#the damn bath scene too

[reitziluz]

kaiju no 8 has the usual fatphobia and other unfortunate ideas about bodies prevalent in its genres. but. also. amongst the so ripped and cut they look like peeled up anatomical models builds, kafka's mass and belly are an absolutely phenomenal sight.

i haven't gone looking if it's out there, but there Has to be doujin about him. he looks like he's lifted straight out of a gay manga. you know the type, it's the one full of guys that look like him.

[kwyoz]

im tryna write some dai shit and yk, i just realized,,

where the hell do the people in skyhold bathe and shit at? why doesn't inky have a bathroom or something?

[venmondiese]

A Cure For A Bad Day

Summary: Aemond has one of his worst days ever, nothing seems to go right. At night, at least, he gets the company of his new wife as he bathes.

Based on Ewan Mitchell's and TGC 'Scene Reactions' when he says "When we did that scene, when he had the rain machine going in, the dye on the eyepatch... it just stained the wig"

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader ✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, p in v sex, bath sex, breeding kink, overall very sweet, aemond discovering feelings. ✧Word Count: 5.2k ✧ Ao3 link: here ✧gifs: by myfandomprompts

Aemond is known for many things. He is fierceless, perfectionist, well trained with the sword, and bold. Those things he was proud of. 

And all those things, he was not today.

He trained by morning, and Criston Cole was waiting for him. The sword felt slightly different on his hand, weird, but he just took it that he slept badly and that's why his arm felt numb. 

Now, after losing his eye, he had to learn things differently. He had a considerably big blind spot, and so he learned how to keep it aware of his surroundings as training with the sword. Yet, those things do not have in mind the little rocks on the ground, which he stepped on and twisted his ankle as he tried to defend Ser Criston’s attack.

And with that, he twisted his ankle and slightly cut his hand. 

He was annoyed, but he tried not to pay attention to it. A silly mistake. The rock was on his blind side, how could he notice? It was a rookie mistake, and it burned his cheeks to remember it. 

By the evening, after eating, he decided to ride Vhagar. His girl liked long rides, not so fast but more calm, and prowling around the crownlands skies.

 He did not anticipate the rain. 

For some reason or another, Vhagar was as grumpy as him, and she did not seem to want to go over the clouds in the rain. No, she wanted full on take a bath on the rainfall.

And Aemond had to bear it. But what was worse was when he realised that his eyepatch had dyed his hair. He just picked the worst eyepatch today. 

His hair was slightly silver auburn, and just in some parts. He hated it, and it made his day ten times worse as he realised the eyepatch had been too tight, and it had been suffocating his scar without him realising. 

He had trouble with the sensibility on his left side of his face, and just today he put his eyepatch too tight. It made him furious.

And he decided to make it everyone’s problem. 

He was laying in the bathtub, next to the fire as he had a horrible headache. He came in, demanding a bath as the servants had to rush to get him hot water.

 He took his own clothes off, kicking his boots away, refusing any servants touch as he undoes his own leather jerkin, he unties his breeches, grunting and mumbling in frustration, hating each instance of this day. He thinks a bath will help him to relax even a bit. He just wanted to sleep, and end up with this horrible day. 

His scar itches, and it drives insane. It was as if the itchcame from the deep parts of his cheekbones and it drove him mad. He was at the edge of peeling his own skin to scratch his damn scar. 

Only in his undergarments, he ignores the chilling cold from the chamber, and he walks barefoot as the servants fill the bathtub with hot water. As hot as possible. He walks over the chimney, and throws the eyepatch in, hoping it burns in hell. 

His loose hair, tinted with the dye of the eyepatch. If he only knew who was the mastermind behind it, who decided to spend coins on it; he would kill them. And they better hope this stupid dye can get off with the bath, or head will start rolling. 

The water was hot, but he paid no mind. He liked boiling hot, and he sat against his as he let the attendant boy prepare scents and the oils to put on the water, and to wash him. Aemond didn’t allow him to wash him; yet. He wanted some moments of peace in the hot water, so he remained a good amount of time still.

“Bring me the ointment that Maester Orwyle prepared for my eye” Aemond’s voice is low, yet demanding as the boy gets out, not without bowing to the prince.

He waits, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would calm his nerves, his headache. He believes it works, so he is focused on it, as he accommodates his legs on the water, trying to be relaxed.

Time is a bit dizzy, and when he hears the door open, he can hear the servants speaking hushedly, as if wanting him not to hear. Good, because he didn’t want to listen to them either. 

He can hear the little taps that the shoes do as the maid leaves the oils for his hair on a near table, and takes his hair on her hands, gently. He doesn’t turn to face her; he just wants the damn dye to get off. 

Hands wash his hair, and if he wants to relax, this is making it impossible. The little tugs and the awful way that scrubs his hair to take the dye off, and the weird caresses on his neck from time to time. 

“You are not doing correctly" he grumbles to the servant with closed eyes as his migraine is persistent. "Learn how to wash a prince's hair" he adds, sharply.

“Apologies” The voice comes as a murmur, a bit strained if even, as the hands go to his neck, and all the way up.

“My prince” He adds sharply, he cannot believe his luck today. “When you address a royal member of the Targaryen House, you use their title. My prince” he says, patronisingly and even angry. 

“Yes, my prince” a little cough at the end, he either thinks the maid is trying to hold back a laugh or embarrassment. Not that he cares, as he has his eye closed and a hand on his temple, his head resting on his hand, that caresses his forehead trying to get that awful headache away

Aemond's face was scrunched up in pain, as his eyes were closed. "Are you new at this? I swear... I am starting to believe that they are just sending me incompetent maids to attend to me..." the young prince groaned.

His body stiffens, as arms go to wrap his neck from behind, and before he can sit up properly, he feels the maid kiss his cheek lovingly as she giggles. “Apologies, my prince…” 

The voice is clear as day, and if his hand was going to fetch the little dagger on the table by his side, it stops. 

He turns his head to his right, seeing your wide smile as you wait for his reaction. He groans, rolling his eyes, which causes you to laugh loudly.

His new wife, she always liked to tease him and cling to him, always hugging him, taking his hand in hers or kissing him all over. He didn’t mind; he always allowed her even at court. But he won’t admit that he likes it too.

“Wife” he greets you as he sighs, and he feels your hand rubbing circles in the back of his neck. 

“I know, I do not know how to wash hair. You’ve made it completely clear”

“I thought you were a servant” he says, looking at her. “You are a highborn lady, you don’t need to know how to.”

“True…” you say, moving some of the wet hair out of his face, and squeezing it so it isn’t dripping. “I heard that my prince had a horrible day, and he was in a bad mood. Servants do talk, you know…” you say looking at him with a smile “Wanna tell me about it?”

Aemond sighs and looks at you, as you take the sponge to wash his body. He sighs as you pour some of the water in his chest and start scrubbing softly.

“"A terrible day... I stepped on a rock, and twisted my ankle and cut my arm in the process... Then i wanted to relax with a ride on Vhagar, but it started to rain, the fucking dye of the eyepatch got all over my hair and eye.. I have the worst migraine now..." his voice is rough, and he seems annoyed at the memory of it. “And I haven’t seen you as much as I’d like”

It wasn’t the worst day he has ever lived. Maybe. When he lost his eye it could be the top one. He won Vhagar, at the cost of his eye. It was an amazing thing, traded for the worst thing that has ever happened to him. He was still living the consequences of it today, as his scar stinged on his skin.

“Not your best day, I see” you say softly, scrubbing his chest. He enjoys it, as he looks at you, leaning back in the bath as you scrub his chest. “I’m sorry to hear it”

“I don’t need pity” 

You chuckle “It is not pity” you say softly, looking at your husband. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

Aemond stays silent. He is not used to someone caring about him like this. Sure, his mother cared for him, and so did Helaena But not like this. 

“Be by my side”

The silence is a bit comforting, as you wash his body. He looks at you deeply, and he cannot help but think how stunning you are. You didn’t find any discomfort in washing him, in caring and tending to him. You never once seem disgusted by his lack of eye, by his empty eye socket, or his ugly scar. Never once you discarded him. 

It was more than often that you placed the ointment prepared by maester Orwyle on his eye, his scar, where his nerves were permanently damaged and they brought discomfort to him. You never once complain.

“You look different” he says, looking at you in the dim lights of the room.

“Different how?” you ask, as you finish brushing his hair, making sure the dye is almost completely getting off his wet hair. He has little curls, which makes you smile like an idiot.

“I do not know. Shining. Radiant. Lovely.” He murmurs, moving one of his wet hands to tickle a strand of hair on your ear. “Different”

“So I usually do not look radiant or lovely…”

“Not what I meant” he groans and you chuckle softly. “You were sick. Now you look much better in… spirits.”

“You look different too” You say looking at him with a smile. Your eyes fall to his chest, and you smile. He notices how you get flustered at the sight of his nakedness. 

“More wounded” he says ironically, leaning back with a sigh. 

“Stronger” you correct him smiling. “More… mhm. I’d say more… Hot”

“You think I am hotter when I'm wounded?”

“Not what I meant” you say chuckling under your breath, “I meant… I like seeing you like this... Leaning back is so... manly, and hot…" 

“Oh, do you?” he asks slightly amused, leaning back still as he looks at you, nodding and smiling. Aemond frowns a bit, and he hisses then you accidentally hit his new wound on his wrist. 

“Sorry, love” you say, kissing his hand, and smiling. “You know, when I was little they cured my wounds like this. With a kiss”

“Did they?” He asks, trying to remain interested even with his headache. 

“Yes. Like this” She says kissing near his wound, a very feather-like kiss. “See? Does it feel better?”

You look at him with an adorable expression, as if you truly think that this would make him feel better. Aemond blinks, as he looks at you. 

It ticks him the wrong way that you care about him. Why would you? Perhaps it is a womanly thing. He wasn’t so sure. Perhaps as his wife, it is your burden, having to make a maimed man feel better. 

The prettiest maiden in court, chained to a maimed man, deformed and always wounded, stuck in the pain of his eye to see beyond. Wasting your best years with him. 

And he cannot decipher why.

“Aemond?” You ask as he trails off. 

“Yeah” he clears his throat, awkwardly, and he moves his legs a bit. “I guess so” 

“Where else does it hurt?” You ask sweetly.

He sometimes hates how kind you can be, he doesn’t know what your upper intentions are, but after all, you are his wife even if he can’t decipher you.

“Well, my eye, obviously…” he says a bit embarrassed “And… my left foot, I guess. And my arm, because I slept on it… and…”

You nod, looking at him as he speaks. He is intimidated, he realises. You make sure to hear all of what he has to say, with your sweet eyes. 

You move to the end of the bathtub, and move to kiss his ankle softly, no complaints, no hesitation. Nothing… odd, about it. Only out of tenderness. You kiss his shoulder, and his left cheekbone, softly, to make sure it doesn’t burn on his skin. He just lets you, because it makes you happy, thinking that it helps.

And he doesn’t realise that it actually helps him, in a way. The smile on your face makes him smile too, and he sighs.

“Better?” 

“Mhm” he hums in agreement, looking at your face. “Better when you're with me, yes” 

He is utterly head over heels for you, even if he isn’t good with feelings. He loves you, even when he seems slightly annoyed by you. 

“And you?”

“And me?” You ask curiously.

“You were sick. Coughing like crazy, and all your body ached.” he says softly, “in confinement, away from me… Do you truly feel better?”

“I am better. Lady Westerling got all of us sick” you say with a slight smirk. “my body still aches a bit, but it’s…” you hesitate a bit, slightly nervous.

“Then join me” he interrupts, moving to try and get you in the bathtub with him. "The hot water will do good to you..."

"It will burn my skin, I hate how hot you take these baths..." you protests, moving his hands off your waist as he tries to pull you in.

"The Blood of the Dragon, wife" he says smugly, smirking. "It is cold, anyways. It is barely warm"

"You like it boiling hot" You say smiling to him, and he presses a kiss on your jaw.

"I do, indeed." He admits "Come on, get in with me"

“Aemond, my nightgown…” you protest, and he rolls his good eye.

“You have others, let it get wet” You seem to give in, as he helps you get in, holding your hand as you enter the bathtub. “It will do good to your aches.” He insists, taking your waist in his hands to place you on his lap.

“I think it is an excuse” you say, blushing a bit as you accomodate on his lap.

“A good one, you must admit” he says looking at you, and he passes his hands all the way up to your back.  “But an innocent one, I must admit” he says, and you tilt your head as if asking him to elaborate “I don’t think I am up for anything, I am too tired for it”

You hum, his still wet hair made him look almost cute. His little curls...

“The dye came off” you say, as he leans to kiss your neck a bit. “I can go to the tailor and ask them to make another eyepatch one for you. More fancy. With real leather. Maybe add some fancy dragon scales in it” 

“Hm. Fine” he says looking up at you, smiling at how delicious you were. He places a kiss on your hand, and he smiles. “What is bothering you?”

You stay still, blinking a bit. “Court. Ladies… at court. They don't seem to like me much. I mean, they like me but I always feel excluded. Like I am doing too much for them to like me”

Aemond looks at you, a bit surprised by it. He places his hands on your waist, and he certainly was thinking about how to comfort you. He wasn’t a court charmer either, so he hummed.

“I thought you had friends.” 

“I do… I guess. They just never seem to think of me when doing things. They do not hate me, no… I am the new one…, and so they just…. Don’t include me”

“I’ll include you” he states nodding. “I’ll bring you with me everywhere. Training, riding Vhagar, in the library, all of it.” He proposes softly. 

“Hm. It would be pleasant.”

You smile softly, your hands, now wet and in the water, move from his abdomen all the way up to his chest.

Your husband was well fit. A prince of the realm, training with the sword since he was little. He practised almost every day, and was very detail-oriented in his field. And that paid off, as he was lean; yet muscular. 

You two were still newlyweds. Maybe three months since you two married, and things were a bit awkward still. You tried to decipher his odd behaviour and he tried the same with yours, starting to know each other personally, yet there was a bond, a silent affection you both shared for the other.

His body felt warm. He had stayed at the bathtub for Gods know how many hours, and he was all wet and shiny. You hand caressed his muscles, going up from his abdomen to where his wispy chest hair were. 

“What is in your mind?”

You hum, and smile “How handsome my husband is” you murmur “How good he is to me…” you add “How much I truly like you…”

Aemond raises his eyebrows, and he looks at you as your hand caress his torso up and down, slowly, as if you were tempting him. 

“Oh?”

You nod softly, and even if he doesn’t know you too well; he knows this face.

You move to kiss his neck, your arms wrapped around his torso as you leave little kisses all over his skin. He chuckles a bit, at your little desperation for the demonstration of love, you were such a physical person for him. 

“Darling, what are you-”

“I just missed you” You say, and he can see in his head the pout you would form if you weren’t so eagerly kissing his neck. 

He chuckles as his hand holds your waist firmly on his lap, and he leans his head back, facing the ceiling as you two spoke. “Very eagerly, I see” 

“You are tired. But let me…” 

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him as you press gentle kisses there, and he smiles, starting to feel the boiling arousal in his abdomen, looking at the ceiling as if it could distract his mind. 

“Very well” 

His arms went to the edges of the bathtub, as he felt the fabric of the nightgown against his chest, and he certainly was starting to enjoy the constant nibbling and wetness of your kisses. 

Aemond lets out a quiet groan, enjoying the gentle bites at his neck, as he feels his neck a little warmer. “You little minx- Did you just give me a hickey?”

Your giggle tells him all, as you move your lips to the start of his clavicle. His good eye closes as he enjoys the way your mouth feels against his sensitive skin. 

“You are simply… delicious” you murmur, your kisses going lower to his chest, before stopping a moment.

“Do not tell me you want to leave a hickey there…” He says, moving his head down to look at you.

As he imagined before, your mouth turns into a pout as you frown; most adorably he must add. 

“Oh, please! Let me try” You ask him “It is a way to show you that I missed you” You add, trying to convince him as he chuckles, making a mocking sound. 

Aemond rolls his eyes as he feels your eager mouth sucking the skin of his chest, as if he was some kind of… not even he knew. It felt strange. Worshiped and feral. That’s how it felt, at least for him.

Once you separate, you look at your work, your thumb moving along the bruised skin with a satisfied smirk. 

“Looks so good on you” you swear, as if it was a matter to be known. 

“If it makes you happy” he says, accommodating on his seat, the water moving along with him. “My turn, then?” 

You shake your head with a giggle “You always make it a mess!”

That he did, and he smiles a bit, seeing the lack of lovemarks of your neck.

It is you who eagerly kiss him, and press your body to his, as if needing him. He isn’t one to complain, as he feels your eager lips pressing against his and your tongue invading his mouth. Rather bold, to his taste. But he likes it.

Your hands on his shoulder make their slow way down, passing temptingly slow from his chest, to his abdomen. He gasps in the kiss, as if he was some kind of maiden, when he feels your hands underwater on his crotch and touching his cock. 

He frowns a bit as he separates, trying to demand an answer. “Wha-” he tries to ask before you shut him up with a kiss, not even letting him speak.

Rather eager, aren’t we… He thinks, but he isn’t one to complain, as your touch is like magic to his dick. In the water is odd, he has to admit, but his member thinks otherwise as he gets aroused from your eagerness.

You smooch him with kisses, and he feels… intimidated, in a good way. You don’t even allow him to breathe without going for another kiss, desperate. Feral.

He has a feral wife, it seems. 

“Darling, what are you…” he asks amused as you break the kiss, just to move your wet skirts all the way up, but he can’t see much of your pussy in the water, which he dislikes a lot. 

“I missed you” you repeat “A lot.” 

“It isn’t as if you were confined in a tower for years. It was barely two days. And I visited you-”

“I need you, husband” you state impatiently, as your knees move to the sides of his hips. “so, if you are tired, I’ll do it” 

He blinks, surprised and taken aback. He is rather amused and aroused, at his bold wife.

“Alright” he says, looking at you as you can do the work alone. 

He isn’t tired for sex, not at all. He can certainly get the energy, maybe not perform as usual, but he’ll do it if you ask. You didn’t even need to ask for it. But seeing you in control is better than that.

You rode him once, for later to admit that it wasn’t your favourite position, because you grew tired quickly. He didn’t mind, but now he thinks he’ll have you riding him at least once a week.

The way your dick enters your body is slow, as you slowly lower yourself on it. He can see your face contoured with pleasure, how you shut your eyes, and your hands grip on his shoulders as you whimper on it, you open your mouth and he leans to kiss your neck a bit, as if wanting to give back the affection you give him.

More than bounce on it, you find it more practical to grind on it. Your hands, that move between his waist and his shoulders, as if you didn’t know where to hold him to help you grind against his cock.

“That’s so good…” you whimper as you grind on his cock. 

The water moves around, the harder you grind, the harder it moves on the bathtub. He is even sure that some of it has overflowed the bathtub, as he looks at your pretty face, as you moan needily. His hand moved to pull down your nightgown, just enough to expose both of your tits in the firm fabric. He pulls it down to expose your shoulders a bit, and it is a sight that only arouses him more.

“It’s so good, baby?” He asks looking up to you, and he leans his head to kiss your nipple, gently. 

He knows you missed him. You are not rough, or a mess on his cock. You are doing it so prettily, so sweetly, he knows that you truly have missed him and his touch. 

“Yeah, so-so good.” You babber a bit, nodding as he kisses your other breast softly. He does not hold you, he has his hand on the back, trying to keep him firm as you ride him. 

His right hand holds your waist, as he notices. Your arms are on his shoulders as you whimper and moan, grinding him, not even minding the water around.

He has to admit, in the bathtub isn’t as comfortable as outside of it. The water doesn’t help to be smoother, if anything, he has the impression it does the contrary. It may be just him, as you don’t say anything against it.

“So eager, baby…” he says amazed, and now he feels like the one worshipping you. He just adores you, he realises, as he sweetly talks you through it “You just needed me, this badly?” He asks, kissing your jaw.

The little nods you give him are enough to get him moving his hips slowly up to meet your little grinds and bounces.

He kisses your breast again, and the other, and the other. He adores you, how the little mewls from your mouth are so arousing for him as you clench your pussy around him. 

“Aemond…” you whine. “Feels.. amazing, so good...” you repeat, as if you couldn't think of anything else, as he looks up to you. 

 He is just surprised you have gotten this far without begging him to take control. They way he’d take your waist and flip you around, to make you hold the other edge of the bathroom, just to take you from behind, again, and again, and again. The water would overflow the bathtub completely, and his seed would be securely in your womb. 

But you don’t ask him, and he doesn’t do it. He likes the sweetness of it. He likes how you look at him needily for both of your lips to meet on a kiss, passionate as your bounces and grind are slightly weaker. 

“My special girl…” he murmurs, kissing you again and again, not minding if they are pecks or if he has the opportunity for his tongue to play with yours. “I love you”

You nod, whimpering and whining as you say it back. I love you, I love you, I love you. Again and again, as if it was some prayer.

“Aemond” you moan into his mouth, 

“I know. Can you feel how good you take me?” He asks softly, kissing your chin, as he holds your waist to help you bounce on his cock. The splash of the water amuses and arouses him, and he groans at the sight of your nightgown fully soaked, glued to your figure.

“Mhm. Yes, yes, Gods, yes” you said, probably numb and already cockdrunk, just enjoying the feeling of his cock so deep inside.

“You want me to fill you, hm? To make you round with my seed, baby?” He asks, looking at you, moving to kiss your neck. 

He is also rambling at this point, as you squeeze him in the perfect way, asking to be filled with cum. He ignores how the water splashes his chest and back, how it is practically soaking the carpet under the bath, and making a mess. He has to remember how wet it might be so you two don’t slide on the floor. 

“Aemond, I… oh, Gods, Aemond!”

You little moans are music to his ears, as he holds your waist to move you down to his cock, to his taste. Not as rough as usual, but certainly desperate enough to want to cum.

“Will you cum for me, darling?” He asks, as he feels your hips grinding more desperately on him, and he throws his head back on the edge as he feels his balls tighten as well. You did wonders on him. “Cum for me and I’ll fill you up as you so much like” he promises, almost feral for you to cum. 

Your release made him moan, loudly, as he held you tight on his cock as he cums as well. He looks lazily at you, panting and whimpering still, which only serves to fuel the last remains of arousal on his abdomen, filling your womb with his cum. He hopes it takes root  and to see you grow pregnant as moons pass by.

“Thank you” you say, breathless against his chest, kissing his cheek sweetly. 

He smiles a bit, by how pleasure drunk you obviously were. He moves you slightly, to pull out from you and accommodate you on his chest, which you take comfort in. “Nothing to be thankful for. I thank you. Having sex is rather… good for when one had a bad day” he says smiling. 

You smile, and look at him, caressing his chest as you remain in this position, calmly breathing as he tries to stop panting. 

“Have I made it better?” You ask, softly, looking up to him.

He chuckles softly, almost amused by how ridiculous the question was.

“Just by having a sight of you, you make my day better” he says. 

Even if he was new to this whole marriage thing, even if sometimes he didn’t know you that well as your ladies-in-waiting and sometimes just allowed you to be even if it bothered him. He didn’t understand you most of the time, but he certainly adored you, very dearly. 

“I can make it even better” you say almost proudly, and he raises his eyebrow, looking at you laying on his chest. The water wasn’t even hot anymore, but more cold than he could bear. 

“Oh, how so?” He asks amused. “Did you claim a dragon? Only that can top the amazing moment that we just-”

“I am with child” you say simply, looking at him with a smile. 

He stops on his tracks, and looks at you as he takes in what you said. He blinks, looking at you, and you smile awkwardly at him. Was he happy? The prospect always puts him in a good mood. But maybe it wasn’t as you thought? One thing was words, and other actions.

You watch his eye as he seems to have hundreds of thought per second, his face slight confused as he frowns a bit, before his lips turn into smile full of disbelief.

“Are you joking?” 

“No... Maester Orwyle informed me this morning” you say softly. “He says that probably our wedding night was fruitful. I don't know. I don't look that pregnant, after these months. We have to figure it out in these days, so we can see when the birth is due... It's funny, because at first we thought it was from the sickness, that I got the worst part… but I just happened to be sick and pregnant”

That's why Maester Orwyle looked at him with a slight smirk as he helped desinfect his arm after training. You probably asked him to keep the secret so you could tell him.

That's why there was something off about you. He couldn't get exactly what, but something was off. It made sense, how nervous you were and how you tried to tell him before, but he was a fool to not notice it.

“Oh, my love…” he says, as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly to him. “Oh… I don’t… I... What can I even say to that?”

He is surprised, and he can’t believe it. You were pregnant. You actually were. His little offspring, growing in your womb right at this moment. Your stomach was not firm by any mean, he couldn't decipher it even if he liked so.

“That is… That is the best thing anyone has ever told me” he admits, chuckling a bit in surprise. “You are going to be a mother. And you are going to make me a father” 

"We are, indeed" You say smiling to him. "In some months, it will be me, you and a weeping babe"

He can feel his nose burn as he smiles, the image on his head as he forces himself not to cry of happiness, a weird chuckle comes out of his mouth.

"You are right" he says looking at you. "So, you are definitely moving to my chambers now, aren't you? No more personal chambers, no more confinement when sick. You are not leaving my side, not you or our little dragon" He states nodding, not for discussion. He can't have you just wandering around without him near to protect both of you.

He smiles, as you giggle. His day certainly got better, all thanks to you. His hands caress your back soothingly, as he is just... happy. He forgets about his horrible day, how his ankle still hurts or how his scar stings on his cheek and forehead as he smiles. What is that compared to the joy of knowing that he will be a father? A father to your children as well?

“Now, how come Lady Westerling got my pregnant wife sick?” he teases you as you roll your eyes. “She is in so much trouble, who does she think she is? Both my wife and my sweet baby? Oh, she is not going to see sunlight ever again-”

“Aemond!” you giggle, but he smooches your cheek with kisses that only makes your giggles grow louder.

[s-4pphics]

a friend in need! (e.w.)

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SYNOPSIS: heartbreak aid during the apocalypse, you ask? 

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: bff!ellie who’s sad, kinda perv oc who’s eager to fix that, remixed version of seattle!ellie, dina catching strays for no reason (i love her pls), wound care but erotic, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MINORS DNI, dubcon (nasty green), porn watching, mutual/guided masturbation, brief poochie eating, oc in denial ab her little crush, real girlhood <3, slight angst :(

A/N: the bubblegum apocalypse where no one dies or lies. #SCISSORING

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The gates of Jackson open, and relief rushes through your chest. 

Everyone is accounted for. Ellie’s accounted for. 

Weeks—or however the fuck long— of pent-up anxiety finally settles in your limbs as you sprint towards Shimmer while Jesse tends to Dina, greeting the hazel mount with coos and rustles through her fur. Baby needs a bath and a good brushing. 

Your eyes swiftly shift from her to your best friend, “Ellie, I’m so glad— “

“Can you help me down, please?” 

Creases bunch in your forehead at the strain in her tone. And then you’re met with the blood-soaked wrap that's enclosed around her jean-covered thigh. 

“Oh, shit… c’mere.” 

Ellie’s good leg swings over the saddle, and you hold her waist to ease her down into the muddy grass. Joel’s the first one to engulf her. They exchange words that you don’t catch before his reluctant arms drop to guide Shimmer back to the stocks, leaving you two alone. You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around her neck next, mindful of her leg. 

“I didn’t know what to think when y’all didn’t come back,” you whisper. 

When the two girls first made their departure to Seattle, the icy remains of winter had just begun to melt into the dirt beneath it, and that alone felt like ages ago. There’s mosquitoes and moths everywhere now, following wherever the sun beams. 

A strong arm wraps around your waist, and you instantly stiffen and detach from her, hands resting on her shoulders. 

Her gaze drops to the ground when you whisper, “What happened, Ellie? You okay?”

She breathes. “Peachy.” 

Your hands drop when she turns in the direction of her home, head jerking when she says, “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Dinners supposed to be really good tonight!” You exclaim with a broken smile when she takes her first hobble, “Eat with me? Consider it a celebration that you made it home safe.” 

Ellie seems to soften at your invitation, head bobbing in approval, and you smile. 

She holds her fist out to you, “See you in 20?” 

You bump your knuckles against hers with strained cheeks, “See you in 20.” 

One small, comforting smile from her, and she’s off, limping back home. 

“What’s up with them?” 

You flinch at the too close whisper from Jesse, and you shrug. “Maybe they broke up.” 

“Doubt it,” He snorts, “Dina told me it was brutal on the way back. The bastards were everywhere, she said. They’re probably still shook up.” 

“Damn… How’s she doing?” 

“Weird as hell. I think she’s sick or something,” Concern is melting off him, “She’s getting checked out now.”

“I’ll check on her later,” You face him, “Coming to dinner?” 

“Probably not. Gotta make sure Dee’s good.” He’s already walking off, trailing after his friend…? Ex? You never know what to call them. 

“See ya.” You wave awkwardly. 

Weird. 

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How do you cheer up a friend that just witnessed three dozen infected tear another small community to shreds? At least, according to Jesse. He was able to get more out of Ellie and Dina than you were, apparently. 

You don’t know how Ellie — or anyone — could experience such barbarous scenes as frequently as they do. You’ve been on patrol twice since you stumbled upon Jackson a few years back, and each venture leaves you less and less eager to see the world beyond its walls. You respect their bravery, not only for being able to dive head first into unknown territory with nothing but bullets and faith, but to also face those walking demons at every corner. 

Your closest friend is often excited to show you scavenged artifacts that she has collected, but… she’s barely spoken to you since you helped her off Shimmer. 

Her silence is uncommon, and therefore, frightening. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had fish,” you scoff weakly, poking your carrots with your fork, “It’s good, huh?” 

Her focus shifts from the tablecloth to you. 

Silence. 

You drop your utensil, “Fuck, Ellie… dude, what happened out there? Jesse told me… that y'all got caught up— “

“Dina’s pregnant.” 

He didn’t tell you that.

Ellie’s whisper breezes past your ears so fast that you barely catch it. The canteen continues to bustle with hungry, ravaged patrons who returned from their second round of patrol. You assumed Ellie was one of them after her scattered return, but she hasn’t touched anything on her plate. Not even her carrots. Her favorite; A literal goddamn rabbit. 

No wonder she hasn’t eaten… Who could’ve with news like that? Especially considering the high she was riding before the couple left. 

“What.” 

Ellie’s head shakes with gall, and a disappointed grin plumps her cheeks. 

“Yup… Can’t wait to tell Maria.” 

Sharing the news of a new Jackson kiddo sounds like the last thing on her mind. Days before the two took off, she was squealing like a wild hyena in the wee hours of the night, gushing to you about the midnight explorations with her long-term crush. Her retellings of their first night together were vivid: filled with pent up tension and need and unfiltered lust. According to Ellie, they could’ve gotten married in a fortnight with the relationship they’d built over the years, and you believed her. Sadly. 

You were present, observant, during your teenage years. You were there when Cat kissed Ellie, when they broke up, when Ellie had recurring nightmares about Riley and was desperate for comfort from you, when Ellie fell for Dina… 

And now they’re in a pickle. A fat one. 

Hearing about Ellie’s relationship never went how you’d assume. You expected to be happy for your friend whenever she enthused about a topic that brought about such elation, but there was always something about the stories that gave you pause. Something that burned in the pit of your stomach and caused you to, frankly, fake congratulations. You’re unsure why, but hearing about Dina and Ellie’s relationship potentially being tarnished is calming that simmer inside you.

“Just when I thought…” She scoffs quietly. “Whatever. Fuck it.” 

You can’t resist and slip, “… Who’s the daddy?” And she hisses.

“Guess.” 

But you don’t have to... Fuck. 

Dina and Jesse’s relationship was… something. In adolescence, Ellie was either secretly celebrating their multitude of separations or crying to you about them getting back together. Their consistent streak of being on and off clearly got the best of them. There’s a ball of cells growing inside of your friend’s almost-girlfriend. 

“Shit… maybe it was… a misunderstanding? Doesn’t it take a couple weeks to… form in the womb or whatever?” 

You’re not the devil's advocate. Your lips clamp at Ellie’s stern glare.

“There’s no misunderstanding.” 

Your shoulders slump at the distance in her eyes. The indifference she’s exuding can’t disguise the hurt that she’s experiencing internally. Your heart aches for her, despite the excited jitters in your fingers.

“… Sorry, man.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Good, you impulsively want to say. You shove it down into the hardwood beneath your soles. Your brows furrow in annoyance, more so at yourself for not being remorseful. “Fuck off. Yes, you do, and that’s okay. It’s normal.” 

“Can we go?” 

Her request is sudden and cracked, and every inkling of pride deflates in your chest. Poor thing; How could you feel like this when she’s this scattered? Guilt replaces whatever dark fantasy you’ve conjured up in the past five minutes. 

You move to stand without objection. Fuck the carrots, “Yeah. Let’s roll— “

An instant lightbulb above your head… and it’s glowing green. Roll.

Roll!

Mischief shines in your chest and eyes when you glance around the packed space in search for, 

“TOMMY!” 

A flash of brown hair turns to meet your sprinting form. The peach he’s holding looks devine. 

“You seen ‘Gene anywhere?” 

Your grin widens at his disapproving stare.

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“Be careful with those, shit-for-brain! I’m not coming to save your ass like last time!” 

“Got it, boss!” You squeak with a polite smile, shoving the small baggie of rolled joints into your stuffed satchel. It vanishes the second Eugene slams his vault to his dirty ass man cave, “Fucking dicksucker.” You huff.

Ellie snickers from beside you. “C’mon. Be nice.” 

“No. He skimped on me last time. Toke hog.” 

The walk to your place is colder than usual, but it’s beautiful out. The moon shines from behind the dark clouds, illuminating the ivory that shields the incoming spring grass. Gorgeously cinematic; A scenery that gets the heart thumping. Aching. Yearning. 

You lead Ellie onto your porch and into your home. She removes her jacket and kicks off her boots, throwing her armor over the designated rack. Your satchel goes flying across the room until it clatters on your bed. Black tapes spill all over the mattress, and Ellie scolds you disapprovingly. 

“Again? Really?”

You smirk. Eugene’s always too blasted to punish your kleptocracy, “No one has a better porn collection than ‘Ge— “

Her jaw slacks, “Porn?! What the fuck, I thought those were the Jurassic Park— “

“They’re not…” Before pondering, “Although that’d be some crazy role play. RAAAWR— “

“You’re the fucking worst.” 

“C’mon! Look at these titles,” You skip to your bedside to snag a couple tapes, “Smoochie the Coochie… Banging my hot neighbor…” 

A boisterous laugh passes your lips, “Throbbin’ Hood: Prince of Beaves! Tell me that’s not fucking hilarious!” 

Ellie doesn’t laugh. Hasn’t laughed. Just simmers by the front door with red dusting her cheeks. How adorable! 

“Why’re you looking like that?” 

When her eyes travel over the creases between your brows and confused smile, your feet give an awkward stutter. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. At the very least, she should’ve cracked a smile by now. Even an insecure one. 

You peer down at the tapes in your hand and back up at her. Her posture shifted: arms wrapped protectively around her waist while she leaned on the balls of her feet, eyes inspecting the dim lights of your space. 

Another lightbulb. Not a green one. 

“Have you ever watched porn?” 

She shrugs with floundering shoulders. You chuckle. 

“It’s just for shits and giggles, Ellie. Don’t be so serious. The acting sucks and you needa good laugh.” 

You cradle the filled baggie like it holds a sacred orb and waltz towards the VCR. Your screen shifts from bright blue to the tape’s introduction screen. Naked men in speedos… Ellie plops down on the couch behind and mindlessly flicks a lighter. You reach into the baggie and toss her the fattest joint available before working the remote. 

A sigh releases… then another flicker… then a long, drawled out exhale. You grin. 

You, remote in hand, plop down next to her, “Is it good?”

“Better than last time, for sure.” You trade the remote for the joint, arm wrapped around your angled legs as you pull. Hits smooth… er. It still dries your throat. 

“Remind me to thank him.” 

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Two joints down. Two tapes completed. Three wide smiles from Ellie from the bad acting. The night’s a win in your book. 

She lazily lights another joint while you switch out the tapes. You purposely saved the best for last: apparently the only lesbian porno in that bastard’s whole cave. When’s the last time you’ve smoochied a coochie?

More importantly, when’s the last time Ellie has? Recently, you assume; She and Dina were too close to only be going on long walks in the woods. The more you smoke, the more your mind wanders where it shouldn’t. 

… Your friend is a lover. Always has been, despite her efforts of convincing you, herself — everyone — that she’s emotionally indifferent. Craves affection, both verbal and physical, like she’s deprived. She raves to you about her desires on a weekly basis, for fucks sake! Someone hug the poor girl! 

“Feeling better?” You squeak when you plant on the cushion. Ellie nods with a soft grin. 

“Thank you.” 

Your hands clap together and her body shakes from the recoil. “The night’s not over yet! I got a surprise for you! Happy Birthday!” 

“It’s not my birthday… I don’t know my birthday— “

Your smile is laced with grating sarcasm, “Wow, you really know how to kill the vibe! Just play along, goddamn!” 

You sigh when her expression flattens. 

“Ellie…”

“Yes?” 

Oh… That crackly tone did a little something. Cheering Clitorous. Alright. Okay. 

“I found a little something in ‘Gene’s special drawer— “

“Aren’t all his drawers special.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up.” 

Her red eyes widen, but she silences. 

“You know what feels really nice after a bad breakup?” 

Her middle finger digs into her dry eye, “Getting high and watching porn with the only other lesbian you know?” 

“Even better,” Your hand claps down on her jean-clad, uninjured thigh. “Getting high and watching lesbian porn with the only other lesbian you know… while getting head. A true fixer-upper.”

More silence, and your tummy gives a nervous tumble. Eugene’s bud gives you enough courage to make eye contact, and, given any other circumstance, you would’ve hollered laughter at how stunned Ellie looks, eyes nearly stretched beyond her lids, but you don’t. You press on when she denies you. 

“You’re lying.” 

“Am I?” Your thumb presses the large button in the middle and the screen displays two, three — six women… all sprawled out on white carpet while lewdness shines through their eyes… And not at all the romantic wives fingering each other next to the fireplace like you envisioned. Plus, the music sucks. Who the fuck plays the accordion while bumping cooters?

Your eyes circle around and… Oh, wow. A lot less tame than you were expecting… Are those chains and a paddle? 

What the fuck, Eugene. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Ellie’s either impressed or about to go on a judgmental rampage. You gauge her expression curiously. Her lashes keep fluttering like butterfly wings. You nearly coo audibly. She always does that when she’s excited! What a cutie! 

Ellie recites the description at the bottom of the screen, “When six girls go off into the woods for an early 4th of July getaway, conversations take a lustful… and explorative turn. Find out what happens during one late, hot evening after a game of… kiss and blow?” 

You snort, “Are you asking me?” 

“Well, yeah… The fuck is kiss and blow?” 

You shrug, “Find out.”

One click of the remote, and the footage begins… More giggles from Ellie, and something flutters in your chest. You’ll have to watch bad acting with her more often. 

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Six minutes into Smoochie the Coochie, and you still don’t know what kiss and blow is. And you don’t care to find out. 

High pitched moans and pleasured squeals that almost sound phony rings in your hazy skull as you stare up at your best friend from between her covered legs. 

This is the quietest she’s been all night: her eyes are locked on the screen behind you, completely entranced with flushed cheeks by what you assume is the sweatiest, raunchiest… scissoring, is what it’s called? On the screen. Maybe. You’re wired and can’t think straight and Ellie’s hot. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” 

She whispers when you caress her thigh over her pants, and you nod approvingly. Desperately, but she can’t tell. “Up to you.” 

You don’t expect a cold hand to come up and tenderly brush against your cheek. You shudder and nuzzle into it. Sober you would be so embarrassed at how you’re reacting to her affections. You’ve never been the needy one. 

“Can we…” 

You pout and burn with embarrassment, but start to pull back, “Stop?” 

“No, no…” Her eyes meet yours and your body locks. A bit nervous. “I dunno…” 

“Tell me.” 

“Later.” She whispers. 

You stare skeptically as she plays with your earlobe. “I promise I’m good. I want this. I’ll tell you later.” 

A pause before you sigh. “Okay. Up.” You pat her thigh and her hips rise. Her unbuttoned jeans are peeled down her legs, gently over her fresh bandage, and tossed beside you. Your body is miles ahead of your brain; before you realize, your lips smack all over her bruised thighs, peppering over the freshly bandaged scars and faded ones. She squirms where she sits, shaky breaths puffing from her lips. 

Your mouth travels higher, and an encouraging hand lands on the back of your head, massaging your scalp. 

“Tell me what’s happening.” You mumble against her, a blind finger pointing back at the screen. 

“I don’t — So much shit is going on. Like… from all directions.”  

You smile against her thigh, “Someone catch your attention?” 

“I…” 

But no explanation is needed. There’s treads of weakness in her growl. Go figure. 

“Lemme guess… She look like her?” 

If she catches the unwarranted agitation in your tone, she doesn’t mention it. Simply digs her nails into the back of your head. No forceful tugs at your hair, but a warning, and your teeth beam. 

“I dunno what the fuck you’re smiling for, but it’s gonna piss me off soon.”

There's a smidge of threat in her voice, so your kisses travel up. A pleasant distraction, given every small twitch of her legs. 

Not too long before you reach the hem of her underwear, and you trap it between your teeth before releasing it. Her tummy jolts when the fabric hits her skin, and you go heart-eyed. 

“Tell me who you’re looking at.” 

“T-The one that brought all that crazy shit to the party.” 

Of course. Handcuffs, she means. The large, wooden paddle, she means. A slow drag of your tongue advances up her v-line and her body wracks against her will. 

“Crazy in a bad way?” You purr against softness, and she exhales a laugh. “Not in this context, I guess.” 

“You like that kinda stuff?” 

“How the fuck would I know?” 

You snort before your eyes fall, trapped by the small patch of wetness that sticks to her panties. Glues the outline of her lips to the fabric. You’re seconds — inches away from going feral. 

Whatever patience you entered with has withered: and with determined hands, Ellie’s underwear gets yanked, pried down her legs and tossed behind you. Your eyes glisten with excitement when they meet the red pearl that twitches in anticipation, walls that leak when the warmth of your breath brushes over the cup of her. 

Her pussy’s perfect. A stunner, for sure. You and Cat were never close, but you’d hit her up to get Ellie tatted. Not even in a discreet place. It’d be somewhere where everyone — Dina — can see. On your forehead, for fucks sake—

S-Stop staring at me. 

It seemed like the moans behind you became louder. You nearly shove three fingers in Ellie’s mouth as punishment for interrupting the moment, but you choke on a breath. Mumble a slur of you’re cute, can’t help it in an attempt to ease her. 

And just when your tongue unravels over your bottom lip, right when Ellie’s taste is millimeters away, right when her breath hitches and her mouth drops open, the loudest crack, very reminiscent of bullets, rings across your small living room. Scares her, scares you enough to steal the attention from the art between her thighs. 

The sight on the screen is new, even for you. 

It’s not every day you see girls being slung across muscly laps and swatted on the ass with wooden tools with their hands bound behind them while they cry and sob and beg for their masters to hit them harder. You probably would’ve laughed at the theatrics if Ellie wasn’t here, as if you weren't about to go to town on her ten seconds ago. Both your breaths shudder and tremble as raunchy sounds of lips smacking and girls touching themselves and fingering each other split your ears in half. 

Your vision tunnels and shifts when a whimper from Ellie rattles through your chest and down your ribcage. She gasps like you’ve caught her doing something bad, but she doesn’t stop whatever she’s doing. Just blushes madly with her hand shoved between her squeezed legs while her eyes flicker between you and the screen. 

Time seems to whir and the room spins. The pace of your breath increases, slobbery wheezes syncing with Ellie’s when her legs cross over one another. 

Your muscles move you closer, hands planted on either side of her waist, back enlengthening until your eyes are level with hers. Her tongue barely dips to wet her bottom lip, eyes swiftly flickering down to your mouth.

A hand raises right when another crack of a paddle against skin ripples through your speakers, and before Ellie can flinch, your palm caresses her cheek, thumb exploring the divets in her face. Over the healed wounds and fiery specks that hypnotize. You don’t expect her to nuzzle into your touch… 

And you definitely don’t expect her arm to start moving, despite its enclosing. 

Her eyelids bat, and green pierces through your chest. Over your neck, your face, your shoulders as her bicep twitches. When her lips part around a gasp, you choke. 

Lemme see. 

Ellie curses under her breath, kisses your palm, and undoes the twining of her legs. Her fingers are gentle where they rest over her pussy, the bones in her hand flexing as her palm digs into her clit, folds smushed around the muscles of her thumb. 

That’s how you do it?

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, masking a smile as her head shakes. Your heart pinches. 

Show me how. 

Her head falls to the side as her cheeks sizzle. 

You first. 

You shudder, and your brain scolds. This wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to smoke, watch porn, eat pussy, and escort her home safely. 

Not the fucking plan.

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Ellie insisted that you restart Smoochie the Coochie before you undress. For ambiance, she’d said when you stood on two feet, watching as she removed her hoodie. For me? She’d whispered against your cheek, in only a tank top, when you finally positioned yourself on the cushion in front of her. Face to face, pussies almost touching, your knees to the ceiling. 

The volume of the footage has been turned down, but the acting… it’s fucking hilarious. You shouldn’t be smiling. You shouldn’t be giggling, but you are. 

Ellie moves loose strands of hair behind her ear, grin matching yours. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Hm.”

Ellie, much to your shock, makes the first move. Again. 

Takes your wrist in her hand, brings your limp one up to her mouth to pepper kisses on your knuckles before pressing in between your open thighs. Your fingers are clumsy and your heart pounds against your ribcage, thighs jerking at the sticky contact of your own juices. Ellie's eyes between your legs like a hawk, leant comfortably against the pillows stacked behind her. 

Her attention encourages you. You balance on the hand that rests on the couch, grinning playfully around the fingers that sink into your mouth and glide on your tongue. Ellie shakes her head with a small smile before reaching for the lighter and last joint. Sticks the end of it between her lips, flicks the lighter twice, and ignites it. 

Every slow exhale of smoke gets rewarded with presses on your clit, your index and middle fingers tickling the sensitive area with learned precision. It pulsates under your fingertips whenever you lock eyes; her eyes are fervent with need, uncontrollably so, and it sends vibrations through your spine. 

Slower, Ellie whispers wetly when your touch becomes rushed. Too eager for her liking. She’s always hated when you rush things. Loathes your impatience. 

The moans from the film pick up again: shaky and cracked and high. They match yours when you apply just enough pressure on the spot right above your clit. Your walls constrict and slick gushes from, and Ellie curses.

When your fingers explore elsewhere, she sits up suddenly, her breath hitting your mouth when she mutters, Keep touching right there, with a tight hand around your wrist, trying to guide you back to the spot that makes your thighs quake.

I’m gonna cum if I do. There’s warning in your gasp.

Ellie puffs again before huffing a smoky breath, the scent infiltrating your senses. Your fingers almost sink inside, Wasn’t that the plan? 

Cum w-with me? 

Your voice is pleading, tone almost identical to when you would incessantly pester and follow Ellie around Jackson when you were younger. 

Ellie, watch a movie with me? 

Ellie, do a puzzle with me? 

Ellie, go on a walk with me?

Ellie! Ellie! Ellie! 

What used to be innocent invitations have swiftly shifted into something darker, and Ellie needs more. A shocked squeak leaves you when her free hand curls around the back of your neck to smash your lips together. Your hazy mind hadn’t registered Ellie’s fiery stares at your bruised lips, her head tilting in the opposite direction of yours, her nose brushing against yours whenever your fingers made a gooey noise. 

Your eyes flutter shut when her tongue sloppily glides over your bottom lip, moans quenchless where they hit Ellie’s tongue. She swallows them down until they jolt in her stomach, and shoves her hand between her thighs once more. 

Her fingers are drenched and so are yours; there’s nasty, slicked noises everywhere. From you, from Ellie, from the television that’s been forgotten by both of you. 

Ellie’s movements become desperate in a matter of seconds, no longer able to keep up the pace of your kiss. Your separated lips connect only by a thin line of saliva as Ellie gasps hit the skin of your cheek. 

Can’t wait to feel you on me. 

Your euphoria begs to peak at Ellie’s promise, your fingers massaging all the spots that send you to the stars at a desperate pace, trying to match Ellie’s. 

Cum with me, she growls like you did, Cum with me, cum with me, fuck —

Your friend’s name is a prayer on your tongue, shrouded in lust and a longing you’ve forced down to non-existence. You both succumb to pleasure in unison, the pulsing between your thighs synched with hers as she whimpers out. 

I wanna tie you up like that. Tie you up? Beat your ass raw and bloody? Whatever she's looking at, you want. You'll take without hassle. Anything for her. After one glance at the screen, 

Cumming for you, oh shit—

You wring out your high until there’s nothing left to give her, legs closing around your wrist at the aching sensitivity. Ellie’s head falls onto the arch of your knees, lathering your skin in spit-filled kisses, her soaked hand slowing between her legs. 

“Lay down.” 

“H-Hm?” 

“Lay down,” you croak. 

And she does, eyes filled with carnality. 

The porno is long forgotten when your head shoves between Ellie’s legs, the tape stuck on the starter screen while her cries of pleasure blend with the same bullshit accordion. 

You tongue her with fever, drink down all of her heartbreak that she endured while she was away from the source, mark yourself all over the terrain of her until she shatters with a cry of your name. Drenches your mouth, your tongue, your chin. Pushes you away with a cautious hand when you don’t stop. Flinches with sensitivity. 

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“Hold still.” 

You swipe the disinfecting wipe over Ellie’s wound, fresh blood leaking into the white cotton. She assembles new bandages where she sits above you, unraveling the sterile fabric for you to wrap her in.

“I’m trying!” She whines, “It still hurts.” 

“Shouldn’t have tried to ride my face— “

She flicks your forehead so hard, it thumps like a drum, and you wince before playfully biting her finger. 

She snickers and allows you to collect the last bits of blood with the last tarnished rag in your first-aid kit, snagging the bandages from her grasp. She holds down the new gauze and does as she’s told, lifting her thigh on your command as you bind her messy stitches. 

Why did you kiss them, though? 

It lasted 0.5 seconds. A quick, gentle smack meant to soothe, but your brain doesn’t see it that way. Red alarms glow in every crevice of your cerebrum, urging you to move away from your best friend. You stare at Ellie and Ellie stares back, expression no longer readable and easy-going, and you flinch away from her. 

Inviting her over for some innocent porn-watching is one thing… but kissing her without motive? Without the need to progress into something more? It stuns you more than her. You think.

“Sor — sorry — “

Ellie’s already palming at your shoulders, “It’s okay… it’s not a big deal— “

And it’s not. Why does her confirmation bloom a new ache in your chest? 

Your knees pop when you hurriedly stand, and Ellie follows, hands sliding down your arms to grab your hands. 

“Hey…”

You meet her eyes. 

“We’re good… okay? It’s nothing serious.” 

Don’t cry. You agree with a grin. One you pray she doesn’t notice cracks in its corners. She says nothing. Just caresses your cheek in unsaid thanks. Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the distraction. 

Ellie returns a smile before gathering her clothes off the floor. She dresses in silence as you watch with a sorrowful gleam. Is it selfish to ask her to stay? Would it be too much? Should you? Will you?

It’s when she’s tying her boots up that you say something. 

“I can walk you back!” 

“I got it. I’m not going straight home.” 

Ellie’s denial is calm. Gentle. Not abrasive in the slightest, but your hands quiver and heart swells, bound to burst with dejection. Where is she going? The town is sleeping. 

She leaves before you can ask with a promise of seeing you in the morning for breakfast. Nothing unfamiliar, nothing changed. 

Tears rock you to sleep, and you’re not sure why. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

[sweetpupii]

So um just a thought

Caitlyn going to a brothel in the undercity becuse she wants to find a person deserving of a hate fuck so she can get her anger out. Que very nice reader who hasn't been working as a sex worker very long and is kinda intimidated by Caitlyn. Caitlyn fucks you good and proper, a little too much degration compared to what your used to and maybe a bit too much choking but... It was still a good fuck. Now you don't expect her to stay but to be honest your in tears by the time your both done. It was so intense and angry on her side that you feel weirdly emotional and subspace-y. Caitlyn feels really guilty because you didn't deserve her being so rough and mean so she stays and takes care of you a bit.

cw - hair pulling, choking, degradation, slapping once, oral sex ( r! giving ), reader swallows sorry not sorry, awfully written comfort at the end, mean sex !! 2.5k words, damn.

the brothel was busy as usual

smoke, sometimes shimmer, giggles, and moans in every corner. the typical sounds could be heard from the rooms with curtain doors nearest the entrance—the cheapest and most accessible option.

near the entrance it was, unsurprisingly, louder. a man was being dragged out by two burly security guards, his drunken protests echoing through the main hall. “I paid for my time!” he slurred, struggling against their grip. the guards didn’t falter, one muttering sharp threats while the other shoved him toward the door.

he didn't, in fact, pay for his time.

It was loud, messy, and entirely ordinary. scenes like this played out almost nightly, barely earning a glance from anyone else in the building.

clients tended to go with the more well-known workers, the ones with reputations built on experience and reliability. there was comfort in familiarity, a kind of assurance that the night would go as planned. the rookies, on the other hand, rarely drew such attention unless they had something particularly striking to offer.

so, it wasn’t a surprise that you found yourself at the edge of the room, sitting on one of the couches apart from the ‘seasoned’ workers. hands brushing over your skimpy outfit as you tried to get rid of boredom, fixing the mask that covered most of your face.

another quiet night it seemed.

it shouldn't be so shocking to find an enforcer uniform with a gas mask entering the brothel, it was quite common actually, but the fact it was a way fancier uniform and she seemed more tense than most was kinda off…

it was almost scary to see her without the mask; furrowed eyebrows, cold gaze, dark blue hair framing her face as she walked in.

“how much?”

your train of thought interrupted by her sudden words, blinking a bit to look back at her, getting up from the couch to greet her with a smile.

“hi, that depends on what you're looking for. we got the bubble baths, the massages, the lap—”

“just me and you for a few hours.” her tone firm as she dropped a bag of money on the glass coffee table. It looked pretty full and definitely heavy. maybe enough to get through a week without having to see any other client…

anywho.

there wasn't much time to respond because she was already making her way towards the other rooms, looking around to not get lost and find an empty one; not even bothered to see if you were following.

clients were meant to follow the workers so they wouldn't do anything dumb and dangerous. your quick steps could be heard across the corridor as you approached her, walking a bit faster to stay ahead before knocking on one of the doors.

available.

you barely had time to process as caitlyn shoved the door shut with her heel, the sound echoing in the cramped, dimly lit room. the faint glow of a red bulb overhead cast harsh shadows across her sharp features. her intensity was palpable, an oppressive force pressing against your chest before her hands ever made contact.

she didn’t ask. she took.

her gloved hand found your throat—not enough to choke, not yet, but enough to make your breath hitch. the cold material of the wooden door contrasted sharply with the warmth blooming beneath your skin. sadly, you weren’t new to rough clients, but this was different. It wasn’t playful, and it wasn’t calculated. It was raw and brimming with something darker than lust.

“wait, wait—we gotta talk first!” you managed to say while trying ( and failing ) to push her face away.

you see, you can't just come into a brothel and immediately fuck a girl; there are rules to follow:

⠀1. you gotta talk with babbette or any worker ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ available. be polite.

⠀2. you choose one ( or a few if you're feeling fancy ) of ⠀ ⠀ the services.

⠀3. talk about your boundaries as well as the ⠀ ⠀⠀ worker's.

⠀4. you pick a time limit.

⠀5. you talk with the worker you chose and see if ⠀⠀ it's going to be a fun time or just awkward.

⠀6. you pay.

⠀7. in some cases, depending on the girl, kissing is ⠀ not allowed since…well, it feels way too ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ intimate.

⠀8. the worker's mask has to stay on.

⠀9. etc, etc, etc...

caitlyn has only followed two rules so far.

“I do not care about your name,” her free hand is already discarding your mask and throwing it somewhere else. “or whatever it is that you want to talk about.”

she seemed way too serious and…pissed? it's not like you in particular had done anything to her but feels like she's capable of slapping your mouth shut if you tried something.

so better safe than sorry, I guess?

“take it off,” she demanded, nodding toward the thin excuse for a top you wore. her voice was cold steel, no room for negotiation. her eyes bore into yours, daring you to disobey.

with trembling hands, you obeyed, peeling the fabric away to expose yourself to her. she watched every movement, unblinking.

when you finally freed yourself from the skimpy uniform, she wasted no time. her hands—one bare, one gloved—gripped your waist with bruising intensity and pushed you back against the nearest surface. the table behind you creaked under the sudden weight, the edge digging uncomfortably into the back of your thighs.

caitlyn's breath hot against your neck as her knee forced its way between your legs. you gasped, unprepared for the firm pressure against your cunt, even through the thin cover of your underwear. her lips were on your neck now, trailing rough kisses up to your jawline. there was no tenderness, only a desperate, consuming need.

her hand returned to your throat, this time squeezing just enough to send your vision blurring at the edges. “you are here just to take it, aren’t you?” she murmured, her voice low and biting. “it’s all you are good for.”

the words hit harder than her grip.

shame mingled with a strange, reluctant heat that spread through your body, leaving you unsure whether to protest or submit. her knee pressed harder, grinding against you in a rhythm that stole your breath, and your body betrayed you with a faint, uncontrollable whimper.

“pathetic,” she spat, “look at you. barely touched, and already falling apart.”

every touch was firm, calculated to remind you of her control. her bare fingers found the skin of your chest, teasing and tugging at the sensitive nipple in a way that drew sharp breaths from you despite yourself.

you should say something—maybe beg her to slow down or remind her of the brothel's rules—but the words wouldn’t come. your throat felt raw, constricted not only by her hand but by the intensity of the moment. It was overwhelming, in every sense of the word.

she moved faster, her gloved hand sliding down to your hips, yanking the last barrier of fabric away with little care. there was no hesitation, no checking to see if you were ready. she just... took. the rough friction left you breathless, your body caught in a relentless rhythm that gave you no time to adjust.

her lips found yours briefly—rough and unyielding—but she pulled back just as quickly, her blue eyes boring into yours. “don’t think you’re special,” she muttered, her voice harsh but faltering slightly, as though she didn’t entirely believe her own words. her hand returned to your throat, squeezing harder this time, enough to make your head spin.

she took ( dragged ) you to the bed surrounded by fake plants and cheap, kind of intoxicating scents of the candles placed on each nightstand.

your back met the mattress as she took off her own uniform, giving you a brief moment to breathe and just stare at the ceiling. it’s gonna be a looooong night, that's for sure.

she forced your legs open to spit right on your pussy as if it wasn't already soaked—index and middle finger smearing the cool, viscous liquid across your warm, sticky skin.

the way cait pushed your knees up to your chest was rough, absolutely unbothered by the possibility that the position might be uncomfortable for you. all she cared about was the feeling of sitting on you, rubbing—no, thrusting her hips against yours in a rather aggressive pace.

poor bed, poor wall...

you didn't mean to get so loud, you really didn't, but the movements practically forced the sounds out of you! like being punched in the gut hard and holding back the painful whimper, it wasn't humanly possible.

a scoff could be heard from her as one of her hands moved from your ankle to your face, giving it a firm slap to stop you from looking away. “stop acting all shy, pretending like you aren't a strumpet.”

so what if your legs were numb, chin glistening with your own drool, bed sheets soaked and your makeup ruined by tears? you can handle another orgasm. caitlyn is not leaving this brothel until she's fully satisfied.

it was too much, and yet somehow not enough. her anger was palpable, pouring into every touch, every thrust, every bruising grip on your skin. she wasn’t just using you to satiate her lust; she was pouring her frustration, her bitterness, her everything into you, leaving you trembling under the weight of it.

when she does stop her torturing thrusts it feels like you've reached heaven for a second—not in the happy way, more in the questioning-if-i’m-alive way—your body trembled, boneless and heavy. chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm, feeling like a dog in the middle of a heat wave. trying to close your legs was painful.

“open.”

jesus, this woman has stamina for days. ( total show-off by the way )

the thought flickers and dies as quickly as it came because she’s already there—knees on each side of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair, tugging just hard enough to send a shiver down your spine. you don’t even have the energy to complain or ask for a break; you just obey, your lips parting instinctively as she guides you closer.

it's so messy: wet, slurping sounds echoing with every movement, muffled whimpers vibrating against her sensitive clit. the sharp sting of her grip on your hair pulls you deeper, forcing you to follow the rhythm of her grinding hips. everything about her—her scent, her taste, her intensity—is overwhelming.

It’s a blur of sensations. your jaw aches, there's not enough room to breathe something other than her, all you can hear are her groans and your own movements, your tongue is slowing down, and your body feels like it’s on fire, but you can’t stop. heavy-lidded eyes threaten to close completely, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks.

her movements become erratic, her breath hitching with each thrust of her hips. she doesn’t stop until your lips and tongue are coated in a creamy, milky white stickiness. she pulls back only enough to press her hand under your chin, forcing your mouth shut, her other fingers trailing to your throat as she murmurs, “swallow.”

you do. every single drop.

by the time she finally slowed, deciding four rounds was enough, your body was an oversensitive mess. tears streaked your cheeks, hot and silent, and your breath came in ragged panting.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted her disheveled hair. her gaze flicked to you, lingering on the tears and makeup staining your face.

the silence after everything was deafening. you couldn’t stop shaking, your chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as tears streaked down your face. the mattress beneath you felt too soft, like it would swallow you whole if you sank any further.

caitlyn sat on the edge of the bed, her back to you at first, her head in her hands. her breathing had steadied, but her hands trembled faintly, betraying the storm raging in her mind.

she hadn’t meant for it to go this far. the anger, the heat of the moment—it had consumed her, driven her to treat you like a target for her rage instead of a person. she knew better. she wasn’t supposed to let her emotions control her.

and yet, here you were.

when she finally turned to look at you, the sight of your tear-streaked face and trembling frame hit her like a physical blow. you weren’t just a distraction or an outlet—you were human, and she’d crossed every line imaginable.

“shit,” she muttered, rubbing a hand down her face before hesitantly moving closer. her shadow fell over you as she sat next to you. “hey...” she said softly, the word awkward and unfamiliar on her tongue.

you didn’t respond, barely blinking as you stared up at the dim ceiling light. more vulnerable, and fragile than what you had been prepared for.

caitlyn’s chest tightened as she watched you. she didn’t know how to fix this—her guilt felt too big, her own emotions still tangled—but she had to try.

slowly, carefully, she reached for your hand, her touch tentative, as if you might flinch away. when you didn’t, she wrapped her fingers around yours, her grip firm but gentle. “I shouldn’t have been that rough,” she said, her voice low but steady. “it was not about you. it was about me, and you didn’t deserve that.”

tears welled up again, spilling silently as you tried to focus on the sensation of her hand in yours rather than everything else. never in a million years you would've expected to be comforted by a client.

“I’ll make it right,” caitlyn murmured, almost to herself. she shifted, sitting on the bed beside you, and pulled the sheet up to clean your body a little, her touch deliberate and careful.

her fingers moved to brush damp strands of hair from your face, her thumb lingering on your temple in slow, soothing circles. “you are trembling like a leaf,” she sighed gently, her blue eyes softening as they met yours.

your vision blurry, but the tenderness in her voice and touch started to anchor you. your breathing slowed, chest rising and falling in time with her quiet encouragement.

the idea of taking a week long nap seemed really good right now.

when your trembling eased slightly, caitlyn leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. for everything.” she paused, her throat tightening. “you are more than... whatever I treated you as tonight. not a punching bag.”

god, she was the head of the nobel house kiramman but took care of her rage like a teenager out of control.

“you don’t have to stay...”

no one does because that's the whole point of paying for sex; quick with no strings attached. touch-and-go.

but the shaky tone in your feels like a stab to the heart for cait. “yes, I do. you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

she adjusted her position, pulling you gently closer against her bare chest. as careful as if she was approaching a scared cat. the warmth of her embrace was startling after the coldness of her earlier actions. “I will stay, alright?” she promised quietly, her hand running soothingly along your back.

and she did.

leaving a tip that would definitely make the other workers gossip about how good your service might be.

( even if cait did most of the job. )

masterlist

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Simon Riley lets out a high-pitched squeal when you shower with him first time because the water is too goddamn hot. (but it’s the best temperature for you).

LOL YES YES YES THIS IS SO TRUE!! Idk why but I also have a hc that he prolly jumped a bit to avoid the hot splash because in his military life he's used to shower in cold ass water, and rarely has time to adjust the temperature since he showered in rush (3 minutes shower). His skin might be a little pink or red after warm (hot) shower. Please just give this man lukewarm bath with rubber duck, shark and starfish, a gentle scalp massage would be a help too and trust me 100% he's addicted to it

yes he deserves a nice bath 😈 ty for the ideas!! this is just some little scenes I think will happen :D!

Simon*Reader, silly couple

btw anon’s talking about this post

Shower with Simon Riley

1.

You finally convince Simon to shower with you the first time (not that he doesn’t want it, he’s just not familiar with these intimate couple things, give that man some time to build his courage).

You throw your clothes aside without any bit of shyness, and step behind the shower curtain, turning on the water and waiting for Simon to come in.

You can’t help but salivate at the man’s figure, and he seems to notice your gaze, his ego must thrive to sky-high in mere seconds.

Until you rinse the water on his chest.

“eee!”

“???” You almost doubt it’s a seagull showering with you when you hear the high-pitched squeak coming from your lover whose voice is always low and gravel.

“...” Oh, and he’s avoiding meeting your eyes now.

“Did you just squeal Simon?”

“No.”

“But I heard—“

“No.”

2.

“You want this bath bomb or this or that?”

“They’re all fucking same.”

“No, this is vanilla, this is lavender, this is rose and this is...”

“Bloody hell... just choose one for me.”

“Alright then.” You toss the vanilla one into the lukewarm water.

10 minutes after Simon falls asleep in the bathtub with the rubber duck in his hand when you softly scratch his scalp.

...

A few days later, you open the drawer outside the bathroom and get drowned by tons of vanilla bath bombs.

“I thought someone said all of them are the same...” You smirk at Simon, while he just stares at you and can’t find a convincing reason to defend himself.

3.

You discover Simon’s skin turns into light pink after showering with you a few times.

“You’re like a strawberry” You two are cuddling on the bed after a soothing shower together. “Your skin always becomes pink after you shower with me.”

“I’m not a fucking strawberry.”

“How about peach?”

“That’s the same.”

“but it’s cute, seeing your cheeks turn red.”

You poke his face cheekily, but he just shoves your blahaj on his face to cover it.

“What, Simon?” You snicker as you scoot closer “Shy for being said cute?”

“...” He doesn’t answer, just covers his face with your plushie more secure.

“How can I kiss you when you cover your face, handsome?”

“...” Simon still maintains silence, but you’re damn sure he’s hesitating.

“You don’t want my kiss?” You fake a disappointed tone, and eventually, he moves the blahaj out of his face.

Your smile deepens when you still spot the pink smearing across his cheeks.

“That’s my man.” You peck his lips “Thanks, cutie”

You really should stop teasing him. You tell yourself when he smashes the blahaj on his face again once he hears you call him cutie.

[iluvloganhowlett]

Hi! I loved all of your works about hugh jackman, he’s such a nice guy! Will it be fine if you could write one where the reader shows up during his shoot/interview as a surprise? I need a lot of fluff in my life rn 😂

SURPRISE ༘⋆

in which you surprise hugh at his interview with ryan

warnings: none, just fluff!

i’m living for the hugh jackman supremacy icel

also catch the andrew garfield ref👀

you knew hugh had a tendency of constantly talking about you at interviews where he was meant to talk on his film, however when you snuck behind the scenes to surprise him, you couldn’t help the smile on your face at his words.

“yeah y/n, y’know she’s like a shot of espresso. she’s like… being bathed in the sunlight. she’s incredibly energetic and enthusiastic and she has this sense of play and fun which is incredibly exciting,” he cheeses, looking at ryan who has a disgusted face put on.

“you are just so sappy i don’t like it!”

hugh laughs, “sorry i just miss her. i haven’t seen her much since filming took place so far away.”

ryan smirked, glancing at you who stood behind hugh’s chair. somehow while he ranted, you managed to sneak around the backdrop and behind hugh.

suddenly ryan’s face turned to horror, pointing at you as a hand was brought to his face, “A GHOST!” he shrieked, causing you to erupt into laughter.

“i’m sorry,” you squeaked out, “i couldn’t help it.”

upon the sound of your voice, hugh’s head snapped around, eyes lighting up when he saw your figure. “hi?” he exclaimed, reaching for one of your hands as he twirled you around to be in front of him.

“hi baby,” a crew member pulled a chair out, placing it down quickly for you. “i missed you,” you mutter, leaning into hugh and ghosting your lips just over his.

he smirks, closing the space, “i missed you too,” he states, muffled by your lips together.

ryan fake gags, “alright nerds, that’s enough! this is a press conference not a damn porno!”

you roll your eyes playfully, intertwining your hand with hugh’s as you continue to listen in on the interview, popping in here and there.

anybody could notice how hugh visibly was more comfortable and relaxed now that you were here, so ryan chose to leave you two alone until the cameras cut.

this is rly short but i hope yall like it bc im cheesing

taglist!!

@velvrei @spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @zeeader @pink-jello-fish @twinky-wink @malfoys-demigod @seamlessepiphany @withafoll @lulawantmula @gigachadcowboy

[nekomanager]

WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND! ♡

- TWO of TWO -

ATSUMU thought that getting you out of his system was the solution for his annoyance towards you, but as it turned out, you got other parts of him raging instead. [Part ONE here]

🔖 f!reader, pwp, hate to horny to lovers, fingerfcking, squrting, blowjob, pussyeating, creampie, slight marking, semi-public sex

"Aaaargh! It turns out Tsum-Tsum's the highest point-earner for today," Bokuto proclaimed, slinging an arm over his teammate. "Means you get the reward, huh? How lucky!"

Reward? Atsumu almost scoffed. Reward...when he heard that word only one thing came to mind: your mouth around his dick.

Oh shit. He just got hard just at the thought. Sighing in frustration, he headed towards the showers, claiming his reward of having to take a bath first while his teammates get to clean up the court and keep things in order.

Taking his clothes off, his cock instantly sprung up the moment he pulled his shorts down. He's proud of his size but he'd be even more proud if he could stretch you again with it.

He groaned, turning the shower faucet on and letting the cold water cascade down his chiseled body. All his mind could do was run around in circles just thinking about you ever since he fucked you in the infirmary.

Now, you're too busy arranging their next out-of-country games that he could barely even talk to you. If there's a chance, it's either you're in a call or you're running around doing errands.

Maybe...you're avoiding him too.

Tsumu grunted and rolled his eyes. After what happened with you last time he could never ever allow you to avoid him again.

It's not because he's looking forward to having your soft lips against his again. No, totally not that!

Fuck! It's certainly that and everything about you.

From your sweet scent to how tasty you were dripping down his chin—they were all ingrained in his head. And his hand was persistent on his cock as he replayed the scene all over again. Damn! It's easy to get a chick he could waste time for some pump and dump, but not anymore. Ever since he got you, there's been no one else and this was the first and only time. He must be going crazy.

You're driving him crazy.

Biting down his lip, he went double time on his length. He thought that having sex with you would get you out of his system, but it was the other way around. He got a taste of you now and there's no damn way he's gonna live without—

Tsumu's eyes widened in speculation. He stopped halfway as the sound of the shower curtain drew his attention. He turned around and was welcomed by your surprise, eyes blinking twice in in the sight of his naked glory.

"Wha- What'cha doin' here?" he asked, trying to use the curtain as a cover to his hard-on. Why was he bein' shy all of a sudden?

You pulled your towel closer to you. "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Bokuto-san spilled his sports drink on me and he said I can use the shower," you tried to explain, avoiding eye contact.

"T-There's a lot out there why would ya open this?"

"Hey, I thought someone left the water open. It's just an accident. Who would've thought you'd be here when everyone's out there," you said, trying not look his way, but the way the droplets ran across his body was making you remember all the bad things he did to you. Oh no! It's dangerous. You shook the thought away. '"F-Fine! I'll just go."

You were about to leave him when the boys' chatting and hollering began echoing in the room.

Tsumu ran his glance from your worried expression to your barely clothed body. Realizing your situation, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you inside the shower in a panic.

He got you in his arms, heaving as your chests were flushed against each other. The Jackals entered the shower area, throwing insults and gossips around, their laughter and loud voices echoing.

"It's sad that Y/N's not around often recently," Shoyo started.

"Oh, yeah! That must be why Atsumu's been hitting it hard lately," Bokuto replied.

"He misses her."

"Definitely," The silver-haired agreed. "He better chalk her up before someone else comes in and steals his chance."

Tsumu gulped, his face heating up at the shocking revelation. Traitors! Traitors! You gazed upon him, eyes wide with disbelief and curiosity. "Is that true?" you whispered and you felt his hard-on got even harder against your stomach.

Ha! There's no way– It's just a joke...was all he could think of replying but Omi's interjection got in first.

"Does he even have a chance at all."

Well, Atsumu's fuming and he couldn't just let that comment fly away. "Shut it..."

Before he could even continue, you got on your knees, towel sliding off your body as you did. Now, his cock was just inches away from your face. "Wha...what're ya doin' Y/N?"

Swallowing thickly, "You look..." Your hand pumped his heated length slowly. "Enraged"

Licking the tip of his cock, you had him red-faced and eyes shut in pleasure.

"Ohhh...fuck~" His voice came out shaking and so was his breathing. "Fuck...fuck ya!"

The boys went silent havung heard him.

"Oh, Tsumu's still here!" Shoyo cheered. "Wai- Do you admit it now that you actually like Y/N?"

His fingers tangled around your hair. He'd been fantasizing about this every night since then. Just you and your pretty mouth gulping his cock like a starving beast. "Oh, yeah! Yeah, that's right...so fuckin' right."

"We all thought so! At last, you admit it! You keep on yapping about her everytime we just know you're so damn into her."

"So...fuckin into her–" he maneuvered your head as he dug in your mouth, deep throat. Your hands gripped his ass tight, marking him with your handprints in pink while tears began brimming your eyes.

Any more of this– Any more of this and–

He pushed you off as his cum spurted, painting your tits so beautifully while saliva dripped at the corner of your lips.

"So pretty..." he huffed and his dick snapped upright again. Your eyes grew. Tsumu's still raring to go and the pulsation in between your legs intensified.

He saw you gulped with lust in your eyes and he swore he couldn't take it anymore. You're so sexy cute that he couldn't resist so he leaned down to kiss you, carefully scooping you up in his arms as his mouth devoured your tongue and lips aggressively.

Groaning in your kiss, he itched to squeeze your ass and nibbled the shell of your ear. Wanting more and more of you, he switched off the shower as the only thing he wanted to be drenched right now was your pussy and it would be all because of him. He placed your palms against the wall, smoothed your back, bending you a little. He got on his knees and was face-to-face with your ass. He took a sharp breath and a handful of your bouncy flesh before pressing his nose against one of the cheeks and taking a huge tantalizing bite that made you crave for him.

With both hands on your ass, he parted your legs and flipped open your folds with his thumbs. You're glistening wet. "Ugh...yer so crazy beautiful can't take it myself."

He immediately had a mouthful of you—tongue flicking fast as he slurped your overflowing arousal. At the same time, his hands were massaging your shaky and fleshy thighs.

He's crazy. It's crazy. He wants you. Nothing else. No one else. His mouth took over your other ass cheek to mark your skin, while his fingers found their way inside your pussy, pumping relentlessly as he sucked on your plump flesh. The shaking of your legs heightened and you bit down on your lip to control your moans.

"Ahhh...fuck!" he hissed, removing his fingers and releasing your climax. Your juices showered down his chest and he was quick to give your pussy one last lick. His tongue began travelling up from the spine of your back to your shoulder, giving you a sensual bite at the spot.

"Feel how hard yer makin' me," he said, while the length of his cock rubbed across your pussy.

"Mhmn-" you still want more of him. No, you want all of him. His entire huge cock railing you just as deliciously good as last time in the clinic.

He was tormenting you with that slow friction yet he was dying to be inside you too.

"Augh, shit!" he cursed. "I never fucked anyone more than once, ya know."

"Tsumuuu~" It came out as a plea.

"If I shove this cock right in ya again that would mean yer mine, " he spoke almost out of breath. "Yer all mine."

You stepped back and pressed closer against him. "Then take me."

He grunted and rammed his cock right into you.

"Oh god!" he groaned, his head tilting back while you had your lips pressed, muffling your cries. The sensation of your walls coiling around him and his cock finally deep inside you made you both cum all of a sudden.

"W-Who's that?" Shoyo said, showering in the stall next to yours.

Atsumu completely forgot that his teammates were just around. He didn't care though. He didn't care so he started thrusting, taking you by surprise. With his cock driving you wildly, you placed a hand over your mouth avoiding the chances of getting caught by the whole team.

It's so stupid how much he was craving for all of you when you used to tick him off so bad. Now, he's crazy for you. Perhaps, all this time, he just wanted your attention, but now he's inside you and making you feel so good. You fit him like a glove and he got just the ideal cock to please you.

"Ooh shit! Yer perfect...so goddamn perfect for me." Tsumu leaned closer to your ear and whispered, "I ain't gonna live without you."

Turning you to your side, he lifted one of your legs up and fucked you even deeper like he'd been waiting for this moment to come for a long long while. His balls were slapping so hard against your ass it was echoing around the vicinity.

"Shit! Tsumu, are you doing what we think you're doing?" Bokuto asked, intrigued by the sounds he heard.

"Oh, fuck! Yes!" he huffed while he was pounding ferociously to insanity. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

His teammates hollered both in disgust and in playful teasing. The two of you couldn't even hear a thing from them though. You were both too busy fucking like crazy until a loud thud caught your attention. It was Shoyo's showerhead. It fell and slid towards the gap in between.

You tapped Tsumu's shoulder twice.

There's no way there would be two pairs of feet inside the stall. You worried but Tsumu's quick to pick up the cue. He raised your legs up, hooking them on his elbows with his hips were still thrusting endlessly. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping yourself up on his frame.

"Sorry!" Shoyo apologized but you hardly ever heard him. Your mind was too lost in the pleasure Tsumu was delivering with his brute cock.

"Damn! Tis crazy. I'm goin' crazy."

Despite all your efforts to conceal your moans, he was completely vocal, doing nothing to hide his. Oh, how you'd want to cry for his name over and over again.

"We're hurrying up, Tsumu." Bokuto snickered as sound of running water began to dissipate, "So you can enjoy yourself there."

Oh, yeah. Damn, he will!

Tsumu buried his head in between the mounds of your breast while you pressed your face on top of his head. You're getting there. He's getting there!

"Don't stay too long or you'll get sick!" Shoyo reminded before you heard the sound of the door closing. The boys were no longer inside and Tsumu immediately let out what he'd been repressing all along.

"Unbelievable! Yer so fucking amazing! Y/N...Y/N!"

"Tsumu! Tsumhm..." you let out a big cry and trembled in his arms.

He chased his own, doubling his pace. He wanted to leave a mark inside you and claim you as his so he shot his load with one forceful shove of his cock. His thick semen filled you up, some of the liquid spilled when he pulled out his cock.

"Shhh...shhh..." he soothed you, caressing the back of your head while he cradled you in his arms.

You faced him. His stomach flipped and chest tightened. He kissed you still not letting go of you.

"I can't believe I'm kissin' ya." He said, sounding a bit babyish, "Really thought you hated me."

Yeah, it sounded stupid, especially when you already did more than just kissing.

"No!" You shook your head and tightened your hold on him. "I just get a little shy around you."

Tsumu blushed and felt relieved. Whatever your reason was for being shy around him mattered little now. The most important thing was he already got you.

Gently, he got you back on your feet and fetched the towel he hung.

"From now on..." He threw the towel over your head and wrapped you with it. "I'll take care of ya, while ya take care of the team."

You smiled and tiptoed to give him a chaste kiss.

"Achooo...!" he sneezed, the moment you parted and he blushed. "Ugh...that was too lame."

You chuckled and invited him inside the towel.

tag! you're it ♡

@jaxyy219 @liquidcatt @aria-in-wonderland @galaneiaeris

@meeeepsworld @lovelypotatomunches1 @nanathecannibal

@kurooangel @kyokoyya @pixelcafe-network

[dekariosclan]

Dust in his eye

So in Gale’s romance, if Tav chooses the dialogue option to end the relationship, part of Gale’s heartbreaking response is this line as he visibly tears up and walks away: “You’ve actually caught me at an inopportune time. Blasted…dust in my eye. Excuse me…”

…which makes it even more heartbreaking, because it’s such an obvious lie. He’s trying to save face because he’s devastated and embarrassed, and that’s the best excuse he can come up with in the moment.

Even though Gale is one of the most emotionally open and honest characters when it comes to his feelings for Tav—sometimes going so far as to be EXCESSIVELY honest—his embarrassment and his sense of decorum make crying in front of Tav a step too far for him, so he hastily makes an excuse and hurries away.

But putting that scene aside (because I truly cannot fathom how anyone’s heart could handle breaking up with Gale), it actually got me thinking about him getting teary from happiness instead, and again, due to his sense of pride/decorum/what-have-you, trying to cover it up by saying he’s got ‘dust in his eye’—no matter how ridiculous that statement is.

And you just know that he’s the type to get teary/choked up when he’s happy. The man is so damn passionate and he loves Tav SO much. Once he and Tav are together in Waterdeep, with the weight of the world lifted from both of their shoulders, you cannot tell me his eyes won’t be wet half the time.

Just picture:

Gale and Tav strolling through Waterdeep for the first time together, arms linked, Gale gazing at Tav’s beloved face. For a moment he’s so overwhelmed he noticeably tears up: “Forgive me, love. Just some dust in my eye.” (…as they walk through the rain, with everything around them soaking wet.)

Gale cooking, giving Tav the dinner date he’d promised. He’s watching from the kitchen as Tav and Tara are talking and getting along swimmingly. Tav looks up with a smile and meets his blurry gaze, and he hastily turns away to dab at his eyes with his apron: “Apologies, I seem to have gotten dust in my eye…” (…as he stands in a kitchen full of steam.)

Tav held fast in Gale’s arms, head resting on the wizard’s chest, fully relaxed, slowly drifting in and out of sleep. Gale’s reverently running his fingers through Tav’s hair, over their face, and along the scars picked up from their many battles. When Tav suddenly wakes, blinking as they try to focus on Gale’s face, he quickly swipes the back of his hand over his eyes: “A moment, love—dust in my eye…” (…as they are both soaking in the bath.)

Gale and Tav clasping hands as the cleric’s speech gets close to the point in the ceremony where they will officially be wed. Gale’s managed to hold it together through his lengthy (and very descriptive) vows, but now he’s got tears not just glistening in his eyes, but actively brimming and spilling over; his lower lip is trembling. Tav smiles, squeezing his hands, leaning in close. “I know it’s just dust in your eye,” Tav whispers lovingly, wanting to spare him any embarrassment. (…and for once, given their location, it IS possible.) But Gale shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs, gazing joyfully at Tav through his completely blurred vision. “Not this time.”

[sundrop-writes]

if Mike fell asleep with you...

Word Count: 750

Horror Characters Masterlist

Warnings: this is mostly pure fluff - Mike and the reader are in an established relationship, the reader's gender is not described in any way (the main pronouns used are you/yours), Mike calls the reader angel, the reader takes on a caregiver role for Abby, mostly just short and fluffy. This is set before the main events of the movie, when Mike is working as a security guard at the mall.

A/N: So, I've seen so many people in the tags going 'just let him sleep!!! that man is so exhausted!!' and saying that he's too tired to fuck in the way that people are writing fanfics about him. And as much as I love super horny fics, I do thought this up, because I agree - the man should be allowed to sleep. This is largely inspired by that scene in Grey's Anatomy where Meredith walked in and Owen was asleep on Cristina's chest while she was reading a book (I think it was when she was reading through Mer's mom's diaries?) - anyway. I love that scene so much because it shows how easily he sleeps around her because he's so comfortable around her. And that's why it deeply inspired this. Let him sleep.

...

Mike was exhausted when he came in the door. 

He heaved out a sigh as he closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes - pure, stiff tiredness radiating through his whole body in the worst way. 

You knew that sound anywhere. 

“Long day?” You inquired gently from your position on the couch, lightly craning your neck to look at him. 

He shuffled further into the house in an almost zombie-like fashion, only giving you a solitary grunt in response. 

You felt kind of bad that he had been stuck at work late when you had been lucky enough to have a morning shift and been treated to a relaxing evening with Abby. She was a relatively easy kid to take care of, and generally fun to be around. 

And after you had put her to bed, you laid out on the couch, relaxing and reading a novel that your friend had recommended. Generally, you were having a nice evening. And it seemed that Mike was not. 

As you kept an eye on Mike, you folded over the page of your book to mark it and put it on the coffee table for later. 

“Dinner’s on the counter.” You told him. “I made lasagna. I can heat it up for you if you want.” 

You hated that before he started dating you, all he knew was freezer burnt crap - but you were slowly showing him how to cook, and a world of vegetables that didn't come in a can. 

Mike took off his jacket and the heavy belt he had to wear for work (his large walkie talkie and his taser were in his locker at work, as mandated, but the thing was still damn uncomfortable) and he hung them both up. 

He didn’t respond to your queries about dinner as he walked around the couch. Instead of speaking, seeing you laying there so relaxed - the sight was all too inviting, and he eased himself to lay on top of you in a form of very natural intimacy before he grunted a few words into your neck. 

“Did Abby eat?” He asked softly as he laid on top of you. 

It was oddly comforting to have the bulk of his weight on top of you, especially as he melted against you, letting out a small moan as the tension melted out of his bones. He adjusted himself to get more comfortable and his face rested against the softness of your chest - you glanced down to see that his eyes were drifting closed. 

“She ate two platefuls, and had some peas.” You assured him. “Did her homework, had a bath, and she practiced her spelling words before she went to bed.” 

Mike grunted again - a more positive pitch to this one. He couldn't ask for anyone better than you. Sometimes he worried about her - all the time. But when Abby was with you, that worry lessened a lot. 

“You’re an angel.” He hummed against your chest. “I don’t-” He let out a gentle yawn. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.” 

“You look hot in a uniform and my job at the bookstore gets boring.” You replied, half-joking about the circumstances of how your relationship with Mike had formed. 

You reached out to him and began running your fingers through his hair, soothing him even further into the realm of sleep with the comforting touch. 

He let out another tired moan in reply - something that almost stretched into a rolling sound with the gentle pleasure of your hand in his hair. With the way his body was so slack against yours, his breathing even and quiet, you knew this was only leading one place. 

“You wanna go get ready for bed?” You asked gently. 

“In a minute.” He answered softly, barely parting his lips to get the words out. 

You glanced over to the table and reached out, picking your book back up as his breathing deepened and his body went even more slack. You were preparing to get comfortable for the next few hours. You weren’t all that tired yourself, and you still had a few chapters left to go. When you got to the next chapter, he began to snore lightly and you felt drool dripping down your neck - which didn’t bother you all that much. You found it cute, in fact. 

You were comforted by the fact that he relaxed enough around you to get such a good sleep. You knew that he needed it. 

...

A/N: also, this is my first time posting a fic completely from mobile by copy/pasting something from google docs on my phone. So hopefully the formatting isn't too messed up and hopefully this goes well! And I hope you guys enjoy this short fluffy fic 💖

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Astarion.

I started playing bg3 and i have it bad for this vampiric menace of a man.

misc character masterlist

Warnings: blood drinking, he’s a vampire so yeah

1. He’s basically a cat but gods forbid you tell him that.

I have a tortie and let me tell ya, she is the sassiest animal I’ve ever met. This cat will climb into the closet just high enough that the dogs can see her but can’t reach her. She will jump into the counter and stare at me because she knows she’s not allowed up there. She will bat at the screen in the window until it pops open and she can escape. But jokes on you! she doesn’t actually escape, she just goes to the back door and meows until someone lets her in.

Anyways this is exactly how Astarion is. He’s sassy but hides it as being a witty nobleman when he’s really just being the sass master. He will do things purely to get a reaction out of people i.e. when he attacked you the first time you met. There was no need to try and pull one over on you like that but he did it anyways because he can. If you get too close to Gale (aka talk to him), he will pout and give you the cold shoulder because gale ‘is such a bore and I’m obviously better company than that, darling.’

He will make the biggest scene if he feels like your attention is being pulled away from him. Oh you’re talking to Shadowheart by the fire later than usual? He’s glowering at your back from his tent until you look over your shoulder at him. When you make eye contact, he’s going to roll his eyes and huff as he throws open the tent flaps. Shadowheart chuckles under her breath because she knows exactly what’s happening.

The longer you’ve known each other, the bolder he gets. He’ll add more each time. At first it’s just the staring and huffing. It moves to glaring at your companion and then waltzing over to you so he say something sassy like “I am not your mother. I should not have to drag you to bed each night.” When that stops getting the reaction he wants, he’ll plop down next you and make every annoyed noise known to man. He might even start to nudge you, extending out one delicate hand to touch your knee or elbow until you get the hint.

But don’t you dare call him out on this. Like a cat, Astarion needs to feek comfortable safe with you. If he gets even a whiff of negativity (or what he thinks is), it sets your relationship back weeks. Pointing out his little feline quirks will feel like you’re complaining or annoyed with him and he can’t handle it. He’ll pull away from you and resort back to his stand offish ways. He’s making sassy but lowkey hurtful comments all of the time. They’re not directed at you because he would never forgive himself if he upset you but that sentiment doesn’t extend to anyone else. Worst of all he won’t feed from you and would damn near starve himself before asking you.

It’s a delicate dance between the two of you but one you would never quit.

2. Feeding from you is difficult for him.

At first it was merely a means to an end but then you became more important to him and now he can’t bring himself to feed from you as much. He would rather never do it but alas blood is in limited supply and you’ve already given him permission to take what he needs. If he can, he finds some other way but it doesn’t always work out. You’ve never asked him why he seems to avoid such a normal task but it’s always on your mind and one night you blurt it out.

I imagine it’s been a long few days and tonight is the first time you’ve been able to relax. Freshly bathed, fed, and now sipping at decent wine, you’re lounging with Karlach and Shadowheart. The three of you have had more than enough wine to be relaxed and have passed over into what Astarion calls ‘delightful chaos’. You’re giggly enough to be entertaining but can still hold a conversation albeit slow and slurred. Your pale elf has been cranky all day and poor Gale has been the target for most of it. You tried to step in and at least lessen Astarion’s onslaught but that earned you the nastiest glare to date. Since then Astarion has been sulking in the shadows or hiding in his tent. You’re the only one brave enough to go near him when he’s like this however it’s still rather dangerous.

On clumsy feet you find yourself just outside of him tent where you can feel the brooding and angst wafting from inside.

“Astarion?” You gentle whisper to the fabric, awaiting his acknowledgment.

“What?” His response is short and biting, similar to how he’s been speaking at Gale.

Assuming he doesn’t realize that it’s you, you say his name again and ask if you can come in. He nearly brings his tent to the ground when he rips open the flaps.

“What?” He repeats with fury and pain in his dull eyes.

It should scare you, seeing him so feral and unrestrained but seeing him causes a wild smile to break out on your face. Your hands go to reach for his face but quickly they fall when you remember that everyone is watching you closely. Whatever wine you drank has given you an armor of courage (and stupidity really). You smile at him with all of the affection you harbor for this ethereal being and slide past him into his tent. The simple action sends everyone else into high alert while Astarion barely contains the hiss he wants to send their way.

When he turns around, he finds you already sitting beside his bedroll with your knees pulled up with your arms wrapped around them.

“What do you want?”

All he gets in response is a blink and then a beckoning to join you. Patting the space next to you, you quietly ask him to join you however he is determined to be cross with you for barging in. He repeats his early question with a hardened glower in your direction.

“Astarion…” you murmur to him, your voice low and gentle, “you need to feed.”

The sheer audacity to utter such a thing infuriates him to no end but you’re right. He does and the sanguine desire is growing far too large to hold in anymore.

He still tries to deny it but his words are unusually weak and he stumbles over each one.

“Come,” you order softly as you move to lay down on his bedroll and brush your hair away, “drink what you need. I trust you.”

Those three words are almost as powerful as a declaration of love to the vampire spawn. He finds himself crumble to the ground and crawl over your divine figure. The unholy need to devour you that he usually despises with his entire being is welcomed as his fangs sink into your neck. One of your hands comes to hold his shoulder and the other cradles the back of his head, keeping him close as he feeds from you. Your gentle touch and reassuring voice overwhelms poor Astarion. He begins to whimper and moan into the supple skin of your neck without even realizing it. When he pulls away to keep from completely draining you, he’s breathless and muttering to himself you how good you taste.

Why he would ever deny himself this divine experience?

3. He refuses to admit it that he loves when you initiate touch.

Because of his past, you’ve decided that you will only touch him if he asks and if you get explicit consent. Most of the time you wait until he invites you in some manner whether that be he telling you to get over here or paw at you like a cat. He appreciates it, he really does but sometimes he craves the feeling that he gets when you ask him.

His favorite, though, is when you ask him if you can lay in him when he reads. You’ve been napping in his tent on and off all day, having chosen to stay back and recoup after the long events from the past week. Most of your companions have been doing the same but Astarion has been trying his hardest to not spend too much time around you. It’s hard enough to not just bask in your affection but even more so when you’ve been cuddled up in his tent all day. When you finally decide to go to your own tent, he takes the opportunity to reclaim his bedroll. It smells of your sweet scent and is still warm from your body, something he secretly craves.

You return to his tent a few hours later after everyone has eaten and settled in for the night. Peering down at him with sleeping eyes, you cross your arms and huff when he ignores you for his reading.

“Yes, my dear?” He quietly chuckles while still pretending to read his book.

“You’re in my spot.”

“We’re in my tent therefore it is my spot.”

You can’t exactly argue with him. You plop down next to him and give him the biggest puppy eyes imaginable.

“Will you at least let me lay on you if you’re not going to move?”

If it could his heart would be doing flips and his cheeks would be red but alas neither thing is truly possible.

“That depends…” he pretends to be uninterested in your request and continues with his straight face as he flips to the next page in his book. He can hear your huff of annoyance and fails to hide the small smirk that tugs at his pale lips.

“On what?” You pry even though you both know this is just a little game and he’s going to give in.

“Ask me nicely.” He drawls in that low seductive voice he uses when he’s trying to persuade you. Finally he flickers his eyes over to yours. That simple action alone steals your breath and chases away any negative feelings you might’ve had.

You crawl closer to him, nearly touching him but not quite as you whisper your request again.

“Of course you can, my dear,” he whispers back while his smirk has fully taken over his face. “Lay your head here."

He pats his sternum and waits for you to settle. Much like a lover seeking warmth in the night, you immediately take refuge in his arms and cuddle as close as you can to him. You feel him set his the book on your upper back when you've found the comfort and warmth you sought.

Astarion begins to murmur the book’s words as his other hands rests at the base of your head. His fingers don’t yet feel confident in moving to thread into your hair but they do softly rub at the tension in your skull. Peace is found in your embrace and he couldn’t be happier that you asked him to join your party all those weeks ago.

[redvexillum]

A/N: OKAY. No shit, Kit. You didnt think people actually believed you that I suck on airport doorknobs! Also, THE ALCOHOL SHOULD'VE KILLED ALL THE GERMS. AIN'T THAT HOW IT WORKS??? I AM NOT WRITING ANGSTMAS. IT'S JUST smoll sad. Besides, here's peak SMUTmas. I shut off my brain for this one. So, please enjoy.

SUMMARY: You, a human, were taken to the depths of Hell, where you met Lucifer and Alastor, believing you were finally someone worth cherishing. However, behind the scenes, you were nothing more than a bargaining chip in their deal.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, two in one hole, double penetration, dub con, oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasm, just ...gratuitous smut.

The name haunted you, a cruel brand seared into your identity: Discount Dolly. 

It wasn’t just a nickname. No, it was a condemnation, a relentless reminder of how little the world thought you were worth. Cheap. Useless. A placeholder where someone better should have been. No matter how fiercely you tried to scrub it away, the words clung to your soul, seeping into the deepest parts of you like ink spilled on fragile parchment. It screamed of your worthlessness, a truth you had accepted as fact. 

Until the night everything changed. 

One moment, you were nobody—a shadow among shadows. The next, you were swept into the depths of Hell itself. The underworld, where souls writhe in torment for eternity, welcomed you not as a sinner, but as an anomaly. A living, breathing human. You. The first of your kind to ever set foot in this forsaken realm. 

And for the first time, you were seen. 

Here, in a place where the damned screamed into the void, you were valued.

It began when you met Him. Lucifer, the King of Hell, with his all-consuming presence. And his right hand, Alastor, the Radio Demon, who carried with him the dissonant hum of static and a predatory grin that seemed to promise ruin and delight in equal measure. Their attention had unravelled the tightly wound threads of your miserable existence, stitching together something raw, electric, alive. 

For the first time in your life, you were…cherished.

The air was heavy with the intoxicating aroma of berries and lavender, steam curling lazily around the ornate bathroom. You sat naked on the cool lip of a porcelain bathtub, vulnerable and exposed, yet strangely safe. Alastor’s voice, rich and smooth, hummed an old, haunting tune that tickled the edges of your memory, its age betraying a time long before you were born. 

He approached with a basin of warm, fragrant water, the golden light of the room catching the glint in his sharp eyes. As he tilted the basin, water cascaded over you in a soothing wave, drenching your skin in its warmth. His movements were unhurried, reverent even, as if the act of bathing you was a sacred ritual. 

“You seem… content, Alastor,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile intimacy of the moment. 

His ever-present grin curved slightly, softer somehow, though no less unsettling. “Oh, my sweet little lamb,” he cooed, his tone dripping with honeyed malice, “content doesn’t begin to cover it. The King and I… well, we’ve struck quite a fortuitous deal.” 

His words hung in the air, weighted with hidden meaning. As he dipped a sudsy sponge into the basin, you shivered—not from the coolness of the room, but from the heat of his gaze. Slowly, he pressed the sponge to your shoulder, massaging it in firm, deliberate circles before gliding it downward. The moment his hand replaced the sponge, cupping your breast, you gasped, a sharp intake of breath that seemed to echo against the tiles. 

“Ah, Alastor…” The sound of his name slipping from your lips was involuntary, raw with need. 

His grin widened, dark amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Last night wasn’t enough to satisfy you, was it?” he teased, his voice low, conspiratorial. The memory of Lucifer and Alastor both taking you, driving you to the brink of madness with their relentless pleasure, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. 

Alastor’s clawed fingers trailed downward, the razor-sharp tips leaving a tingling path across your stomach. When he reached the apex of your thighs, his touch turned featherlight, a maddening tease that left you trembling. His finger pressed against your sensitive nub, eliciting a sharp, involuntary jolt that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. 

“Such a good little lamb,” he murmured, his voice thick with a dark, possessive affection. Slowly, he circled your clit, drawing whimpers from your lips with every deliberate stroke. “We wouldn’t be here without you, my dear. Your sacrifice… your submission… has secured everything.” 

You trembled, caught in the delicate balance between pleasure and fear, each sensation sharpening the other until it left you raw and exposed. The room still echoed with your whimpers, your body aching for the release Alastor had so cruelly denied. Your stomach clenched, both from the remnants of your peak and the gnawing unease creeping into your chest. 

His lips brushed against your temple, a ghost of a kiss, as his claw moved with agonizing precision. “Will you continue to be good for me?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your skin, his tone laced with dangerous promise. 

The whispers had reached even your ears—of another demon, a rival whose acquisition of long-coveted territory had sent shockwaves through Hell’s twisted hierarchy. This demon had claimed lands that Lucifer and Alastor had schemed to possess for decades. A delicate matter, Alastor had reassured you with his gentle tone, brushing off your questions with a cryptic smile. He had promised it would be a pleasant deal but withheld the details, leaving you stranded in your own spiralling thoughts. 

Now, he busied himself preparing you for this enigmatic meeting, his presence a blend of mockery and tenderness that left your pulse erratic. When his touch left your trembling core just shy of satisfaction, a frustrated whine escaped your lips before you could stop it. 

“Patience, my pet,” Alastor murmured with a low chuckle, his voice a dark caress. “You’ll have plenty of this later tonight.” 

Your brows knit in frustration, but before you could protest, he returned to the task at hand, meticulously washing away the last traces of soap from your skin. His hands, deliberate, and his grin, sharp like a wolf savouring its meal. 

Once you were cleaned, he dressed you in a gown that flowed like air itself—soft, ethereal white fabric that clung delicately to your curves. Gold bangles adorned your wrists and ankles, their faint clinking a soft melody with every movement. The sound sent shivers through you, a subtle reminder of captivity masquerading as elegance. The thought of manacles flickered briefly in your mind before you forced it away, banishing the notion with a shaky exhalation. 

When you stepped into the bedchamber, everything shifted. The atmosphere was oppressive, the air heavy and cloying as if it sought to press you into submission. Your breath caught in your throat, and an instinctive panic gripped you, screaming at you to turn and flee. Every nerve in your body urged you to run, yet your legs refused to obey. 

The weight of the room vanished instantly as two firm hands landed on your shoulders. You glanced up, finding Alastor’s piercing ruby eyes watching you, his red-tinted monocle gleaming in the dim light. His tufted ears flopped slightly as he tilted his head, the gesture deceptively soft against the sharpness of his questioning gaze. 

“Steady now,” his voice purred, a mix of reassurance and command that sent heat rolling down your spine. 

Drawing in a shaky breath, you forced yourself to focus, your chest rising and falling in a deliberate rhythm. You turned your attention to the others in the room: Lucifer, ever poised, stood at the head of the gathering, flanked by two figures who exuded power and danger in equal measure. 

One was a tall, lanky figure with a flat-screen television for a head. His sleek, tailored blue suit mirrored Lucifer’s taste for refinement. The other was a stark contrast—a broad, thickly built man with a rough goatee and messy brown hair, dressed in what looked like a plain white robe. The TV-headed man’s grin stretched across the glowing screen, an unsettlingly wide display of jagged white lines. 

“Vox,” he introduced himself with a flourish, his deep voice smooth yet charged with static. He inclined his head toward you, the screen flashing briefly as if mimicking a wink. “At your service, my sweet little angel.” 

“H-hello,” you stammered, the word barely audible as you instinctively stepped back—only to collide with Alastor’s firm chest. His claws once again pressed gently into your shoulders, a silent warning that escape was not an option. 

Your gaze flicked nervously to the larger man, the one with the wild brown hair. As he rose with a groan, his sheer size became apparent. He was the tallest in the room, his presence commanding without even trying. His red eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your skin prickle. 

“Name’s Adam,” he said, his voice rough and unpolished, a sharp contrast to the others. His lips curled into a cocky grin as he leaned slightly forward. “So… ya ready to fuck?” 

The audacity of his words hit you like a bolt, stealing the air from your lungs. Heat flared across your cheeks, and you opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. The weight of their stares bore down on you, and your heart hammered against your ribs like a drumbeat of impending chaos. 

Behind you, Alastor chuckled darkly, his fingers tightening on your shoulders as if to anchor you in place. “Oh, my dear,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement, “the night has only just begun.” 

“W-what?” The word caught in your throat, your voice cracking under the weight of confusion and dread. Your head whipped between Lucifer and Alastor, desperately searching for answers. Alastor’s grin remained fixed, unshaken, his eyes gleaming with unsettling amusement. Lucifer, however, bit his lip, guilt painted across his face like a poorly concealed secret. 

“Oh, no way,” Vox erupted, his laughter loud and cutting through the tension like a blade. “You didn’t tell her?” 

The sound coiled in your stomach, a physical sensation that twisted tighter and tighter. Your gaze snapped back to Lucifer, your eyes pleading for clarity, for reassurance—anything that could make this moment feel less suffocating. 

Lucifer finally cleared his throat, stepping forward as if to shield you from the weight of what was to come. His fingers slid into yours, his touch warm but hesitant, like a fragile thread trying to tether you to him. “Dear,” he began softly, his voice faltering. “I… I know we should’ve asked you first, but…” He hesitated, the words caught somewhere between his guilt and his desperation. “Y-you could say no, if you would like.” 

“I—” you started, but the words faltered as your thoughts tumbled over themselves in a chaotic spiral. “I don’t… I don’t even know what you’re asking me.” 

“Basically, sugartits,” Adam cut in, his voice a crude interruption, “we all made a deal that involves us all fuckin’ ya, so quit stalling and strip already!” 

He wasted no time, peeling off his clothes without shame. Each article of clothing fell carelessly to the floor, the sound of fabric hitting tile stark against the room’s suffocating silence. Vox rolled his eyes at Adam’s antics but said nothing, his static-filled screen flashing with flickers of amusement. 

You froze, your mind reeling, until Alastor leaned in close. His breath, warm and steady, brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His voice, edged with static, pierced through the fog clouding your thoughts. 

“My sweet little lamb,” he crooned, his tone a blend of saccharine and menace, “you want to be useful, don’t you?” 

The words hit like a hammer, and your body stiffened instinctively. 

“You said it yourself,” Alastor continued, his grin audible even if you couldn’t see it. “You’d do anything to stay by our side. Isn’t that right?” 

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling as they curled into the fabric of your dress. He wasn’t wrong. 

You wanted to be useful. 

The memories rose unbidden, like phantoms clawing their way to the surface. Flashes of darkness, of loneliness, of shouts and screams, glass shattering around you. The echoes of your past clawed at your resolve, threatening to drag you back to a time when you were nothing, no one. 

Suddenly, Lucifer’s hands cupped your face, pulling you from the spiral. His thumbs caressed your cheeks with a gentleness that felt out of place in the suffocating room. His ruby red eyes searched yours, filled with something warm, something real. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice soothing like a balm over your frayed nerves. “It’s going to be okay.” 

But it wouldn’t. 

You didn’t want them to leave you. 

You couldn’t go back to that hollow, miserable existence. 

You couldn’t be her again. Discount Dolly. The forgotten girl. The one the world discarded. 

“I want to do this,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. They didn’t feel like they belonged to you, alien in their desperation. “Please… let me do this.” 

A smile spread across your face, a brittle, fractured thing that felt like a mockery of joy. Your hands loosened their grip on your dress, trembling as they fell to your sides. You wanted to be useful. You wanted to be cherished. You wanted—needed—to be loved. 

If you gave them this, if you offered all that you were, then maybe you’d finally matter. 

You’d finally be enough. 

And they’d let you stay by their side, wouldn’t they? 

The room crackled with tension, thick and suffocating, as Lucifer’s voice trembled through the air. “A-are you sure?” he asked, his usual composure faltering as his brows knit together in uncertainty. His eyes, normally sharp with dominance, softened with a flicker of doubt that only you could evoke. 

“Oh, my king,” Alastor interjected, his tone laced with playful derision, though his eyes burned with something far darker. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now.” His voice, smooth as velvet, curled around you as his fingers grazed your skin, unclasping the golden buckles that held your gown together. One by one, the delicate restraints fell away, the fabric pooling to the floor like liquid moonlight, leaving you utterly bare under the weight of their gazes. 

The air turned icy, a sharp contrast to the heat flooding your cheeks. Every nerve in your body felt exposed, raw, as four pairs of hungry eyes devoured the sight of you. Adam groaned, his voice a guttural growl that sent a shiver coursing down your spine. “Fuck, she smells good,” he rasped, his desire painfully evident as his length continued to grow, already throbbing with need. 

Alastor chuckled, the sound a mix of dark amusement and unrestrained lust. “Oh, you’ve no idea,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “Her taste is absolutely… divine.” His hand found the curve of your lower back, a gentle yet insistent pressure as he guided you toward the massive, intricately carved bed—a bed you knew all too well, its every inch steeped in memories of sinful indulgence with Lucifer and Alastor. 

Your legs moved like they weren’t your own, your body pliant under Alastor’s control. You leaned into him, your back pressing against his firm chest, the scent of him intoxicating. His erection stirred against you, the hard line of it unmistakable even through his trousers, a silent promise of what was to come. 

“Relax, my dear,” Alastor purred into your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of it. Slowly, deliberately, he spread your thighs apart, exposing your most vulnerable self to their ravenous gazes. The cool air kissed your heated skin, and your breath hitched as his fingers slid between your folds, spreading you open with a precision that left no room for modesty. 

“Do you need aid, my little lamb?” His voice was soft, teasing, but the sharp edge of his grin pressed against your shoulder betrayed his true intent. “After all,” he whispered, his fingers parting you further, “your cunt is so delightfully tight, a tad small for our… stature.” 

A tremor coursed through you at his words, and your eyes darted to Adam’s cock, the sheer girth of it already stretching the bounds of your imagination. Panic and desire warred within you, leaving you trembling. The memory of their size, the fullness, the ache—they had ruined you for anyone else, and you knew it. Still, you nodded, your submission a silent plea. 

Lucifer wasted no time, summoning a small, ornate blue box that shimmered with an unearthly glow. Vox, stripping out of his suit with deliberate slowness, raised a brow. “What’s that?” His voice was deep, almost sardonic, but curiosity danced in his glowing cyan eyes. His dark, navy-toned skin gleamed under the light, the bioluminescent gill-like patterns tracing his torso mesmerizing.

Lucifer cleared his throat, his usual confidence faltering under your gaze. “This,” he said, lifting a tiny blue marble from the box, “will help her… handle us. It also ensures our… session is prolonged.” His voice wavered, uncharacteristically hesitant, and he avoided your eyes until he crawled onto the bed, holding the marble to your lips. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to—” His words faltered, guilt clouding his eyes, but you silenced him with a soft, deliberate kiss to his fingers. Opening your mouth, you took the marble, its sweetness blooming on your tongue. The taste was like honey and something indescribable, intoxicating and otherworldly. 

As his fingers lingered, you suckled on them, your eyes never leaving his. Lucifer’s breath hitched, and the tension in his shoulders melted away as his arousal became impossible to hide, straining against the fabric of his pants. 

Then, with a sharp snap of Alastor’s fingers, the room shifted. Clothes disappeared instantly, leaving nothing but bare skin and raw desire. 

“Really, Alastor?” Vox growled, glaring at him. “I was setting the mood.” 

Lucifer shot Alastor a heated glare as Alastor awkwardly shielded the throbbing erection with the hand not currently holding your mouth open. 

“I decided we might as well get on with it,” Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, his grin never faltering. “I have a date with my sweet little lamb tonight,” he murmured, nuzzling your cheek against his, his breath hot against your skin. “We were supposed to indulge in all the delightful pastries of Cannibal Town…” His voice was low, a hint of something darker woven through the words. 

A collective groan of disgust rippled from the surrounding men. 

For a brief, fleeting moment, you almost forgot the situation at hand, the heat building between your legs almost too much to bear. But then the aphrodisiac coursed through you, the effects slamming into your body with brutal force. Your heart began to race, thundering in your chest. Your cunt clenched painfully, the wetness pooling between your legs, a desperate need to be touched. The heat radiating from your skin made it feel like you were on fire, your nipples hardened, the sensation so sharp it made you whimper. And your clit—aching, throbbing—demanded attention, as if every nerve in your body was screaming for release. 

“Now, who wants to clean her up?” Alastor’s voice was sultry, dark, as he slowly brought his hands down to spread your pussy open, exposing your weeping hole to the men. 

A soft moan slipped past your lips, your body shivering with pleasure as you felt every tiny movement down there, every touch, even just the air brushing against your sensitive skin. 

“Oh, me, me, me!” Adam’s voice was eager, thick with desire. He lumbered toward you, kneeling between your legs. His lips latched onto your clit, and your head immediately fell back onto Alastor’s shoulder, your body trembling as the intense pleasure hit you like a tidal wave. 

“That’s it, little lamb,” Alastor whispered against your ear, his hands kneading your breasts with expert care, the same way he had done earlier—firm, insistent, and intoxicating. 

You felt a sob rise in your throat, the pressure building deep inside of you, as Adam’s tongue worked magic on your folds. The sound of his desperate licks and slurps filled your ears, your body alive with sensation. All you could focus on was the way Alastor teased your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, and how Adam’s tongue flicked over your sensitive clit, each flick sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. 

With a loud, sharp gasp, your hips jerked forward, the first wave of orgasm crashing through you. The intensity of it left you breathless, but Alastor’s rough pinch of your nipples only heightened it, sending you spiralling further into a dizzying, intoxicating bliss. 

“Oh, fuck,” Vox groaned from nearby, his grip tightening on his own cock, pumping it quickly, the sounds of his hand meeting his balls adding a raw edge to the air. 

“Damn, fuck, that’s delicious,” Adam murmured, his voice thick with need, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. 

You felt Alastor shift, his cock pressing against your dripping cunt. He teased you for a moment, the tip of his head rubbing against your folds before, with one swift motion, he plunged into you completely, filling you with a delicious, intense stretch. 

“Ah!” you cried out, the sensation of him filling you making your entire body tremble, the sound of his soft grunts against your ear adding to the heat. 

“Hey, no fair,” Vox snapped, his teeth gritted, eyes flashing with jealousy. “I said I get to fuck her pussy first.” 

Alastor sighed, lazy and unconcerned, his movements steady as he pumped his cock in and out of you. Your lips parted in a breathless moan, the sounds spilling from you heavy, languid, and full of desire. “And you can, old pal,” he chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with mockery. “In fact, I’m giving you the chance for your pathetic cock to touch mine,” he added with a wicked smile, his words laced with venom. 

Vox stuttered, his words barely coherent as he asked, “Wh-what, like, we can fuck her pussy together?” 

Alastor responded with nothing more than a small hum, his gaze focused on you as he continued to fuck you in a rhythm that left you dizzy with pleasure. 

“Then dibs on her mouth!” Adam declared eagerly, his hands roughly gripping your hair, tugging it so sharply that you could feel strands of it rip from your scalp. The sting of pain only sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, intensifying the sensations flooding your body. You parted your lips willingly, feeling the sheer thickness of him stretch your mouth open, your lips pulling taut. The sensation was almost unbearable, your throat tight with the need to gag. But you didn’t pull away. Instead, you opened wider, the salty taste of him flooding your senses as he began to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with brutal force. Your throat constricted, and your body shuddered with each harsh thrust. Saliva dripped down your chin in thick strings as he pounded your mouth, your moans now mingling with gags, the sound almost primal in the raw, carnal intensity of it all. 

“Oh, fuck, yeah, babe, I like a sloppy bitch,” Adam groaned, his voice low and dark with lust as his hips thrust into you, the rhythm slow and purposeful, each movement pushing you closer to the edge of insanity. His cock was buried deep inside you, sending waves of heated pleasure that made you moan, unable to hold back your reactions. 

Your breath hitched, and your eyes fluttered open when you felt another touch, one that was hot and needy, brushing near your core, the same spot where Alastor was relentlessly pounding into you. The sensation was electric, sending shocks of pleasure radiating throughout your body, leaving you breathless. 

You were impossibly wet, slickness coating your thighs and dripping down Alastor’s cock, the bed beneath you damp with the mess of your arousal. The heat between your legs was unbearable, the desire to be filled, stretched, and owned overwhelming. 

A sob tore from your throat when Vox’s cock finally slid inside you, stretching you wider than you thought possible. It was slow at first, agonizingly slow, as he filled you, the feeling of him invading your body bringing both pain and pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, so fucking tight,” Vox groaned, his voice rough, his hands gripping your hips tightly, as he began to thrust deeper, pushing into you with slow, deliberate force. “Oh, fuck, you’re so fucking hard, Alastor,” he huffed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he shoved in deeper, widening you, forcing your body to accept him. It felt like you were being torn open, stretched beyond your limits, but it felt so fucking good that you couldn’t help but moan in need. 

Your scream of pleasure was muffled by Adam’s thick cock in your mouth, his thrusts becoming faster, more insistent, as you felt yourself completely consumed by the overwhelming sensations. The stretch was too much, yet you needed more, so much more. The aphrodisiac that buzzed through your veins made you insatiable, your mind spinning with the desire for them, for all of them, to take you, claim you completely. 

“Come on, Lucifer,” Adam huffed, his pace increasing as his cock slid in and out of your mouth, filling you in every way. “What are you standing around for with your cock in your hand?” 

As Alastor and Vox fucked you in a chaotic rhythm, each thrust from one of them keeping you on the edge, you felt the bed dip beside you. Your wrist was gently lifted, guided to Lucifer’s thick cock, which was already hard, his body trembling with barely contained need. Instinctively, your fingers curled around him, the warmth of his skin against your palm sending a shock of heat straight to your core. Lucifer began to move, his hips rocking slowly, pushing himself into your hand, sighing deeply as he groaned, “God, you feel so good, so fucking good.” 

The room was alive with noise—the wet sounds of bodies colliding, the slap of skin against skin, the desperate gasps, groans, and moans that filled the surrounding air. The scent of sweat and sex was thick, wrapping around you like a haze, your mind swimming with pleasure, making everything else fade away until there was only the overwhelming sensation of their bodies, their heat, their need. 

At that moment, you realized what you were feeling. You loved it, loved how your body was nothing but a vessel for their pleasure. The way they used you, made you feel, made you forget about everything else in the world—it was addictive. You didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel anything but the pleasure that they gave you. The sound of their voices, their grunts, their moans as they came undone in you was all that mattered. 

Your back arched as Alastor and Vox picked up the pace, their thrusts harder, faster, their hands gripping you, making sure you felt every inch of them. The moment Alastor moaned, his body tense and vibrating with release, you felt his hot seed spill inside you, and that was all it took. Orgasm ripped through you, your body shaking, your muscles tightening as waves of bliss cascaded over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. 

Vox quickly withdrew, straining, his cock still twitching in the aftershocks of his near-orgasm. His hand gripped the base of his cock tightly, trying to hold back, his body trembling with frustration. 

Alastor, still panting, let out a short, mocking laugh. “Too bad you couldn’t finish, old pal.” 

“You bastard,” Vox gritted through clenched teeth, his tip turning dark blue from the pressure he’d applied, his voice rough with both frustration and desire. “You did that on purpose.” 

The world felt distant, lost in a haze of pleasure as Adam finally withdrew, both of you breathing heavily, caught in the aftermath of the intense rhythm. Your jaw ached, but the sensation only heightened the desire swirling within you. Your eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, lips parting in a soft gasp as you leaned in closer, a desperate yearning pulling you toward him. You craved the feel of him, the warmth of his body, and you moved instinctively, trying to pull his cock back into your mouth. 

“Woah, woah, slow down, babe,” Adam’s voice was low and teasing, but there was a breathless edge to it, a raw need that matched the pulse of your own desire. “I don’t want to finish just yet.” 

You shuddered, the heat inside you building as you felt your own arousal mixed with Alastor’s seed, dripping out of you, and you moaned softly at the sensation. Your body throbbed with longing, aching for more, the intensity almost unbearable. You couldn’t understand why everyone had stopped, even Lucifer, who had been gently rocking into your hand, now still, his cock pressing against your skin differently, a soft tension that only added to the weight of your need. 

You felt Vox shift beneath you, his frustration like an unspoken force in the air, but your mind couldn’t focus on anything but the unbearable heat spreading through your core. You were on fire, every inch of your skin sensitive, your body aching for release, craving any touch that could soothe the deep ache inside you. 

“We should hurry,” Lucifer’s voice broke through the fog of lust, soft yet full of concern, a tenderness that soothed the frantic pace of your heart. “My sweetie is hurting.” His hand, cool and gentle, cupped your cheek, and you leaned into the touch, your breath hitching. His skin felt like silk against yours, a cool balm to the feverish heat radiating from your body. The contrast of his touch was electrifying, and you nuzzled into it, feeling the sensation wrap around your soul. 

Your limbs trembled, not just from the pleasure, but from the weight of your emotions. A soft giggle slipped from your lips, light and unrestrained, the pleasure bubbling over inside you. But then you were moved, your body gently placed onto Vox’s lap, his cock nudging at your entrance, the pressure soft but insistent. Another tip pressed against your tight asshole, and the sensation stole your breath away—so full, so tantalizing, the dual sensations making you shiver with anticipation. 

In front of you, Lucifer and Alastor stood, their cocks hard and waiting, the sight of them almost too much to bear. Alastor’s cock hardened further under your gaze, his eyes dark with unspoken promise, while Lucifer’s was fully erect, the heat of his body pulling you in like a magnet. The air between you crackled with tension, desire thick in the atmosphere. You were caught between them, a willing participant in the dance of pleasure that only grew more intense with each passing second. 

Your hands reached for them, trembling slightly as you cupped their cocks, the heat of them igniting something deep within you. The moment your fingers touched them, Vox and Adam entered you—one in your pussy, the other in your ass—the sensation was overwhelming. You moaned softly, feeling the stretch, the fullness, and your body responded to their every movement, each thrust filling you in ways you could never quite explain. 

Lucifer’s cock slid into your mouth, and you moaned against him, the taste of him, warm and salty, spreading through you like fire. The heat was intoxicating, the way he filled you, the way his presence consumed you entirely. Your breasts swayed with the motion of your body, each movement making you feel more alive, more connected to the sensations flooding through you. Your hand slid down to stroke Alastor’s cock, working him slowly at first, feeling the smoothness of his skin beneath your touch. You gasped softly before leaning in to take him into your mouth, lips tight around him, swirling your tongue around the head as your hand continued to stroke Lucifer’s length. 

Every part of your body felt alive with pleasure. You felt weightless, as if the sensation had lifted you from the earth. Your head tipped back, releasing their cocks for a moment to enjoy the pleasant thrusts from Adam and Vox.

Alastor and Lucifer were in their own world now, their eyes closed, lost in the shared pleasure, their chests slick with sweat as they moved together, brushing their cocks against each other in front of you. The sight of them, so in tune with each other, made your heart race, your body craving more, needing more. 

And then, as if to push you to the edge, Adam slammed his hips into your ass, stretching you further, his cock pressing deeper, filling you in ways you hadn’t imagined. The pressure was intense, but the feeling of Vox’s cock inside you at the same time made you cry out, the sensation of being so full, so completely overwhelmed, bringing you to the brink of madness. You gripped Vox’s shoulder tightly, the sensation of his skin beneath your hands grounding you as their pace quickened, building faster, harder. 

Every thrust, every movement, every touch sent waves of pleasure through you, your body responding with cries of ecstasy, your mind reeling. The heat was consuming, the tightness of your body, the overwhelming feeling of being filled, it was too much, and yet it was everything. 

“Fuck yeah,” Adam groaned, his voice thick with pleasure as he thrust deeper, his hips slapping against your soft, trembling ass. A sharp sting followed as his hand came down, smacking your round, fat cheeks with force, making you gasp. The sudden shock of sensation sent a ripple of heat through your body, your moan escaping in a long, breathless sigh. Your tongue lolled out, and your eyes fluttered shut as your body shivered in response to the intensity of it all. Vox’s cock continued to stretch you, filling you completely with every deep thrust, the raw power of him pressing against your cervix, filling you in ways that made your entire body hum with need. 

Your voice climbed with every thrust, growing louder, more desperate. Your hands gripped Alastor and Lucifer’s cocks, your fingers trembling as you traced the length of them, tasting their salty essence as your tongue flicked over the heads. The taste of them was intoxicating, pushing you further into the haze of pleasure. You could feel the hot, pulsing urgency of their arousal as you worshipped them, your tongue sweeping across their sensitive tips, drawing groans of satisfaction from both of them. 

Without warning, Adam and Vox thrust into you at the same time, their cock filling you from both ends. The pressure was overwhelming as they both hit your sweet spots simultaneously, one in your ass and the other in your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, and with a scream of pure ecstasy, you felt your pussy spasm, squirting a flood of liquid over Vox’s cock, making a mess of the moment. Vox’s deep, guttural groan sent waves of heat through your core, and he repeated his words, “Yeah, babydoll, feels good, ugh,” as he continued to fuck your messy, spent pussy with relentless force. 

Alastor’s grip tightened on his cock as he started to pump faster, his movements quicker, more desperate. He summoned a shadow tendril, and it wrapped around Lucifer’s cock, pumping up and down in perfect synchronization with Alastor’s own pace. The sight of their bodies moving in unison, the raw power of them working together, drove you wild. Your eyes locked onto the red, angry tip of Alastor’s cock, disappearing into his fist before reappearing with each stroke. 

Your body swayed with the relentless rhythm of Adam and Vox, their thrusts growing faster, harder, until you felt your mind cloud with pleasure. Your entire body trembled as you neared the edge, your eyes widening when the first hot splash of cum hit you. It filled both of your holes, making you gasp for breath, the warmth spreading inside of you, threatening to overflow. You couldn’t hold back anymore, and once more, you spilled out, liquid dripping from your spent pussy in a shameful flood. 

Lucifer’s low moan filled the room just after, and you felt the heat of his release as strings of white-hot cum splashed across Alastor’s arm and stomach. Alastor’s cock pulsed, and he aimed it at your face, marking you with his spend in a claim so deep, it sent a shiver down your spine. 

For a moment, time seemed to slow. All the men moaned in unison, their pleasure thick in the air, the room heavy with the intoxicating scent of sex and satisfaction. They basked in the afterglow, but for you, it wasn’t enough. Your body burned with unfulfilled need, the ache deep inside you begging for more. A small, desperate whimper escaped your lips, the sound of it soft but undeniable. 

“Fuck, I think she wants more,” Vox smirked, his eyes glinting with mischievous amusement as his claws inched toward your nipple. But before he could reach it, a shadow tendril shot out, wrapping around his wrist, halting him mid-motion. 

“One orgasm. That was the deal,” Alastor said, his voice dark with authority, though there was something dangerous and possessive lurking beneath the words. More shadow tendrils materialized, lifting your body away from Adam and Vox, taking you away from the heat of them and placing you firmly in Lucifer’s lap. 

“What are you—hey!” Lucifer protested, startled, but his voice faltered as Alastor’s shadow tendrils placed you delicately on his lap, your body exposed and vulnerable, ready for whatever twisted pleasure Alastor would decide next. 

"Do tend to my sweet little lamb, won’t you?" Alastor batted his eyes with mock sweetness. "I need to escort these two gentlemen out and finalize the deal." His voice was light, as if he didn’t see the weight of the moment, the gravity of what was unfolding. 

Your mind was hazy, spinning in a whirl of pleasure and heat, your body thrumming with a mix of want and emptiness. Your breath came in frantic pants, each exhale a reminder of the desperate need clawing at you. Your cunt tingled, aching for something to fill the void, to make you feel something, anything, beyond the overwhelming emptiness that gnawed at you. 

Your fingers, trembling and needy, moved down your body, dancing across your clit, seeking relief. Your hips began to gyrate in sync with your touch, slick with both the demon’s release and your own desperate arousal. The feeling was maddening, a desperate plea for something that could never truly be given. 

"Oh, sweetie," Lucifer’s voice was soft, almost kind, but it only deepened the aching wound inside you. "Let me tend to you." His fingers slid into you, two of them, pushing and curling with a precision that made your body scream, both from pleasure and the hollow ache that would never be filled. You keened, your moans torn from your throat as you began to ride his fingers, your hands gripping the sheets for some anchor in this storm of sensations. 

"L-Luci," tears pricked at your eyes, the pleasure too much, yet never enough. Your voice trembled, broken, as you whispered, "I-I was useful, right, L-Luci?" The words slipped from your mouth, your laugh hitching painfully between moans. The question wasn’t about him, not really—it was about you, about how much you were worth in a world where nothing ever seemed to matter. 

Lucifer’s gaze was unreadable, his lips a thin line as he watched you, the quiet storm of emotions brewing in your eyes. He didn’t answer immediately. He just kept pushing, his fingers deep inside, his touch igniting every nerve in your body, but it was empty. It was nothing more than a shadow of the emptiness that gnawed at your core. 

“I’m now…I’m now…” Your lips twisted into a grin, but it was hollow, twisted, a fragile thing held together by desperation. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat on your skin. These weren’t happy tears, though. They couldn’t be. How could they be, when the only thing that felt good was the lie? "I’m now…worth something m-more?" 

Lucifer’s breath caught, his eyes flicking shut for a moment. He bit his lower lip, as if caught between wanting to say something and not knowing how. His fingers, slick with your arousal, swirled around your burning, sensitive clit, his touch purposeful, but it was nothing more than an echo of what you truly craved. Your body trembled, taut with the rising tide of another orgasm, but it didn’t matter. Not really. 

“You are priceless, my sweet doll,” Lucifer murmured softly, his voice an attempt at comfort. He gathered you into his arms, pressing you to his chest, his lips brushing against your tear-streaked cheek. But all you could hear was the word “doll,” ringing in your ears, an echo of everything you were—broken, empty, worthless. 

Doll. 

Doll. 

Doll. 

You were a doll. A hollow thing, a toy to be played with and discarded. A discount doll, discarded in a shop where no one came to look, a price so low that nobody even bothered to pick you up. The thought curled inside you like a poison, twisting everything you once were into something so small, so insignificant. 

You turned your head, your eyes wide with a broken, pleading innocence, and looked up at Lucifer. "Am I worth purchasing?" The question slipped out of you, the words barely a whisper as the muscles in your body tightened with the rising orgasm that was coming, but it was a hollow wave. It was empty. Your walls fluttered, but it felt like nothing—a void that only your despair could fill. 

You laughed. But it was fractured, cruel. Tears mingled with the laughter as you clung to Lucifer, feeling his warmth, his body, but it couldn’t erase the cold that had taken root inside you. 

No matter. 

No matter. 

No matter. 

It didn’t matter what price tag you were. It didn’t matter what anyone thought. In the end, you were still a doll. 

Unless, of course, Lucifer and Alastor still wanted to play with you. Then, maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely worthless. 

Not yet. 

Not until they, too, eventually grew bored of you like everyone else. 

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[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

You guys really got me to one thousand likes in less than two days.

I don't even know what's happening but it's pulling me out of a really awful writer's block.

I have more ideas than I know what to do with so expect a good bit of content in the future.

You're all incredible 💗 ❤️

Have some Shanks headcanons, ranging from fluffy to spicy. As a treat.

I was a little iffy about Live Action Shanks at first, since he was literally my first manga/anime crush ever. But he grew on me more with every scene.

Especially that final scene where he saw Luffy's wanted poster. I mean....

Lookit that smile 🥹

So anyway.

LA!Shanks X Fem!Reader

Shanks A — Z

A — Afterglow (How are they after sex?)

Holding you close and telling you how much he adores you.

He's going to give you anything you want. Anything.

"Do you need anything, sweetheart? I've got you."

You want a bath, he's going to run it for you, carry you there once it's ready, and help you bathe.

Food or a drink, you just lay down, he's got it.

Shanks is completely and utterly devoted to making you feel like a goddess after sex.

Showering you with soft, tender kisses and caresses and endless praise, rubbing his fingers between your wet folds to prolong your pleasure as long as possible.

If it seems like he's trying to coax you into another round, he probably is. Your're going to have to outright tell him you're if spent, because he can't get enough of you.

B — Backrubs? (Do they like them? Like giving them?)

You can expect it nightly. You're his princess and he's going to pamper you.

He might only have one hand, but dear gods those fingers are magic.

He's not asking anything in return, but if you're offering then he isn't going to turn you down.

Closing his eyes and groaning as your fingers work through the tension in his muscles.

"Oh, you're too good for me, love."

C — Cuddling (Do they enjoy cuddling a lot ot only at certain moments?)

If you're within arm's reach, then Shanks has his arm around you.

His main mode of affection is physical.

Pulling you you to his side, resting his head over yours, tugging you down onto his lap.

He wants you close, as much and as often as you're willing to be, and he does't give a damn who sees.

D — Dance (Are they good at it? Do they enjoy it?)

Not really big on dancing, but if you want to he isn’t going to turn you down.

He'll take any excuse he can get to hold you close.

Tucking your hair behind your ear so he can rest his temple against yours.

His arm curled loosely around your back.

E — Extravagant Gestures (Things they do to make you feel loved)

He would literally move mountains for you if he could.

You tell him your dreams, well now they're his dreams too.

Anything you accomplish, whether alone or with his help, warrants the most lavish of celebrations.

He isn’t particularly materialistic, but what his princess wants, she gets, no questions asked.

"If you wanted the moon, I would make this ship fly so you could stake your claim."

F — Fighting (How do they hand arguments/apologies?)

All puppy-dog eyes and pouts.

Shanks makes it impossible to stay mad at him for any reasonable length of time. He's just too damned adorable.

Wrapping an arm around you and laying his head on your shoulder, refusing to let you go until you listen.

Even if it's a serious argument, the look of utter heartbreak on his face makes you cave every time.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just name it, I'll do anything."

He isn’t too proud to apologize—he knows when he's in the wrong, and he'll do anything in his power to make it up to you.

G — Going Out (What do they do for dates?)

If Shanks is the one doing the planning, you can expect to end up one of two places.

You might be at the nearest tavern, going shot for shot on rum until you can't see straight, singing sea shanties into the dark hours of morning.

Or laid out on a secluded stretch of beach in the moonlight, sharing a bottle or two, wrapped up in each others' arms and lips and forgetting the passage of time entirely.

He's happy doing anything that means he gets to spend time with you, though, so he's fine with going out of his element if you have something else in mind.

H — Heartache (How would they handle it if you broke up with them?)

Don't. Please. Just don't. He'll be inconsolable.

He'll cry. Don't make Shanks cry. That's just heartless.

He won't show it in front of his crew. He'll keep up his usual carefree and aloof facade.

But once he's alone, he'll be in complete shambles.

He'll probably drink himself senseless.

He loves hard, with every fabric of his being, and losing you would utterly destroy him.

I — Intimacy (When are they intimate with you? And how often?)

Literally all the time.

Shanks always kisses you like no one's watching, pulling you flush against him and delving his tongue between your lips and squeezing your rear.

In his eyes, there's no wrong time to show how much he treasures you. How much he wants you.

His ship could be under fire by a full Marine armada and he would still pull you in for a slow, sweet kiss if the mood struck.

In fact he'd probably do it just to show the Marines how completely unbothered he is.

J — Joker (How do they make you laugh)

If Shanks isn't cracking some stupid joke, you're worried something is wrong.

He loves making people laugh, loves seeing people laughing and enjoying life.

And making *you* laugh? That gives him life.

He's gone far as to pull your panties on while you're alone together in the captain's cabin and imitate you being dramatic about something until you're begging him to stop before you choke to death on your own giggles.

K — Kissing (How good? How often?)

If you're within eyeshot, he *has* to kiss you.

He knows that his crew will roll their eyes and tease him about it, but he doesn't care. Your lips are like a drug and he simply can't get enough.

His kisses tend to be light and plauful.

Lightly biting and pulling at your bottom lip.

Flicking his tongue across lips to coax yours out.

Letting his tongue swirl slowly around yours before pulling back and leaving you craving more.

Pulling you into his lap when he deepens the kiss.

Lifting his hand to flip off anyone with the audacity to tell you two to get a room.

"Don't pay them any mind, princess. They're just a bunch of jealous pricks."

L — Lay down (How do they sleep with you? Are they a cuddler or do they prefer their space?)

He has to be against you in bed.

If you roll away in your sleep, he will subconsciously shift closer to you.

Spooning is definitely his favorite—your back and your ass pressed up against him, his arm draped over your waist so he can caress your stomach or lay his palm over one of your soft breasts...absolute *heaven*.

M — Making babies (Do they want to settle down and have kids?)

Shanks is good with kids, being that he's practically an overgrown kid himself half the time.

All the same, he just...isn’t sure.

He loves you to death. Having a family with you would be a dream come true.

But if he had to leave his ship, his crew behind? He just isn’t sure he could do that.

Because he loves them to death, too.

N — Nervous? (How confident are they when it comes to romance?)

Shanks posseses the positively deadly combination of being unnecessarily charming and handsome, and incredibly aware of it.

Thus, his confidence is through the roof.

He knows he doesn't need anything more than a cheeky grin and a soft carress or two to get you in bed.

That being said, he'll spend all day subtly teasing you to the end of your sanity to make sure you want him as much as it's possible to want another person.

O — Oral Fixation (Giving or recieving? And how good are they?)

Absolutely a giver. He's incredible at it and he knows it.

And he's a terrible, terrible tease about it.

Taking you to the edge, making your thighs tremble...and then pulling away to brush his lips to your thighs and give you a cheeky grin.

"Oh, not yet, love. I love hearing you beg for it."

Keeping you on the edge until you're begging to come in complete and utter desperation before he finally lets you.

And then he isn't going to stop until you're begging him to.

He loves recieving just as much.

Really loves it when you pull him down an empty alley and get on your knees.Curling his fingers in your hair, groaning quietly and praising you endlessly.

His breath shaking as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and fuck your throat, wanting to enjoy the slow build-up.

"That's it, sweetheart. Look at me. I want to see those pretty eyes while you suck my cock."

P — Pet Peeves (Things they don't like in a partner)

Taking things too seriously. He's always joking around and having a good time, and all he wants is for you to do the same.

The silent treatment. It drives him absolutely insane. Just talk to him if there's something wrong, he wants to fix it.

Flirting with other men to make him jealous. Just don't. It's the one thing that truly gets under his skin, that could actually get him honestly angry with you.

Q — Quiet Time (How much alone time do they need, or do they want to be with you 24/7?)

Gives you your distance if you need it, but he does so begrudgingly.

He knows life is short—he got his arm bit off by a giant sea monster, for gods' sake—and he wants to spend as much time as he can with you.

Whether you're out having fun, fighting alongside each other, or curled up together in a hammock sharing a bottle of rum and enjoying a lazy afternoon.

He loves being with you, and he'll take any excuse he can get.

R — Romance (How romantic are they? Do they have to force it or does it come natural?)

Shanks's version of romance isn't fancy dinners and extravagant date nights.

It's lying on a beach watching the sunset with you.

Pushing you into the water and diving in after you, kissing you while you're both sopping wet.

Making love under a full moon.

Telling you every opportunity he gets how much he adores you.

"You know you're my greatest treasure, don't you, sweetheart?"

It's hard not to know when he tells you at least three times a day.

But the way he looks into your eyes when he says it still manages to melt your heart every time.

S — Spending Money (How much do they like to spend on you?)

Shanks isn't really much for materialism or consumerism.

You'll have to tell him if there's something you want, and he's not going to have any oroblem with getting it for you.

Every so often, something is going to catch his eye at some market in a port town.

Something that reminds him of you or that he thinks you'll like.

And he'll buy it without hesitation and give it to you with a big, goofy grin the second he sees you.

It's not all the time, but it makes it that much more special when it does happen.

T — Trust (Are they trusting of you? Jealous?)

He absolutely trusts you—that's how love is supposed to work.

But he can get a little jealous.

You wouldn't know it from the way he carries himself and jokes about it, but he does get a little insecure about missing an entire limb.

This can lead to him getting a little defensive and possessive if other men approach you—he's going to make sure it's known that you're his lover, and he'll always fight for you.

U — Underwear (What kind do they wear, and what kind do they like on you?)

Loose-fitting boxers are more comfortable.

He doesn't care what kind of underwear you wear, as long as it comes off easily.

And if you whisper in his ear that you're *not* wearing any?

You'd best buckle up, because he's putting you over his shoulder and carrying you off to the nearest private, or even semi-private location he can find to take advantage of this information.

V — Vulnerable (How vulnerable are they with you? Is it easy for them to open up to you?)

He is one hundred percent an open book with you.

You know everything about him. His life, his secrets, his aspirations.

He doesn't want anything to ever come up that could frighten you off, so he lays everything on the table surprisingly quickly.

W — Wine and Dine (Do they prefer meals at home or going out with you? Who does more of the cooking?)

He would much rather cook, preferably with you. He's not the best at it, but he's not awful either, given that he's had to be self-sufficient for a good bit of his life.

And if you're good at it, he's not to proud to take advice.

Any time spent with you is a wonderful time to him.

If you go out, it's probably going to be street food or tavern fare—fancy restaurants aren't his forte, and he's frankly not sure he would even have anything appropriate to wear.

X — X-Rated (How good are they in bed? What do they like?)

Hopefully you like being teased literally to the edge of sanity.

Major kink for edging you, making you beg for it.

And dear sweet fuck, is he good at it.

Whispering all the things he's going to do to you throughout the course of the day.

Pulling you down an alley or into a broom closet, pinning you to the wall and teasing you through your panties, stopping just short of letting you cum.

Subtle glances and touches.

He *loves* seeing you writhing in his bed, desperate for his touch while he kisses your neck, just trailing his fingertips up and down your inner thigh.

Holding you down by your hips so you can't even grind against him.

"Such an eager little thing. Just be patient, princess. You're going to get what you want."

Kissing down your breasts, taking time to stop and tease your nipples.

Pushing your thighs apart with his knees so he can circle a finger around your entrance, chuckling a little at your moans and whimpers before finally pushing it in.

Sitting up on his knees to watch you arch your hips, rubbing against your g-spot just long enough to get you gasping.

Pulling his finger back out and slowly circling it around your clit instead, before shifting back between your thighs and giving the sensitive bud a few teasing licks, watching you shiver in anticipation.

Keeping it slow and sensual, enjoying every second of being between your thighs, building your pleasure at a slow and steady pace that drives you crazy.

Holding onto your hip keep you from grinding against his tongue.

Pulling back the second you crest toward orgasm, chuckling at your whimpering and begging as he trails his lips across your inner thigh.

"You're just so adorable when you're desperate for it."

Keeping it going for what feels like hours, before finally tugging you in close and not relenting until you're trembling and falling apart beneath him.

Feeling you throbbing under his tongue and tighten up around his fingers is like a high for him.

Not stopping until your body goes limp and the only sounds you can make are a few little whimpers.

Soft, tender kisses amd whispered praises at your neck and lips and shoulders, his fingers combing through your hair, letting you recover for just a minute, even though he's aching for you.

Grinding his cock against your wet folds a few times before sliding slowly into you, groaning quietly in your ear.

"Oh, fuck, you're tight, love..."

Absolutely savors every second of being inside you, moving in long slow strokes, brushing his thumb across your cheek while he kisses you.

If you ask for it harder, he's going to give it to you—he's done with teasing you now. This is about you now, about what his princess wants.

And if you want it rough, then you're coming out of it with your neck and chest half-covered in hickies, and he's not stopping until he's sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow morning.

Holding back just long enough so you can climax at the same time, grunting out a quiet swear and pulling your hips flush against his to come deep inside you.

Slow, deep kisses while you both catch your breath and come down.

But don't be surprised if he's gearing up for another round soon. He really can never get enough of you.

Y — Yearning (How long will they pursue the person they're interested in before losing interest?)

It depends. If it's purely lust based, he's not going to pursue it very long and just move on.

If the feelings run deeper, though, he's absolutely shameless about it.

Relentless flirting and corny pick-up lines.

"Pardon me miss—do you have a map? It seems I've gotten lost in your eyes and I can’t find my way out."

Will absolutely get on his knees and beg you to give him a chance if he has to.

Puppy dog eyes in full effect.

It's pretty much pointless trying to resist.

Z — Zen (What do they do to wind down and relax? Do they prefer to do it alone or with you?)

A bottle of rum, a hammock stretched between a couple palm trees on some remote beach only he knows about, and his arm curled around you while you lie back against his chest.

Kissing your temple and playing with your hair.

He's always more relaxed when he has you with him.

[cherimoyatea]

hello hi! ik the fandom mostly favors interactions between LIs & MCs/Readers but i was wondering if you have your own ideas between the LADS boys like friendship headcanons between them? how their dynamic works and which would be the best bros with each other or strongest siblings rivalry vibes between them (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

hopefully this is alright to request! 🙏🏻

Hi Annonie!

Thank you for your request! I saw the wonderful @irandial already sharing her thoughts on the same request, and I couldn't agree more with her on the boys! But since you asked I'll also drop some headcanons 🤭

I've always imagined what their life would be like if they happened to share a house and how their dynamics would play out, so I'll set the scenario based on your request.

Remember, these are headcanons and just for fun 🩷

❧ The LaDs Men as Friends - Shared house edition

He's the loudest—always getting on everyone's nerves with his antics and pouty demands. Rafayel will block the bathroom for hours with his extensive baths and beauty routines: Since he's basically a fish on land, he's super cautious about keeping his skin hydrated.

Imagine him opening the bathroom door in a bathrobe, with a face mask on and a bowknot keeping his purple bangs off his forehead, as he yells at the other guys: ''I'm gonna burn y'all in your sleep if ya don't stop knocking on the damn door!!'' Then he slams the door shut, locks it again, and puts his Airpods on full blast, while the others continue to desperately hammer against the bathroom door, needing to use the toilet.

Rafayel pretends to be annoyed by everyone in his household and murmurs''These silly humans...'' while also using his evol and wielding his dagger to protect his friends without hesitation whenever they run into trouble. Though they get on his nerves sometimes, he wouldn't want it any other way.

Xavier is in a constant catfight with Rafayel for always eating his cheesesticks behind his back. In general, he's the one who constantly empties the fridge and eats everyone's snacks and food. Even Zayne can't help but let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief, when he finds another empty cookie package in the cabinet—for the third time this week. And its only Tuesday.

Whenever Xavier isn't busy snacking, his friends usually find him either reading a book or napping in the most unusual places around the house, giving them daily heart attacks. Once, Sylus almost spilled his drink when he tripped over Xavier's sleeping form, curled up on the soft, fluffy carpet in the dimly lit hallway. ''Uhh... I'm not quite sure how I ended up sleeping on the floor... it just looked so comfy here and the stairs to the bedroom seemed like too much effort…'' He rubs his neck sheepishly and gets up with a yawn, while Sylus taps his foot impatiently, shaking his head at the silver-blond.

Definitely the ''mom'' of the friend group. He takes care of everyone's well-being while occasionally cracking one of his dry jokes, causing an awkward silence in the room. Surprisingly, nobody feels called out when he scolds his friends for eating too much junk food or staying up too late. ''Rafayel, where are your slippers? The floor is cold—at least wear some socks.'' And the Lemurian? He rolls his eyes and mumbles something under his breath but eventually gets up to grab some socks from his room.

Zayne always has an open ear for his friends. Whenever someone needs to get something off their chest, they approach the Doctor, and he genuinely tries to comfort them. ''Xavier… I don't think Sylus hates you for accidentally poisoning him with your tiramisu. However. Make sure to remember that dishes with raw eggs need to be refrigerated…''

He's the one who would probably get along with everyone, giving off protective big-brother vibes. He mostly watches his friends quietly from the background with an amused smirk, shaking his head at Rafayel causing a scene over someone spilling his paint, Xavier serving a suspicious-looking tiramisu, or Zayne gathering the others laundry from the floor with a frown. ''Doc, are you sure you want to touch that? I remember seeing the fish doing... unholy things with those socks.'' Sylus says with a mischievous grin, earning a dead stare from Rafayel. ''Hold up! I did WHAT?!''

He just loves teasing these idiots.

But Sylus is also the life of the party and always up for a night out with his friends. The guys had a blast at the karaoke bar once when Sylus was drunk enough to wholeheartedly sing Miley Cyrus' Wrecking Ball. Of course, Rafayel recorded the whole show and teased him the next morning while the silver-haired man had the worst hangover ever. ''Listen, Fish... I'm adding a cat to this household if you don't delete that NOW!''

[rosenclaws]

Hi!!! I love your writing so much <3<3

I was wondering if you had any thoughts about taking Leopold's virginity? Because I saw you mention that you think he might be a virgin :))

HI YES I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS!!

This is with an afab!reader who is not a virgin in mind but no pronouns are used.

warnings: MINORS DNI!! oral (m and f receiving), soft sex, leo being a bit of a switch/sub

Leopold’s first time headcanons

Okay so Leo is a virgin but because he’s a prude or because there isn’t anyone who wants to sleep with him. I mean damn the first scene of the movie is girls basically fawning over him lol. I think he views sexual intimacy as something that needs to be cherished.

It should be something romantic. A true, deep connection between two people who have given their hearts to each other and Leo has never felt that way until you.

When it comes to Leo’s first time I think there's a lot of lead up. Like a nice dinner and a bath together maybeee. Candles, I mean the whole thing.

Its slow and sweet and a little awkward but the kind of awkward that makes the two of you laugh in each others arms.

You 100% suck him off to start. I mean he’s gorgeous, so pretty and handsome that he deserves to get his dick sucked u know what I’m saying.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands at all. Like he doesn’t know if he should touch you, touch himself. They keep moving. First they’re gripping the sheets, then they’re above his head clenching into fists, and finally you guide his hands to the sides of your head. Winking as you pick up your pace.

He also is a little loud. He tries at first to suppress his noises but he can't help it. His moans are heavenly. So desperate. He whimpers too btw. Like 100% that is a man who whimpers.

He doesn’t last long. Look Leopold is no stranger to. Getting himself off but this is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. So warm and wet and your hands are on his thighs and its a sensory overload that he can’t help but come hard in your mouth.

Even though it's his first time he really really wants to go down on you. He wants to make you feel good so badly. To make you moan because of him.

He's a little hesitant at first, not sure what to do but after some coaxing he dives right in. At first you think he's a dirty fucking liar about never doing this before because holy shit he is filthy without even trying.

Sloppy and wet and needy as hell as he buries his face in your cunt. He listens eagerly to all your instructions. What you like, what you don't like. He plans on studying you until he remembers every little thing that drives you insane.

HE LOVES TO BE CALLED A GOOD BOY!! I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. He has a praise kink too. Loves to talk about how wonderful you are, how good you taste, how lucky he is. Oh my god call him a good boy and tug on his hair and he's a fucking goner.

"Such a good boy, so pretty."

He loves eating pussy btw. Like he's can't help himself and slowly humps the bed as he feels himself start to get hard again. He could live between your thighs.

Anyways when it comes to actually having sex you ride him for the first time. Wanting to give him nothing but pleasure. He watches with wide eyes as you sink down on his cock. He needs a second to just process it all. His arms wrapped around you, face buried in your chest as he slowly rolls his hips.

It's slow for the first time. You just riding him nice and slow as you whisper sweet things into his ear. He can't stop telling you how much he loves you. How happy he is. He can't get enough of you, especially when you moan his name. (He's def whimpering again)

After a little bit he'd switch positions to be on top. Missionary but he's got one leg hooked on his shoulder. His hips move slow but get harder with every thrust. Your nails dig into his back with every thrust and it turns him on a little more.

He's kissing every bit of skin he can while he's making love. He loves your neck. The whole experience is just overwhelming to him. It's amazing and wonderful but overwhelming. Every one of his senses are being overloaded with you and he can't get enough.

He makes sure you finish before he does of course. Asking you in a desperate tone what you need and how he can do it for you. Begging you to finish because he's going to explode soon.

"Please, please my love. Tell me what to do. Need to feel you."

When he finishes he (reluctantly) comes on your stomach, rolling over onto his back for a minute. He needs to catch his breath, a smile on his face that won't go away. He just feels completely blissed out.

When you try to move he stops you, wanting you to stay comfortable as he goes to get a towel to clean you up. Kissing every inch of you as he does so. Thanking you for this and telling you how much he loves you. He just can't help himself.

He falls asleep pretty quickly after. Holding you close in his arms as the exhaustion takes over.

It's a pretty soft and sweet first time, fueled by love. Leopold is gentle and kind and I think this is the perfect time to for him to show that in a more intimate setting.

Anyways I am obsessed with Leopold he deserves the world okay ty!!!

[writtenfangirl]

Kismet

In which Anthony Bridgerton contemplates the meaning of life, death and love

I’ve had this scene in my notes app for so long and I always found it so beautiful but couldn’t find a character to write it for UNTIL Anthony Bridgerton came along.

Pure fluff but mentions of death.

Anthony had always been afraid of death, as much as he’d been afraid of love.

It was difficult not to be when you witness both of your parents’ deaths.

He’d seen the way his father collapsed, face purple, breaths coming out in gasps before they suddenly stopped. He saw his father’s mortal body die, saw the light in his eyes dim before they completely sputtered out. And afterwards, when the doctors could do nothing to help him, he saw his mother’s soul die with him. Her cry of anguish as Edmund Bridgerton collapsed onto the soft grass, the days after the funeral when she would not speak and she only had that vacant look in her eyes, without any sign of that light Anthony grew up seeing.

Death was not a foreign concept to Anthony Bridgerton. The fragility of his mortality and the concept of his demise, as well his failings as the Bridgerton patriarch were his most intimate friends. These were the thoughts that plagued him at night. They were the covetous brothers Benedict and Colin were not. While his brothers of flesh and blood may have been content to let him keep the title, those thoughts had looked over his shoulder, had watched his every move and decision, had waited for a single misstep for the right moment to strike.

They absolutely terrified him.

So much so that he had stopped living.

What good was it, truly, to live and to love, when life could end in a flash. When nothing you do in this world matters, when you realize that everything you held dear could be taken from you in a blink, you begin to believe that such things weren’t worth the risk.

He loves his family, that much he was sure. It was difficult not to love them when they seemed to reside in his very heart, woven into the fabric of his soul. He had no choice but to love them.

But he had a choice when it came to romantic love. He did not have to go through the pain of losing someone else, nor would he ever damn another person into loving him and losing him too. On that, he could decide.

Or, at least he thought he could.

Because love certainly came for him, as surely as he knew death would one day come for him. It came to him in the form of the most beautiful woman in the world.

Y/N Y/L/N. She was the niece of the Viscountess Heathwood. By the ton’s standards, she was nobody. Beautiful yet still, unimportant and without any significant title or dowry aside from her relation with the Viscountess. Had it not been for her staggering beauty or her education and graceful countenance, she would have been dismissed.

If you had asked the Anthony of five years ago what he thought of when he imagined his wife, a woman like Y/N would have been last on his list.

But the Anthony of five years ago was an idiot.

Because Y/N, with all her grace and beauty, had a fierce determination that not only made her befitting of the title of viscountess but also made her a great addition to the Bridgerton family.

And to Anthony, she was everything.

Love in the shape of Y/N knocked on his door, and when he had refused to answer, love barreled its way into his heart like a disease. It burrowed itself into his skin until he flushed at the mere thought of her, wormed its way into his heart until his heart beat only for her. Then, love pounded its way deep into his soul and staked a tether that tied his soul to hers.

Anthony knew that one day, death would come knocking. It would take its bony hand and place it on his shoulder, beckoning Anthony to his side.

He was still undoubtedly terrified of it.

But for Y/N, for the love his life, he would live.

“What’s got you in so morose a mood so early in the morning?” Her voice, sweet and calming, pulled him out of his stupor.

Bathed in the golden light of the dawning sun, she looked breathtaking. It should have been impossible, to be so beautiful when she’d just woken up, but Anthony knew that if anyone could make the impossible possible, it would have been her.

She was pressed against his side, her body warm and flushed against his own. His arm, wrapped around her as her head rested on his chest. The only thing that separated them was the thin fabric of their sleeping clothes but even with them on, he could feel the contours of her body. The rolling curve of her hips, the softness of her skin as his hands trailed down her arm and up again.

He’d awoken to his wife in his arms for three years now but he could never take this feeling for granted. Everyday he woke up like this was a day he was truly thankful for.

Anthony placed a tender kiss on his wife’s forehead, the little hairs on the tip of her forehead tickling his nose. “I was just deep in thought, my love.”

“About what?”

He contemplated lying to her. Admittedly, his thoughts were far too dark to share so early in the morning. But Y/N had always been adept at sussing out any falsehoods, most especially his own.

“Death.”

Her brow shot straight up, pulling away from him and propping herself up on an elbow. The thin strap of her nightgown slipped past her shoulder revealing her glorious skin, her long hair trailing down her back. The golden light that bathed her had turned into a halo against the backdrop of the window, turning her into one of God’s sacred angels. “Why the bloody hell would you think about your death so early in the morning?”

“I wasn’t thinking my death. Just death in its most general sense.”

She gave him a pointed look. “That’s not very reassuring.”

He grinned at her. He couldn’t help it, not when she was looking at him in that certain way that always had him believing he was in trouble but would receive a reward rather than a punishment. “I assure you, it is not so morbid. I was simply thinking of life’s ephemerality, and how one ought to live it for the right people.”

She didn’t look reassured but nevertheless, she laid back down, Anthony’s arm instantly enveloping her, hand absentmindedly resuming its task of drawing lazy circles on her arm. “You would think, that with my husband celebrating his birthday today, he would think of happier things. His beautiful wife, perhaps, or his kind mother, or the veritable gaggle of siblings who adored him. You would think that, perhaps, his mind would wander towards the child his wife is currently carrying. But alas, he thinks of death. I never thought death to be a celebratory topic, but to each his own.”

He flicked her nose playfully at her sarcastic tone, her mouth pulling into a grin. “If you must know, death was on my mind because today marks the day that I am officially older than my father was when he passed.”

Suddenly, whatever joy filled the air died. “Oh.”

It was the truth. In the weeks since his birthday, his every waking thought had been consumed by his father. His father, Edmund Bridgerton, who was 8th viscount of the Bridgerton family. His father, who’s death marked the biggest change of Anthony’s life. His father, who lived through the first 18 years of Anthony’s life but lived no longer.

It was a sobering thought to realize that he would have to live longer than he knew the man he looked up to his whole life.

And it was these thoughts that plagued him.

“He has been on my mind,”he murmured but he knew she would understand, “I wonder if he is proud of me.”

“Of course he is.” She had said the words with such surety, it was difficult to argue with her. But Anthony would certainly try.

“How can you be so sure?”

She gave him a leveling stare, as if he was an idiot for even asking such a question. “I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but I know he is proud of you, as proud of you as I am.” Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, the pads of her finger soft against his stubble. “How can he not be, when you have done right by your siblings? By your mother? How can he possibly feel anything but pride at his eldest son for taking care of his whole family?”

“I make such a mess of things.” He frowned. His thoughts weren’t always so desolate, not since he married Y/N. It was difficult to keep his countenance bleak when he was married to the kind of person who smiled at a family of squirrels, or grinned at the sight of a little girl giggling through the window of a shop. But today of all days, his mind strained to his faults.

But his wife, bless her, would hear none of it. “You are human, Anthony. It is in our nature to make mistakes. I am certain your father once thought his mistakes egregious but yet still, he remains great. As sure as I am of your own excellence.”

“I go days, sometimes, never thinking of him. And when I remember him again, I feel such tremendous shame and grief at having forgotten him that sometimes, I can scarcely breathe.”

Another truth, one that Anthony had been too ashamed to admit. To forget one’s father when they were alive is one thing. To do so when he was dead was another thing entirely.

Y/N’s eyes could only be described as kind. “Did you know that a person dies twice. Once, when they are well and truly buried. The second is the last time their names are ever mentioned.“

This time, it was Anthony’s turn to look at his wife in sarcasm. “This is not the reassurance you think it to be.”

But she simply gave an indulgent grin before her eyes turned serious. “I mean to say that I will never let you forget him. I will say your father’s name everyday, if I must. And one day, I will teach our children to do the same. And they will teach their children, and their children will teach their children. Edmund Bridgerton will not be forgotten under my watch.”

His heart swelled with love. It was a lofty declaration but Y/N was never one to make vows lightly. She would do it too. Y/N was relentless in the pursuit of her goals and once she set her mind on something, she did it no matter what. It’s one of Anthony’s favorite things about her and the reason why he fell in love with her in the first place.

He pressed his lips on hers. Kisses with Y/N always felt like coming alive, like an empty house suddenly having new tenants. She felt like the cool spring air turning into the summer breeze. She felt like hope and joy all at once.

When he pulled away from her, her lips were swollen, eyes twinkling. He would never take a life with her for granted, and so when he spoke, his words came from that little space in his heart reserved for Y/N that no longer trembled at the sight of death. “When I die, I shall have your name carved into my bones”

She looked at him with skepticism. “Your bones?”

“One day, in the very distant future, when my grave is found and my tombstone is missing, they will see my bones but they will say your name. I will allow the world to kill me twice but I will not let it do the same to you.”

Her eyes gleamed silver, a joyful grin pulling at her lips.

There was no declaration of love more serious, more profound, than that. For the woman who taught him to live in spite of his fear, who taught him to love because of it, he would embrace death with open arms, if only so he could meet his wife’s soul once more. Because he was certain of his need for it, as certain as his need to draw breath every morning.

They were kismet, in this life and the next.