matured, and I see things clearly. The answer is no, I will never hate you."

The weight of his words lifted a burden from your heart, filling you with a sense of relief and gratitude. "But what if we never have children, Harry?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as you struggled to contain your tears. "Can you live with that? Can we... can we be enough for each other?"

Harry's gaze never wavered as he met your eyes, his expression filled with unwavering determination. "We already are, love," he replied, his voice steady and sure. "You and me, together against the world. That's all I've ever wanted, all I'll ever need."

And in that moment, as you looked into Harry's eyes, you knew that he meant every word. Despite the pain and disappointment that had plagued your relationship, despite the uncertainty of what the future might hold, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that life threw your way.

With tears of gratitude streaming down your cheeks, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Harry's, sealing your love and commitment to each other in a tender kiss. And as you held each other in a tight embrace, lost in the warmth of your shared love, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, heart to heart.

In the days that followed, the weight of the unresolved issue of children lifted from your shoulders, and you and Harry found yourselves moving forward with renewed hope and determination. There were moments of doubt and insecurity, of course, memories of Harry's betrayal still lingering in the back of your mind. But Harry's unwavering commitment to rebuilding your relationship, coupled with his newfound openness and trust, helped ease your fears and reassure you of his love.

One significant gesture that spoke volumes about Harry's sincerity was his willingness to share his cell phone with you. Previously, he had kept it close, always vigilant about keeping it nearby and not letting you touch it. But now, he handed you the freedom to access his cell phone, giving you the password without hesitation. Likewise, you reciprocated, allowing Harry free access to your phone.

This newfound transparency and trust brought a sense of relief and security to your relationship. Over time, as Harry's calmness in letting you use his cell phone became evident, you found that the insecurities tormenting your mind began to dissipate. You no longer felt the need to constantly check Harry's phone for signs of infidelity; you came to trust him completely and fell even more in love with the new version of Harry.

But that day, as you stood there in disbelief, staring at the positive pregnancy test in your trembling hands that you received after visiting the doctor, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you. For years, you and Harry had tried to conceive, only to be met with disappointment time and again. And now, in the most unexpected moment, when you had finally made peace with the issue of having children, you were pregnant.

The shock of the news left you feeling numb at first, unable to fully comprehend the magnitude of what it meant. A baby—there was a baby growing inside you, a precious little life that was a testament to your love for each other. It was as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you, testing your resolve just when you thought you had found peace.

But as the initial shock wore off, a sense of overwhelming happiness washed over you. A baby! You were going to have a baby, something you had dreamed of for so long. Despite the uncertainties and fears that lingered in the back of your mind, the prospect of becoming parents filled you with a sense of joy and excitement that you had never experienced before.

You debated whether to call Harry and share the news immediately, but something inside you urged caution. Maybe it was the fear of jinxing it, or perhaps the desire to surprise him with the news in a special way. Whatever the reason, you decided to keep the news to yourself for now, planning to reveal it to Harry when the time was right.

So, you spent the rest of the day lost in thought, the pregnancy test clutched tightly in your hand as you contemplated the future. You imagined what it would be like to hold your baby in your arms, to see Harry's face light up with joy at the news. Despite the doubts and uncertainties that nagged at you, there was a sense of peace and contentment in knowing that you were finally going to have the family you had always longed for.

As the evening approached, you found yourself bustling around the kitchen, preparing dinner for you and Harry. It had become somewhat of a routine for him to come over after work, almost as if he unofficially lived with you. You smiled to yourself as you set the table, knowing that Harry would be arriving soon.

Sure enough, as the clock ticked closer to the time he usually arrived, you heard the familiar sound of the door unlocking. Your heart skipped a beat as you hurried to open it, anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Hey, love," Harry greeted you with a warm smile as he stepped inside, shrugging off his coat. "How was your day?"

You returned his smile, feeling a rush of happiness at the sight of him. "It was good," you replied, your voice tinged with excitement. "How about yours?"

Harry's brow furrowed slightly as he studied your expression, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "You seem... unusually happy," he remarked, his voice filled with amusement. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."

You chuckled nervously, hoping he wouldn't notice the nervous fluttering in your chest. "Oh, just had a good day at work, that's all," you lied, your smile faltering slightly under his scrutiny.

To your relief, Harry seemed to accept your explanation without further question, his smile widening as he reached out to pull you into a tight hug. "Well, I'm glad to hear it," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours as you savored the moment. Despite the lingering doubts and uncertainties in your mind, being with Harry always made everything feel right in the world.

After a moment, you reluctantly pulled away, a sheepish smile playing on your lips. "Come on, dinner's almost ready," you said, taking his hand and leading him towards the kitchen.

As you entered the cozy kitchen, the scent of home-cooked food filled the air, making Harry's stomach growl in anticipation. He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he took in the scene before him.

"Well, well, well, looks like someone beat me to dinner tonight," he teased, giving you a playful nudge with his elbow. He then carelessly took his cell phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table, almost throwing it.

You laughed, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you at his lighthearted banter. "I figured it was my turn to cook," you replied, shooting him a mischievous grin. "Besides, I wanted to surprise you."

Harry's smile softened, his gaze filled with affection as he pulled you into another hug. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You smiled, feeling a rush of happiness at his words. "Only for you," you whispered, leaning into his embrace as you savored the moment.

As you sat down to enjoy your meal together, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and love. Despite the uncertainties and challenges that lay ahead, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that life threw your way. And as you looked into Harry's eyes, you felt a sense of peace wash over you like a gentle wave, knowing that together, you could overcome anything.

After a nice dinner filled with laughter and easy conversation, you and Harry retreated to the kitchen to tackle the aftermath of the meal. As you washed the dishes, Harry stood beside you, drying them with practiced efficiency.

The sound of water running and the clink of dishes filled the air as you worked side by side, the comfortable silence between you a testament to the ease of your relationship. It was moments like these that reminded you of why you had fallen in love with Harry in the first place, his unwavering support and dedication a constant source of comfort and reassurance.

As you reached for another plate, you felt Harry's arms wrap around you from behind, his body pressing against yours as he nuzzled your neck with soft kisses.

"I missed you today," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Can't get enough of you, darling."

You melted against him, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a cozy blanket. Setting the dry plate aside, you turned to face Harry, your arms winding around his neck as you gazed up at him with adoration.

"I missed you too," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned in to capture his lips in a tender kiss.

The kiss quickly deepened, passion flaring between you as you lost yourselves in each other's embrace. Harry's hands roamed eagerly over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you that burned hot and fierce.

With a needy moan, you pressed yourself closer to him, your bodies melding together in a tangle of limbs and desire. The feel of Harry's lips trailing hot kisses along your neck sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity.

"You drive me wild, you know that?" Harry murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire as he trailed his lips lower, his hands sliding down to grip your hips.

You gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch as you felt the familiar ache of desire building deep within you. "Only for you," you breathed, your voice laced with need as you pulled him closer, craving the feel of him against you.

With a hungry growl, Harry lifted you onto the countertop, his hands roaming eagerly over your body as he claimed your lips in a heated kiss. The world fell away around you as you lost yourselves in the passion and intensity of the moment, the need for each other consuming you completely.

Clothes were shed in a frenzy of desire, the air thick with the heady scent of arousal as you gave yourselves over to the pleasure that pulsed between you. The countertop was hard against your back, but you hardly noticed as Harry buried himself deep inside you, filling you completely with each powerful thrust.

With each movement, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo. "Harry," you cried out, your voice a breathless whisper as you surrendered completely to the ecstasy that consumed you.

Harry's response to your plea was a low, guttural groan. You knew you had awakened something primal within him. With fierce determination, he lifted you effortlessly, still buried deep inside you, as he carried you to the bedroom. His queen deserved a bed, deserved everything, and Harry was determined to give you just that.

With a gentle yet firm hand, Harry laid you down on the soft mattress, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between you. He wasted no time in rejoining you, his body hovering over yours as he claimed your lips in a hungry kiss.

"You're mine," Harry growled against your lips, his baritone voice sending shivers of desire down your spine. "All mine."

You melted into his embrace, lost in the intensity of his touch as he ravaged your lips with a ferocity that left you breathless. His hands roamed eagerly over your body, igniting a fire within you that burned hot and fierce.

With a low moan of pleasure, you wrapped your legs around Harry's waist, pulling him closer as he thrust himself inside you with a primal urgency. The sensation of him filling you completely sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, the need for him overwhelming in its intensity.

"Harder, Harry," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea as you surrendered completely to the ecstasy that consumed you. "Please, I need you."

Harry's response was a low, guttural groan of approval as he complied with your request, his movements becoming more urgent and frantic. With each powerful thrust, he drove you both closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo.

But Harry wasn't satisfied yet, not when he knew he could give you so much more. With a determined focus, he shifted his position, grabbing one of your legs and placing it over his shoulder to get a better angle. The change in position allowed him to hit your g-spot with precision, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Oh god, Harry," you cried out, your voice filled with ecstasy as he drove you to the brink of oblivion. "Right there, don't stop!"

Harry's response was a low, primal growl as he intensified his efforts, his movements becoming more frenzied and desperate. With each thrust, he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo.

And then, with a final, powerful thrust, you tumbled over the edge into ecstasy, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of bliss washed over you. Harry followed soon after, his own release tearing through him with explosive force as he spilled himself inside you, claiming you as his own in a blaze of passion and desire.

As you both collapsed against each other, spent and satisfied, you couldn't help but revel in the aftermath of your passion. Harry's hooked nose brushed against your cheek as he pressed a tender kiss to your lips, his glasses askew and his chest heaving with exertion.

"You're incredible," Harry murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you."

As you lay there, wrapped in the aftermath of your passionate embrace with Harry, tears welled up in your eyes. The intensity of your love-making had stirred something deep within you, a profound sense of connection and belonging that left you feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

Feeling loved in that moment, you knew you could no longer keep the news to yourself. As Harry nuzzled your neck with soft kisses, you felt his warmth enveloping you like a protective cocoon, and you knew it was time to share your joy with him.

But as you tried to compose yourself, Harry noticed your tears, his expression shifting from one of contentment to one of confusion and concern. His brows furrowed as he looked at you, a hint of desperation in his voice as he questioned what was wrong.

"Darling, what's the matter?" Harry asked, his baritone voice filled with worry. "Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, trying to hold back your tears as you reached out to caress his cheek. "No, Harry, you didn't do anything wrong," you reassured him, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I have something to tell you."

Harry's confusion deepened as he studied your face, his eyes searching yours for answers. But before he could say anything else, you interrupted him with a tender kiss, pouring all your love and affection into the gesture.

When you pulled away, Harry looked at you with a mixture of surprise and anticipation, his eyes wide with curiosity. "What is it, love?" he asked, his voice gentle and encouraging.

Taking a deep breath, you met Harry's gaze head-on, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm pregnant, Harry," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. "I just went to the doctor today to do some tests, and... the doctor confirmed that I'm pregnant."

For a moment, there was silence as Harry processed your words, his expression frozen in disbelief. Pregnant? The word echoed in his mind, sending shockwaves of realization through him.

Slowly, Harry reached out to take your hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he squeezed yours tightly. "Are you... are you serious?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks as you met Harry's gaze with unwavering determination. "Yes, Harry, I'm serious," you replied, your voice filled with love and hope. "We're going to have a baby."

Still in a state of disbelief, Harry remained silent, his eyes locked with yours as he struggled to process the magnitude of what you had just told him. You started to feel nervous, the silence stretching between you as you waited for his response.

"Harry?" you called out tentatively, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Are you okay?"

But Harry didn't respond. Instead, he pulled out of you and left the bedroom, leaving you sitting on the bed, confused and heartbroken. You wrapped the sheets around you, feeling a sense of sadness washing over you as you wondered if Harry was leaving, if he didn't like the news of the pregnancy.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you contemplated the possibility of Harry walking away from you. But just as despair began to consume you, you were interrupted by the sound of Harry returning to the bedroom.

Your heart skipped a beat as Harry knelt in front of you, a velvet box in his hand. With trembling fingers, he opened the box, revealing a beautiful ring nestled inside. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized what was happening.

"I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to do this," Harry began, his voice filled with emotion. "The right moment. And I realize now that this is the rightest time I could find."

He looked up at you, his eyes shining with love and sincerity. "So, do you want to marry me again?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.

Tears of joy filled your eyes as you looked at Harry, feeling overwhelmed with love and gratitude. "Yes, Harry, yes!" you exclaimed, your voice choked with emotion. "I want to marry you again."

With a relieved smile, Harry slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling slightly as he made a silent vow to cherish you for the rest of his life.

"I promise, love," Harry whispered, his voice filled with determination. "I'll do things the right way this time. I swear on my life."

And in that moment, as you looked into Harry's eyes, you knew that despite the challenges and uncertainties that lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, heart to heart. With Harry by your side, you were ready to embrace whatever the future held, knowing that your love would carry you through any storm.

As you stood in the park, the warm breeze gently rustling the leaves of the old oak tree, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. This tree held so many memories for you and Harry, memories of the promises you made to each other all those years ago, when you were just young and in love.

With a soft smile, you reached out and traced the initials carved into the rough bark of the tree, feeling the familiar grooves beneath your fingertips. "H + Y," you whispered, your voice filled with affection as you remembered the day you and Harry had carved your names into the tree, sealing your love and commitment to each other for eternity.

As you gazed at the initials, lost in the memories they evoked, you felt a small hand slip into yours, tugging gently at your fingers. Looking down, you saw your son Hadrian standing beside you, a determined expression on his face as he stared up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

"Mommy, help me write my name," Hadrian pleaded, his voice filled with excitement. "I want it to be next to yours and Daddy's."

Your heart swelled with love as you looked at your son, his resemblance to Harry strikingly evident in his bright eyes and unruly mop of brown hair. He was the light of your life, a constant source of joy and laughter that filled your days with happiness.

"Of course, sweetheart," you replied, bending down to his level and ruffling his hair affectionately. "Let's go write your name together."

Hadrian nodded eagerly, his small fingers grasping the stick tightly as he carefully began to trace the letters of his name onto the bark of the tree. You watched with pride as he concentrated intently, his tongue poking out slightly from the corner of his mouth in concentration.

"Good job, buddy," you praised him, unable to contain the smile that spread across your face. "You're doing great."

Hadrian beamed up at you, his eyes shining with pride as he finished writing his name. "Look, Mommy!" he exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the crooked letters carved into the tree. "I did it!"

You laughed at his excitement, feeling a swell of love and gratitude in your heart as you looked at your son. "Yes, you did, sweetheart," you replied, wrapping him in a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you."

As you held Hadrian in your arms, surrounded by the beauty of the park and the warmth of the afternoon sun, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. Despite the obstacles and challenges you had faced along the way, here you were, together as a family, happy and fulfilled.

Looking over at Harry, who was standing a few feet away, watching the scene with a proud smile on his face, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you. He had been your rock, your partner in every sense of the word, and together, you had weathered every storm that life had thrown your way.

"Come on, Mommy," Hadrian said, tugging at your hand impatiently. "Daddy's waiting for us."

You chuckled at his eagerness, allowing him to lead you back to where Harry was standing. As you approached, Harry knelt down to scoop Hadrian up into his arms, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek.

"Did you write your name, buddy?" Harry asked, his voice filled with pride as he looked at Hadrian.

Hadrian nodded enthusiastically, his face beaming with excitement. "I did, Daddy!" he exclaimed, wriggling in Harry's arms to show off his handiwork.

Harry laughed, his eyes sparkling with joy as he looked at the crooked letters carved into the tree. "That's amazing, Hadrian," he said, pressing another kiss to his son's cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

You smiled at the sight of the two of them, a wave of love washing over you as you watched them together. This was what happiness looked like, you realized, not the absence of challenges, but the presence of love and family to face them together.

As Harry turned to you, his eyes filled with love and gratitude, you knew that the promise you and he had made all those years ago had been fulfilled. You were happy, truly happy, and nothing could ever change that.

With a smile, you reached out to take Harry's hand, feeling the warmth of his touch as he squeezed your fingers tightly. Together, you stood there in the park, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the love of your family, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that life threw your way.

[sagesolsticewrites]

i thought we had no chance (and that’s romance)

You resolve to tell Anthony about your feelings— with surprising results. (Part Two to Better Kind of Best Friend)

a/n: huge shoutout to Winnie for once again coming through with an absolutely incredible playlist!!! ily bestie 🥹

Warnings: mature content (oral (f receiving), PinV penetration, literally the softest smut y’all have ever read in your LIFE), swearing

Word count: 3.3k (omg she’s a long one)

Read Part 1 here!

Masterlist

It was finally time.

Anto had finally gotten a break from all the press, and he was coming home for a well-deserved vacation before his next project.

You had been mulling it over ever since his last… ahem, visit, and you decided that you had to tell him how you felt. It had started to hurt too much every time he left in the middle of the night, every time he unceremoniously dropped by for a quick fuck and a brief hangout before he was gone once again.

A few days after you’d resolved to tell him, the two of you had made hasty arrangements to see each other— the “hasty arrangements” being a quick series of texts sent in the middle of the night when you were feeling particularly hot and bothered, resulting in an agreement that he’d show up the next evening.

The next day, you’d spend hours mulling over what you’d say, how you’d broach the subject with him, planning for every possible rejection— not daring to let yourself even think about the possibility that he might feel the same. And that evening, there would be a knock on your door.

You jump at the rap of knuckles on wood, adjusting your cropped shirt and sleep short set and taking a deep breath before answering.

“Hey—”

The cheerful greeting dies on your lips as you take in the new addition to Anto’s appearance.

A thick, neatly trimmed beard stretches over his cheeks and chin, making his bright smile somehow appear whiter as he grins at you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, a cheeky glint in his eye that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking, “So… whaddaya think?”

You step aside to let him in, still speechless. It looks fucking incredible on him, of course it does, and you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like on the sensitive skin of your neck, if it would scrape deliciously between your thighs, if it— No, you mentally scold yourself, bad Y/N. Not thinking about that right now.

“It, uh…” you swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, “You look really good, Anto.”

“Thanks, I knew you’d think so,” he grins, eyes sparkling. His hand moves towards your waist and you force yourself to step out of his reach, trying very, very hard to ignore the brief flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Actually, uh… I was hoping we could talk about something?”

“Oh, I— yeah, of course,” he says, that familiar furrow of concern appearing between his brows as you move to the couch.

“So…” you begin uncertainly; despite the hours you’d spent practicing, you were still unsure of how to start this conversation, “You know how when we started… this,” you gesture between the two of you, “neither of us was really looking for a relationship? And we agreed that it would be a good arrangement, no feelings, no messy emotions, just… stress relief, for lack of a better term.”

You wait until he nods to confirm he’s listening to continue, “And remember how… we’d been friends for so long, we were sure neither one of us would ever want more…”

He nods again slowly, as if he sees where you’re going with this but wants to wait until you confirm it.

“Well— I, um…” You take a deep breath, determinedly avoiding his gaze as you steel yourself, “I guess my heart didn’t really get the memo because, uh… I’ve been seriously falling for you for a while now.”

You clamp down on your bottom lip as your whole body tenses, bracing yourself for the end of one of the longest and best friendships you’d ever had.

“Y/N…” He breathes, his fingertips grazing yours, “I— please tell me you mean that. Please tell me it hasn’t just been me.”

Wait, what?

Your head snaps up, your bewildered eyes meeting his own tender gaze.

“Anto, what do you—”

“I’ve been head over fucking heels for you, Y/N,” he says softly, thumb stroking over the back of your hand, “for… frankly, longer than I care to admit.”

“Wait, I—” your brain scrambles to process his confession, your heart melting as you realize he truly does feel the same, “You mean all this time we could’ve been—”

You’re not sure when you moved so close to Anto, but now there’s barely an inch of space between the two of you as your clasped hands rest on your legs.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, Y/N,” he says softly, tender brown eyes locked on your features, “but you seemed happy with what we had, and I didn’t want to put our friendship at risk—”

“I felt exactly the same,” you say, voices overlapping, “I hated the thought of ruining what we had.”

“Seems like if we had just talked about this a little sooner we could’ve been enjoying more than our current arrangement,” Anto says with a soft smile.

Your heart melts at the overflowing love in his expression as his hand comes up to cup your cheek— how had you not seen it before?

“Maybe we could start by making up for lost time,” you say softly, your eyes flicking down to his plush lips.

With a slight nod, Anto slowly leans in, pausing to meet your eyes as your noses brush as if to make doubly sure that this is really what you want before carefully slotting his lips to yours.

His lips are exactly as soft against yours as you’d imagined them to be, and you can’t help but let out a contented little sigh as your hands come up to cup his face.

What you aren’t prepared for, however, is the slight tickling sensation that accompanies his beard, and you pull away with a soft squeal, face slightly scrunched up.

The concern on his face is immediate.

“No, no, I just—” you scramble to assure him through your smile before Anto can say anything, your thumbs stroking through the surprisingly soft hair covering his cheeks, “It tickles.”

He huffs out a soft laugh, pulling away teasingly, “You know, I don’t have to—”

“Excuse me,” you grin, raising an eyebrow, “When did I say I wanted you to stop?”

His lips land back on yours with a laugh, your heart turning impossibly light as you feel him smiling into the kiss. Anto’s arm — the one with the hand not tenderly cupping your cheek as if you were made of porcelain — winds around your back, pulling you closer as one of your hands finds its way into his hair.

You’re truly not sure how long you stay like that — could be minutes, could be hours — but at some point you end up straddling him, hands buried in his luscious hair as his arms squeeze you tight against him, hands roaming all over your body.

You don’t even realize you’ve begun to slowly rock against him until his breath hitches and he pulls away.

You freeze, terrified you’ve done something wrong.

“What, what is it?”

“Nothing, darling, nothing,” he assures you, and you melt at the pet name as he continues, “I just… If you want to… If we’re gonna do this— not that we have to, of course, but if we are, I… I wanna do it properly. Not on your couch, as delightful as that may be,” he finishes with a soft smile, searching your gaze intently.

You smile, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck, your nose brushing his as you whisper “I do want to.”

Reluctantly, you extricate yourself from his embrace, leaning to press one more tender kiss to his lips as he stands before guiding him to your bedroom.

You turn to him as he enters, a sudden nervousness overwhelming you as it hits you that this is really happening.

The pure love and adoration shining on his face as you face him, however, banishes any trace of anxiety. You melt into his touch as he cups your face, his thumb stroking tenderly along your cheek.

“I fucking adore you,” he breathes.

And then his mouth is on yours, and your mind is empty of everything but him.

His free hand slides down to rest on your hip, using the slightest pressure to pull you flush against him. The kiss deepens, and your hands slip under his shirt, trailing across his warm skin, playing a sort of blind connect-the-dots with the freckles dotted haphazardly along his back.

Smiling against your lips, Anto takes the hint, breaking the kiss just long enough for you to remove his shirt, your hands roaming gently over the newly-exposed skin as your lips reconnect.

You barely stifle a gasp as his fingertips leave your cheek to trail along the exposed skin between your shirt and shorts to grasp the hem of your crop top.

He pulls away briefly, a question in his eyes that he doesn’t even need to ask out loud before you’re nodding, a breathy yes leaving your lips.

Your shirt joins his on your bedroom floor, and he takes a moment to take in your figure, eyes dragging over you appreciatively.

“You,” he says softly, sincerely, as he leans in to reconnect your lips once more, “are absolutely beautiful, darling.”

He slowly walks you backwards as the kiss deepens, tongues dancing. He gently lays you down when the backs of your knees hit the bed, keeping your lips connected as he moves to hover over you.

He pulls away, just enough to take in your features with what looks like awe shining in his eyes.

“Hi,” you say softly— as if speaking too loudly will ruin the magic of this moment you’ve waited so long for.

He grins.

“Hi.”

And then his lips are back on yours for a tender, heated kiss before making a slow path across your cheek, down your jaw, to your neck.

You let out a sound that’s something between a sigh and a whine, relishing in the feeling of his lips on your skin but the slow pace driving you positively mad.

He chuckles against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you gasp.

“Sweetheart, let me enjoy this— I didn’t get to appreciate it properly before,” he murmurs, “I promise I’ll give you what you want, just be patient.”

You’ve barely nodded your consent before his mouth is on you once more, kissing and sucking and grazing his teeth all along your skin, the beard adding a layer of sensation that has goosebumps rippling up along your arms. Your hand finds its way up to grip his thick waves, throwing your head back to expose more skin for him to mark up, letting out a moan as his lips track over as much of you as he can reach.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so…” he murmurs, moving to nibble along your collarbone, then further south still to kiss along the tops of your breasts, “soft.”

You can only sigh his name as he mouths along your breasts, gently capturing your nipple as he swirls his tongue around you. You let out a soft cry, arching into him as he pulls away to repeat the gentle motion on your other breast, drawing out more soft sighs and gasps from you.

Your fingers rake through his hair as he pulls away to mouth down the valley between your breasts, marveling at the view before you. Sure, you’d done this plenty of times before, but it was never this… gentle, this intimate.

Anto looks up to meet your eyes as his lips continue their path down your body, the heat in them still present but softer, somehow. Like a warm hearth on a cold winter night compared to the blazing wildfire of lust you were used to.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmur as you push back a strand of hair from his forehead, so soft you’re not sure if you even mean for him to hear it.

He does, though, and you can feel him smiling as he kisses his way down your stomach.

“So are you, my love.”

The words send butterflies flurrying throughout your stomach, the feeling of which only intensifies as he presses gentle kisses along the skin just above the waistband of your shorts.

“Anto…” His name leaves your mouth in a pleading sigh, and he hums his acknowledgment as his fingers glide up to toy with your waistband. 

“Can I, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your skin, and you nod furiously, certain that if you hear one more sweet pet name come out of his mouth you’re going to die on the spot.

You lift your hips as he eases your shorts off of you, a groan leaving him at the sight of the lacy underwear covering your core.

“Never got to tell you this before the way I wanted to, but you are so,” he mumbles, brushing a quick kiss to your core over the increasingly damp fabric covering it, “so beautiful, honey.”

He slowly removes your underwear, adding them to the growing pile of clothes before brushing gentle kisses up your thighs.

Well, you were right.

The beard did feel utterly perfect on your thighs.

You sigh his name desperately, tugging gently at his hair. “Want your mouth on me, please, baby.”

His pretty brown eyes, pupils blown wide, meet yours as, with one final kiss to the soft flesh of your thigh, he lowers his mouth to you, licking deep into your folds.

You cry out his name, fumbling praises tumbling from your lips as he finds each and every spot to make you moan, his thumb moving up to gently circle your clit.

Your whines reach a fever pitch, and Anto murmurs sweetly against you as he recognizes the signs of you reaching the edge.

“C’mon, honey, please, wanna taste you. Lemme make my girl feel good, please cum for me sweetheart, please—”

Your world goes white, and when you come back to yourself, you feel Anto pressing gentle kisses to your thighs, mumbling sweet nothings against your skin.

You reach down to stroke through his hair as he meets your eyes with a smile.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m perfect,” you sigh.

“Good,” he murmurs, moving to hover over you once more, brushing gentle kisses all over your skin as he goes, “because I really, really need to be inside you.”

You just barely stifle a moan as you feel the telltale bulge brushing against your thigh.

With one final kiss to your lips, he shifts off of you to shed his pants and boxers, retrieving another familiar foil packet from his pocket.

“Came prepared,” he quips with a wink, making you giggle.

You sit up, gesturing for him to hand it to you.

He hesitates for a moment.

“Y/N, I don’t… I want this to be different than the other times, sweet girl. You don’t have to—”

You promptly silence him with a kiss, plucking the foil from his hand.

“I want to,” you assure him as you pull away, gently rolling the latex onto him, your fingers brushing against him in a way that has his eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hisses, moving to hover over you once more as you lay down, his nose brushing yours, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You merely pull him down into another kiss, smiling against his lips.

Anthony keeps his lips connected to yours, deepening the kiss as he slowly drags his length through your slick folds, your breath hitching as the tip of his cock snags against your entrance.

He pulls away briefly to scan your face.

“You ready, darling?”

“Yes,” you say softly, thumb stroking gently over his beard.

Soft brown eyes remain locked on yours as he slowly pushes into you, noses brushing, breaths mingling.

Anto pauses once he’s fully entered you, panting. “God, you feel… fucking perfect, sweetheart.”

You can only whine, murmuring vague praise in response.

After a moment, he slowly pulls out and thrusts back into you, beginning the gentle push and pull towards ecstasy.

Your breaths become heavier, Anto panting sweet praises with his breath hot against your cheek until his mouth crashes once more onto yours.

Your lips remain locked in a tender kiss as Anto continues his slow thrusts into you— he said he wanted it to be different than the other times and it is. 

There’s no lips mouthing roughly at your skin, no teeth scraping against your collarbone, no fast, sweaty thrusts designed to get you both off as fast as possible. This is… tender, this is intimate, this is everything you’d been wanting since you first realized you had feelings for him.

It’s… perfect.

“I love you, darling,” Anto sighs against your lips, every inch of his warm body pressed against yours, “I love you so, so much, Y/N.”

Your breath catches, overcome with emotion for a moment before you reply softly, earnestly, “I love you too, Anto. God, I’ve wanted to say that for so long, I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Your voice trails off as he captures your lips once more in a tender kiss, and…

Now. Now it was perfect.

“Anto…” you sigh into his mouth, a warning as you feel a familiar tension building within you.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he pants in a strangled voice, “Me too, ‘m almost there.”

His thrusts speed up the tiniest bit, your toes curling as he hits your G-spot repeatedly.

“Ant—” you gasp, your grip on him tightening as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, “oh, fuck, Anto, ‘m gonna—”

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he pants softly in your ear, “Wanna feel you come on my cock, angel, please, ‘m right behind you—”

You shatter as your second orgasm crashes over you, tucking your face into Anthony’s neck to muffle your cries. Several erratic thrusts later, he follows suit, spilling into the condom with a cry as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing tenderly against your skin.

He slumps against you, both of you attempting to catch your breath as he gently pulls out of you with a sweet kiss to your nose.

“Was that—” he asks softly, still gasping slightly for air, “Was that okay?”

You hum softly, eyes tracing over each one of his beautiful features.

“It was perfect, Anto. Absolutely perfect.”

“I’m glad, my love,” He grins, dipping to capture your lips in a tender kiss before standing and discreetly disposing of the condom in your en-suite.

You make grabby hands for him as he returns, and he gladly climbs back into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

He presses his lips to your temple, fingers tracing gentle patterns over your exposed skin.

“I meant what I said, you know. I really do—” His breath catches as you look up at him, eyes wide and soft. “I love you. So, so much Y/N. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

“I love you too, Anthony,” you murmur, a rare use of his full name slipping out, usually reserved for important moments, or when you’re mad at him. Right now, it’s the former. You want to say something else, but your eyes are growing heavier by the minute, so you settle for brushing your lips tenderly against his cheek as sleep overtakes you.

Just before you fully lose consciousness, you feel him press his lips firmly to your temple, smiling against your skin, and you can’t help but smile as you fall contently into sleep.

You spend the night sound asleep in Anthony’s arms, secure in the knowledge that he’ll still be there when you wake.

[detydia]

Imagine Dean Winchester x You

You don't feel the rush anymore.

A heavy cloud seemed to hang over you. The vibrant, energetic woman that Dean had come to know had retreated into herself. You withdrew from conversations, your once-bright eyes dulled by a profound sadness. Dean couldn't help but notice the change in you, and it worried him deeply.

One sunny afternoon, as you sat in the Bunker's library, Dean decided to broach the subject gently. He knew that you had been struggling with something, but you hadn't shared the details with him.

"Y/N," Dean began, his voice soft and concerned, "I've noticed you've been... distant lately. Is there something on your mind?"

You looked up from the book you'd been pretending to read, your expression troubled. You hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. "Dean, I don't know how to explain it. It's like... everything that used to excite me, everything that brought me joy, it just doesn't do it for me anymore."

Dean frowned, his concern deepening. "You mean the hunts? The adventures we used to have?"

You nodded slowly. "Yeah, even the hunts. I used to feel this rush, this sense of purpose. But now... it's like I'm just going through the motions. Nothing seems to matter."

Dean reached out and gently took your hand in his. "Y/N, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Whatever you're going through, we'll face it together."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them back. "I know, Dean, and that's what scares me the most. I don't want to burden you with my problems."

He squeezed your hand reassuringly. "You're not a burden, Y/N. We're a team, partners in everything we do. Your happiness and well-being matter to me."

You took a deep breath, as if steeling yourself to share your thoughts. "It's just... I've been thinking about all the danger we face, all the close calls we've had. I can't help but wonder if it's worth it. I've seen friends get hurt, even die. And I'm terrified that one day it might be you... or me."

Dean nodded, his expression sympathetic. "I get it, Y/N. The life we lead, it's not easy, and it's not without its sacrifices. But remember, we do what we do to protect people, to save lives. And we're damn good at it."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his attempt to lift your spirits. "I know, Dean. And I don't want to stop hunting. It's just that... I need to find a way to deal with this fear and sadness."

Dean leaned closer, his voice a comforting whisper. "We'll figure it out together, Y/N. Maybe it's time for us to take a break, recharge, and rediscover what truly matters to us. And if that means stepping away from the hunting life for a little while, so be it. Your happiness is my priority."

Your eyes met Dean's, and in that moment, you felt a glimmer of hope. You were no longer alone in your struggle, and Dean's unwavering support gave you the strength to face your inner demons.