#we are!! coming full circle!! i can feel it!! in my bones!!

[lbctal]

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Date Night Distractions

“Stop squirming or I’m going to pull out,” he growls into my ear. I whine softly, feeling my pussy clench down around his cock inside of me as I reluctantly keep still. He huffs softly against my neck and grabs the TV remote off the couch, turning up the volume on whatever inane movie is playing.

When he’d suggested we stream a movie for date night, I did not think I’d end up naked, seated on his lap, locked in his arms, and cockwarming him for the entire two hour long film. I checked out of the movie an hour ago, focusing only on the feeling of his long, hard cock filling my pussy so perfectly. But no matter how much I squirmed, begged, and wriggled around on his lap, he refused to fuck me or do anything other than lightly kiss my shoulder and stroke my arms.

Not even a few minutes later, I’m impatiently rocking my hips against him, feeling his hard cock brush up against my g-spot with every move. Small, breathless moans are escaping between my parted lips as I melt against him, eyes closing in pleasure and leaning the back of my head on his shoulder, letting my legs splay open on either side.

“You really can’t follow directions tonight, huh, darling?” He murmurs.

“Please, daddy, please I want you to fuck me,” I whimper, turning my neck to stare up at him beggingly.

“Nope, not until the movie is over,” he says mockingly, “Be good and maybe I’ll give you something to tide you over.” His fingers trail down my stomach, brushing softly against my pussy before retracting again. I whine and beg him, “Please, please, please touch me, daddy.”

He laughs softly in my ear, “You are such a perfect little whore. Can’t even keep your composure throughout a movie with daddy’s cock in your desperate little pussy.”

I can feel my pussy clenching around him at his words, and I know I’m dripping. His fingers brush lightly against my stomach again and he runs them down towards my pussy. I’m gasping and panting in anticipation, wanting him to do something, do anything to make the burning need inside of me go away for a little.

His fingers come to where we’re joined, collecting some of my wetness before he pulls them away and licks my essence off his fingers. “Fuck, darling, you always taste so sweet,” his voice is growly and I feel his cock jerk inside of me slightly. I whimper, the praise making me even hotter and wetter.

He fingers come back down to the apex of my thighs and he flicks my clit with the lightest touch. My back arches and I let out a broken moan and rock against him. The sharp pleasure shocks my system, making my head spin and lights flash in my vision.

“Good girl, you like that huh?” He murmurs softly as his fingers rub my clit softly without stopping. “Ah, fuck, yes, please daddy, it feels so good,” my voice is breathless and pitchy with pleasure. His doesn’t stop moving his fingers, stroking my clit in tight circles with varying speed and pressure, pushing my body closer and closer toward orgasm.

“Such a pretty girl, I can feel your tight pussy clenching around my cock. Fuck, you’re perfect, darling,” his praise is delivered with soft groans and growls as he plays with my body. I whine wordlessly, feeling my body moments away from shattering in a breathtaking orgasm.

“Come on, darling, cum all over my cock and on my fingers,” he murmurs, moving his fingers faster and harder against my pulsing clit. I moan as I feel the orgasm burning through my body, my pussy bearing down on his cock and pulsing rhythmically. I ride the wave of pleasure and hear his whispered praise in my ear, the combination of everything making me feel so warm and so loved.

“Good girl, just like that, cumming for me. So, so pretty when you fall apart, that’s it, that feels good huh?” He hums softly in my ear in approval, “Look at how drippy you are, darling, all that’s for me.”

My mind is spinning, thoughts floating away as the orgasm fades, leaving the most delicious, bone-settling haze and fullness. But he doesn’t stop playing with my clit, and slowly, the warmth fades and is replaced with a burning overstimulation that makes me cry out and squirm, my legs closing to protect my clit.

“Please, daddy, please it’s too much! I need a break!”

He laughs darkly in my ear. “Oh no, darling, no you don’t. You can take it, I know you can. Such a drippy little mess for me, your perfect pussy is so good around my cock.” His rips my legs apart, one hand holding me down while the other continues its assault on my clit.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my legs shaking as a second orgasm starts to build despite the overstimulation wracking my body. He’s merciless as he strums my clit effortlessly, the fullness of his cock combined with the relentless pleasure forcing my orgasm out of me. Stars light up in my vision and tears well up in my eyes as the painful pleasure makes my body go rigid and my pussy clench.

“Fuck, you’re so lovely when you fall apart like this. Good girl, keep cumming for daddy,” his voice seems to float around me, wrapping me up in an all-encompassing cloud of unbearable pleasure. I’m keening softly, letting out whimpering sobs as my body is pushed to its capacity.

“No more, please, no more,” my voice is small and desperate, my legs shaking and trying to close. I’m too cum-drunk to fight back properly and his fingers continue to brutalize me, pushing me toward another peak.

“One more, darling. I know you can do it, pretty girl, come on, let me feel your perfect little pussy fall apart one more time,” he coaxes me, the gentle words a shocking juxtaposition to his rough fingers and hard cock inside of me. He rolls my clit between his fingers and I whine.

Before long, a third orgasm crests inside of me, and I feel my pussy tighten around him again. This time, the pleasure is overwhelming and nerve-fraying. I’m incoherent as I moan and beg, babbling from overstimulation. He plays my body like an instrument and I feel my orgasm erupt, my pussy gushing around his cock, squirting my release.

“Good girl, perfect girl, squirt for daddy. That’s it, baby,” he kisses my neck as his fingers finally slow and stop their assault on my pulsing jewel. He pulls my boneless body off his cock, the feeling of it leaving my body making me whine softly with loss despite how thoroughly decimated I feel. My pussy is achingly empty as he wraps me up in his arms, pulling me close into his chest.

“You did so well, darling. So perfect for me,” he says, kissing the top of my head. I whimper softly and look up at his with bleary eyes, feeling his praise and love surround me. We sit together like this for a few moments, the room aglow with the TV screen still playing whatever stupid movie he’d put on to begin with. I’d almost drifted off in his arms when I feel him shift.

“Come on, darling. We have another thirty minutes left of the movie,” he purrs, smiling deviously at me. And so, I find myself seated on his cock again, my overstimulated pussy pulsing around his hardness, stuffed full, and head hazy with pleasure.

[hyunebunx]

Wow I’m stupid I pressed send way too fast 🩵 with Lee Know??

˖˙ ᰋ ── 🩵 - kissing in the rain with Minho

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: a teeny tiny amount of angst but it has a happy ending

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: thank you sm for requesting!!! <3 i had soo many ways of writing this in my head that i struggled lol. i really hope you like what i came up with. it's loosely (very) based on the rain scene in pride and prejudice so enjoy!! <33

Arguments were not a usual occurrence in your relationship. Most of the time you managed to settle any disagreement before it could escalate to such heights, the perfectly communicating couple all of your friends couldn’t help but feel a little envious of.

Now was not one of those times; your stress and emotions were getting the best of both you and Minho in the most unpleasant way. You hated arguing with him, getting angry and unable to see the other’s point of view, clouded by the desire to be right and make each other understand where you were coming from.

“You don’t get it.” Minho shakes his head with a sigh, forearms resting on the wheel as the rain poured outside your safe haven, hitting the windshield at an alarming pace and preventing you from seeing anything, even with the headlights on.

“Explain it to me, then!” You bite back, body facing his in the heated passenger seat that was keeping you warm and cozy despite the chill outside. Even when arguing you could admit Minho was the most considerate person alive – you didn’t ask him to turn on the heat, he must have done it when he noticed you trembling like a leaf after getting in.

He surprised you after work, dropping by and driving directly to one of your favorite restaurants just in time for dinner and a well deserved date night. Everything was perfect, the location, the food, and especially the company, laughing and having a great time with the love of your life.

Until things turned sour on your drive home, and what started as a silly disagreement turned into a full-on argument about something you didn’t find significant enough even to remember.

“That’s what I’ve been doing for the past ten minutes but it seems you don’t want to listen!”

You’ve been walking (or driving) in circles, with him getting frustrated and you following right on his tail until the car came to a stop right in front of your apartment building.

It’s not like you didn’t want to listen or care to hear him out, it’s just that Minho seemed to make something out of nothing, insisting and pushing forth the same idea like you were nothing more than a child who lacked basic comprehension. It was frustrating and exhausting, especially after the long day you’ve had.

“Min, I’ve been listening.” You try to smooth things over, warm hand landing on his thigh comfortingly. “Just because I’m not giving you the answers you want doesn’t mean I’m not hearing you.”

Minho remains silent, head turned the other way to stare out the window and not acknowledge your presence. When the silence stretches on, you give up with a sigh and retract your hand, reaching for your purse in the backseat and opening the car door in the same breath.

“What are you – “ You close it right before he can finish the sentence, set on getting inside with or without him to finally take the bubble bath you’ve been daydreaming about all day at work.

“Kitten!” His voice follows a moment later, the sound of the car door slamming louder than him amongst the deafening rain. “Y/n!”

Despite yourself and the insanity of spending even one more minute in this storm, you stop and allow him to catch up, not protesting as his warm hands land on your shoulders and turn you around almost desperately.

“Where are you going? We are not done talking.” He states, dark hair and clothes getting soaked at an alarming pace as the rain spares neither of you.

“But I am!” You exhale, the chill settling into your bones. “We won’t reach an agreement like this so let’s just stop!”

His eyes widen as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, figures illuminated by the bright headlights almost blinding. “Baby, wait – “

“I hate fighting with you, Min.” Without meaning to, you interrupt him once again, reaching up to cup his face and drag him closer. “I’m sorry, okay? We can talk this over calmly inside after we cool down. Just not like this, please, I can’t do it anymore.”

He nods instantly, agreeing without a doubt and most likely seeing his faults too, and not only yours. Then, when you expect him to let go and finally follow you in, Minho surprises you the second time tonight by leaning over and connecting your lips in a kiss full of passion and love, reminding you once again that the heart in his chest beats first and foremost for you. His upper limbs cling to your body just like your clothes, hugging you tightly while your hands squeeze his face affectionately, a smile sneaking past and pulling one from him as well, on the verge of beaming into the kiss.

The rain seems to disappear, the cold too, like you weren’t bothered by either in the first place. Minho has that effect on you, helping you see the good in every situation. Sure, the location was not ideal – nothing could be less romantic than a barely lit parking lot – but as always, the company mattered more. And the message he was trying to send. When words failed you, actions worked better, speaking louder and getting your point across without much effort.

Sure, the argument wasn’t resolved but you both managed to make the other understand what mattered the most. You might be disagreeing now, momentarily stuck in a small pothole along the way, but you still loved each other, you would get over it and be okay in the end.

Because that’s what true love meant. Getting through things together and continuing to walk down your joined paths, hand in hand, no matter how many potholes or rough patches you encounter. A small setback won’t ever erase your feelings for each other, or make you forget all the beautiful moments you’ve shared.

And maybe, just maybe, a kiss was all you needed to finally understand Minho’s point when you sat down and resolved things that night. He, on the other hand, needed a few more to be satisfied.

[imfinereallyy]

Spooky Spouse🕸️𓆩♡𓆪🕸️

happy spooky season :) this is for my mutuals @cranberrymoons @penny00dreadful @theheadlessphilosopher @vthx who when I asked about when we think steddie bday's was, it derailed into well...this. And it was too hard to resist.

v brief mention of nsfw

"You want to what?"

Eddie stares at Steve excitedly, practically vibrating in his spot across from Steve in the kitchen.

"We should get married on Halloween!" Eddie shouts.

Steve lets his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he looks at his very manic, albeit very cute, fiance. "Babe, I love you, and for that, I am going to hear you out—"

"Love you too." Eddie interrupts softly.

Steve's mouth curves at the edges; he's sure he has what Robin has claimed as his 'lovesick' smile on his face. "—but why would you want to get married on your birthday?"

Suddenly, Eddie's excitement switches into an embarrassed blush. Hiding behind a finger spun around a soft curl, he mumbles, "...about that..."

Steve sighs and leans back in his chair. He feels the familiar ache in the bottom of his back, scarred road rash that never quite healed right in 86'. If he sits too long in one spot, Steve finds himself fidgety and unsettled.

He wonders briefly if he can convince Eddie to give him a massage later.

Eddie's embarrassment shifts for a moment to concern, eyes wondering where Steve's back meets the base of the old wooden chair they found on 74th Street two years ago. Steve knows Eddie had liked the way the chair creaked like Steve's knee, and that was reason enough to bring it home. Now, though, with the way Eddie holds his breath to see if the familiar creak of the chair will mix with the sounds of Steve's young bones aging, Steve knows he won't have to do any convincing at all.

"I'm okay, Eds. You were saying."

Eddie's face blooms red again. "Okay, only if you promise not to be mad."

"That is never a good sign."

Eddie bites his lip, "What if I told you that my birthday isn't really on Halloween?"

Steve stares blankly, "I know I've had a few knocks on the head, Eds, but I'm pretty sure you can change your name, not your birthday. Having a wedding doesn't mean you get to move your birthday."

"Well!" Eddie jumps, this time with more anxious energy, "You see, that's what I mean; we wouldn't have to move my birthday if we got married on Halloween."

"Okay, you lost me. Am I concussed again? Did we go too hard last night? I know you said you were 'gonna fuck me so good I would forget my name,' but I'm pretty sure this isn't what you meant."

Eddie takes a deep breath before getting on his knees in front of Steve, taking his hand into his own. "Stevie, I mean that I lied. My birthday isn't Halloween. It's actually in February."

"What."

"You said you wouldn't be mad!"

Steve snorts but gives Eddie's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm pretty sure I actually said that 'wasn't a good sign'. I never agreed not to be mad."

"We both know it means the same thing to you." Eddie huffs.

Steve's lovesick smile is back again, despite knowing he should be mad. "You're telling me you've convinced everyone your birthday is on Halloween?"

"...well, everyone but Wayne." Eddie's smile turns sheepish.

"Jesus Christ Eds."

Eddie jumps up from his knees back to his feet. Steve can hear Eddie's ankle crack at the sudden change. He keeps a hold on Steve's hand. "Listen, I had good reason. I love Halloween; I should be a Halloween baby. My death was almost by bats; I mean, by that logic, it's almost full circle."

"I feel like you're D&D'ing me into logic that doesn't make sense. Eddie, are you trying to make it worse?"

Eddie throws his head back and groans, "No. I'm just—I love Halloween. It feels wrong not to have something important on that day."

"So you decided to change your birthday? Ed's that's not legal."

Eddie's excitement comes back tenfold, giving Steve whiplash. "Well, neither is our wedding! So it's perfect! Honestly, very metal of us to be fighting the law on such an amazing day." Eddie's arms flap around in excitement, making their conjoined hands move messily throughout the air.

Steve wants to be mad; he really does. But he can't help it; he just loves this idiot too much. "Fine, we can get married on Halloween."

"Really?!"

Steve stands, bringing his lips to Eddie's hand, then gently to his lips. He murmurs against his mouth, "On two conditions."

Eddie nips Steve's lip, "Anything, baby."

"One." Steve starts, sliding his tongue into Eddie's mouth, just to be a brat, before pulling back. Eddie groans but doesn't protest. He knows that this is the rare occasion it's his turn to be punished. "You have to tell everyone the truth about your birthday."

"Yep, fine. You got it." Eddie grabs Steve by the back of his neck and pulls him back. Consuming him greedily, Steve gives in to the distraction for a moment. Loving the feeling of Eddie's heat pressed against his own.

Steve pulls back reluctantly, a trail of spit connecting the two of them. Eddie whines and paws at Steve's hips, trying to draw him back. "Two, you have to tell me when your actual birthday is."

The heat clears from Eddie's eyes and the sheepish look returns. "Uh..."

Steve starts to remove himself from Eddie, but Eddie scrambles to bring him back against his chest. "Fine. Fine, I'll tell you."

Steve leans his forehead against Eddie's, patiently waiting for him to spill.

"It's February 14th."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ."

**

this spiraled form all of us being convinced eddie would lie and say his bday is on Halloween. to my mutals, sorry I didn't tag you all it got to long, but this was for you guys ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Permission (Spike x y/n)

Requested: Yep. @wtv-my-current-hyperfixation

TW: Smut. A lot of smutty smut.

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

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The TV plays in the background. Canned laughter and rehearsed lines contrast the mood and actions in the room. The air is heavy. The room is scented of spice and musk.

You run your hands up to Spike’s hair as your mouth gets lost in a torrent of lust and wanton desire. His hands hold you tight as you straddle him on the sofa. You come up for air, soft pants with heavy eye contact.

“You like that, love?” He spanks your ass and gives it a tight squeeze.

You let out a soft moan, inviting him for more.

His member is hard and tight against his jeans. You tease him by creating friction between your underwear and the top of his jeans. He leans his head back, enjoying the taunting. Preparing himself for what’s to come.

You lean in for another kiss and instead Spike trails his mouth down your neck. He leaves love bites on his way to your collar bone where he works steadily to create a hickey.

Once done he leans back to admire his handy works, “Mine.” He whispers.

You continue to ride him, fully clothed, in an attempt to ease some of your own lust.

“I want more.” You croon.

He turns and pushes you onto the couch roughly, your back to the soft material. You gasp as you go down.

He hikes up your skirt and makes quick work of your underwear. His hand finds your slick and plays with your slit. You bite down a moan. He gently finds your opening and inserts a finger. His thrusts are steady, long, and deep. You moan at his ministrations.

“Let’s see if my girl can take two.”

He works on inserting another finger, stretching you to your max.

“Gotta gets you ready for the main course.”

You are full and lost in desire. He pumps his fingers in and out, in and out. You count your breaths to stay sane. Without warning her curls his fingers making you see stars.

Spike has decided he wants to make you orgasm multiple times tonight. He is relentless with his fingers, making sure that you’re deep in pleasure.

“Do you like that, love? Am I making you feel good?”

You can barely answer, your brain in a fog. You babble an answer which is incomprehensible and makes Spike laugh.

“Shall we pick up the pace? Can you take it?”

As promised, he moves his hand faster, curling his fingers when inside. He uses his other hand to massage circle on your clit. He is deliberate with his movements matching his thrust with the pressure he is placing on your clitoris. You’re a mess. You can barely breathe, holding onto the sofa for dear life.

He is consistent and persevering. He mumbles dirty words to you, lost in his own pleasure. You can feel your insides tighten. Your abdomen feels tight and ready to burst. You try to warn Spike, but that was his goal. He wanted to get you off with his fingers and make sure you’re hazed out with pleasure before he gave you the main course.

You feel something snap, electricity courses through your brain. It hits your pleasure point, and you gasp in shock followed by a slew of loud moans. You’re still trying to regain yourself when you feel Spike pull you up.

“Come on, we’re not done yet.”

Your legs are jelly, so you struggle to stand up, still fucked out and lost. Spike smirks at your demeanor. His pride and joy. He grabs you and carries you down to the bedroom. He throws you on the bed, rough and aggressive. You gasp in surprise. By his actions, you could tell that tonight would be an intense night. So, buckle up.

You try to make quick work of your clothes but Spike is already naked and impatient. He walks up to you and tears your clothes off. Shreds of fabric all over his bedroom floor. You scowl but he dismisses you.

He lays down face up, his erection standing up and proud. You knew what he wanted. You put your hair to the side and lean down to give him sloppy head.

Your mouth envelopes his penis. Hot and moist. You work your way down slowly, reminding yourself of his size and girth. You bob up and down, up and down, setting a steady rhythm. Spike’s head is tossed back, eyes shut. He loved feeling your mouth on him. If he didn’t have other plans for you, he would finish in your mouth.

You slither your tongue against his tip tasting his precum. You give it a little kiss and shove his length back into your mouth. Spike becomes impatient, desperate and presses your head down. He wants you to choke. He wants you to gag. You oblige. Tears prick your eyes as you let him find his pleasure. He lets go and you come up for air, gasping.

“Good girl.” He praises you.

You lean so as to take him back into your mouth, but he pulls your hair, stopping you. You look at him confused.

“Lay down.” He commands.

You lay on your back waiting for his next command. He straddles your torso and places his cock against your breasts. You were catching on. You press your breasts together for him to pleasure himself. You spit in between your breasts to give him lubrication.

He thrusts his penis against your breasts roughly. He wanted to feel as much pleasure as possible. You couldn’t lie, looking up at him with his penis so close to you made you feel weak and wet. You wanted to pleasure him as much as possible cause you knew he would reward you well.

You open your mouth to catch the tip of his penis when he thrusts up. He is steady and consistent in his thrusts. He grunts as he finds his pace. Suddenly he stops, remembering his plans for the night.

He leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead before settling himself in between your legs.

“So wet. All for me?” He teases. “You nasty, bird.”

He pulls your body down the bed closer to the edge. It was time to worship. He nuzzles his head in between your legs, taking in your scent. He licks your clitoris, shy and chaste. He traces a longer lick on your slit, inviting himself in. He is focused as he licks circles around your clit, playing with pressure and movement.

You’re a moaning mess. You love when he gave you head but you always forgot how intense it could be.

His tongue finds your hole and wanders inside. He moves his tongue inside you. You’re seeing stars. He makes sure to place pressure on your clitoris with his hands as he licks your insides. His face is covered with your slick and he loves it. He can’t get enough of you. You’re impatient and grab his head. You want him to make you come right that instant. To which he gives you a smack on your hip, teaching you who’s in control. You stay still, pliant and ready. He takes his time eating you out. His tongue returns to your clitoris. He trails long circles around it. Adding pressure on and off, on and off. You can feel your body levitating from the pleasure. You’re caught up in the moment and want this to last forever.

He introduces two fingers in you while he continues to circle your clit with his tongue. He had plans to make you cum as many ways as he could. You were seeing stars. You were gone with the movement and you stayed that way.

His fingers pick up the pace. His tongue is relentless in putting pressure on your clit. You gasp for air. You knew it was coming. You wanted to be prepared for your orgasm. However, in his last thrust he curled his fingers hitting your G-Spot and it sent you. You’re a screaming moaning mess. Your eyes water from the intensity of the orgasm. Your body convulses and lifts up from the bed.

Spike places a hand on your abdomen to keep you in place. He refuses to stop his ministrations. He wants you to feel it all. He wants to ride that orgasm all the way to the end.

You eventually come down form your high, spent and tired. Spike smiles and wipes his face with a nearby towel.

“You look so pretty when you cum.”

You look up at him, fucked out, dazed and pleasured. You inch up towards your pillow getting ready to sleep.

“Oh no you don’t. I’m not done with you.” He pulls you by your leg.

You look up at him surprised and a little scared. He grins as he approaches you. He leans down for a kiss.

“I’m not done getting what I want. Lay on your stomach.”

You slowly oblige, concerned about what’s coming next but excited that there’s more.

Spike pulls out massage oil from the nightstand nearby. He straddles you, puts some oil on your back and starts massaging you. You sigh. You could get used to this. He makes sure to work your shoulders and lower back. Places that he knows you hold the most tension. He waits until you’re relaxed and satiated to slip hi cock in between your folds. You gasp in surprise and follow it with a moan. His girth and length filling you.

His favorite position was to take you from behind while you lay on your stomach. He could get so much more space to move, a nice view of your ass, and easy access to your hair.

He thrust slow into your cunt. Soft and caring. Making you feel safe. He is deliberate in his strokes, letting you get accustomed to his size. He smiles at himself and without a warning lays down a loud slap on your base ass. You yelp. He follows it with another, and another. He starts to pick up the pace, riding you hard. You can feel him fill you to the hilt. Your moans fill the room. Embarrassed, even after everything he’s done to you, you hide your face in a pillow to keep quiet.

“Oh no you don’t.” He grabs, twists your hair in his hand and pulls. “I want to hear how good I’m fucking you.”

You’re caught in limp kitten mode. At his mercy. He fucks you rough and long. He rides you until you’re sore and begging for release. He wants to be like this forever. Powerful and full of lust. The room is filled with the sound of your moans and the harsh sounds of meat slapping together. He eventually lets you go to land more slaps on your ass. You’re begging for more. He obliges. You loved when he dominated you. It made you feel wanted, dirty, and satiated.

Without a warning he pulls out. You groan in desperation.

He man handles you and flips you on your back. He lifts your legs and folds you in a mating press. Without missing a beat, he slips himself back inside you and fucks you hard. His hips hitting against yours in a steady rhythm. He grunts and huffs as he fills you up time and time again. You’re a pitch away from screaming in pleasure. Your moans are loud and non-stop.

He makes sure to be in control not just of your pleasure but of your body. You start begging for release.

“Can I come. Please, can I come?”

“Not yet, sweetheart. Be good for me.”

You nod and hold on. Your brain only understands pleasure and the need to hold onto your orgasm. He thrusts hard and long. He wants you to remember the feeling and shape of his penis inside of you. He feels himself getting closer and debates if to finish inside you. He leans down and bites down on your shoulder making sure to leave another mark. He wants people to know what transpired here today.

“Come.” He commands.

As if in cue you unravel under him. You come undone in a seeping heap of moans and thrashing. You’re no longer in control of your body. You’re his to use and his to have.

He lets you catch your breath, barely, before he pulls you up.

“Get up. On your knees.” He comands you to kneel before him.

You do as he says. You look up to him, seeing him jack off his penis furiously in front of your face. You knew what he wanted. You open your mouth and without fail he fills your mouth and face with his cum. You take it all in. Filthy, dirty and pleasurable.

You kneel there for a couple of seconds before Spike gets a towel to clean your face. He is gentle and loving, a contrast to his earlier behavior. Once cleaned he leans in for a gentle kiss,. Soft and loving. You open your eyes and smile.

“Can I rest now?”

“Yes, my love.”

“Did I do good?”

“You did amazing. You’re such a good girl.”

You smile as you get into bed. He makes sure that you’re tucked in before he gets into bed. He scooches over to you. You lean your head against his chest and before he can praise you again, you’re asleep in his arms.

[anisespice]

12:34am — manjiro sano

Honestly, he should’ve seen it coming.

As soon as they were situated in a secluded area of the quaint, little ramen bar they occasionally visited, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that wouldn’t relent until it revealed itself. The next thing MIKEY knew, right after the server placed steaming food on the table and left the room, a gaggle of low-rate thugs came barreling in, guns drawn and aimed practically in his face with misplaced confidence. He didn’t even flinch, just set his chopsticks back down with a slow exhale through his nose.

“Can I at least eat a little before you try to kill me?” Mikey muttered, disinterested gaze briefly scanning over the opposition, sizing them up. Wack.

“Your last meal’s finna be this bullet, asshole. This what happens when you fuck with the Tokyo Vipers. We don’t care how tough you are, you’re gonna pay for what you did to Boss Nakashima!”

“Who?” Clearly, not the response they were looking for.

A stand-off commenced, his executives quick to pull out their own weapons, choosing a target with full intent to kill. The one guy focused on Mikey remained adamant to land one right between his eyes, resolve unshakable even with two or three guns aimed back at him. He’d give the idiots credit for boldness. Not everyday does the common thug grow the balls to try something with Bonten.

Unfortunately, they chose the wrong night to chase retribution.

“M-Manjiro…what’s happening?”

At the meek sound of your voice, he subtly reached for you under the table. You practically shook like a leaf, doe-eyes wide at the sight of a gun aimed at your lover with hands raised high as if you were also to blame—Definitely not the ‘simple night out’ you anticipated when he invited you to tag along. It was his own fault really, thinking simple was ever an option when it came to his reputation, not even for a night.

“A-Are they gonna kill us?” You cried, scooting closer to lean against his frame for more comfort. It made him relax a smidge, taking it as a good sign. “Please, j-just name your price, whatever the number, and it’s yours! You don’t have to do this-”

“Unless your money can bring back the dead, sweetheart, you can shove it up your ass!”

Mikey felt you jolt. Sparing you a side glance, his thumb caressed your thigh in small, reassuring circles. His poor baby, must be scared out of your mind. The blonde wanted nothing more than to shatter every bone in the bastards who put such an expression on your face.

“Let my girl step out. This doesn’t involve her.”

“The bitch stays. Want ‘er to watch you die.” The assailant hissed, thrusting the gun forward to bump against Mikey’s forehead.

His brow twitched in annoyance, grip around your thigh tightening ever so slightly as his mind filled with various ways to snap the guy’s arm without you bearing witness. The last thing Mikey wanted was you being afraid of him. You were a slice of normalcy in his chaotic life. Call him selfish, but he wanted you to stick around despite the ugly parts of it, hoping to hide it for as long as he could. Evidently, it was short-lived.

He knew he didn’t deserve it. You were too pure for a tainted soul like his, too soft for someone who’d been hardened by life, too—

“Bitch? ”

The whole room came to a halt.

All eyes had flicked over to you, uncertain if that bone-chilling tone came out of such a meek little thing, who not even seconds ago was visibly trembling. Now you were still as stone, delicate features no longer consumed by fear but contempt as you stared down the man with a slight tilt in your head. Even with tears clinging to your lashes, it was very unsettling.

You gave a hollowed chuckle. “Oh, you got me fucked up.”

The assailant blinked. “Wha-?”

“Shut up, let me tell you something,” you abruptly stood, nearly giving the Bonten men heart palpitations, fearing your next sudden move might be your last. Mikey, however, merely watched in stunned silence, hand that comforted you now hovering awkwardly as he blinked up at you. Jabbing a finger into the man’s chest, you hissed, “You can come up in here waving guns all you want, but I’ll be damned if some limped-dick, broke motherfucker calls me out my name.”

He gaped, then fixed his mouth to threaten you. “Sit your ass down before I make you regret ever meeting this scumbag, you little—”

With a quickness, you swing with a crisp thwack! to the side of his head. The room clamored about, even Mikey found himself blinking rapidly at not only your swiftness, but your audacity. With the opposition aiming their guns on you immediately, the executives instantly jetted their attention over to Mikey to gauge his reaction. He remained visual unnerved, save for the slight drop in his jaw.

“SHIT—FUCK,” the man yowled, stumbling back. With his ear ringing, vision blurring with tears, it was a wonder where you kept all that unbridled strength. Was this the same person who feared for their life not even moments ago? When he clumsily regained composure, he looked at you utterly stunned. “D—…Did you just fucking slap me? Have you lost your mind, you crazy—?!”

You raised your hand, making him flinch. “Say it again. I dare you.”

Flabbergasted. Shockandawe. Slightly aroused?

That was the consensus of every gun-wielder in the room, some more than others unable to mask the evident thrill from hearing such vulgar and venomous words drip from such a pretty mouth…Mikey being the first in line. Man’s still gawked with a glint in his eye that could only be described as carnal; since when had his kitten grown claws?

“GYAT.” Ran winced, then gave a snicker. That smack alone bounced off the walls, he just knew that had to smart. “Shake it off, buddy, shake it off.”

Sanzu, with a cackle, exclaimed, “Hit ‘em again!” earning a glare from the aggravated assailant, his gun now pointed at you and no longer on Mikey.

Kakucho grew anxious, the others just as on edge. If they didn’t take action soon, someone was bound to get trigger-happy. The situation was already unpredictable as is, but with your newfound attitude, things were sure to escalate fast. He gruffly voiced, “Boss, what’s our move?…Boss?”

Said blonde paid no kinds of attention.

Head void of any thought aside from your angelic form beneath the soft lighting standing your ground without an ounce of fear, one would think Mikey was in a trance. His bleak stare practically singed right through you, calculative as he watched your pristine facade unravel bit by bit—Such vicious words filled with vinegar and oil, a contrast to your usual peaches and cream, such discourtesy when you’re normally so well-mannered.

How long had you been hiding this side from him?

Mikey thought he had you figured out, from the moment you crossed paths he was certain he’d taint you, the walking cliche of a spoon-fed daddy’s girl who wouldn’t harm a fly, who dated bad boys just to feel something. But now? He wanted nothing more than to unravel you further, leaving you raw and exposed to reveal the devil horns you’d kept hidden behind a false halo.

And frankly, he wouldn’t mind an audience.

“Mikey.” Kakucho urged.

Said blonde hummed in acknowledgment, eyes lazily trailing off you and back at his number three, seemingly distracted. With a wordless exchange, he sighed. Just as things were getting interesting… Mikey reached up and gave the back of your thigh a tender squeeze. You turned to look at him, seething as you rebelled against his silent command. Oh, he’ll enjoy fucking that attitude out of you later.

“Sit down, [_____]. Think you’ve made your point.”

You sneered. “Like hell! My point’s been made when I have this dickhead crawling on his knees, begging for mercy—!”

Before you knew it, you’re grabbed by your thigh and pulled down into his lap. You yelped, arms instinctively shooting out to grab onto something until you landed with a small oof!

As you opened your mouth to protest, your breath hitched and the words catch in your throat at the cool feeling of Mikey’s gun now nudging against your clit through the lace of your underwear. A shutter ran through your body. Thankfully, your little display was enough cover for him to swiftly grab it from his side, playing it off as if he were restraining you.

He leaned in to speak low in your ear. “Cover your ears, baby.”

Goosebumps spread like wildfire across your skin, warmth simmering in the pit of your stomach from both frustration and excitement. Doing as you’re told, you pressed hands into your ears but kept your gaze on the offender in front of you. He was yelling about something, booming voice muffled but no doubt throwing out more threats. His group began to shrink within themselves once the severity of the situation caught up with them, and the odds no longer looked to be in their favor. You almost felt sorry for them; almost.

Before the poor bastard even knew what hit him, the smoking barrel of Mikey’s .45 was the last thing he saw before he hit the cold, hard floor with a hole in the center of his forehead. And just like that, bullets rained from every angle on your side of the room, bodies piling up one after the other until none were left standing. As quick as they came, there they went—Nothing more than stains on what was an originally calm evening.

Your heart pounded in your chest. Mikey could feel it elsewhere.

With his free hand having rested on your inner thigh, thumb dangerously close to where his pistol once was, he could feel a subtle pulse in your clit from the thrilling experience. While his men busied themselves cleaning up the scene, gathering corpses and making disposal arrangements, there was nothing left to distract him from prodding.

“It appears I’ve underestimated you. What other sides have you kept hidden from me, I wonder.” He said, tilting his head.

You whimpered as his thumb pressed against your throbbing little button, biting your lip before replying, “I-I just don’t like.. being talked to that way…”

Mikey hummed, nosing at your jaw. “My sweet girl. She got her feelings hurt, hm?”

It was hard to concentrate with him playing with you beneath the table in front of his subordinates, spreaking low and softly as he littered your sensitive spots with nips and warm kisses. With the little sanity you had left, you nodded. To your horror, you moaned quite loudly when he breached past your underwear to slip two fingers inside of you with ease thanks to your flooding arousal. But, you got over it the second he immediately curled them to hit that spongey area of your walls with a precision that nearly made you see stars.

“Your words, [_____]. You had a lot to say earlier, what happened?”

You gripped his forearm for dear life, jaw dropping as your legs subconsciously spread to give him better access. “Y-Yes!”

He cooed, arm flexing as he pushed his fingers deeper while his thumb stimulated your clit. Your back arched off his front, other hand reaching out to grip the table as you whined shamelessly at the ceiling. Neither of you paid any mind to where you were, or whomever watched, too caught up in the moment. Food had long gone cold and forgotten, bullet fragments scattered at your feet and blood splattered all on the walls. Even with his stomach growling angrily, all he could focus on was devouring you. “‘m sorry, baby. Let me make it all better.”

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.

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[notjustjavierpena]

Marks

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: For all you who wanted to have more of husband!Javi and The Peñas. This is a follow-up to All Roads Lead To Someone! Pregnant!reader getting the right treatment.

Summary: Javier just wanna fuck you: His gorgeous pregnant wife.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (MDNI!), pregnancy sex, mentions of f masturbation, body issues, domestic bliss, piv sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, creampie, love!!!

Word count: 2.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48631087

Marks

“Por favor,” Javier begs as he kisses your shoulder from behind and has you shivering because of how sensitive your skin is at the moment. He keeps it innocent though, because there’s a kitchen knife lying to your right as you are rinsing the vegetables for tonight’s dinner. He doesn’t relent though and a wandering hand squeezes the side of your thigh, “I can see it on you.”

“Inés is coloring in the living room and you have to pick up Lucas from soccer practice soon. We can’t,” you say simply, batting his hand away with a disapproving click of your tongue. As if it’s not bothering you as well.

You turn up the water pressure to rinse the carrots that you have gotten from Chucho Peña’s farm, but decide to scrub it with your hand instead to remove the dirt properly. 

As promised, the beginning of your third trimester brings along a constant ache between your thighs. Javier has sensed it coming, counted the days and is now circling you like a shark on the hunt.

It comes after a drought; a whole month of you not being able to stand the sight of him, even his smell making you furious and causing him to be skittish around your pregnant form. He isn’t skittish anymore. Quite the opposite. 

“I could find the baby alarm in the drawer. We could go to the bedroom for just a few minutes,” he suggests and you instantly roll your eyes without him being able to see it. When you don’t answer, he steps back but only to lean against the kitchen counter beside your workspace. 

You would love it; you would jump your husband’s bones at every opportunity that you get to have him relieve you of the dull throb of your clit, but… You’re in your third trimester with stretch marks, a sore back, an overactive bladder and a baby that kicks you so hard that you feel out of breath sometimes. All in all, it’s hard to feel sexy and it’s easier to take care of it yourself.

“Go entertain yourself, if you catch my drift,” you retort and make a suggestive hand movement along the carrot in your sink. 

Javier snorts bitterly, “Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you,” a little girl’s voice repeats. Inés has entered the kitchen.

Javier and you freeze, but whereas you narrow your eyes at Javier, your husband just starts laughing and goes to ruffle his daughter’s hair, “There she is, mi diablita.”

“We don’t use that word around here, Daddy’s very sorry that he said it,” you dry your hands in a towel and turn towards the both of them. Javier gets a raised brow and stops laughing. 

He groans as he stretches from having bent over to pick Inés up, settling her on his hip and giving you a soft smile. He takes her little hand in his own, swaying back and forth with her as if they are slow dancing. The way she cuddles up to him has you melting right away, placing your folded hands on your protruding belly.

“Te quiero mucho,” you say affectionately and walk up to both of them. You kiss Inés’ hair, then look at Javier, “But you can’t keep swearing in a house full of children.” 

“Sorry, mi amor. Perhaps if you let me…” Javier looks down at his daughter who curiously observes the conversation between her parents. He finds your eyes again, “If you let me hug you real hard tonight, I might be reminded.”

You roll your eyes again, but there’s a smile on your face this time. There’s something insanely sexy about him like this, still swaying with Inés on his hip and secretly booking an appointment with you in your shared bedroom. 

“Dónde está Lucas?” Inés then interrupts. 

“Soccer practice,” he replies, winking at you when Inés can’t see it. You hate that it makes your heart jump as if it's been shocked. Beside you, Javier is oblivious to your schoolgirl crush, “You want to come with me to pick him up?”

Inés nods enthusiastically, starting to move around in Javier’s arms to indicate that she wants to be put down on the floor again, “I made Lucas a picture.” 

“You can give it to him in the car,” Javier watches his daughter run off into the living room again. You’ve turned towards the sink once more, and he takes a chance to walk up behind you. You feel his hand come down playfully on your ass, causing you to jump where you are standing.

“You little—“ you whip around, but are met with Javier’s shit-eating grin. Oh, curse him. 

“You and I have a deal tonight, sí?” 

“Yes, yes, whatever, get out of my kitchen.”

*

Lucas eats like he has been starving for days. Inés talks loudly about what she’s seen at the soccer field, especially about the fact that she got permission to kick the ball a few times. 

You listen with a soft expression on your face, leaned back in your dining chair with a hand resting on top of your belly. The baby is kicking but since you’re not in bed and therefore still walking around the house, it’s not as bad as it could be. 

Javier talks just as enthusiastically about their adventure out on the soccer field. Lucas adds that he might be picked as goalkeeper. You get up to kiss his hair repeatedly and call him your little man to which he giggles in a way that makes you overly emotional, eventually to the point where you have to excuse and keep yourself busy. 

All in all, dinner ends and tucking the kids in goes smoothly. They are both tired beyond belief. 

Later, you stare at yourself in the mirror as Javier brushes his teeth in the master bathroom. You are completely undressed since it’s better for you to sleep naked these days, but it has the downside of catching yourself in the mirror as you pass it and frowning slightly as you notice a new stretch mark along your side. You swear under your breath, trying your hardest to tell yourself (for the third time in your life) that this is part of growing a new and healthy life. You sigh loudly. 

Behind you, Javier enters the bedroom in his underwear and nearly doubles over as he sees you naked already. He stalks after you with the energy of someone who has been starved of food for weeks, walking up behind you with dark lust-filled eyes that go soft as soon as he sees your face in the mirror. 

“You okay, mi amor?” He asks, looking at you through the mirror. He wraps his arms around your body, holding you close to his chest as his hands link around your belly, “Look at you.”

“Are you sure about this?” You ask him, too busy to look at him when you’re staring at your own naked form. Javier starts rubbing his hands over the strained skin of your stomach, soothing it with his warmth. 

“Sure about what?” He sounds a little confused, but then catches on, “About wanting to hug you real hard? Don’t think I’m the uncertain one here. What’s wrong?”

“Look,” you point to the newest mark along the swell of your stomach, then run your finger over it. It is red and slightly raised, having made itself known by itching all day, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t get these as quickly during the first two. It’s not exactly sexy.”

“Who on earth told you that?” Javier places a kiss on your shoulder, nuzzling his nose along your neck afterwards. He finds your pouty face in the mirror again, “Are you telling me there’s people out there who don’t think their wife is the sexiest when she’s growing their kid?”

You turn around in his arms to slap his naked chest, but he just grabs at your hips to steer you backwards towards the double bed. Carefully, he helps you to sit down when you feel the edge dig into the back of your calves. 

“I mean it, Javi,” you say with a soft sigh as you are finally off your feet for the day.

“I mean it too,” he motions with his hand, “Now crawl back and let me take care of my pregnant and sexy wife.”

He is too perfect for you. 

“How sensitive are you today?” He asks casually as he follows you onto the bed, kneeling between your legs and easing himself out of his boxers. It’s quite reassuring to your confidence to see his cock stand upright from how hard he is for you. 

He is right to ask about your sensitivity, because pregnancy hormones and more blood flow has been overwhelming during all your previous pregnancies. You are more sensitive due to that, swollen and puffy no matter what time of day or what your previous activity has been. It makes for delicious sex, at least if you have someone who treats you right. Javier Peña does.

“I don’t think you can go too rough tonight, I’ve been aching and wet all day,” you reply as you settle into your pillow and grab his for him to place underneath your back. 

“And you refused this earlier?” He raises a brow as he watches you lower your hips onto the pillow, “You got some self-control.”

“I was going to just take care of it whilst you were putting the kids to bed,” you nod towards the dresser where the both of you keep your toys, safely tucked away from curious children.

“I woulda never forgiven you,” he chuckles, leaning over you to kiss your swollen belly. He skims a hand over the stretch marks afterwards. It’s a silent compliment, “But just to involve myself in your playtime… which toy had you been thinking of?”

“The glass one,” you feel your face heat up as you confess to having wanted to masturbate, “Might’ve cooled me down a little, but if it wasn’t going to be that one, I’d want the g-spot massager.”

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Javier dramatically groans at that. He rests his forehead against your stomach, “Let me be your g-spot massager.”

You laugh loudly at that, but it earns you a kick from your baby, causing you to wince when it lands right underneath your ribs. Javier pulls back a little in shock, placing his palm over the spot when he has just felt your stomach move. 

“Be nice to your mother,” he scolds softly, “I know you want to be rocked to sleep, mi bebito, but gimme a second here. I’ll get to it.”

“Javi!” You cover your face with your hands, “God, you are so… imagine if people could hear you.”

Javier peels your hands away, looking devilishly down at you, “Don’t hide from me, and please let me f— take care of you.”

“Not going to say the bad word again, huh?” You grin triumphantly, scooting a little closer to him but without sliding off the pillow. 

“Not right this instant, but I am for sure going to make you say it before we’re done here,” he smirks, wasting no time to stroke himself a few times and then sliding into your wet heat. The moan you want to let out is desperate and wanton, but with two sleeping children in the house, you only let yourself whimper quietly. 

Javier holds your gaze intensely as he feeds your cunt his dick inch by inch, letting you relish in the slightly painful stretch of your walls as he bottoms out and settles inside of you like you’re made for him. 

“Feeling good? Not uncomfortable?” He asks in a whisper, voice strained as if trying to hold something back within himself. You know that your pregnant body is as glorious for him as it is for you as your pussy’s walls feel softer, warmer and tighter than usual and especially now that you’re in one of your states. 

“I’m perfect… God, I’ve wanted this since you kissed me this morning,” you exaggerate to prove it, resting a hand on top of your stomach. Javier places one of his own on top, curling his fingers around your palm. 

“Te amo,” he says with so much love in his voice that you might melt into the mattress, holding onto your hand tightly as he moves inside of you, experimentally at first and then building up a rhythm that has you feeling dizzy with finally getting what you want. Something is already brewing behind your clit, and Javier knows you come so easily when your hormones play tricks on you. He goes a little faster.

Your other hand comes up to grab at the headboard behind your head, gripping hard as the bed squeaks under the both of you. There’s a desperate need to be loud that you reluctantly keep pushing away, swearing to yourself that you will plan a weekend trip away from home to have Javier fuck you until you scream. You wonder if Chucho can babysit. 

“Tell me I fuck you so good,” Javier interrupts your thoughts.

“Just like that, ah,” you reply breathlessly, “Keep going. You treat me so well, baby.”

“You feel so fucking good, mi amor,” he moans quietly as he continues rocking into your cunt. The wet squelches are dirty evidence that he knows exactly how to fuck you until you can’t comprehend the world around you. When you accidentally cry out, he shushes you, “Shhh, baby, I know. Right there?”

He punctuates the last word by giving you a particularly hard thrust against your g-spot and your hand on the headboard flies down to cover your own mouth. You nod frantically, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as the pleasure increases significantly and the sensitivity borders on overwhelming. 

“You look so good pregnant with my baby,” he praises, slickly sliding in and out of you with ease. Your sheets are soaked with your wetness, “All overwhelmed and sensitive. Look at you, fuck, I wasn’t kidding about that football team. I wanna knock you up over and over and— ah.”

When you finally dare lift the hand from your mouth again, having settled a little, you reach down under your belly to rub your swollen clit. It makes you throw your head back, blood pumping in your ears at how every nerve ending has changed since you got pregnant. Your walls start to clench, and Javier nearly collapses at the feel of your cunt pulling him in further, so you slow down your fingers a little until coming to a halt as to not make it be over already. You want him to fuck you to orgasm, and whilst carrying his baby, it is a lot easier to come from getting your g-spot pounded than it used to be.

“Yeah?” You whisper, breathing ragged, “I’ll give you all the babies you want. Just make me come. Please.”

“Say the bad word as you milk me,” he growls, hips having started to falter as indication that he is close himself. He entwines your fingers, “Come on, you can do it, baby.”

Heaven-sent electricity floods your body in the next second as you come with a silent shout, mouth hanging open and eyes half-lidded. Relief is not the right word; it seems too weak to describe what you are experiencing as you feel the pressure in your lower belly erupt into flutters of pleasure.

“Fuck,” you pant as you realize that you’ve been holding your breath. The swear comes so naturally when he makes you feel so good, “Fuck, Javi, fuck!”

“Shhh… There you are,” he groans at the first feel of your orgasm. It takes only a few of the spasms of muscles before he empties himself inside of you, the wetness of him inside of you sounding obscene, “Good fucking girl coming on my dick.”

It takes a moment to calm down after that.

Javier pulls out of you with a little noise, but then throws himself down onto the bed right beside you. He runs a hand over his forehead, pushing his sweaty hair back, “Jesus Christ.”

“I want more,” you complain, staring up at the ceiling with still ragged breathing.

“Of course you do,” he chuckles, still out of breath himself. 

“Do you think we were too loud?” You ask, turning your head to look at him. 

“Definitely,” he winks but then places a hand on your stomach, rubbing gently, “Is kiddo okay?”

“I think you put them to sleep,” you yawn. 

“I think I put the both of you to sleep,” he retorts. 

“I need to go clean myself first,” you groan at the realization, “C’mon, help your pregnant wife out of bed.”

.

.

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[itsabouttimex2]

Could you write something for shadowpeach with yandere wukong? Maybe it takes place right after wukong sees macaque for the first time since he killed him or maybe it takes place during season 4 when wukong gets trapped inside the scroll and sees their relationship before he killed macaque and once he gets out of the scroll he got full on yandere? :3

(Hai, im rlly sorry. i just realized i sent this originally when your inbox was closed. im super sorry😭)

(Hey, no big deal! It’s sweet that you remembered your request!)

Lost and Found

“…you hurt a lot of people,” the Great Sage starts, plucking at the hair around his wrists, “and you don’t even feel bad, huh?”

“I’ve got nothing to feel bad for,” returns his rival, rolling a drupe pit between his palms- a remnant of the peaches that Sun Wukong so adores. “None of this was my fault.”

It’s hard to tell whether or not Macaque is being sincere right now- he’s more guarded now than ever before, even as rays of sunlight spill softly across his pitch-black fur and his stomach fills with sweet fruit.

He’s like shattered obsidian, inky blackness casting rainbows in the glinting light.

“Bud, you made a deal with the literal most powerful demon in the world, and didn’t even try to-

“Keep this up,” cuts in the umbrakinetic, “and I’m gonna leave.”

Wukong springs to his feet suddenly, crushing a few pink-white petals under his reckless soles, squashed into mangled clumps of cellulose under the reckless monkey- then crushes a few dozen more as he charges to Macaque and slings himself over the startled simian.

“No, no, no! Bud, you said we would-“

“Get off me! Dammit, I’m not some kind of toy!”

“No! Lay down and listen to me!”

Macaque struggles under Wukong’s iron grip, his claws digging into golden arms as the tension between them crackles like static. The multi-eared monkey snarls, his claws scraping at Wukong’s clothes and fur, but the Great Sage’s skin is long hardened by fire and trial- it remains unblemished.

“Listen,” Wukong huffs, his voice trembling somewhere between desperation and long-baked sorrow. “You can’t just walk away every time someone calls you out! That’s not how this works, Mac! That’s not how we work!”

Macaque’s pupils narrow to slits, his breath heavy as he glares into Wukong’s golden eyes. The sunlight dances on them, warm and radiant. “You think- you think a little chat will make ‘us’ work? ‘Us’ never worked!”

“It can! We can make this work, if you would just try!”

Macaque stills, his claws frozen mid-scratch against Wukong’s wrist. The afternoon sunlight filters through the cherry blossoms, casting fractured patterns across their fur. For a moment, the only sound is the wind rustling the petals around them.

He gives, eventually. The sable simian huffs and deflates under his old mate’s grip, going slack against the meadow’s grass.

There’s a moment where Macaque leans in, ruffled black fur thrown askew with effort and sweat, still flecked with debris from the Lady Bone Demon’s final push for utter “perfection”.

He’s tired, worn, spent from battle and spent from a lifetime of old regrets circling his heart.

But he’s still Macaque.

“…not in a thousand years, Wukong.”

Even though the rejection is tempered, the king wilts under it, golden fur dimming under the weight of his mate’s refusal.

“Mac... you can’t just-“

“I can. I make my own choices now, Wukong,” the darker monkey snaps, lips pulling back to reveal his sharp canines- a threat, if the matter is pushed.

...but the king just can’t let this go. Not after centuries spent waiting and wanting.

“...there’s no one else who can protect you.”

A harsh snort comes from Macaque’s creased snout, the unpleasant sound smoothing into chuckles.

“From what, O’ Great Sage? What do I need to protected from?”

“The Celestial Realm, bud. You think they haven’t already figured out who you threw your lot in with? That you made a deal with the Lady Bone Demon?”

A pause, sharp and stiff- he’s hit a nerve.

“...they wouldn’t. Not after I helped defeat her. Not after I put my life on the line,” he almost pleads, as though the court could hear his defenses. “They wouldn’t.”

“After what they did to me? You’re not off the menu, bud- you never are. Not after you’ve wronged the Celestial Court.”

There’s a dread rush of panic that starts to race through Macaque’s cold veins, an icy chill radiating slowly through his skin.

“They wouldn’t.”

Right after he says it, Wukong signs and rolls off of Macaque, offering a hand to help him up.

“They never let go, bud. The moment we sieged their home, there was no way they’d ever stop looking for a way to ‘repay’ us.”

His old rival sits up with panic in his shrouded eyes, slapping away Wukong’s hand.

“No,” he snaps, bolting upright under a shower of plink petals. “You’re right. They won’t. Which means I-“

“You’re leaving,” the king sighs. “You’re running away, again. You’re gonna leave me, just like every one always does.”

Macaque pulls his face into a nasty sneer, dark and creased. “You don’t get to try and pull me into some little pity part, Monkey King. Not after you put me in the ground.”

To his surprise, one of Wukong’s golden eyes twitch, lit with a sudden anger.

“You know what? No. No, you aren’t going anywhere,” the monkey snaps, snaring one of Macaque’s wrists in his hand. “Not until you’ve actually started to change. You spent five centuries down in the underworld and don’t even start to think “Hey, maybe there’s a reason I ended up down here?!” Not even for a second, Macaque?!”

The umbrakinetic pulls back a little, eyes wide with surprise at having his usual shit-slinging slung back at him.

“That’s not- shut your damn mouth. I don’t deserve to be yelled at, and-“

“Did I “deserve” to be alone under a mountain for five hundred years after one fight? Did I “deserve” to be abandoned while I was fighting the Jade Emperor? Did I “deserve” to be collared by the Celestial Realm while you got to run around wreaking havoc?”

Things are going wrong, Macaque faintly realizes. He’s not usually the one get reamed out for centuries old mistakes, a dynamic he was quite fond of- Wukong takes all the blame, and he slinks off to hide in the shadows. That’s what he likes.

And he realizes more and more with each passing second that things are going further south- especially when he see the way that Wukong’s hand dips into his pocket.

From it, he procures a gleaming circlet.

No. No. No.

It’s wound with the image of branching vines and flowers, a step up from Wukong’s own in term of design- perhaps someone had grown bored with it

The golden hoop exudes a warm, almost soothing aura- it’d be calming if Macaque didn’t know what it could do.

But he knows almost everything about it. He knows how it works. He knows who made it.

Guanyin.

She had been like a mother to the Monkey King during his short stay in the Celestial Realm, one of the very few gods that he thought of fondly- and one of the even fewer who looked on him fondly in turn.

“My dear Monkey,” she had cooed to the intruding demon, both her warm hands cusping his furry cheeks, “what have you come for today?”

“Guanyin, I… I found my old mate,” he admitted to her, his palms nervously clasping over her own. “And I don’t know what to do. I want him back, but...”

“Oh, my little pilgrim... you wish to reunite with... wasn’t his name Macaque, then? Well, if you do desire this... shadowy little imp... I will lend you my aid.”

Her head had dipped forehead, lips gentle on his forehead, a blessing born of warmth and love- a blue sigil etches across the skin-warmed spot, riding the king good luck and protection. “Anything for you, my dear Monkey. Take my blessings, and take this... this circlet. I trust that you will do good with them.

But Macaque hadn’t know that.

That Wukong had a plan all along, that it was backed up by an adoring goddess of mercy, that he had a damned tightening fillet from the start and was never above using it-

All he knows at this moment, frozen in place form shock- is the tightness around his forehead as Wukong snaps the hoop into place.

“We can still fix this, Moonbeam. I’m not losing you again.”

[sold2vlaykz]

AI-uploaded.

Prompt:Tesla has officially made robots the new thing! Everyone has one, what happens when you get your very own?

You’ve never enjoyed the idea of robots taking over the world, or humans already having control of it.

You didn’t understand why war or anything happened why couldn’t we all just make out or chill, something jeez.

Though you needed some extra help around the place, sure you didn’t like the thought of someone or something you didn’t know being around your house and handling things.

But you couldn’t clean, take care of your animals, and work too.

So you bought one, a Tesla fucking robot. You remember them advertising the blank faced thing on tv.

Making it more ‘acceptable’ by giving it a voice.

Though the damn things still had words on its face, so they’d be accessible for deaf people even going as far to teach them sign language.

Some have moveable braille. They come in colors, brown, pink, yellow, anything you could think of.

Now it’s not that you were excited, happy or even relieved. You thought of it as a burden because now you’d have to go to a Tesla socket and plug the damn thing up.

You already brought the damn robot there’s no way you would buy the charger too.

Did it look like you had thousands of dollars laying around?

No.

You only brought this so you could get some sleep and not hear your dog crying all the damn time.

So here you were, jaw to the floor as another robot carried the thousand pound box to your living room. A man in the car reading what looked like mail.

The robot walked out of your house, making small talk as it left.

The robot came full pieced, all you had to do was power it on.

It was just like a cellphone almost, it came charged.

It took the strength of every bone in your body to stand the damn thing up straight, your hands wondered on the shiny thing trying to find the damn button.

“Hello?”

A voice spoke, you jumped back. The thing was on, you didn’t even know what you pressed.

“How did you umm, turn on?”

You stuttered over your words as if examined itself, twisting its hands in front of where eyes should be.

“Eye recognition.”

You gasped, you remember when Apple did its eye thing but who knew they partnered with Elon musk?

It muttered your name before tilting its head up to you.

“What shall I do as your service?”

You coughed clearing your throat, feeling uneasy because it was harder to read this stoic thing than a human.

“Just feed my pets, keep the house clean. Easy job. When you’re done you can do whatever.”

It nodded before scanning the house, its head doing a weird observing tilt.

“Where are these ‘pets.’ Currently and what are they?” There was a weird pause between you two.

“They’re outside, let them in-in two hours, let them out every four. They’re dogs.”

It hummed before nodding its head

Immediately going to do what it was told to.

“You don’t have to now, I’ve already done everything. Just do it when I can’t.”

It froze in place a beep sound coming from it, it face had some weird dots on it coming in connecting circles with the words on the bottom ‘loading.’

“Then what was the point of my purchase if I am to just do what you didn’t manage to do, but usually do?”

You shrugged your shoulders, before passing it the remote.

“Here’s some TV, try not to fuck your mind.”

Another boop, and another loading screen.

“Fuck my mind, I assume you are trying to metaphorically tell me not to mess up my mind the same way others use the term fucked up.”

You paused, you held your laughter in your throat.

“Uh yeah, sure dude.”

You jogged upstairs leaving the vessel of wires on your couch clicking through the feed.

You went to get ready for work, you had already took a shower earlier that day so all you had to do was get your clothes and necessities.

You grabbed your purse and began scattering through your dresser drawer, you sighed and realized that finding your keys would’ve been a hassle.

So you moved on and decided you’d do that last.

You put on your work clothes, the uncomfortable texture made you feel cold, you grabbed some shoes, something dirty, or fucked up so you didn’t have to mess up anything else.

You grabbed your purse and threw your phone inside, you jogged down the stairs only to see the robot gone.

“Uh, robot?”

You heard nothing, no response. The horn outside repeatedly beeping made the suspense worse.

You walked into the kitchen only to see the robot sitting near the counter pressing the button on the keys.

“God you found it!”

You jogged up to him or it and snatched the keys. It sensed your annoyance.

“I am sorry, I suppose I got distracted.”

You cut him some slack, you knew what it was like to get distracted when you had things to do. But a robot? What good was it if it couldn’t do what it was designed for?

“Listen, just watch after the house. It’s fine, I’ll see you in 12.”

You headed out the door, and went towards your car. A twelve hour shift was practically voluntary slavery.

—————

You sighed, home sweet home.

Your back muscles were tensed, body sore snd feet cramped. You groaned as you stepped out the car, picking up your purse was another burden because of the weight it held.

You didn’t feel like rummaging for your key.

Never thought you’d say it but thank fucking God for Elon musk.

You dragged your limp body up the steps before three harsh knocks. A deeper voice answering you.

“Hello, who is it?”

“Your owner.”

You responded, he recognized your voice and opened the door immediately.

“Good morning, how was your day-”

You walked passed him, throwing your purse to the ground nor caring about your phone.

You didn’t even bother to take off your shoes on the freshly cleaned carpet floor.

You noticed your two dogs sleep in the dog bed with their bowls full near them and that’s all you needed. Though there had been a little piece of metal in its mouth,

Normally anyone else would’ve been concerned but your dogs had a weird kink for biting its cage apart.

You let out a hefty sigh and closed your eyes before telling the robot to lock the door.

————

Your eyes fluttered open by the sound of clashing, you immediately took a look to your left, your dogs were sound asleep.

You stood up, knowing that the damn robot had got itself into something or stuck.

Though when you stood you couldn’t help but notice your shoes off and your purse gone.

Did the damn thing rob you?

“Hello?”

You called it before hearing the now famous loading boop.

“Up here.”

Its voice had been blank, as if it simply fell and understood it couldn’t get up.

You walked up the stairs a little nervous if you had to be honest, you didn’t know what you were to see.

You pushed your door open before seeing the robot on the ground its left hand covering its right forearm.

Electricity seemed to be buzzing from it, anyone could tell it was injured.

“What the hell happened?”

You yelled, loading screen once again.

“I went to let your animals in and they attacked me, I suppose they feared I was an intruder and tried to protect the home.”

You gasped before kneeling to its side before wondering one thing.

“How’d you manage to get away?”

You had to ask, you had two, two hundred forty-pound dogs.

“When it bit me I climbed up the rails into your room.”

The thought of the robot clinging to your walls like Spider-Man unnerved you but God you couldn’t let your thousand dollar investment go to waste.

“How much is it going to cost to fix you?”

You asked, a sigh leaving your lips.

“ a few thousands of dollars, though I wouldn’t mind waiting.”

You sighed before grabbing some cloth and wrapping its arm tightly so no bolts or wires would fall out of its joints.

“You’re laying in my bed.”

The robot let out an audible gasp,

“I wouldn’t want to burden you-”

You ignored what it said and repeated yourself before helping it into the bed.

You sighed.

“I should’ve just stayed home, but thank you for helping me.”

The robots head turned to you in a creepy way, unsettling and you knew it was something you’d have to get used too.

“No need to thank me- Battery low. - That’s what I’m here for.”

You sighed knowing you’d had to drive to a charger tomorrow and work extra hard to get it fixed and pay for the bills and your animals.

“Goodnight- Power off-”

You sighed before nuzzling into the covers.

“Goodnight. Robot.”

[stardewstardropthoughts]

may i request trying to conceive with the bachelors? like it’s been decided that you want to start trying for a baby and maybe it doesnt happen right away?

maybe it can get a little nsfw 🙈

I’m so sorry these are major nsfw I got a little caught up 😂 that being said MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT, smuts below the line 💜

Trying to conceive with the bachelors

Harvey:

He knows it’s probably gonna take more then one try to get pregnant, usually it can take up to a year for couples to fall pregnant with Their first baby

But that doesn’t make each month with a negative test any easier on either of you

It’s been four months of trying to no avail, each time your period comes right on time

Of course he’s still very encouraging about it all, he doesn’t want disappointment to overshadow your lives

“That’s alright sweetheart, we can try again”

Researchers different positions in bed to make it more likely to conceive

“Fuck baby, just like that”

Pounding into you with your knees on his shoulders leaning over you, cock as deep as he can get. Full mating press when he cums inside you

“Good girl, take it so well”

Keeps you plugged up for a bit after, when he pulls out you keep your legs up against a wall

Finally by the fifth month of trying you get your positive test

And a boat load of nausea

Sam:

He’s so excited at the idea of having his own family with you that he practically jumps your bones the moment you bring it up

Bends you over the nearest couch, flipping your skirt up and moving your panties to the side before plunging his cock into your wet cunt

“Fuck baby, want me to fill you up? Make you a mommy?”

Reaches around to rub circles on your clit while he pounds into you

“Shit baby, gonna cum, gonna fuckin fill you with my cum, make you all round with my kid”

Keeps his hips flush to yours for a good moment after he cums

It takes a total of around seven months to actually get pregnant

He was pounding you into the mattress pretty much nightly for those seven months

Shane:

He was both excited and nervous to start trying for a baby

On the one hand, hitting it raw? Absolutely, and he does want children

On the other hand, he’s nervous on how good of a dad he’ll be, but you assure him you’ll both do great so you agree to start trying

He’s slamming his hips into yours from behind, hands griping your hips harshly pulling you back to meet every thrust

“Fuck baby, take it like such a good little slut, you want my cum? Want me to breed this slutty little pussy? Fucking beg for it”

Moves one of his hands to your hair to pull so your backs into a harsher arch and your heads not buried in the pillows

“Please..f-fuck please give me your cum”

He knows you can beg better then that but he’s feeling generous tonight

Slams his hips as deep as he can get inside you, leaning down to bite your shoulder when he cums

It only takes about six months to get pregnant, six delightful months of getting railed into the mattress, on the dining room table, the couch, the shower

You name it, you’ve been fucked on or in it

Elliott:

He’s also very excited to start a family with you, your the love of his life of course he wants to you to carry his children

He’s got you on your back in bed, his hips slowly thrusting in and out of you at a sweet slow pace

One hand holding yours, the other brushing your hair back sweetly

“Your going to look absolutely beautiful, all full and round with our child my love”

Does not hold back his moans or gasps

When he cums he’ll have you cock warm him while cuddling after so his cum stays deep within you

It takes almost the full year but he’s never lost hope that you’d have your little family

And he can’t say he’s complaining about all the nights spent tangled in each others limbs either

Alex:

He’s also nervous about kids, he wants them but he never had the best example for parents, he is comforted that he’d have you by his side though

He’s got you on his workout bench on your hands and knees, working his hips against you in quick thrusts while panting into your neck

“Fuck babe, you feel so fucking good”

Starts leaving hickeys on your necks while he fucks you

One hand playing with your clit, the other hand gently pinching your nipple

“Shit, gonna look so fucking perfect, have these tits full of milk”

Cums inside you with a long groan against your neck

Your getting fucked two or three times a day for like eight months until you finally get that positive test

Mans got stamina for days, how could he not with all that lifting and working out

Sebastian:

Very excited to ditch condoms but let’s be real, y’all were probably only using the pull out method anyway

It takes a surprisingly short four months to get pregnant

Very surprised you never got pregnant accidentally at some point

Your riding his cock cowgirl style while he guides your hips up and down

Thrusts his hips up to meet yours when you sink down

“Shit sweetheart, gonna make you all mine, gonna make sure everyone knows it’s my kid your carrying”

Possessive just a little bit in bed

Hands leaving your hips to play with your tits while you grind down on him

He decides to flip you over to take control and starts pounding into you quickly, legs tossed over his shoulders

“Fuck, gonna paint this cunt with my cum baby, gonna fucking stuff you full”

Whines when he cums inside you, it’s the hottest whine you’ve ever heard

[nouearth]

the black cat and the mysterious nightwing.

pairing ; dick grayson x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, nightwing. word count ; 2148. genre; angst. rating ; pg-13. warnings ; blood, depictions of violence, bone-breaking, head trauma, physical fighting, verbal arguing, flirty banter, blackcat!malereader. notes ; i tried my best doing a blackcat!reader. i gotta admit, i don't know much about the character, so i just did my own little spin on it! req ; anonymous.

“don’t you think,” you scrambled to your feet, but caught yourself with a lunge before picking your hands out of the dust to charge at your opponent with vigorous speed. the sensor in your gloves triggered your metal claws to come out and you attacked with the intent to mark the masked man—not to wound, but to warn him off. “we would make a great couple? i’d happily sell my persona if it meant that ‘the black cat and the mysterious nightwing’ gets turned into a film and made billions at the box office.”

“you know,” nightwing blocked every swipe of your claws except for one to the face—a nick. the fresh cut on his cheek stung when it caught the cold breeze, but he’s too quick on his feet for you to notice the blood. he then circled around you with his escrima sticks drawn out, huffing. like your opponent, you followed back in his steps in defense, facing him as your senses were on high-alert from the advent of his signature weapons. the last time you were tased with them, you were sent to the ground, feeling tremors days later—they weren’t exactly the highlight of your interactions with him. “i’m the one bringing the audience in, right? flip the order of our names and it’s a maybe!”

“and haven’t i told you that i’m taken?” he continued, stalking you in a circle like a predator with its prey—an eagle with its cat.

“huh...” you thought to yourself out loud, eyeing the rooftop environment around you for a brief moment. cardboard boxes, plastic bags, cigarette butts, candy wrappers—nothing you could use to your advantage. “never thought you’d be the loyal type.”

“what?! you’re kidding, right?” nightwing interrupted the banter by charging at you again and you leaped to the side to dodge the first, but your back eventually caught the stick when he swung his right arm. he hopped back in defense, watching you gather yourself in a hunch, groaning.

“I mean, fuck-“ you tasted the wind that was knocked out of you, chapped and dry, and it all made the taste of metal more profound in your mouth. “with that body? no way. i can only imagine what’s underneath.”

“I’m flattered!” as he rushed towards you, nightwing swung a powerful right, a heavy grunt paired alongside. you evaded with a flip and another with an arm-block, but the impact knocked you back onto the concrete floor. your padded uniform took the brunt of the contact, but not your exhaustion. you were almost at your limit, panting and grunting heavily as you continued to dodge his onslaught of thwicks and whams at your chest and sides, beat after beat to the best of your ability. he was fast, always been faster than you, and he showed no signs of slowing.

“you have no reason even stealing from bruce wayne. come on,” the man meandered towards you, arrogance in every step while he stretched the tight muscles in his arms and back. “give it up. i won’t tell him, and i’ll even get you off scot-free.”

“you’re too handsome for me to send you to jail.” he said, half-earnestly.

despite assuming full responsibility of blüdhaven, and occasionally, gotham, his personality never diverged from his regular civilian-self: confident, playful, optimistic, and much more, but that was what you loved most about dick grayson. he was always himself.

you watched him slowly approach, elbows scuffed and planted to the ground as it supported your bruised body. he lent a hand down to you—gentlemanly. 

“hm… so you do find me handsome.” you grasped his hand and he began to pull you up, naive and trusting. “i got a chance then?” 

but you pulled him downwards instead, met your foot with his gut, and one strong kick tumbled him to the floor. “i’m still up for you getting me off, though!”

the distance between the two of you was larger than expected. he was going to chase after you no matter what—he’s done it before. the mental clock inside of your head was ticking as you watched him writhe, catching his breath. worry ignited, but it ticked— continue ticking until he found his footing, and you made a run for the ledge. your thrown backpack that harbored the stolen item resided in the nearest corner and your arm extended, reaching whatever you could grasp onto in midst of your flee.

but your palm held nothing—only cold warmth when you gathered air into a tight fist—as nightwing rammed you onto the floor with all of his body weight, skidding you near the ledge. your head hung off the edge as you blindly bore his swings to your hips and waist with a groan louder than the next, a bruise stacked on top of another. “fuck!”

the familiarity of gotham became foreign as half of your body dangled off the ledge—apartment buildings emerged from skies and the moon rose from seas—and it didn’t help that your opponent was weakening you with every guttural punch, drawing out hard groans from your throat.

“one last chance, cat. this has been fun and all, but i’m kind of getting sick of your schtick.” nightwing grabbed you by the shoulders and yanked you back up.

but something in the wind caught your eye—something black, something familiar. you turned your head, groaning when the muscles in your neck have stiffened in the mere moments it vacationed on the ledge, and a gasped left your hot throat.

your mask. 

“is that a yes?!” dick shouted, hands still clutched onto your shoulders while your cheek was still turned toward him, watching the mask ride the wind through gotham.

the air cooled your exposed skin, bruises and cuts melting with every breeze, and you were hesitant to turn, to respond. but dick was frustrated now and began pressing a knee to your bruised gut to warrant a glance of any kind—he can tell you were close to surrendering. 

you do.

you bit back a pained scream and turned towards him; nightwing, dick, your boyfriend of two years. the frustration and annoyance in his face soon wrinkled into shock, confusion, then betrayal.

but he feigned normalcy; you could tell by the waver in his voice and the twisting of expressions between artificial calmness and deception.

“what- what is this?” he stepped back once he let you go, lying. “you’re just a regular dude-“

“i can explain,“ you coughed out, blinking the etched image of dick’s betrayal away—a desperate attempt. there was no lying your way out of this anymore. years of being untruthful regarding the wounds he unknowingly left on you, nights you disappeared into; it has all accumulated into this very moment—karma. “dick-“

“no-“ dick twitched at the sound of his name. it resounded from a familiar voice—a voice that he would yearn to hear every morning and night, a voice that he has loved since day one, a voice that wouldn’t have held secrets. “you knew? you fucking knew about me—about all of this the whole time?! what the fuck, y/n?”

“dick, I never meant for it to get this far.” you said, getting up with sluggish movements. “i was just- fuck, uh.” you stammered and your thoughts clouded. 

what were you doing this for? it started off with wanting vengeance for your mother, then it amassed into wealth, then… then? 

what else was there left in this second life of yours that you needed to fulfill?

“seriously? cat got your tongue, or what?” he walked towards you, pointing one of his sticks at you, intimidating. “you can’t even give me a reason?”

“calm down, okay? i can’t exactly think when you probably broke my fucking ribs-“ you spat bitterly. not the best time to be annoyed at him, but you’ve always been quick to anger.

“wow, okay… maybe, i don’t know—if you would’ve told me about all of this earlier then we wouldn’t be in this position right now!“ dick’s powerful voice shouted, and you flinched when he pressed his weapon to your chest.

“okay- why are you even angry about this? it’s not like i robbed you!” you shouted back, leaning your chest forward until the butt of it pressed into your bruise. it was painful, but your jaw tightened to hold your anger.

“you kinda did considering it’s from the manor i grew up in.“ he scoffed, irritating you further with multiple pokes to your chest. “you lied to me, stole from my family. you seriously think that’s okay? after everything i told you?”

you didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. though it was only a coincidence that you and dick happened to fall in love; you kept this charade up and toyed with his alter-ego despite knowing who he was. stealing from a billionaire sounded great on paper—if only you never knew dick grayson, but his alias instead.

“I trusted you.” his voice softened—hurt and disappointed—as he stared into your eyes, and you could feel guilt swimming in your gut. “i don’t even know if this is all real—us, y/n.”

but you’ve never been one to face the consequences of your own action.

“here,” you limped to fetch your backpack, and dick instinctively followed you in case you were to escape again. “take it.” you handed a jewelry box to dick. the valuable wasn’t worth it anymore, even if it meant it would make you a millionaire. right now, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep your injuries off.

maybe even rethink your purpose on earth.

“so, just like that?” dick’s voice began to hollow as you walked away from him, nearing the ledge. “no apologies? not even going to look at me?”

“that’s the plan.” you muttered to yourself defeated, strapping yourself to your backpack, and before dick could say another word, parachuted yourself into the night. “always the plan.”

that was all you could think about as you writhed on the ground, dazed from the multiple beatings to your head and body. 

it was a burglary gone wrong. since you’ve last seen dick, you became sloppy. heists were done with aimless drive; not for your own gain, but out of pure spite because you’ve lost the best thing you had in your life, all because you were stubborn—a coward. 

stubbornness has done nothing but led you into a downward spiral of life, and now, you were at its very last step. you thought you broke that spiral by giving back to the community—donating to charities that you were passionate about, that needed the wealth that you profited off the most. 

but instead, you envisioned yourself banging on heaven’s door, gasping and screaming in pain as you begged.

a wheeze was knocked out of you once more when you took another crowbar to the gut. the taste of metal in your mouth became your comfort—you weren’t dead yet. close—soon.

you moved, but barely, crawling to a void you were sure you’d be left dead at, with nobody to witness the final breath you would draw. it was an amusing image for the henchmen. the trauma to your head muffled the demonic laughter of the predator, but it induced another cycle of ringing in your ears—you whimpered. you could feel yourself breaking into tears at any moment—if you even had the strength to. 

when the henchmen pushed his heel onto your broken hand—hard—you knew it was over. excruciating pain sent your body into tremors and you halted to break out into a cowardly sob.

your begs for him to stop fell on empty ears and he only dug deeper, until you could both hear a snap—a wail. 

heaviness slowly fell on your eyelids and you became numb, lolling your head to the side for comfort as a sudden relief on your hands and body washed over you. pain throbbed in silence, soft whimpers like yours, and it would become your lullaby as you mindlessly watched—half-lidded—a shadow in pursuit of vengeance. it was a recognizable thrill upon memorizing the swing of his arms, the dance of his feet as it dodged, flipping and twirling, until it was victorious.

you expected a warrior, running to you with triumph, present to reclaim its prize. but instead, you were met with panic, heavy anxiety as you were lifted off the ground and immediately cradled into a pair of familiar strong arms. 

“you’re okay,” dick was disturbed, anxious in every motion of his hand, but he mustered the courage to gather you close, sprinting far from your death bed. you could only respond in hums, weakly curling into the warmth you longed for as the breeze cooled your injuries.

“you’re going to be okay.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 5 all chapters

-You take him home, and you can't help but stare in awe as you go through the gate. The Wick residence is quite the cabin-style manse, a behemoth in dark painted wood and stone and massive mirrored windows.

“Do you...want to come in?” he offers as you park in the circle drive. “Dog would love to see you.” 

You look at him, not sure if that is code for he would like you to spend more time with him. It’s so hard to read this man. It doesn't seem like he's hitting on you though. Just…being nice? You know he must be lonely, and you truly have nothing better to do. 

“Ok. I can stay for a little while.”

The mudroom leads into the kitchen, which is dark cabinets and black marble countertops. Dog trots up to you immediately upon entrance, snoofing your outreached hands and leaning heavily on your legs. “Hi sweetie,” you say, scratching his side.

“How about a snack?” John offers, opening the refrigerator. “I’m always hungry after a hike.”

“Okay.” 

“Want some coffee? Tea?”

“I can make it, if you show me where your stuff is.”

“No, it’s your day off. Let me take care of you. You always take care of me.”

You're a little dumbfounded, standing in this man’s kitchen who by his own admission, you barely know. Never once have you been invited by any of the wealthy visitors from the coffee shop into their homes. Why would you be?

You aware again of how he towers over you. It makes your very bones weak, when he looks down at you with those shining dark eyes. He does not look away from you, holding your gaze. You don't know why, but you feel a little like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web. 

“Have a seat,” he directs, nodding towards a leather-upholstered stool at the island.

 “Ok...”

You are not used to being taken care of. You’ve been on your own for so long.

You feel a little out of place, and cautiously slide up onto the stool, looking around. It’s an open plan, you can see into the recessed living room with its cavernous ceiling. The house is painted in dark shades, masculine, but very stylish. It's classy but comfortable, with large windows to let in the light and the natural beauty from outside.

Then you watch with more than a little fascination as John sets up a kettle and a French press, then starts putting together a little charcuterie spread on a wooden board. His hands are poetry in motion, and like when he’d helped you with your burn, you cannot look away. He slices artisan sausage and cheese, expensive locally crafted treats from the grocer you can never afford on your ramen budget. They look delicious.  

You feel like quite the honored guest. The kitchen fills with the heavenly scent of coffee as he pours the hot water into the carafe, and you relax slightly.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me, Mr. Wick,” you say as the selection on the charcuterie board expands to sliced apple and herby crackers, still a bit mortified.

 “Call me John,” he insists, looking at you through his hair. Your heart does an extra hard tha-thump in your chest. “And it’s my pleasure, really.”

With sundries in tow you go to the living room, where there are soft leather couches and a rustic walnut wood coffee table. He turns on the gas fireplace, lending the room a warm glow. You notice there are bookshelves flanking the fireplace that rise almost to the ceiling, completely full. This place is incredibly cozy, and as you settle into the cushion you regret already that you’ll have to leave.

Dog clambers up on the couch with you, practically climbing into your lap. You laugh, hugging the affectionate canine as he licks your face, but John gives him a funny look. 

“Is he not allowed on the couch?” you ask, feeling sheepish. 

“Not usually, but I'll let it slide.” He says it with a slight smile, looking at the animal bemusedly. “It's not often we have company.” 

Dog offers a canine smile, undoubtedly well aware that he is getting away with something this special day.

You take a sip of your coffee, and sigh. This is the good stuff. “God. You make better coffee than I do. Why do you even bother to come into the shop when you could just stay here all day?” You could just sit and read in this room for hours, you reckon. Look out the window. Watch the fire, and forget the outside world even exists.

“The shop has its perks,” he says quietly, looking at you out the corner of his eye. As usual, you're not sure if he's talking in double speak. In the end you decide it’s all in your head, and you relax a little more.

After snacking on tasty tidbits and sipping a bit more brew, you look around more. A wrought iron staircase leads up to a landing. You can tell the house sprawls a long way further back than just what you can see. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “Do you really live here all alone?”

You’ve never noticed a wedding ring, but then, he’s missingthe appropriate finger.

“Yes.” He looks off into the fire. “I was married once, but she passed away.”

Shit. You and your big fucking mouth.

“Oh. I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks. It seems like it was a lifetime ago now.” He frowns, clearly still deeply pained about it, and you feel so terrible for bringing it up. But sometimes once the scab is open, it's best to remember something good.

“What was her name?”

“Helen.”

“How pretty.”

“Yes. She was...a lovely woman.”

“What was she like?”

He smiles then. It's slight, and completely to himself. But you feel some validation in your train of inquiry. “She was smart, and funny, and she lit up any room she walked into.”

His total opposite, it sounded like. There’s a reason opposites attract, to make a whole. 

He sighs, a forlorn sound that squeezes your heart. “And, I loved her with all my heart.” 

“What a lucky woman,” you say before you can stop yourself. 

You absolutely feel the weight of the sidelong look he pays you this time.

“We had some luck, before she was diagnosed. But when you love someone like that...eternity wouldn't be long enough.”

You're not sure why there are tears in your eyes for someone you never met. 

“I wouldn't know,” you admit. 

No one has ever loved you so much. 

“You're young yet. You will, someday.” You can still feel him looking at you, out the corner of your eye. His gaze has such weight to it, a heady, heavy thing that is like a hand on your skin. 

“I’m not sure I want to,” you admit frankly. “It sounds…terrifying.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But when it hits you...you don't really get a choice.” 

Before you can think of an answer to that, somewhere in the house a phone rings. With a little frown John gets up to answer it. “Make yourself at home,” he tells you. It sounds a bit like an order.  

You take an impossibly soft blanket and drape it over you and dog, snuggling up in the cozy warmth. You don’t really mean to fall asleep, but you close your eyes, and you ae done for.

You dream that someone is gently touching your face, tracing the curve of your cheek ever so lightly.

You only wake up when there's a small noise, and you find John cleaning up what's left of the charcuterie board. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, glaring down at the cheese knife that dared roll off onto the table. 

That he would apologize to you, when you're the one who fell asleep in his house, is pretty absurd.

You sit up a little. The weight of dog has made one of your legs go numb. 

“I'm sorry,” you counter. You are mortified as you wonder if you were snoring. Waking up early for your shift at the coffee house tires you out so badly. It can be hard to have a real life, when you wake up at four in the morning. “I didn't mean to doze. It's so warm and comfortable here.”

He frowns again, but you don’t realize it’s because he’s wondering if you are warm and comfortable in your own tiny apartment. He holds up a hand when he sees you struggling to get free of the blanket. 

“It's alright. Stay as long as you like.” 

He takes what little is left of the sundries back into the kitchen. 

You manage to get up, and stretch, reawakening your limbs. You join him in the kitchen. The sun is hanging low in the sky. It will be dark soon. You have sooo overstayed your welcome, or so you think.

“You might as well stay for dinner now,” John says. As usual, you can't really tell if he's joking. 

He’s not, in fact, but he is being careful about how he handles this delicate thing between you. Seeing you snoozing contentedly on his couch with his dog moved him to his toes, and the notion of keeping you there with him is becoming harder and harder to resist.

It would be so easy, he thinks, just to keep you.

Fat snowflakes have started to fall outside. 

“I think I've imposed on you enough for one day. Thank you, this was nice.” 

He looks out at the snow, which is falling even more heavily now. 

“Sure you want to go out in this?” 

“Right now? Yes. In two hours, probably not.” 

He nods at that, seeming to think on something. “Will you...text me that you've gotten home safe?”

You are finding out that this outwardly stone-faced man has a protective steak that is totally endearing. You never would have guessed from his prickly exterior. 

“Sure. What's your number?”

He tells you, and you punch it into your phone. “Alright. See you later, Mr. Wick.” 

He doesn't correct you, and is it just you, or do his pupils dilate when you call him that? 

Hard to tell, with eyes so dark as his.

There is a pregnant moment between you, in which you wonder if you should offer him a hug, or if that would totally ruin the balance of your companionship. You briefly wonder what he would do if you stood on tiptoe, steadied yourself with a hand on that muscular chest, and kissed him on the cheek, before you decide you need to go.

Later you text him a funny string of emojis involving a house, snowflakes, the wide-eyed smiley, and a penguin, imagining how they would make him scrunch up his brow. 

Does this mean you're home safe? 

Yes, Mr. Wick.

Glad to hear it. Good night, y/n.

[i-am-a-fan]

So remember in the episode “The first Ring” from season 3 where Mei and Redson bump into each other and share a vision of Mei getting the samadhi fire? Okay, well something's been bugging me. (Here's the full image btw. )

First off please appreciate how beautiful the artwork is because damn. Second, what does it mean? While the different color fires could be an homage to how the Samadhi Fire was first created, we would need to see the 5 elements, not the 3 fireballs we see in the photo. (pg. 575)

Therefore, I'm going to assume this is more foreshadowing, since the LMK team is amazing at planting seeds that will only grow within future seasons. (ex. Macaque's relationship with Wukong, the lady bone demon, Mk's nature, etc etc.)

So... I'm going to dissect the hell out of this frame.

The main focus is someone in the center taking in the power of the 3 fireballs. Their form isn't clearly defined, but we can tell it's most likely someone with the standard Lego build: Mk, Mei, Redson, PIF, Tang, etc. I always assumed this was Mei, but I feel like if it was they would have shown it. The next frame shows us Mei with the fire (and once again look at the artwork's beauty.) I have more thoughts on this, but I'll circle back.

Next up we have the balls of fire. I saw somewhere that these might represent the traffic light trio. Although Redson has mostly been sidelined, I like the sound of that theory, so I am going to piggy back off of it.

Mei would obviously be the green color, MK seems to be the yellow fireball, but then that leaves a blue flame. Yet, not one of the traffic light trio has their signature color as blue. The only character that comes to mind is Sandy/ Mo, but he doesn't have the standard Lego build.

Of course, this can be Redson, since the original samadhi fire was blue. However, at no point do I remember that Redson has had any teal/ blue markings. In her flashback, Redson is shown with dark red and black, the same as Mei when she eventually gains the fire.

Unless...

Maybe they character isn’t teal yet..

Ring a bell????

That's right, the blue/teal might actually end up being Mk. Thus, giving each character a flame. (Redson = Red/yellow, Mei = Green, and Mk = Teal)

Doing some color drops, you can see that these colors are very similar, but they aren't exactly the same. That being said, they’re close enough that it raises alarm bells in my mind.

Now, circling back to the main image and the person at its center. I think we might see Mk gain the Samadhi fire next. In the image, there is a red background, green under the person's feet, and blue fire emerging from the person's back.

Personally, I think it might be the framing of a timeline using background, middle ground, and foreground. The red background would be Redson, the person who (in this universe) was born with the fire and created it as a whole. Next up would be Mei, who gains the fire in season 3, but seems to lose it at the end of the fight with the lady bone demon. So, that only leaves the future...

A future that I am personally hoping for...

Edit: I fixed some grammatical errors. Sorry y’all, dyslexia never rests.

[feyhunter78]

Breakdowns in Study Town - Nerd!Miguel

Description: After a long study session, your emotions get the best of you.

Shout out to @cannolithedarkpoet for the idea!!!

“I can’t do it; I’m going to fail.” You say, slumping down onto the table, burying your head in your arms, the hum of the air conditioner adding to your sensory overload. Your head hurts, your hand hurts, your stomach hurts, everything hurts, and you just want to cry.

“Hey, hey, no you’re not, you’ve almost finished it, just a few more problems to go.” Miguel says, sliding your notebook from under you. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re having trouble with, and I’ll see if I can explain it.”

“Everything. I’m having trouble with everything; I hate this stupid class.” You say, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

He smiles and adjusts his glasses before clicking his pen and beginning to circle several problems on the page in front of him. “Why don’t we break it into sections, then?”

You roll your head to the side, your brain hurts, and the florescent lights are making your eyes water. “Why don’t I just jump off the roof instead, that seems easier.”

“Y/N.” Miguel sighs, running a hand through his hair.

You bite your lip, fatigue pulling at your bones, hunger gnawing at your stomach. You’ve been at this for hours and you still can’t crack it. You just want to go back to your apartment and lay face down on the floor until you feel better. “I can’t do it, this is just not my thing, I’m going to fail, I’ve accepted it.”

“Look, it’s easy, you just need to give it another try.” Miguel urges, the words coming out too fast, too insistent, and they sound harsh, as if he’s annoyed with you and you start to spiral.

He’s annoyed with you, you’re annoying him, because you’re annoying. Stupid and annoying, and honestly, probably not even that pretty so you can’t even coast on your looks because who wants an ugly, annoying, stupid girlfriend? Which is probably why you don’t have a boyfriend, why Miguel would never date you. Stupid, stupid y/n, why did you even think you could do this? Why would you drag him all the way out here when you know you’re not smart enough? And now you’ve wasted so much of his time, and he’s realizing you’re not the fun, pretty sorority girl who just needs a little help. Just a little, enough to be cute and make him feel like a man, but not enough that it burdens him, but now you’re dead weight, an annoyance.

You sit up and start to gather your things, hands shaking as you blink back tears. “Sorry, I—I gotta go, I’m so sorry, I wasted like four hours of your life, I’m just going to study at home and—”

Miguel’s hands catch yours, gently forcing them to still. “Y/N, it’s okay.”

A sob works its way up your throat, escaping past the prison of your tightly pressed lips. “I’m sorry…”

“No, no, hey, hey, why are you apologizing?” His hands are gentle, he’s always so gentle, as he turns you to face him.

“I just—I—” You can’t even get the words out.

He turns your hands in his, rubbing circles into your palms, then the inside of your wrists. “Don’t cry, y/n, it’ll be okay, so what if you don’t do well on this test, the professor said he drops a major test grade at the end of the semester anyways.”

You hang your head, full on sobbing now, unable to hold it in. “That’s not it—it’s, you, you think I’m annoying, and stupid, and I’m not even pretty, and I’m never going to understand anything in this stupid class, so you’re just wasting your time with me.”

“What? Y/N, dulzura, no, no, you’re not annoying, I don’t think that, I’ve never thought that.” Miguel rushes to say, his hands hovering above your shoulders, unsure of whether or not to touch you.

“But I’m stupid, and I’m like average pretty, and I keep making you stay late in the library to help me study and—”

Miguel does something that surprises you. He laughs.

The sound startles you, makes your eyes flicker up to his face, vision blurred with tears as another sob wrenches itself from your chest. “And now you’re laughing at me.”

He cups your face with both hands, fingers spreading out, in your hair, resting on the sides of your neck, his pinkies smoothing over the skin of your pulse point. “You’re funny, you know that?”

You stare at him, confused and miserable.

“Y/N, you’re not stupid, not annoying, not ugly, and you’re not wasting my time.” He says soothingly, his voice low, his hands warm against your skin. “You’re so smart, remember when you won that trivia contest for your sorority? You beat every other team, by yourself. And you’re not annoying, you’re never annoying, I wouldn’t be here if you were.”

You nod weakly, your sobs turning into sniffles, a deranged thought taking hold. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Miguel’s face tints red and his eyes drop to the floor. “Y/N come on; everyone thinks you’re pretty.”

“But do you?” You ask quietly, your fingers finding purchase in his faded blue sweatshirt.

His eyes meet yours, and they’re stunning, flecked with gold and green, warm, and intent, staring straight into your soul but shying away right before you all but shove it into his hands. He leans into your touch, a subconscious movement that makes your heart flutter. “Creo que eres la chica más hermosa que he visto en mi vida.” Trsl: I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

Your voice is barely above a whisper, afraid to ruin the moment, to shatter whatever lays between the two of you right now. “I don’t speak Spanish, Miguel, you know this.”

“Yes, dulzura, I think you’re pretty.” He admits, using his thumbs to wipe away the last of your mascara tainted tears.

“I think you’re pretty, too.” You say, biting back a smile when he short-circuits, his eyes darting around the room.

“Thank you…” He stutters out, leaning back suddenly, as if he’s just now realized how close together the two of you are.

Your stomach growls, the sound echoing in the small room.

“Do you want to get food?” You ask, pulling out a compact mirror from your backpack and trying to rid yourself of the remaining mascara stains.

“Sure, I could eat.” He says, his body is turned from you, but you can feel his eyes lingering.

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

[fastlikealambo]

Does The Wolf Apologize? || Qimir x Black!Fem Reader Full Drabble

Summary: You’ve come back from a mission and The Sith is pleased. The lines between acolyte and master have been blurring between you two ever since he revealed his face but for tonight he will show you just how pleased he is.

Trigger Warnings: PinV, Consenting Force Choking, Improper use of a lightsaber.

"A lightsaber doesn't work like that- that don't matter, this is a whorehouse, sin defies canon and logic round here

18+ minors dni.

Please comment and reblog if you can, thank you for reading!

The head of the jedi was heavier in your hands than the saber on your belt.

You were bone tired, smelled of mud, had blood under your fingernails and in your braids but that didn't stop you from depositing the head on the sith’s table. 

 “Well done, you have pleased me.” He said, voice deep and automated beneath the helmet but you fell to one knee nonetheless, holding the lightsaber out in front for him to take. 

  “I have given you each and every saber you have asked for without question nor hesitation. I need my own, I’m ready.” You said quietly but firmly, standing up on shaky legs and began to remove your dirty coat and bag.  

  “You’re hurt.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

A click and a small woosh of air signaled that the helmet was off and even now, you hesitated to turn around despite knowing the visage behind your back.

 Before you could remove the rest of your bloody clothing, you felt a tug in the Force, sliding you across the room to outstretched hands.

   “Forgive me, I’m tired, I don’t know what I’m saying.” You said softly as he gripped each side of your shirt and ripped it, exposing your bloody and burned back. 

  “What have I said about apologizing?” He asked,bending you over the counter to inspect your injuries. The pain was gone so quickly you moaned in relief, earning a chuckle from your mentor as he kept you bent over. 

 “Mice apologize, sheep apologize, we do not.” You recited. 

He pulled your pants to your ankles, healing the cuts and bruises there before looking up at you.

“How did it feel when you took the jedi’s head?” He asked, head cocked to the side, thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles on your thigh while he checked to see if he had missed any wounds.

“ I felt safe, like no one could hurt me ever again, powerful even.” 

He stood to his full height, calloused fingers tilted your chin to look into his eyes.

“And do you want power?”

  “ What I want is to be free. I’m your equal, my training as your pupil is over, you and I both know that but my life, living freely by your side, has just begun.”

“ That’s not an answer.”

You sighed, tired and tense, you needed to unwind, quickly.  

“Did I please you?” You asked him, closing the gap between the two of you, eyes on his lips, hungry for a release.

 “Yes.” He growled.

“Then reward me.” 

With a flick of his hand, the sith sent you flying through the air, landing on top of the table, legs open. He took his time striding over to you, cape thrown to the side.

  “You still have so much to learn.” He said,slowly climbing on top of the table, your hips lifting without your control but with your consent into position.  

 “My next lesson is to make you whimper, do you understand me?” He asked, his hand slowly closing into a fist and air escaped your lungs. 

“I understand.”

On their own, your underwear slid from your legs.

“Then let us begin as equals. On the count of three, take a deep breath in.”

You closed your eyes and did as he requested. It was only a few seconds later that you heard a familiar noise and the vibrating hilt of his lightsaber against your clit. 

“Don’t move, you know the rules.”

You stayed frozen, sensations mounting within you but you dared not move, shaking internally until he removed it, penis entering you with ease. He began to pump, nice and slow to start, his force hold on your throat squeezing enough to please, not harm.

 “Tell me what you want.” Qimir inquired quietly, lips nipping at your neck, the pressure on your throat and within you building and building till the sith relaxed his hand and you could fully breathe once more. 

There was no time for you to catch your breath as he carefully left you, replacing his penis with his mouth, sucking and pleasuring your clit. Like a starving man, he ate you out till you saw stars.

Between laments of passion, you manage to answer his question.

  “Power.”

He saved his softness for your lips, kissing them deeply with a real smile on his face and for one moment you were you just two people, fucking on a reinforced table.

 “Then it is given.” 

As equals, you met him thrust for thrust, sweat for sweat, and when you could take it no longer, you readied yourself to cum but his hand rose again, the force grasping your orgasm like a fist.

“I need to, I need-”

“Say please, my acolyte.”

“Please.” You begged, writhing in wonderful agony.

His hand twisted and you came all at once, back arching with relief.

To return the favor, you force pushed off the table and mounted him, pinning his hands over his head, leaving a trail of biting kisses all the way down his chest. You rocked into position deep inside him, wet and hot, his mouth sucking on your brown nipples as the dance continued.

“From now on, we live together, we kill together. Is that understood?” You asked, tightening your grip on the back of his head, increasing in speed, your turn to make a sith mewl.

 “Understood.”

Breathing hard, Qimir was not quite finished with you yet and before you could react, he had you on all fours, the force spreading your ass cheeks wider and wider for him and he held you fast, driving his cock rhythmically in your ass until completion.

And when he finished right there on the floor, he gently wiped you clean with his cape first before wrapping you in it and pulling you to his chest.

“You’re right, you are ready.” Qimir said,stroking your shoulder.

“If I’m no longer your acolyte, what am I?” You asked and met his gaze.

“What you’ve always been, powerful.”

That’s it! Hope you enjoyed it!

[alicent-archive]

Fic Recs: Larys Strong (part 1)

Here is a selection of some of my favourite fics that feature Larys Strong from House of the Dragon.

Some are: character studies, fics that feature a particular paring (Larycent, for instance), and some are where he only appears as a supporting character, but I included the fic because the way the author wrote him was superb.

The fics will align with my tastes and do not appear in any particular order or rank.

I did my very best to write my notes in a way that was (mostly) spoiler free.

Happy reading!

The Hour of the Cockroach by TheSithVirtuoso

COMPLETE; 2.6k words.

Set during the events of the Hour of the Wolf in F&B, this work features a conversation between Cregan Stark and an imprisoned Larys. It's quite dialogue heavy—with all the Medieval flourishes of the ASOIAF world—but that's really where characters like Larys get to shine. The relationship between Cregan and Larys was incredibly fascinating because their ideals and beliefs are so different; duty and honor vs. deception and guile. The power dynamic is fascinating as well, because even though Larys is the one imprisoned and sentenced to die, he dances verbal circles around Cregan and seems wholly unbothered by his proximity to the Stark executioner—it's as if his death is merely a slight inconvenience. The work is philosophical, haunting, dark, and even in his final hours of life, Larys remains in control.

Of Rats and Weirwoods by Aliffo

COMPLETE; 3.5k words.

As soon as I watched Alys in S2, I couldn't wait to read fics that explore a relationship between her and Larys. In this fic, Alys is both an ominous and kind mentor figure to Larys. Her character truly leaps off the page, and you can just hear Gayle's Scottish drawl drip from every piece of dialogue. The authors depiction of Larys is exceptional. As a child, he's a little bit cheeky and more than a little bit judgmental. He's an observer, a watcher, a boy with a bad leg and a talent for lip reading. He's not quite the person we, as viewers, know from the show, but it's easy to imagine how this boy becomes that man. The writing is beautiful. Just... beautiful. It's deeply poetic, the descriptions are so vivid and rich, the foreshadowing of future events and fates is stunning, and the ASOIAF language it features would fit perfectly into a GRRM novel.

the fire spread throughout my bones and stayed by silent_heaven

COMPLETE; a little over 1k words.

This is another work that explores the relationship between Alys and Larys, but unlike the previous rec, this one really emphasises their family connection. Alys is fourteen, and is akin to an older sister. The way the author physically describes her is gorgeous. There's also some slight Alysmond, for those interested. Larys is nine and is grappling with his greenseer gift. What I enjoyed most about his POV is his thoughts around Harwin and his father; his anecdotes of the Strong family in those early years at Harrenhal felt incredibly authentic and real. The fic is an stunning exploration of family, of blood, of fate. What makes a family a family? If your sister is this cursed bastard, why does she look so much like you? If what you see with your eyes closed is what will come to pass, then why is your home burning? Why do you taste ash on your tongue?

Firebug by 2_ticky

COMPLETE; 2.2k words.

If you have siblings, reading this fic will gut you like a fish. Out of all the wonderful works that I've included on this list, this is by far the one that caused me to experience the most emotional turmoil. Do with that information what you will. Throughout the TV series, Larys is depicted as being many things: a nobleman, a cripple, a confessor, a confidant, and (rather briefly, as most details are when they don't include a member of the Targaryen family) a brother. This fic digs into that sibling relationship, and by GOD is it full of feelings and angst. Harwin, both literally and figuratively, haunts Larys. It's so sad, guys. So unbelievably sad. Read it.

Covenant by Halja

COMPLETE; a little over 500 words.

Although quite short, this work—all prose, no dialogue—is a beautiful look into the relationship between Alicent and Larys. Beautiful is an understatement though, because every single line of this fic is pure poetry; like, I need those sentences tattooed on my body effective immediately.

Nothing can stop us from becoming nothing by killinggame (@necrofacility).

COMPLETE; 2.8k words.

Larys and Aegon's relationship in S2 is captivating on several levels, especially their potential for romance (or, what either man could constitute as romance, anyway). Set on a ship bound for Essos, the pair are orbiting each other with all the tasty flavours of co-dependency and shifting power dynamics. Aegon, in true Aegon fashion, is somehow brimming with insecurity and full of unmitigated confidence; is this both endearing and frustrating? Yes. And no one is experiencing these emotions more than Larys. The man balances the roles of servant, guide, and confident with practiced ease, and the author's writing transitions to each of those facets with utter smoothness and subtly. The pair have a very "whatever the fuck these two got going on" dynamic that is quintessential to any larysgon fic, and this work does this deliciously.

~